Murtagh sighed with fatigue. He approached the King—stopped at the first step—and knelt. "What do you want me to swear?"
Galbatorix relayed oaths of fealty to him in the ancient language, which Murtagh repeated. He did not understand everything he was bound to but he knew its overall meaning. He was now Galbatorix's slave.
Once finished an expression of satisfaction took over Galbatorix's face. He sat silent for a minute before leaning forward on his throne and announcing, "There's one more thing I want you to know. Your true name."
Then he whispered something, so faint Murtagh wouldn't have thought he said anything at all if not for the involuntary shiver he felt. Galbatorix's expression changed to one of perverted pleasure, then he spoke louder, and Murtagh heard him clearly.
This time he could not help but cry out. His knees gave and struck the floor with a thud, his hands reached up and tore at his hair. Murtagh felt hot tears strike his cheeks and waves of mixed emotion crashed over him after hearing his name. His name was flawed. It contained bitterness, loathing, and much anger. But there was strength to it to, he was a survivor, and he was strong enough to do what he thought he needed to be do to protect himself and the ones he loved.
He looked to Thorn, who stared at him with glistening ruby eyes. The hatchling was still too young to communicate with words, but Murtagh realised that he knew how he felt, and he wondered if the dragon approved, or was disappointed in the human he had decided to bond with.
"Congratulations, Murtagh." He glanced up at the throne to see Galbatorix standing, his arms stretched up in a gesture of celebration, or triumph. "You are now my highest servant. You and Thorn should rejoice. You will live forever, and you will help build the greatest civilisation anyone has ever known." Galbatorix descended the stairs and placed a hand on Murtagh's shoulder. "Rise, son of my friend. You are now truly at home."
Murtagh opened his mouth to speak, but only a gurgle came out. "Speechless I see. That's understandable, now that you will be my right hand. You will be..." Galbatorix began a speech, one with pretty words, not unlike that one he had given after that dinner on Murtagh's eighteenth birthday. Although this time, Murtagh didn't listen. He stared off into the distance, letting the Kings musical voice wash over him but not take any affect.
"What about Lorena." Murtagh's voice was barely a whisper, then he looked up at Galbatorix—who stopped midsentence—and spoke louder, "What about Lorena? I don't even know if she's still alive."
"I have no intention of killing her. She's," Galbatorix seemed to ponder his words, "serving me in a different way. A way only a quality woman can."
Murtagh stared up at him in a mixture of uncertainty, and a growing sense of despair. "What have you done?"
Galbatorix examined a fingernail and spoke as if lost in thought, "I understand now why you told her you love her, she tastes very sweet indeed." He turned his attention back to Murtagh, a sick and twisted smile tugging at his thin lips. "I've only managed to have her a couple times but I'll definitely continue to enjoy her as often as possible."
A hollow feeling crept inside of him as he watched the King. The colour drained from his face, and he stood stunned, not wanting to believe what he was being told. "You didn't." He muttered more to himself. However Galbatorix's demeanour remained the same, and Murtagh realised it was true. The colour burst back onto his face and the hollow feeling was replaced with an untempered fury. "How dare you. How dare you lay a finger on her!"
"How dare I?" He repeated angrily, "I am the King of Alagaësia, I am the leader of the Riders, I am the most powerful magician there is! There is no one who can question me. I, am, perfection."
Galbatorix breathed heavily as he stared Murtagh down, waiting for him to question him again. But Murtagh couldn't form any words, there was nothing he could think to say to express the anger or revulsion that he felt, so instead he returned his glare. They stood silent for a long time before the King returned to calm.
"I'll take control of her mind tonight. I have no interest in waiting for her to open herself willingly, like you did. I'll take her body and I'll take her mind together. That is the most intimate way to ever be with someone. It hurts, doesn't it Murtagh. It hurts that I will be more intimate with her than you ever have, or ever will be."
"That's not intimacy." Murtagh snarled at him, "To force your way into someone. It's sick. It's animalistic."
Galbatorix shoved his face into Murtaghs, so they stood only centimetres apart. "I don't know if I would say forced. No doubt she did fight me, but her body was willing enough. Her body craved a man, not a boy. Just wait, in a few months, she won't even remember your name."
Murtagh's fist snapped out, but the impulsion from his oaths stopped his hand at the same time he struck a ward. The skin on his knuckles split and his fist was thrown backward. Murtagh gritted his teeth at the impact, but managed to keep his balance. His scowl darkened when he realised Galbatorix had not even flinched. "You don't know anything about her."
"I know plenty. I know she has a fondness for flowers. I know that when the slavers split her up from her parents she fought, resulting in a brutal beating. I know you were her first, but not her last. I know she has a nasty habit of screaming and biting, but I'll train her out of that. And anything that I don't know, I'll soon find out."
The throne room doors opened and Murtagh could hear multiple footsteps, as if they had just been summoned—or perhaps they had. "Captain, I want you to escort Murtagh and Thorn here back to their chambers." Murtagh longed to lunge at the King, to tear his throat out, but his oaths forbade him. Instead he turned and stiffly made his way to the soldiers, Thorn following close behind. "Oh and one more thing," Galbatorix called out as he ascended the steps, he leaned back into his throne and rubbed his right thumb against the arm, "You might be interest to know, Murtagh. Your friend Eragon, he is your brother."
Murtagh paused midstep, then turned back toward the King, "What?"
"Three years after you were born your mother disappeared, and no one knew where she went. She was gone for five months before she returned ill to your father's castle, and died. No one knew why she had gone, but now I know. Selena had fallen pregnant again, and after seeing what happened to you she hid away in her home village, birthed Eragon, and left him in safety. I believe it is safe to assume she didn't want her precious second child to become disfigured like her first."
Murtagh's mouth opened and closed as he tried to figure out what to say. A rush of emotions ran over him, anger, envy, betrayal. How could his mother save Eragon, but leave him with Morzan. He tried to speak but no words came out, he placed a hand against his brow and closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted.
Lorena sighed in disappointment. She released the handle and the metal thunked against the wooden door. She moved onto the next door around the perimeter of the courtyard and began pulling and pushing on it, but to no avail. They were all still locked.
She wished back for her stone slab, for at least there she had Murtagh. She'd give anything right now to talk to him, or at least see him. Minimal light reached inside the courtyard and she guessed it must be dusk. She crossed her arms and looked out at the thin strip of visible sky, almost black with a smidge of orange cloud. We are not animals to be locked up and played with whenever he feels like it.
Movement from the bedchamber caught her eye and she turned to see her handmaidens enter the courtyard. The head maiden unlocked the bath door and disappeared inside, not long after they escorted Lorena in. The bath was shorter this time, now that the gore and filth from torture and travel had already been washed away. When finished the women dabbed her wrists and neck with perfume, then brushed her hair and dressed her in a lilac nightgown.
No sunlight reached into the courtyard, and the thin strip of visible stars did little to brighten it up. Feeling cold Lorena made her way to the bedchamber taking in the heat from the lanterns. She watched the handmaidens curtsy then leave, the carved door slammed shut behind them.
Knowing what was about to happen next she ached to run over and pull it open, to escape into the capital and get away from the King. But she didn't dare. She chewed her lip and dug her nails into her arms attempting to restrain the urge to hurt something. Her mouth went dry her head began to pound, next thing she knew she grabbed the closest item to her and threw it across the room. The chair skidded then hit the wall.
Then she was at the wardrobe. She threw open the doors and drawers, ripped out the content and flung them across the room, letting them fall wherever they liked. Shirts, trousers, dresses, shoes, all around the bedchamber and out in the courtyard. She had grabbed a pair of Galbatorix's boots when she heard the door open again.
She turned slowly to see Galbatorix standing in the doorway, watching her. The small release she felt from her outburst now disappeared. A shoe fell from her grasp, but she flung the other, letting it land at the Kings feet. He glanced at the boot before he pushed the door shut. Lorena stood her ground, her hands in fists by her sides. Galbatorix ignored her, instead got to work hanging up his sword and cape, then removing his gloves and crown. When finished he turned to face her. "Murtagh has sworn fealty to me."
Lorena rolled her eyes and looked at him in disgust. "Haven't you already tried this? You did a much better job before. Murtagh would never swear fealty to you. The reason he ran away in the first place is because he knows you're a mad man."
"Watch yourself girl." Galbatorix warned, his eyes darkening, "I have no reason to lie to you. Murtagh opened his mind to me, and I discovered his true name. Then he swore me oaths of fealty."
"Did you really think I would believe this? Why would Murtagh allow you into his mind?"
"Because he couldn't handle seeing Thorn in pain. His dragon has been named Thorn," Galbatorix clarified when he saw her confusion. "Don't you find it odd that he could handle seeing you burnt and carved, but the moment someone laid a hand on that hatchling he gave up."
"You tortured a dragon?" Lorena asked horrified, "He couldn't be older than a few days and you're torturing him already? What do you think that's going to do to his psyche?"
"Don't question me girl, I've been at this a long time." Galbatorix strode toward her, and it took all of Lorena's will to stand her ground. "The point is that I have seen Murtagh's thoughts, and I am now going to see yours."
Lorena gasped as she felt a presence shatter through her defences. She tried to throw them back up but Galbatorix dug deeper, causing them to break away completely. Her knees trembled and she grasped for something to hold onto.
Wailing could be heard through the walls of her parents room. Lorena could hear her father attempting to comfort her mother, but nothing seemed to work. The baby had been born early that morning, but she hadn't had the chance to see it yet. All she knew is that it was a boy, and something about him had deeply upset her parents.
Lorena snuck over to where they had left him in the main room of the house, surrounded by rolled up blankets on the floor. Lorena gasped when she saw him. He had a little nose, and mouth, but the biggest eyes and cheeks she had ever seen. She reached down and grabbed his right hand, making noises at him.
The sight of her little brother pleased her, and she thought about how her mother had kept reminding her that it would be her job to protect the new baby.
"Love you," Lorena whispered. She looked at his left arm, thinking that it was strange that it was only a short stump, but then she looked back at his chubby face and began whispering to him again.
Lorena sat at the dinner table and stared wistfully out the window. A hand came down on the wooden surface, creating a loud thump causing her to jump.
"Concentrate!" her mother yelled. Her brother sat on the ground playing with a wooden toy, he was only three—two years younger than her—and she couldn't wait until he was old enough to learn to read, and hopefully her mother would not pay her as much attention.
She looked down at the parchment laid out in front of her and tried to make out the words. The first word was familiar, she was certain she knew it but she couldn't remember how to pronounce it. She gave it a shot, speaking the word quickly but knew she had it wrong when her mother's hand connected with the back of her head.
Lorena bit her tongue and tried to think about how to pronounce it properly, but her mind kept wondering, she looked out the window and hoped her father would be home soon. She'd rather be outside sparing, at least then she was allowed to hit back.
Lorena pushed a hand against her brow. The bedchamber spun in front of her as she was lifted into the air. She grasped at the back of Galbatorix's shirt and attempted to push herself off his shoulder.
Today was her tenth birthday, and her mother cleared up their dinner of warm bread and honey while Lorena talked with her father and brother. Arms wrapped around her shoulders and Lorena leaned back into her mother's embrace. Her eyes close and she smiled to herself.
"Here you are my dear." Lorena opened her eyes to see a gift on the table, wrapped in brown paper. She reached for it and opened it, displaying a lacquered hair brush. Lifting it up she noticed stars had been carved into it. Forcing a smile she turned to her parents and thanked them.
"Oh," Her father exclaimed dramatically, "and this too."
Lorena screamed when she saw her second gift, a sword, made of steel rather than the wooden one she owned now. She leapt from her seat and hugged her father before checking the balance of the blade. Her mother asked if he had one for Jordane too, and they started to bicker but Lorena ignored them.
She realised she was in the air and was about to cry out in panic when her back hit the soft fur of the Shrrg pelt.
Lorena lay on the lounge, her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. Once a week her parents forced her and her brother outside for a few hours so they could talk in private. She always wanted to know what was going on, and in the past she had tried to listen at the window, but whenever she tried she was always caught. This time she had lain with her eyes closed for hours, waiting for them to start.
"Are you ready?" her father asked in a hush voiced.
"Are you sure she's asleep?" her mother retaliated. "Maybe we should just wake her up and send her outside anyway."
"No, she's fine. Leave her. Are you ready?" There was a pause, nothing was said for a few minutes, then her father growled angrily. "You're not even trying."
"I am trying, I just can't do it. Not everyone can do it." Her mother retorted. "How about you weaken your barriers a little, just for now."
"I have weakened them. You're just not doing it right."
"We aren't all as talented as you. And quite frankly I don't understand the need for this. Why do I need to learn how to contact other people's minds? I can defend my own, that's enough."
"What if an accident happens with one of the kids while I'm away? What would you do then? You need to learn this, even if it's only for a safety measure."
"Can I learn?" Lorena shouted as she jumped up on the lounge.
Her parents stood, her father knocking his chair over in the process. "I told you we should have sent her outside!" her mother screeched.
"Can I learn how to contact people's minds?" She questioned again.
"What are you doing listening in on us," her father reprimanded, "I've told you time and time again to mind your own business."
"Can I learn? You said it's important, and since Mother can't do it," her mother's face turned red and hands clenched to fists, "can I do it?
"No."
"Sure."
Her mother turned to her father in a fury, "What? I won't let you teach this to our child, what if she starts experimenting and injures, or even kills herself."
"There's no harm in teaching her how to defend her mind. If she can do that I'll see if she can touch other minds, but that's it. I won't teach her anything else."
"What else is there?" she asked curiously.
"Nothing that concerns you." her mother answered crossly before turning back to her father, "Do whatever you want, you always do. And if she gets hurt, her blood is on your hands." With that her mother stormed out of the house. The child watched her go, then turned back to her father.
"Can we start now?"
The lilac nightgown was thrown across the room and Lorena instinctively reached for it.
The house was cool, Lorena and her mother sat at the table working together on embroidering a blanket, outside they could hear the gurgle of the Az Ragni. Lorena stared longingly at the open plains outside the window. It was a sunny day, with broken white clouds. She'd rather be outside training or hunting, than cooped up practicing needle work.
Feeling a little bitter, Lorena glanced at her mother, who had insisted that she needed to stay home and practice more refined skills. Lorena found it odd that they didn't get along so well. The two were often told they seemed so alike, similar personalities and attitudes, and they looked pretty much the same. But ever since years ago when he father taught her how to protect her mind, and they discovered Lorena could contact others, her mother seemed to become irritable whenever she saw her.
Lorena looked to her mothers work, a beautiful oak with incredible detail. Her own flowers were nowhere near the level of her mother's talent, and she thought that she might be right. Spending time together doing such things might be good bonding time together. And since her mother had insisted that Lorena stay behind, her father had asked Jordane to go hunting with him. Lorena had been surprised, but she could see the excitement on Jordane's face.
I hope it's going well, she thought to herself.
"If you don't concentrate on what you're doing you won't do it well." Her mother claimed without taking her eyes off her sewing.
"Yes, Mother." Lorena mumbled then got back to her work.
She heard a horse nicker and assumed her father and brother were back from hunting. She reached out with her mind and instantly felt the presence of a group of humans and horses. Quickly she threw up barriers, and hoped that whoever they were did not feel her probe. The young woman stood and looked across the room through the window, to see empty fields.
"Lorena-"
"There are people here." Her mother dropped her needle and stood.
"We aren't expecting anyone. How many?"
"I don't know, a lot. More than a dozen." Lorena claimed as she dropped her needle, she hurried towards her room to grab her weapon, when her mother called out.
"Stay here, I'll go check it out. Call your father if you can."
"Mother, no!" But she had already disappeared. Lorena cursed and went to retrieve her sword.
As she came back to the main room she spotted someone walk past the window, towards the door. They were far too tall to be her mother. She quickly ducked to her side, using a wardrobe to hide herself from view, just as the front door burst open.
Lorena reached out with her mind, searching the fields, hoping her father wasn't far off. When she did manage to find him, he was on the edge of her reach, so far that she struggled to tell him anything. Once she explained what happened, she threw her barriers up and focused on what was happening before her.
Lorenas' fingers whitened around the hilt of her sword, her heart pounding in her chest. A man stepped into view, looking down at the table, he touched the two cups of water.
"Where is the little bitch?" He mumbled under his breathe. He was tall and solid, a ragged beard covered his face, and a bastard sword hung from his belt.
Lorena readied her stance, as he turned and spotted her.
"Get out of my house." Lorena said, lifting her weapon.
He grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "Do you want to play, little girl?"
"Get out of my house, and leave." She said firmly.
He laughed as he stepped forward, pushing her sword to the side. He reached out to grab her left arm, when Lorena swung her sword towards him, slicing into his soft side. The man screamed as he clutched at himself, then looked at her with a murderous stare.
"I told you to leave."
He yelled as he launched himself at her, forgetting his weapon, he reached out with his bare hand. Lorena leaped to the side, and when he lunged for her again, she thrust her sword at him, piercing him through the throat.
Lorena stared in shock at him when a voice boomed from the front door.
"What the hell!"
Lorena looked to see another three men enter the house. She pulled her weapon free, allowing his body to fall to the floor as she stepped to the side, manoeuvring so that the table was between her and the intruders.
They split; two went to her right, and one to the left, all drawing their swords as they went. Lorena looked between them before stepping towards her left.
It'll be easier to deal with one first, she thought as she prepared herself to strike. Then she felt a sharp pain as something connected with the back of her head. Everything went black.
Next thing she knew she was on the other side of the room, being dragged toward the door as the men around her argued. She spotted an open window in the back half of the house, and realised someone must have climbed through it and attacked her from behind.
She then saw her sword on the floor and made to go for it, when the person holding her tightened their grip and dragged her outside. She groaned as they stepped into the bright light, her head swam and she felt that she might be sick. Across the yard she saw a group of twenty men who stood to the side of the house, their horses picketed behind them. Her mother lay in the middle of them, bloody faced with a man's foot clamped down on her back, arms forced behind her and being tied with rope. Lorena shouted in protest and made to run to her mother's side, but the man behind her held her firmly against his chest.
She was dragged toward the group and thrown onto the grass. Lorena attempted to push herself upright when a knee dug into the small of her back. She whimpered and her hands were forced behind her, then bound.
"Lorena, where's your father?" Her mother whispered so only she could hear.
"He's coming."
"No, tell him that there are slavers here. Tell him not to bring Jordane here."
"Slavers..." Lorena mumbled and looked across the plane. She noticed two figures, both mounted making their way toward them at a gallop. "He's already here."
Her mother swivelled her head to look across the field and cursed.
"So what are we going to do with this one." A man asked grabbing a fistful of Lorena's hair, and pulled her to her feet.
"What about her?"
"She killed Greer!"
A man walked over to her, analysing her. He lightly touched her face and Lorena pulled away. The slaver holding her tightened his grip on her hair and she stopped struggling.
"This isn't her blood."
"It's Greers'. She stabbed him through the neck."
"How old are you?" The man before her asked.
Lorena glanced at her mother, but she was intently watching her father and brother in the distance. The hand grabbed her face and forced her to look at the man standing before her.
"Sixteen."
"You're saying a sixteen year old woman killed Greer."
"Yes, you said this would be easy. The men were gone there wasn't supposed to be any trouble-"
"If he got killed by a woman who is barely old enough to be called that, then that is his problem."
"We demand satisfaction." he yelled, "Give her to us before selling her off."
The hand trailed down her face to her neck, then across her chest. Lorena struggled in his grip, causing the slaver behind her to pull her hair back, crushing her closer to his body and exposing her to the other slavers touch.
"No," he claimed, running his hands across her breasts and over her sides, ignoring Lorena's struggling, "she's a maid."
"I don't think so." The other man snorted.
"I don't hire you to think. I can tell, she's a maid, and she'll be worth more if she stays that way. No one is to touch her."
"Get your hands off me." Lorena demanded, staring up at the slaver.
He chuckled as he stepped closer, his face only centimetres from hers. "Or what, slave?"
"Here we go." One of the slavers joyfully exclaimed. Ignoring the slaver before her, Lorena looked across the field, to see her father and brother riding up to the house. They stopped their horses a good 10 metres away.
"What's going on here!" Her father demanded, knocking his bow. Lorena looked to Jordane, who held a hunting knife in his right hand, and had his cloak draped over his left side, concealing his missing arm.
The slaver before her took a step back. He called out, his voice carried across to the two men. "We've been waiting for you to come home. Now, if you would kindly dismount and throw down your weapons this would be much quicker."
"I don't think so."
"Well maybe you haven't noticed, but," Lorena saw him motion to her mother. A slaver then grabbed her and dragged her to her feet. "I happen to have your lovely wife here. And your pretty daughter."
Lorena felt the hand against the back of her head tighten, she looked over at her father, who's calm exterior faulter as a blade was pressed against her throat. Lorena heard a snarl and she looked to Jordane, whose face was twisted in rage.
"Throw down your weapons and dismount, and we won't have to slice any throats." Lorena could hear the smile in the slavers voice. Her father hesitated. "Alright, start with the wife."
Her mother screamed.
"Stop!" her father shouted. He threw his bow and dismounted. "Don't harm her."
"Tell your son to do as he's told."
"Jordane, now." He ordered harshly. The boy paused, then threw down his knife and dismounted. The slave leader moved from in front of Lorena, and motioned for them to approach. The pair moved slowly towards them.
A few slavers approached them, ropes in hand. One made his way behind her father and kicked his legs out. He landed heavily onto his knees, his body tensed and he stared at her mother while they bound his hands behind his back. A slaver made to grab Jordane's right arm but he pulled away, produced a dagger and lunged toward the slave leader.
"Torkenbrand!" the slaver shouted in warning. Torkenbrand moved quickly, striking the boys nose causing blood to spray. He grabbed Jordane's shirt, and held him in place while he pulled the dagger from his loosened grip.
Lorena struggled against the hand restraining her but stopped when she felt the blade against her throat press harder. Torkenbrand looked down at the dagger in annoyance then back to her brother, who growled and reached out for the slavers neck, a futile attempt to strangle him.
"Didn't I just say that if you co-operate no throats will be sliced?"
Two other slavers grabbed Jordane and dragged him back. They forced him to his knees and tried to grab his arms to restrain him, then confused, one slaver pulled back his cloak revealing his missing left arm.
"Torkenbrand, are you seeing this?"
"Mm, that's unfortunate." He said, walking over to inspect him. "He won't be worth as much as I had expected."
"Would anyone still want him?"
"I don't know, we could sell him separately. If we sell them together, he'll bring down the price for the whole family." Torkenbrand stepped away, looking at the slaver from earlier. "Do you still want satisfaction?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"A life for a life."
"No!" Lorena screamed, struggling against her capture, ignoring the blood trailing down her neck from the knife pressed against her flesh.
Torkenbrand turned and grinned at her. "Are you volunteering?"
He walked over, and placed his hands on her hips.
"Are you willing to be passed around every man here, so that we can get our pound of flesh." Lorena stared at him, completely stunned. She looked to her parents for help, but they looked lost in thought, and realised they must be communicating through their minds.
"Don't touch her!" Jordane yelled, fighting against his restraints.
Jordane, Lorena called, we need to do something!
"I didn't think so." Torkenbrand said stepping away. He turned to Jordane and picked up the hunting knife.
Protect them
"Wait!" She screamed, as he walked toward her brother, still a child at fourteen, but strong and wilful.
They both fought against the hands restraining them, in a last futile attempt to get free. Torkenbrand stepped in front of Jordane and raised the weapon.
Lorena could feel anger and the fear across their link, though she was unsure who was feeling which emotion. She heard her parents scream no just as she did. But their cries were ignored.
The blade was dragged across the exposed flesh of her brothers throat. Lorena gasped for breathe, as she felt him choking on his blood. Then across their link she felt his energy dissipate, as she watched the life fade from his hazel eyes.
Galbatorix lay over her and Lorena reached out to push him away. Her hands hovered over his bare chest, no matter how she shoved his wards wouldn't let her closer than a couple centimetres. Then she felt the pain and screamed.
Lorena hugged herself as she stood in line. Her father had already been sorted, and she stood behind her mother, hoping to be taken to the same place. The line moved quickly, but it was long. Torkenbrand and his men had sold them off to a town, she didn't hear the name so she wasn't sure where they were.
People were being separated into three different location, all to be sent to different cities. Her mother moved, and Lorena went to follow her when a slaver grabbed and jerked her back into place. She looked after her mother, who was escorted to group off to her right. Once released she pushed her way through the crowd, and Lorena managed to glimpse her throw her arms around her father.
Lorena looked in front of her. A slaver sat behind a desk, marking a spreadsheet. He gave her a once over and made a mark on the parchment, then stated, "Dras-Leona."
She stepped toward her parents but the slaver—who still had a firm grip on her arm—pulled her to the left. She pushed against him and tried to go to her parents, who now looked at her in horror. The grip didn't loosen and she was dragged away.
"No!" she screamed and struggled in his grip, "Mother! Father!"
Her father pushed his way through the crowd, her mother following close behind, but she saw slavers intercept. Then she was thrown around and into a crowd of people. She turned towards them and bolted.
A sharp sting resounded in the back of her neck and she fell midstep, hitting the ground hard. She scrambled to her feet, her head groggy, when a hand grasped the back of her dress. Tucking her arm close to her body she threw an elbow, landing it in the soft flesh of the slavers side. He cursed but didn't let go, instead he threw her back to the ground and planted a boot in her stomach.
Lorena cried out and doubled over, the boot landed again and she attempted to roll away. Before she could make it to her knees there was a sharp pain in her back and she collapsed. She tried to move but she was exhausted, and in agony. Instead she lay defeated, and thought of her dead baby brother, her burnt house, and the fact that she may never see her parents again, while the slaver repeatedly struck her.
She growled in anger and frustration, and unable to do anything else, spat. The King didn't move as—much to Lorena's disappointment—the saliva hit a ward and fell next to her on the bed. Lorena felt a sharp sting across her cheek and her face was thrown sideways. She looked back defiantly at the King, who held her gaze.
Galbatorix continued to go through her memories, everything from her march to Dras-Leona to this current moment. She tried to hide pieces of the information, but any barriers that were thrown up were immediately located and destroyed.
When she felt his presence leave her mind it was all over. Lorena lay on her side, heaving in deep breathes. Galbatorix's form lay on the bed beside her. She curled into a ball and sunk her teeth into her lip, forcing herself to lie still. Guilt welled up inside of her and eventually her eyes began to water, she closed them to stop the tears, and hoped for sleep.
