Galbatorix smiled, revealing straight white teeth. "Good, now tell me what has happened after you left Urû'baen."
Murtagh's hands clenched and he glanced down at Thorn, who's head drooped miserably. Murtagh took a shaky breathe then began to describe what had happened since his escape from Urû'baen, to his capture and transportation back to the capital. He spoke vaguely, only telling what information he had to, as he knew when he was done the King would take control of his mind and memories. When he finished Galbatorix nodded, "Now I'll see. Remove the barriers around your mind."
Murtagh looked back at Thorn and with great effort removed the barriers he had always kept strong. He then felt a presence pierce into his consciousness. Murtagh bit his tongue in an attempt not to cry out. The presence pierced further and Murtagh's body clenched. Galbatorix took control of his memories, beginning with childhood.
Murtagh looked across the room at his father. Morzan stumbled slightly, a glass in one hand and Zar'roc in the other. The sight of his father scared him, and Murtagh decided it may be a good idea to leave the room. He stood and made his way to the door, as he crossed Morzan spotted him and in a panic Murtagh ran for the door. He saw Morzan lift his right arm up and he smelt the strong odour of whisky, then a flash of red in the edge of his vision followed by an incredulous blinding pain tearing open his back.
Murtagh gasped and looked at the floor, his back burned just from the memory of it.
His new room was not as large as the one at his father's castle, but it was more extravagant. Murtagh made his way to the window and looked out over Urû'baen, many buildings stood as high spirals, made from an elegant mixture of glass and stone. Beside him was a dresser and to his delight Murtagh noticed on top was a sword, created small enough for a child his age to use. He gripped the pommel and lifted it off the dresser.
"You've found you're present I see." Murtagh turned to find a tall, solid man standing in the doorway. "My name's Tornac, and I'm the one who will teach you how to use that."
His vision returned to the throne room floor before delving into another memory.
He stared at the King in admiration and awe. "... under the Dragon Riders the Varden and Urgals will be vanquished and peace will ensue over the land." The King leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped and resting on the table.
"How will the Riders be reinstated," Murtagh asked eagerly, feeling himself almost bouncing out of his seat, "There are no dragon eggs left."
The King grew still, and stared at him thoughtfully. His remained in silence for a long time, and Murtagh felt frightened that he had offended him. Then just when Murtagh had decided he had made a mistake the King extended his hand and asked, "Will you, O son of my friend, serve me as I labour to bring about this paradise?"
Murtagh thought of the history behind Galbatorix and his father's rise to power, he knew of their evils but this vision of the Kings seemed far too compelling, completely wonderful. Even if he wanted to he didn't think he'd have been able to say no. "I pledge myself to you, and your cause, my King."
A satisfied smile spread across the Kings lips. "Then you have my blessing, I shall call upon you when the need arises."
The exhilaration that he had when he was called for a meeting with Galbatorix had now vanished.
"They're all traitors! Burn them at the stake and bury their ashes with dung!" Murtagh stared at Galbatorix in horror as he ranted, cursing his enemies and describing how he would scourge the land of everyone who bore him ill will.
As Murtagh listened to him he realised that this man did not possess the mercy or foresight to gain the people's loyalty, and he ruled only through brute force guided by his own passions. It was in this moment that he realised he needed to escape both Galbatorix and Urû'baen forever.
Murtagh and Tornac rode out of the gate as it opened. Murtagh looked up to see a row of Galbatorix's soldiers, mounted, staring at them with swords in hand. He glanced at Tornac whose face was set in a grim expression. One soldier raised his sword above his head and shouted to them. "Murtagh, Weapons Master. We are here to escort you back into the capital, to our King, Galbatorix."
"We have no interest in returning to the King," Tornac assured the soldier, "now step aside, if you wish to live."
The soldiers laughed and the leader shouted out loudly, "You think too highly of your skills, Weapons Master."
Before he knew it Tornac's blade was in his hand and Murtagh drew his in response. Tornac drove his horse into the line of soldiers, Murtagh at his heels, cut through the men. Murtagh let out a war cry as he hacked a soldiers arm off.
The soldiers seemed caught off guard, and Murtagh realised they must not have expected them to fight back. The two managed to take care of a majority of the force before they got themselves together and challenged the pair.
The soldier he battled hacked at him ferociously, caution momentarily gone. He blocked and thrust his sword through the man's throat. Murtagh turned to survey the small battle. Tornac sat atop his horse and slashed at the commander of the soldiers unaware of the soldier who rode up behind him. "Tornac, behind you!"
But it was too late. Tornac drove his sword into the stomach of the commander at the same time the soldier behind him drove his sword through Tornac's back.
An anguished cry tore from Murtagh's throat and he dug his heels mercilessly into his horse's sides. The soldier didn't have time to react before Murtagh was upon him, and drove his sword through him. Murtagh pulled his blade free of the dead man and dropped off his horse beside Tornac. He stared at the blade before rolling Tornac onto his side, the weapons master stared off with blank eyes.
Murtagh cried out pitifully and felt hot tears stain his face. He pressed his fingers under his jaw but he knew there would be no pulse. His body trembled as he reached out and closed Tornac's eyes. He knew he had no time to grieve, he could feel Tornac's voice telling him—as if he was still there—that he needed to leave before recruitments arrived. Murtagh stood and mounted his horse before he took off. Away from Urû'baen, leaving his foster fathers body bloodied on the dirt.
Murtagh leaned against the window frame, staring out into the gardens below. For the past few months he listened to every rumour about Galbatorix, and had attempted to decide what he would do. He thought of the whispers about the Ra'zac, and their mission to capture or kill someone.
He wondered why the Ra'zac—such valuable servants—would be ordered to hunt someone down, unless they too were of high importance. Murtagh was sure it wasn't him, and remembered Galbatorix talking about the Riders. He knew an egg had been stolen from the King years ago, and wondered if maybe the egg had hatched, that maybe the Ra'zac were hunting down a dragon and rider.
"I'll go to Dras-Leona. Hunt down the Ra'zac and see if a dragon really has hatched."
The winds had died down to a more bearable level. Murtagh stalked behind the Ra'zac, far enough behind that they couldn't see him but close enough that the winds still carried their wretched stench. He could hear noises ahead in the darkness and he assumed that must be their intended prey.
He continued to follow at a slow pace, holding Tornac's reigns low to keep his head down. As he approached he could hear the talking of the people in the campsite. He had come close to the nosie when he tethered Tornac. As a safety measure he skirted around the campsite and stood at the opposite side. He stood, bow in hand, and looked into the campsite.
He took in the scene. His eyes were instantly attracted to the large blue dragon, who was covered in thick black chains and had silent snarl curled it's upper lip. Next he noticed the Ra'zac, who were hidden by black cloaks. One stood over a prisoner, a young man who lay on his side staring up at the monster. The taller Ra'zac held a second prisoner—bound and bordering conscious—in the air by his shirt. Off to the side of the campsite he spotted another person, similarly bound. This one was female, and with blood covering her face and wavy auburn locks.
The Ra'zac were speaking to each other, he could only hear snippets, but he was sure they discussed killing the old man. After a brief conversation they dragged the old man into the centre of the camp and shoved him to his knees. Murtagh drew an arrow and knocked it, then the short Ra'zac nosed the air and sniffed. It knows!
The tall Ra'zac growled, yanked the old man's head back. Murtagh drew his bow and let it fly as the Ra'zac swept a dagger toward his exposed throat. It howled as the arrow entered its shoulder. Murtagh released a second arrow, aiming for the short Ra'zac, and cursed when the creature dropped out of the way. It scuttled toward its companion and they glared into the darkness in his direction. The old man staggered upright and tottered toward the young captive. Murtagh cursed as he tried to land more arrows on the Ra'zac, but the old man made it difficult and they were able to roll behind a boulder.
Murtagh moved quickly—back toward Tornac—and let another volley of arrows go at the now exposed Ra'zac. He only had the moonlight to see by and he missed a few shots, but he heard a couple land. The smaller Ra'zac let out a wild cry and fled toward the road, kicking the boy viciously in the side as he passed. His companion hesitated, and Murtagh let go of an arrow that went wide, the creature grabbed a dagger from the ground and ran after its companion. As he left the camp, he hurled the knife at the boy. The old man jumped in front of the other captive, and took the dagger in the side. A horrified look took over the boys feature and he screamed no.
The forms of the Ra'zac melded into the darkness as they ran. Murtagh stepped into the campsite and looked down at the boy as he slipped into unconsciousness. He then looked at the old man, hooked his arms under his and dragged him closer to the fire. A groan sounded off to his right and he turned to see the girl on her knees, her eyes squeezed shut. Murtagh made his way over to her, her right cheek has been split open and blood had oozed down her face. He noticed she had plump, pink lips before she opened her eyes. She stared up at him in a mixture of colours. The majority of her eyes were brown, with golden flecks, while the bottoms contained a mixture of blue and green, and the whole eye was bordered by a thin black ring. Murtagh noticed that they may not be typically beautiful, they were no doubt striking.
"Could you please untie me?" Her voice sounded determined but he could hear a hint of fear. He stepped behind her and untied her bonds before gripping her arm and helping her to her feet. She was lighter than he expected, her baggy rough spun clothing concealed a majority of her form. "Thank you."
The boy was still unconscious he decided to test her usefulness. "Could you please start a fire, and release the dragon while I take care of the old man."
"We just escaped from the city, wouldn't a fire just draw attention to us?"
"We're far enough away," He released her arm and made his way over to the old man, "besides, I don't think he'll be able to travel. We'll have to stay here the night."
Murtagh untied him and cut open his robe, then began to inspect the wound. It was short, the dagger was not wide, but he suspected it to be deep. He felt the flesh around it and discovered the dagger had gone between two ribs. He reached for a blanket that had been laid out over a bed roll and ripped strips from it. When he had enough he removed the dagger and quickly began to bind the wound.
"How is he?" Murtagh looked up to see the girl kneel on the other side of the old man.
"Bad, he's taken the knife between the ribs. Hold this bandage down." She did as she was told and helped finish off the bandaging. Once he was sure it was right he turned his attention to the gash across the girls face. He reached out to turn her face into the better light when she started and pushed herself away from his hand. "I was trying to inspect your wound," he scowled.
Her lips parted in surprise, then she leaned into him. He carefully gripped her jaw and placed a finger under her cheek bone, just under the gash, and gently pushed down. The skin parted, and she let out a strangled gasp. Fresh blood began to trickle down her face.
"It's nasty, but not serious. I'll see what I can do after I take care of your friend." He stood up and began to make his way over to the boy, then he noticed the dragon standing over him. It opened its wings and growled. "I just want to see if I can help him." The dragon growled again, this time deeper causing vibrations in the ground around them.
He backed away—he had no intension of arguing with a dragon—and turned to the girl. "I think I'll take care of you now."
Murtagh picked up the blanket from beside Brom and began to rip strips from it. "What's your name?"
"Murtagh." He ripped a few more strips, then sat in front of her. "What's yours?"
"I'm Lorena, this is Brom, Eragon, and Saphira."
Murtagh picked up a strip of cloth bunched it and held it onto the wound, he grabbed her hand and had her support it, as he wrapped another strip around her head, holding it in place. "They your father and brother?"
"No, I only met them a few hours ago. They helped me escape Dras-Leona, though it turns out they were also trying to escape."
"You were all running from the Ra'zac?" Murtagh tied off the first strip and grabbed another.
"Is that who attacked us?" Lorena watched him intently as he nodded in confirmation, "They were, I don't know their whole story. But I was escaping the slavers."
"You're a slave?"
Lorena scowled, "Was. I got away."
Murtagh grunted and finished tying off the bandage. He went and sat next to the fire, prodding it with a stick. Lorena reached out and picked up Brom's hand, they sat in silence for a long time.
"Thank you." said Lorena. Murtagh looked up at her from the fire. She still sat next to Brom, his hand in hers, and she stared at him with all sincerity. "They could have easily killed us, taken Eragon and Saphira captive. I'm sure Galbatorix would have wanted them. But you saved us. Thank you."
Murtagh looked back at the fire, "It wasn't completely unselfish. The Ra'zac are enemies of mine, I've been tracking them for a while."
"Still, thank you." Murtagh's grey eyes met her hazel.
"You're welcome."
Her chest heaved with laboured breathe, and sweat glistened on her face. Murtagh found his own breath to be ragged. He tightened his grip on the sword and lunged forward. Lorena swung her sword upwards and blocked the strike, she made to retaliate but Murtagh was quicker. He jabbed the sword forward and slapped her thigh with the flat of the blade. She cried out and Eragon whooped.
"Dead." Murtagh pointed. She swung her own sword one handedly and hit Murtagh on his thigh, he glanced down at it in annoyance.
"Dead."
"I wouldn't die from a leg wound."
"Then why was I dead?" She questioned with an upraised brow.
"Because unlike me you're not good at fighting from your back."
"How would you know?" she chewed her lip and examined the ground level, "Let's do it, come on, right now-" her face changed instantly from determined to horrified. Her cheeks reddened and her mouth hung open.
"Right now?" Murtagh questioned playfully with a grin. Beside them Eragon burst into laughter.
"I- we- we're done for now. Eragon, I'll finish gutting the rabbits. You're turn to spar." She sheathed her sword and sat beside Eragon, she snatched the rabbit from him and got to work gutting it. Eragon wiped his hands and retrieved Zar'roc, Murtagh's own grin mirrored on his face. As Eragon got into stance he glanced over at Lorena. Her face remained red but he noticed a smile tugging at her lips.
The desert night air blew freezing through their campsite. Murtagh lay in his blankets watching the fire, he felt himself shaking slightly. He thought back to Urû'baen and his soft featherbed.
A movement from his left caught his attention and he looked to see Lorena looking down at him, wrapped in a blanket and shivering pitifully. "Are you as cold as I am?"
He couldn't help a smile as he beckoned her over. She lay down in front of him and Murtagh threw his blanket over them. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. He took in a breath of her scent and relaxed. Better than a bed, he thought as he drifted into sleep.
"Murtagh..." breathed Lorena, "Murtagh please."
With great effort Murtagh turned to look at them. Eragon and Lorena stood side by side, Eragon looked impatient while Lorena anxious. Murtagh paused, his breathing hard and fast, then said in a tortured voice, "You have a right to know. I... I am the son of Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn."
The two stood gaping, and he waited to see how they would respond. After a moment's hesitation Lorena reached out for him, and he felt an instant of extreme relief. Then the sound of crashing trees stole their attention, Saphira burst through the vegetation to stand at Eragon's side, fangs bared, tail raised threateningly.
"You are his heir?" asked Eragon, surreptitiously reaching for Zar'roc. And with that the relief he felt was gone, and his distress returned tenfold.
"I didn't choose this!" cried Murtagh. In a desperate attempt to make them understand he tore at his clothes, removing his tunic and shirt to bare his torso. "Look!" he pleaded, and turned his back. He allowed them to see his scar, his reminder of his father's malevolence.
"See that?" demanded Murtagh bitterly, with a surprising amount of relief. "I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry—the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose—there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!" While he tried to remain calm he could not completely keep the hysteria out of his voice.
He noticed Eragon uneasily removed his hand from Zar'roc's pommel. "Then your father," he said in a faltering voice, "was killed by..."
"Yes, Brom," said Murtagh. He pulled his tunic back on with a detached air.
A horn rang out behind them, prompting Eragon to cry, "Come, run with me."
Murtagh looked to Lorena and waited to see what she had to say.
"Let's go." She whispered. They pulled on the horses' reins and forced them into a tired trot, eyes fixed straight ahead, while Arya bounced limply in Snowfire's saddle. Saphira stayed by Eragon's side, easily keeping pace with her long legs.
"You're tale is hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?"
"Why would I lie?"
"You could be—"
Murtagh interrupted him quickly. "I can't prove anything to you now. Keep your doubts until we reach the Varden. They'll recognize me quickly enough."
"I must know," pressed Eragon. "Do you serve the Empire?"
"No. And if I did, what would I accomplish by travelling with you? If I were trying to capture or kill you, I would have left you in prison." Murtagh stumbled as he jumped over a fallen log.
"You could be leading the Urgals to the Varden."
"Then," said Murtagh shortly, "why am I still with you? I know where the Varden are now. What reason could I have for delivering myself to them? If I were going to attack them, I'd turn around and join the Urgals."
"Maybe you're an assassin," stated Eragon flatly.
"Maybe. You can't really know, can you?"
"This is ridiculous!" cried Lorena. "What motivation would Murtagh have for revealing his heritage, if he were to betray you? None I say." She tugged harder on the horses reins. "Just keep a look out for any valley Murtagh and I can leave through."
Murtagh glanced over at her, and thought in that instance she could never be more wonderful.
Murtagh drew back his arm and threw his sword with incredible speed. The long weapon revolved once, then truck the Kull pointed first in the chest with a dull crunch. The huge Urgal toppled to the ground with a strangled gurgle. Before another Kull could attack, Lorena rushed forward and yanked the sword out of the body. She handed it back to him shouting, "Never throw your weapon away!"
They sheathed their weapons, and Murtagh and Lorena jumped after the horses. The cold water hit hard, but the temperature was nothing compared to the tremendous weight of the waterfall slamming on their shoulders. Murtagh had almost broken out of the water when Lorena grabbed him. To his surprise, she quickly cut through the water and pushed him up onto the slippery pebble beach.
He got to his feet, then pulled Lorena to hers. Grabbing her arm they ran to the cliff face, where a door had opened revealing a mixture of men and dwarfs. A bald man stood at the lead, "Who are you?"
"Our friend," Murtagh pointed back to the waterfall, "He's a Rider."
With a movement faster than he would anticipated the man capable off, he grabbed Mutagh and from his sleeve produced a dagger. He held the dagger to Murtagh's throat. Murtagh managed to glimpse Lorena shout and strike out at the bald man, before one of the warriors grabbed her and held a blade to her throat.
Murtagh gritted his teeth and silently cursed Eragon for having forced him into this trap.
The bald man turned to Murtagh. "Now you."
The idea of someone attempting to read his mind made him stiffen, and he shook his head. He stared down the bald man, and did not notice the sword that cut his neck nor the blood that dripped down his skin. "No."
"You will not be protected here if you refuse."
"Eragon and Lorena have been declared trustworthy, so you cannot threaten to kill them to influence me. Since you can't do that, nothing you say or do will convince me to open my mind."
Sneering, the bald man cocked what would have been an eyebrow, if he had any. "What of your own life? I can still threaten that."
"It won't do any good," Murtagh stared the man down, he did not trust him. There was no way he would allow this filth inside his mind.
The bald man's breath exploded angrily. "You don't have a choice!" He stepped toward Murtagh and placed a palm on his brow, clenching his hand to hold him in place. An explosion of force smashed against his mental barriers and Murtagh had to double his efforts to keep the man out. He knew that he would win this fight, but he was surprised by how well the man drove himself into his mind. Seeing the barriers reinforced rather than weakened the bald man bared his teeth in fury and frustration, and dug his fingers mercilessly into Murtagh's skull.
There was a shout and the bald man's hand was torn away from his an instant before his mental attack disappeared. His concentration broke and realising he had stop breathing, he heaved great breathes into his starved lungs. Murtagh focused on his breathing, and was only faintly aware of people arguing around him.
The hands holding him were gone and the dwarfs and humans were filing out of the room, leaving Murtagh with his travel companions. He watched the door close and heard a bolt shoved close from the other side of the door.
Then Lorena was upon him. He allowed her to lift his chin and inspect the cut on his neck. "It's nasty, but not serious." She said with a smile. At first he simply stared at her, then remembering their first encounter he couldn't help but smile back and gently embrace her. After all they had gone through, it felt nice to just feel her arms around him.
Murtagh stood as the Dwarf King entered the cell. The King leaned on a mighty hammer and stared at Murtagh with a stony expression. "So you're the son of a traitor, barging your way into my home unexpected, unwanted, and untested, seeking protection from the mad man who raised you."
Murtagh eyed the King, acutely aware that he was cornered, and unarmed. "If you allowed me, I would gladly leave."
"Ah! So you can run back to your master and help command his filthy Urgal army? I don't think so." The King glanced around the cell, taking in the writing desk and stout bed, "I see you've made yourself at home in your 'cell'. It's far better than you deserve but Ajihad has always been far too lenient.
"I don't know why but you helped the dragon Rider and his dragon here. They will be a valued asset. Arya's an elf, whom I honestly don't care much for but she's another valued asset. I don't even mind the human girl coming here either; we can put her to work in the Varden, she will be of some use. But you are just a waste of food, waste of space, and waste of good air. You're lucky you're Ajihad's prisoner. But watch yourself, put a toe out of line and I'll personally organise your punishment."
His next visitor was a complete surprise. A young woman—maybe a year older than Lorena—walked through the cell door. She stood tall, holding herself upright with a sense of royalty. At first Murtagh thought she must have been one of the ladies of Galbatorix's court, but he quickly dismissed that as unlikely. She wore an elegantly cut wine red dress, which accentuated skin the same deep shade as Ajihad's, a jewelled dagger hung from her waist in a tooled leather sheath.
Murtagh stood and greeted her, and she smiled sweetly and inclined her head. He offered her a seat and she sat at the writing desk, Murtagh on the edge of the bed. She asked him how he was and admitted to visiting simply because she wanted to meet him. They exchanged niceties for a while.
"I had best be off." She claimed as she stood, Murtagh rose too. "Is there anything you want, if it is within my power I will make it so."
"There is one thing actually." Murtagh smiled at the pretty young woman, "If you could let Lorena and Eragon know where I am, and to come visit me, I'd be most grateful."
There were two bangs on the door and Murtagh inwardly groaned. The door opened and a figure walked in. Murtagh looked up from his scroll and felt a flutter of relief when he saw Lorena standing at the doorway. When they made eye contact her face broke out in a grin, and Murtagh couldn't help but smile back. He dropped the scroll and stood. Lorena ran threw her arms around his neck, his own arms squeezing her waist. He lifted her off her feet, pressing her closely to him and she responded by squeezing tighter. When Murtagh placed her back on the ground she pulled away and looked into his eyes. "I missed you."
He smiled, "I missed you."
He wrapped his arms around her again before sitting together on the bed. "I didn't expect this," she said looking around the room.
"I know, me neither. I had expected iron chains. But as long as I don't cause trouble I get all this, and huge meals and anything I want from the library."
Lorena reached up and began running her fingers through his hair. "That's great, but what about Surda? and the Beor Mountains? and Du Weldenvarden?"
"What about us?"
"Yes."
"I don't know how long we will be stuck here for. I don't know what's going to be happening next," Murtagh moved, kneeling on the ground in front of her, so that they were eye level. "But I know that I want you there. I know that I want you beside me." He reached up and cupped her face as they stared into each other's eyes. "I know that I love you."
Colour sprung up on Lorena's cheeks and her eyes shone with tears. "I love you," she whispered.
Murtagh leaned closer and drew her face to his, his eyes closed as their lips finally met. Warmth blossomed in his chest, and tingled throughout his body. He wrapped his arm around her waist and felt Lorna tangle her fingers into his hair. She pressed her body against his, increasing his hunger. Murtagh reached up and gently but firmly gripped her hair at the base of her neck.
He felt her press harder against him, she opened her mouth to him and Murtagh's tongue met hers. They wrestled not unlike their sparing lessons, and he felt her sink into him. His hands trailed over her body, the side of her neck, down her chest, goosebumps appearing at his touch. Lorena explored too, slipping her hand under his shirt and feeling his hard flesh as they continued to kiss. Murtagh took this as permission to slip his hands under her skirts, his calluses scratching against the soft flesh of her side.
Murtagh felt her gasp, then she began pulling at the cord of his vest. He obliged, quickly removing it, along with his shirt, leaving himself bare chested. Lorena placed kisses on his chest as he started on the lace of her dress. Lorena laughed sweetly as he cursed the tangled mess, then the dress whooshed to the ground.
Grabbing her thigh, Murtagh lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he kissed her deeply as he moved them onto the bed. His mind buzzed as he thought of what was happening and the insanity of it. Sure he had thought of taking her before, but he didn't know if it would ever be a real possibility, nor did he realise exactly how strongly he had felt about her. But seeing her step into that cell, remembering all the things they had been through, and all the things that they had planned for their future together, how could he describe that as anything else but love.
Murtagh broke their kiss, only to leave a trail of kisses and licks down her body. Lorena gasped as he licked her between her thighs. Satisfied with her response, he repeated the motion, causing her whole body to tense. He firmly gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he continued to lick and kiss her. Listening to her body, he discovered what she responded to the best, and repeated the actions.
"Murtagh," Lorena called to him, "come here." The yearning in her voice excited him, but he continued tormenting her before she called exasperated, "Please!"
Grinning, Murtagh quickly pulled off his trousers, before working his way back up her body, lightly touching, which was enough to make her shiver. He wiped the wetness from his mouth and kissed her lips. Lorena squeezed his shoulders, and he felt her start to wrap her legs around him when he realised he may have taken things too far.
He quickly grabbed her leg, and called, "Stop… We don't have to do this. If you tell me to stop, I'll stop."
Lorena let go of him, shock spreading across her face, "I didn't realise- we don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Murtagh couldn't help a strangled laugh, "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything, but I wasn't planning on this. I don't want to take advantage of you, if you want me to stop, I will."
He saw her visibly relax, and she reached up to run his fingers through his hair. Smiling, she leaned up and whispered in his ear, "Don't stop."
Murtagh kissed her again, hungry and fierce, before taking her fully. Lorena cried out, then—surprised—Murtagh began to whisper in her ear, hoping to calm her. He whispered sweetlings to her until he felt her begin to relax. When he believed her ready he moved slightly, and she responded by digging her nails into his back. He cringed but continued to whisper. Murtagh allowed his movements to slowly increase, and he felt her tension dissipate.
Lorena captured Murtagh's lips in another kiss and he took this as permission to increase his rhythm. He allowed his hands to roam, feeling her soft flesh under his callused hands. In response she wrapped her legs around him, the new angle made them both gasp and Murtagh again increased his speed. He could hear himself panting slightly now, he felt Lorena leave cool kisses against his neck. Before long tremours began to rack her body and she squeezed her legs, which sent Murtagh over the edge. He could not help a growl as he felt himself release, then he collapsed on the bed beside her. They both breathed heavily. Murtagh wrapped his arms around Lorena, and noticed her grin before she snuggled into his chest.
"I love you," whispered Lorena.
Murtagh smiled contently to himself and kissed her forehead, "I love you."
Murtagh snarled as he countered a blow from a Kull. He wondered if Ajihad had another motive for allowing him to fight but in the heat of battle he didn't care. Blood lust was upon him and he fed it through slaughtering as many Urgals as he could. He drove the Kull back and ended it with a slash across the face.
He looked around and found he and Lorena had been separated again, he drove his heels into Tornac and made his way through the throng. When he found her she was in a ring of men who had circled a group of Urgals. Murtagh urged Tornac to the circle and pushed his way next to Lorena.
She turned and grinned at him, gore had splattered her face and armour giving her a rough look. She turned back to the Urgals and helped pick them off. Murtagh joined in and when they had finished them off a majority of their group remained standing.
"You ready?" Murtagh called out.
"Let's go!" she winked and together they drove back into where the fighting was thickest.
The sound of someone banging on wood woke Murtagh. Squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his hand against Lorena's bare back. He remembered seeing Eragon after they won the battle, after which they realised their exhaustion and retired to Lorena's room. She insisted they attempt to wash as much blood off of themselves as possible and throw their torn bloody clothes in a heap, before cuddling in the bed and falling into a deep sleep.
The banging sounded again and Murtagh attempted to sit up. Lorena still lay against his chest and his movement caused their sore muscles and injuries to burn, they both groaned in protest. "Someone's at the door." Murtagh murmured and rolled out of bed. He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on before making his way into the receiving room. He stumbled to the door and pulled it open.
Eragon smiled grimly when he saw him. Murtagh stood and stared, until he realised what he was doing and motioned for him to come in. Eragon took a seat and Murtagh noticed him staring at him after he pushed the door shut.
"How are you?"
"Alright," Murtagh grunted, "tired, sore, injured. The usual." He fell into a chair beside him. "How's your back?"
Eragon shifted uncomfortably. "Alright. I tried to help with the recovery effort in Farthen Dûr this morning but I was racked with these terrible pains. Arya and Angela say that I'm perfectly sound, but," Eragon shrugged, "I hurt."
Murtagh nodded slightly. "I can understand that."
"Does that ever happen to you—with your scar—or has it ever happened in the past?"
He came here because he wants information, Murtagh thought bitterly. "No. If it ever has happened to me over the years, I don't remember it. But there was an abundance of talented healers when I needed assistance, not two. Either you will heal in time or someone will figure out what is wrong and fix it, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, Shadeslayer."
Eragon sighed, then looked around at the bedroom doorway. Murtagh followed his gaze and saw Lorena leaning against the doorframe, wearing a thin white shift, something she found in the wardrobe he assumed. Her left arm was still bandaged where a Kull had broken her shield against it with his sword. Murtagh reached up and felt his head, and realised he still wore his bandages too.
Murtagh held his hand out and Lorena made her way over. She paused next to Eragon and looked down at him with a tired, happy smile. She looked over at Murtagh before she bent down and placed a sloppy kiss on Eragon's cheek. Eragon's face mirrored Murtaghs own surprise, but Lorena didn't seem to notice. She stumbled over to Murtagh and fell into the chair next to him. She rested her head against his shoulder and instantly fell back to sleep.
"She's very tired." Murtagh told Eragon, who held a hand over his cheek. "Don't be surprised if she doesn't remember that when she finally wakes up."
"How are your injuries?" Eragon asked, his hand dropping to his side. "Did you want me to heal them?"
Murtagh hesitated, then nodded. "If you could heal a couple of bad ones, we'd appreciate it."
Eragon stood and unwrapped the bandage from around Murtaghs head, then dropped the material on the table. Murtagh noticed it was filthy, covered in dirt, sweat, and blood. "Waíse heill." Eragon muttered and he could feel the flesh knitting itself back together. Murtagh grabbed Lorena's arm and they repeated the process, the abused flesh appearing as if nothing had ever happened to it. Eragon asked if there was anymore, but Murtagh couldn't remember so he shook his head, and Eragon slumped back into his chair. He rested his arms and chin against the table top and his eyes went half lidded.
"I'd offer you something to eat or drink, but there's nothing here." Murtagh explained. Eragon waved him off and murmured that it was fine. He stayed that way for a while, and Murtagh rested his head on top of Lorena's. Eventually they too fell asleep.
A cut off shout alerted the group that something was wrong. Murtagh spun around to see a mass of Urgals cut down three more soldiers. The warriors backed up and clustered around Ajihad, protecting their leader. A light flashed from one of the Twins, and an Urgal fell, clutching the stump of his severed arm. The magic seemed to boost the soldiers spirits, and Murtagh—who hated the Twins—felt safer knowing they had strong magic users with them. The soldiers recovered quickly and began hacking away at the Urgals, resisting their advances.
When Murtagh was certain they would successfully fight them off a swirl of motion disturbed the air, like a faint band of mist wrapping itself around the combatants. He lost his vision and had to stop fighting, afraid that he might injure a comrade. When the air cleared him, Lorena, Ajihad, and the Twins were the only humans remaining.
Murtagh lunged at the closest Urgal, aiming to spear the monster through the midsection. But this beast was quick, it sidestepped and struck out with the hilt of its weapon, hitting Murtagh across the side of his face. He stumbled—his head spinning—then felt a thick arm wrap around him and start dragging him. He fought against it but before his head cleared they were already down in the tunnels, Urgals all around them.
He pulled against the monster but it had a firm grip, he reached for a dagger he kept in his belt but with the beasts arm was in the way, he could not reach it. He heard screaming, somewhere ahead of him which gave him chills, but also a sense of relief, recognising Lorena's voice and knowing she was still alive.
Their captors joined up with a larger horde deep within the tunnels. The Urgal carrying him pushed to the centre of the group and dropped him. Beside him was another from—bruised and bloody—that he recognised as Lorena. The Urgals had formed a circle around them. Murtagh looked around, knowing they were at the mercy of their captors.
A Twin pushed his way into the circle, followed by his brother. The two looked slightly beaten but they held themselves with a confident air. A sudden anger, built up on a sense of betrayal rose up inside of him, and he demanded, "What the bloody hell is going on here!"
The Twins grinned wickedly, taking a twisted pleasure in their power. "We are taking you back to Urû'baen, where you will be held accountable for your actions by King Galbatorix."
A knot formed in his gut and Murtagh fought the urge to be sick. I will not go back to Urû'baen, I will not go back to Galbatorix.
Murtagh felt a surprising sense of relief when he realised the Twins were not going to attempt to flay them, yet. He lay still, he fought against the magic restraining him but it was no good. His limbs would not obey him. Eventually Murtagh grew tired of attempting to fight the magic, and instead lay watching the stars, waiting for sleep to come, and wondering if he would make it until morning.
He was somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness when the attack came. He cried out—or would have if his muscles obeyed—and threw up stronger barriers, before the mental assault could get through. One Twin had been hard before, but stopped. This time they worked together, searching for weaknesses and drilling into his barriers. Murtagh hid behind his walls, attempting to give them no entrance. They battled against him for what seemed like hours, but to no avail. Eventually the two gave up and retreated from his mind.
Murtagh opened his eyes and looked up at the stars. The Twins were no were to be seen. Hidden somewhere over the other side of camp he decided, not daring to approach him like real men for not wanting to warn him the attack was about to happen. The bastards think they can best me. We'll see.
"Now Murtagh, tell me everything that happened after you left Urû'baen."
Murtagh stared off to the side of the throne, his jaw locked and hands clenched. He ignored the eyes upon him and allowed the room to lapse into silence. He didn't want to acknowledge the King, not even to look at him. He would not give him what he wanted, instead he wished he could discover this was a bad dream and wake up from this nightmare.
"We tell him nothing," Murtagh almost growled, "we give him no information about us, Eragon, or the Varden. We don't give into the bastard."
"He's going to torture us," Lorena's voice wavered, "he's going to try to squeeze the information out of us, and if that doesn't work he's going to force himself into our minds."
Murtagh paused. "Yes, but what do you think will happen if we tell him anything?"
"He will listen, and then he will force himself into our minds." Lorena laughed bitterly.
"He will get the information no matter what we do. So I say we make his task as difficult as possible." Murtagh paused, the only noise in the room the steady rhythm of their breathe. "You know I love you. No matter what happens always remember that I love you."
A choked sob escaped past Lorena's lips. "I love you... but no matter what happens we fight Galbatorix. No matter what he does to the other we defy him anyway we can."
Murtagh laughed, "That's my girl."
For spiting your years of protection...
For denying my will...
For running away...
The words took on an endless rhythm. Whispered calmingly the words washed over Murtagh, easing him into a trance of understanding and acceptance. Until he felt the searing pain whenever the iron kissed him.
He could not contain the anguished cries that escaped his lips. Nor could he escape the feeling that he deserved this for betraying Galbatorix. He was being punished and perhaps he deserved it.
But no, he didn't. Galbatorix was evil, Galbatorix was the enemy. Murtaghs mind swam and he felt so confused, was Galbatorix really the enemy?
Three pedestals lined the middle of the room. Galbatorix guided Murtagh toward the first pedestal. A red velvet pillow lay over the marble, cushioning an egg. The egg was deep ruby in colour, with thin veins of white spiderwebbing across the surface.
Murtagh felt an instant draw toward the egg, he reached out and stroked it, allowing his hands to run over the smooth surface. He became aware of the King watching him and the excitement he'd felt disappeared. He stood with his hand rested on top of the egg until Galbatorix grew tired of the display and moved him to another pedestal.
This one was much the same, except with a green pillow and emerald coloured egg. The egg looked interesting but lacked the same pull or excitement he'd experienced with the red one. He ran his hand over it, feeling its cool surface. He then looked to the third pedestal and smiled with grim amusement at finding the blue pillow eggless.
The Twins as they hovered over Lorena, carving knife gleamed in hand. "Do you remember when we discussed flaying a living man? Let's give it a try."
Murtagh pulled against his manacles—intent on getting to the Twins before they could harm her—but they were well secured. Lorena cried out as a Twin tore her shirt open, then positioned the blade against her sternum. A boiling rage exploded inside Murtagh with seeing her in distress and being useless to do anything about it.
"No! Why isn't the king here?" Murtagh pulled against his manacles, he tried to see from his bad position. "Do you have permission to be doing this?"
The Twin blew him off with an excuse of permission and began to slice. Murtagh watched on helplessly as Lorena squirmed and screamed. He could do nothing now—Murtagh knew—but he vowed to himself that if ever given the chance, he would kill the pair.
The scrape of the bolt brought Murtagh out of his hateful thoughts. He hoped that it would be someone, anyone who could stop the Twins. And he knew he got what he wished when the Twins acknowledged the persons presence with a murmured, "King Galbatorix."
He looked on as the King berate the pair, and send them scurrying away like the vermin they are. In that moment Murtagh was felt surprisingly, happy, to see the King.
Murtagh watched his oldest son test the balance of his wooden sword, and felt a swell of pride at seeing the way he held the practice weapon expertly. Tornac stepped back into a fighting stance and nodded at him.
Murtagh leaped forward and swung slowly for Tornac's side. Tornac parried easily with a flourish and retaliated. Surprised Murtagh only just managed to block the blade before it connected with his knee. He stared with amazement at the five year old and wondered how he managed to be so quick. They continued to spar for a fair while before Tornac began to tire, and when Murtagh announced it was time to take a break they both had a few bruises and welts.
He made his way to the side of the courtyard, where Lorena sat in the shade fanning herself. She stood as he approached, her swollen stomach still hideable but apparent now that he knew it was there. "You seemed surprised. I told you he was good, he's very good, he takes after you. All he ever wants to do is practice. He's angry with me at the moment, because I refuse to spare with him, but I can't risk a knock to the stomach."
She took his face between her hands and kissed him fiercely, Murtagh wrapped his arms around her gently, afraid of harming her or his new child. He pulled back and stared into her eyes, and in a shock moment noticed there was something off, the thin black ring that ran along the perimeter of her eyes was gone, then when she blinked it was there again. "Odd." He whispered.
"Odd?" Lorena questioned pulling away from him, fake anger in her voice. "Did you just call me odd?"
"No." Murtagh laughed, thinking it must have been his imagination. "Although..."
A playful shocked expression took over her face as he trailed off and she pushed him away. She turned as if to walk inside but Murtagh grabbed her first, he pulled her back to him. She laughed and fell into his arms, cuddled into his chest and sighed contently. Murtagh rested his chin atop her head and closed his eyes, he enjoyed this new side of her, womanly and sweet, playful and feminine, but with the same feel of the capacity to be tough when needed.
"Father," Tornac called from across the courtyard. "Are you ready to spare again?"
Murtagh released Lorena and joined arms against his son again, he thoroughly enjoyed watching how good he was and teaching him pointers to improve his skills. Though at one point he realised a mistake that he could not fix. Murtagh had lifted his blade to attack but Tornac lunged at the same time, Murtagh shouted a warning but it was too late, he could not pull back in time and Tornac had not seen it coming. He coped the flat of the blade in the face before he fell to the ground. He landed on his back but instead of crying or worrying about his bloodied face he held his sword out as Murtagh reached out for him, the tip of the blade pressing Murtagh's throat. He paused and watched his son, who grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.
"Very good, you shouldn't let your guard down." Murtagh congratulated the child, then tapped the blade of his practice sword. "But if this had been steel rather than wood, you would have been unconscious."
Tornac's smile faded and he nodded his understanding. He took the hand his father offered and got back onto his feet. Murtagh couldn't help the pride and enjoyment he felt when Tornac stepped back and prepared to continue sparing.
He hit the ground hard. Sharp rocks jutted into the flesh on his knees, knees and cut his palms. In the darkness he stumbled to find his footing, and slowly turned, looking for something, anything. In the distance he saw a dull red light, and started toward it. He realised now that he was right in believing that the mansion must not have been real, that those small changes must not have been just his imagination.
As he approached the light he saw slender figure standing stiff, staring down at dark lumps on the ground. Once closer he noticed the lumps to be small bodies, the ground covered in crimson blood. He looked at the figure standing over the bodies, and assumed it to be the killer until he recognised her for Lorena. He approached carefully. As he stepped behind her Lorena turned, a small silver object in her fist and flung her hand out with incredulous speed. A sharp pain split the side of his face and he clutched his cheek, feeling blood seep between his fingers.
"Why did you do this?" Lorena's voice dripped with venom. She stepped back and Murtagh looked at the bodies, and realised with horror that they were his three children.
"No!" he yelled and tried to move to them, their eyes stared blankly into the sky and their bodies laid unnaturally still. As he moved forward Lorena flung her hand out again, slicing open his other cheek. Murtagh shouted and moved away from her, hot blood dripped down both sides of his face.
"Why did you do this?" Lorena screamed and stared down at her children, tears splattering onto the ground. She rested her hand on her now flat stomach. "All of them, why did you do this?"
Murtagh raised his hands submissively, hoping to calm her. "Lorena, what happened? Tell me what happened."
Quicker than he expected she turned and was upon him. She barged into him, snarling, and sent him flying onto his back. He made to roll to the side but she leapt on top of him, straddling him and preventing any movement.
"You happened. You killed our children." Lorena snarled, then pressed the tip of the silver blade against his throat. "They died because of you!" Murtagh grabbed at her wrist, tried to pull her away and tell her he didn't know what happened but she was stronger than before. The blade broke skin, then she pushed it slowly deeper into his throat. He gasped for air but the pressure was too much, next thing he knew his mouth was filled with blood. He watched Lorena's face contort in a snarl as his visioned blackened.
A huge split appeared across the surface of the egg and Murtagh pulled his hand back to look down in wonder. The egg split again, then opened up revealing a ruby dragon. He stared down at the creature open mouthed.
"Congratulations." Galbatorix's voice was laced with a mixture of happiness and pride, but those were not feelings Murtagh currently felt. This small hatchling made him a Rider, a magic user, a valuable servant as Galbatorix would put it. Without a thought for consequences Murtagh reached out for the creature, ready to grasp its small frame and snap its neck. His palm touched then an icy blast shot through his arm, and he fell to the ground unmoving. He looked up at the egg and saw the dragon peer down at him then chirped, before it opened its mouth like a hungry bird.
Murtagh lay unmoving—his limbs ignored all commands—for the next few hours. Galbatorix watched as the dragon jumped from the pedestal and inspected Murtagh, with no look of fear about either Murtagh's nor the dragons actions. Instead he took a seat next to Murtagh, and began to tell him what he said to be important information about dragons.
Murtagh gasped as the King removed himself from his mind. His face was pressed against a cold surface and he realised that he had fallen forward onto the ground, dark stone taking up all his vision. Murtagh pushed himself upright and staggered to his feet.
Cold sweat covered his body and he couldn't stop from shaking. Murtagh swallowed and looked to the King, hoping this was finally over. Galbatorix smiled, "Now it's time for you to swear fealty to me."
