Murtagh was not happy.
This wasn't all that surprising, what with him being forced into the servitude of a man whom he had no wish being close to whatsoever. All his life he had grown up in the shadow of Uru'baen, and by extension the shadow of the king that governed the city with little care. Fleeing him had proven fruitless, considering that he was back in Galbatorix's caring hands within a few moons of his little escapade.
Those thoughts of freedom had inadvertently cost him that very same thing. The king had always kept an eye on Murtagh ever since his father's death, but only ever as a passing curiosity. This of course changed as soon as he was brought back before the king in chains.
Thorn hatched for him and ever since then, the chains that bound him to Galbatorix continued to strengthen themselves each and every day.
At first he had blamed Thorn for being the final piece that enslaved him to Galbatorix's every whim, but in time he understood that those thoughts were meaningless and cruel. Before long he recognized that his partner in everything did not have a choice whether to hatch or not as his rightful rider approached.
They were one in everything. Companions, comrades and friends, but also kindred spirits, bound together and forced to endure a cruel fate with a malevolent master. Although these were the facts of their Wyrda, they knew that pitying themselves endlessly would ultimately lead to nothing. There were plenty of people in the empire who had it worse than them. Mundane soldiers, conscripted with magic against their will to fight a war they did not understand, or the thousands of people, whose homesteads and villages had been razed or ransacked. All this carnage, simply to feed the ambition of a single man.
Murtagh had to hand it to Galbatorix, that man's ambition was on such a grand scale that nothing in written history could even come close to it. He had envisioned the complete subjugation of all the races of Alagaesia, with mankind being the ones holding the reins of the future. Those that resisted would be destroyed and those that surrendered would be able to live under the great king's grace and mercy.
He couldn't help but silently laugh at the notion of Galbatorix being a man of mercy. The only thing the elves and dwarves had to look forward to would be death if they were lucky, and forced servitude if they weren't. As for the Urgals, he knew his master's hate for the creatures native to the spine, so he did not doubt their fate either.
The truth was that this grand plan might very well become a reality. The last riders were firmly under the king's control, and one should not forget that he had found the true name of the ancient language. This combined with the fact that the Varden had been annihilated, the dwarves severely weakened and the Urgals diminished made it undeniable. Alagaesia would within decades be placed firmly under the heel of Galbatorix and his ambition, only the elves still proved resistant to this great expansion.
Murtagh did not care much for his master's ambition, but these thoughts definitely did nothing to improve his mood.
As stated, Murtagh was not happy.
This also wasn't helped by the fact, that he was currently scuttling around the streets of Gil'ead at night like some common riffraff with his hood drawn up to cover his face. He had entered the more densely populated part of the city, where the endless barracks, which were synonymous with Gil'ead, gave way to houses where one could actually live. If a soldier native to the city had a family, then they could most likely be found somewhere around here, but Murtagh had not come here for family.
He was brought out of his musings by a deep majestic voice that reverberated inside of his mind.
"I still think this is a shit idea". His own mouth slowly curved upwards into a smirk at his partner's crassness, before taking on a more thoughtful expression.
"Yes, yet as you have stated before, this man has information that we desperately need. I have not thought of freedom in some time my friend, but perhaps this is where we start."
Silence followed his statement and even though he could not spot his partner of heart and mind through the darkness, he still felt him pondering their path high above the city where none could spot him. They of course both knew that any further discussion of their chosen path was a moot point. The decision had been made, and they would simply have deal with the consequences of their actions, if this operation of theirs went to shit.
He walked the deserted street for a few more minutes before arriving at his designated destination. There was nothing outwardly impressive or interesting about the house that he was standing in front of, but knowing the man that he was about to meet, this was most likely done on purpose.
When Murtagh came within a few yards of the front door, said door swung open on its own accord and as soon as he entered the threshold beyond, any form of normality instantly vanished. He suddenly stood inside a giant foyer, where a man wearing the traditional black robes of the Black Hand was waiting for him.
"Welcome lord Murtagh, my master has been expecting you". Then the robed figure promptly turned on his heel and exited the foyer. Murtagh could only raise an eyebrow at the man's lack of curtesy before following him. As he followed the unnamed individual through the building he couldn't help but take in his surroundings and be quite awed.
From the outside the house had looked like a simple one story building, but from the inside it was more akin to a manor, and a giant one at that. He was sure that any aristocrat of Galbatorix's court would turn green with jealousy, even if all they got was only a glimpse of what he was seeing.
"Impressive". He doubted that he could have done a better job of expanding the space within what had looked like quite a meager house from the outside. Of course where magic was concerned, Murtagh had focused more on the martial side of things, but he still couldn't help but be slightly impressed at the ingenuity of the being that created this.
"Yes yes quite impressive Murtagh, just remember not to make an enemy of this man, it's not as if you have many friends or allies at the moment, you do have a temper when riled up". Murtagh noticed that they had entered a long hallway leading to a single great double door made of hard wood. This was probably their destination. He was proven right when his escort muttered words of power, which made the great doors swing open. The red rider entered the study of the Black Hand with his head held high and a neutral expression adorning his features.
"Schooled on my temper by a dragon, how you wound me Thorn".
Before Thorn could even attempt a response, another masculine voice spoke up, stopping their mental conversation.
"Thank you Owyn, you may leave us"
The figure behind Murtagh quickly bowed his head before leaving the great study, but not before closing the doors so that some sort of privacy could be achieved.
His attention was brought back to the person sitting across the great table that took up a great part of the room's space. He had to remind himself not to be distracted to easily, for this was not a man to be trifled with. This was Marwyn, Lord and master of the secret Organization known as the Black Hand.
An unknown individual to most, but this was likely due to the fact that most people in the empire had no idea a secret magical collective loyal to Galbatorix even existed.
Then again, the leader's loyalty of said collective would most likely prove dubious if Murtagh and Thorn's endeavor bore fruit.
The man silently gestured to the only other chair within the room. Murtagh closed the distance and sat down in one smooth motion without hesitation. Showing any form of vulnerability would not do, and especially not in the lair of the infamous Black Hand.
Some minutes passed in silence with the two men sizing each other up, both of them searching for weaknesses or cracks in the other person's stoic countenance. They did however not attempt to probe the minds of one another. The lord was probably uncertain about matching Murtagh's strength, and he himself was hesitant about enraging a skilled mage within his own fortress.
After some time, Murtagh figured that he would probably have to swallow his pride and break the silence. It was after all he who had made first contact to try and set up this meeting. As the old saying goes beggars can't be choosers.
He was fortunately beat to it by the other occupant in the room.
"You will be glad to know, that I have not informed our king about this little talk that we are about to have". More silence followed this statement.
Murtagh knew this could simply be a ruse to lure him into some false sense of security and make him loosen up his guard, which was not about to happen mind you. He loathed the intrigue and backstopping's that the aristocrats of this world loved to partake in, but that did not for one second mean that he was a lousy player. Then again, he highly doubted that it was an outright lie. This meeting had taken some time to set up, and he knew that if Galbatorix had caught wind of this rendezvous, a summons for him to immediately fly for Uru'baen would likely not have been far behind. He would simply have to make sure that Marwyn saw a partnership between the two of them as more beneficial than an immediate favor with the king.
"I am glad that you value discretion, although it does not surprise me considering the prestigious position that you inhabit my lord". He hated that he had to sound like such a subservient lickspittle, but it wasn't as if he had much choice or leverage at this point.
The head of The Black Hand gave a toothy smile in return. "Indeed, but do spare me the flattery Murtagh, it is really beneath the status of the son of not only Morzan, but also the original Black Hand herself".
...
The following silence was deafening. You could have easily heard a pin hit the floor. Murtagh couldn't help himself. His eyes widened, and for just a second his cool facade gave way to rage. Rage at a man who would connect him to his hated father who bore no love for him, and rage that he would smear his loving mother's name. He was not ignorant of his mother's past. He knew that she had killed and done whatever Morzan bid her, but that was not how Murtagh saw her.
He might not have been more than two winters old, but he still retained vivid memories of her protecting him from Morzans drunken rampages. He had even sought out different people, that had served on his father's estate, and seen within their memories how unconditional his mother's love had been.
And now this man was sitting there, insinuating that being the son of a man more akin to an animal somehow allowed him a higher status, the absolute nerve. His fingers were itching to draw steel, it wouldn't take much, he could simply end it with a swift-
"MURTAGH"
All thoughts of ending the person in front of him quickly vanished, as he finally noticed that his better half had been trying to reach him. He opened himself up to his most trusted friend in the world, and gladly accepted the soothing feelings that were being send across their bond. Feelings and impressions of the trust he had in his rider, the acceptance of who he was, where he came from and most of all love, unconditional love like his mother before him. All these things flowed freely from dragon to rider and Murtagh could not help but feel disgusted at himself, for how he had almost lost all control, just like Morzan had probably done a thousand times.
"I am not my father"
He had killed men, more men than he could count, but he never found any sinister delight in ending another beings life like his father.
He had tortured rebels for information, yet unlike his father he had never gotten any sadistic pleasure from extracting pain, and he did not willingly dominate the lives of others as was the way of his father.
"You are not your father"
Truth rang within those words, but Murtagh could not deny that the more time he spent as Galbatorix's rider, the more he became what he dreaded the most. Death and destruction followed him wherever he went, people feared him as people had feared his father. His temper was easy to fuel and his blood was almost always ready to boil. There was really only one solution, he and Thorn had to find a way to escape the influence of their overlord.
Having been calmed he quickly schooled his features. He was sure that he had only looked akin to a snarling beast for a brief second, but a being such as Marwyn would have definitely noticed and drawn his own conclusions.
"Taking a slow approach would most likely benefit us best for now".
"You are dangerously well informed my lord, not many know such intricate details of my life" which was true, to most he was simply the son of a forsworn who had come to hunt down the enemies of the empire. People never bothered asking about his mother, why should they? Having a loving mother would mean that you would have to think of him as a person, but most probably felt safer thinking that he was some kind of monster that had popped out of existence just to haunt them.
The Black Hand simply nodded his head at that statement. "Information is of course one of my main prerogatives". His gaze never left Murtagh's as he continued talking. "But you must excuse me for testing you this early in our encounter, I truly wanted to see for myself if you shared any of the impulsive traits that your father did". The rider inwardly tensed at being reminded of his father for a second time, yet his mask did not slip.
"I must admit that your initial reaction made me apprehensive, but at the very least you seem to be able to control yourself". The unsaid "unlike Morzan" did not fly over Murtagh's head. It was of course to a certain degree the truth, if only the man knew that off all things a dragon had saved him from being skewered.
"I am not my father".
Marwyn's response was swift and to the point. "Of course not, I after all knew the man, a meeting of such a subtle nature as this one would never have been possible with Morzan". He paused as he eyed the rider appreciatively "but with you it is".
Murtagh's brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. The individual in front of him did not look much older than someone in their midtwenties. The lord of The Black Hand had light brown hair, blue eyes and a clean-shaven face, but still this man had somehow known Morzan?
If looks could pierce mental shields, then Murtagh was sure that his soul would have been laid bare by Marwyn's gaze. "Looks can be deceiving. I have gone further than most in the most obscure arcane arts, but we are not here to talk about the great mysteries of the world". The mage leveled a benevolent smile at the rider opposite of him.
"No, we are here to talk business, so tell me what you need from me and then we'll see whether a bargain can be struck or not".
And that was the real crux behind Murtagh's difficult conundrum. He and Thorn weren't even supposed to be here. Galbatorix would have their hides if he knew of their current whereabouts. He needed to give something of such great value, that Marwyn wouldn't even dream of double crossing him.
With their first opening salvo of words being done and over with, he steeled himself and asked his questions, questions that might very well damn him if the man in front of him found them to dangerous or difficult.
"Is it true that the lost egg has finally been found?" He was truly apprehensive about this. The last of the unhatched eggs would be a female, which meant that Galbatorix would seek to extend the dragon riders even further, but the ensuing chaos of a new rider not under the king's thumb might also leave him distracted.
"I've heard that some elves have been captured during the skirmishing near Du Weldenvarden, I would like the opportunity to question them, privately". He dared not ask this man about ancient Alalëa directly, but if anyone in Alagaesia had the information he needed, then it would be an elf.
Finally he asked one of his more obscure questions. "What do you know about a magician who goes by the name Tenga and where can I find him?"
During his campaign in the Beor Mountains he had been approached by a shrouded figure. The figure had simply told him a name and that with this name he might find salvation.
For the first time in their conversation in seemed that he had caught the lord of The Black Hand off-guard, especially with that last question, if his raised eyebrows were anything to go by.
"It seems I am not the only one here who is dangerously well informed, refreshing I must admit, but my price will be steep should I grant you what you ask".
Some of the tension that had been building up inside of Murtagh left his body as he heard this. He now had the other man on the hook, and he himself was ready to give almost anything to get his answers.
"Tell me your price".
Marwyn chuckled. "Your bargaining skills are highly dubious, but very well, I do appreciate your no nonsense attitude". He paused as if silently assessing the best way to make sure that his demands were met with agreement and not violence.
"Tomorrow a lord by the name of Hamlin will be holding a feast on his estate, which is located outside the city. I need you to, with my instructions, alter your appearance so that you look like an aristocrat who goes by the name Alastair." When he noticed that Murtagh was giving him an incredulous look he elaborated. "It's how I remain unseen, as I said looks can be deceiving. All you really need to do is eat, look intimidating and if anyone strikes up conversation with you, then it will most likely be military in nature". He smiled before continuing. "I crafted the Alastair identity with a militaristic background, so you should fit right in from what I've gathered".
The rider could only nod in agreement because what choice did he really have? If one night chattering away with a bunch of vapid nobles was what he had to endure, then he would do so. He had been paraded around Galbatorix's court a couple of times, but for the most part he was left alone in favor of the battlefield. To be fair he was content with this as a part of the deal.
He nodded is assent so that Marwyn knew that he could continue and said man complied without hesitation.
"Secondly I'll need to call in a favor or two whenever I might require it. I do realize that we are both busy men, so you would of course be allotted enough time to carry out said favor". He paused to see how the recipient was taking it.
"What kind of favors?" Was the suspicious response.
Marwyn held up his hands reassuringly. "Nothing blatantly harmful of course, help with liquidating an enemy, or perhaps your assistance with carrying out some intricate magic or a ritual". Whilst mulling this over Murtagh couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the man. These weren't at all damnable demands, so he wondered if Marwyn was going to end this with a ridiculous request.
He didn't have to wait long before said request made itself clear.
"And finally". Those blue eyes glinted dangerously. "An Eldunari, I'm in need of one".
The rider's eyes bulged at this, and it truly was a miracle that they didn't pop out of their sockets.
This man wasn't just dangerous, he was borderline suicidal. How the hell did he even know about the existence of the Eldunarya? He knew that Galbatorix would never part with such information willingly, and he doubted that this man had somehow swindled such knowledge out of the king.
Having noticed the surprise on Murtagh's face the lord smirked.
"Information and prerogative remember?"
…
…
…
"… Are you insane?"
The lord of The Black Hand simply shrugged his shoulders as if he hadn't just thrown Murtagh the greatest curveball he could have imagined.
"These are my demand Murtagh, no more no less".
"This has got to be some elaborate joke".
"This is the end result he wanted all along, but we've got to face the fact that we don't have a choice. He might become a very dangerous foe if we decline his requests, and surely we can manage a single Eldunarí if given enough time".
Everything Thorn said was of course true. That didn't mean that had he to like the circumstances one bit, but the potential benefits could not be underestimated.
"Getting an Eldunarí will take a considerable amount of time" Murtagh gritted out between clenched teeth.
Marwyn was quick to reply "of course of course I would never insinuate that it was an easy task". He put his hands together before continuing "So do you accept this little bargain of ours?"
He figured there was no point in dragging his decision out just for dramatic effect. As stated before, he really had no choice.
"I accept".
The magician smiled. "Excellent"
Said magician also rose from his seat and made his way towards one of the shelves that were lined up by the walls. The shelf that he stopped in front of was filled with all manner of scrolls, but Murtagh had no idea as to what information they contained.
"I'll throw you a boon and let you have some alone time with as many of the elves as you require, and I will make sure that you can enter the cell blogs without anyone interfering". He began shuffling through all manner of parchment and scrolls packed within the shelves. "You are also correct in your assessment about the egg, it has indeed hatched." If the man hadn't had his back turned, Murtagh would have noticed the sour expression that came over the lord's face during his next sentences. "The king has sent the Ra'zac to investigate, although that seems self-explanatory considering that you are here and your… Colleague is still wreaking havoc on the elves".
Murtagh silently thought about all of these things with Thorn as they were being told. It was definitely good news, that he would be able to interrogate some of the elves. As to the egg, he really did not care whether the Ra'zac were successful in retrieving the fletching rider and dragon or not, but if they somehow failed, then Murtagh and Thorn could use that to their advantage. Chaos would ensue if this new rider escaped, or even somehow managed to make its way all the way to the elves. He knew that Galbatorix obsessed over the female egg, and this would leave the king distracted, which meant that he and Thorn had time to plan their betrayal.
He was so deep in thought that he had not even noticed Marwyn making his way back to the table with a couple of scrolls in hand.
"These are some of the reports from various smaller villages close to the spine that are under constant watch". He paused before continuing at Murtagh's prompting gaze. "You might find the reports coming from a certain backwater town by the name of Carvahall particularly interesting". Was his cryptic reply.
Before the rider had any chance to respond to any of this Marwyn had already moved on undeterred.
"As for the magician known as Tenga, I do know of him, but his current whereabouts are at this moment in time unknown to me". A predatory smile came over his face. "Bring me an Eldunarí and by the time we meet again, I will have all the information you need on this Tenga".
Murtagh couldn't even be angry at that statement. Marwyn had already fulfilled two thirds of their deal without him having to do anything but promise his cooperation. Of course there was the fact that this man could make his life a lot more undesirable, if he so wished. Hell, he could probably do so without even confronting Murtagh directly, so once again he and Thorn had been left with little to no options. They simply had to accept that this would be the state of things for the time being.
Just as Murtagh nodded his assent both men stood from their seats, as if the whole thing was choreographed like a play.
"A deal well struck" Marwyn mentioned offhandedly before both of them shook hands, with Murtagh giving the man a firm but not crushing handshake. He was not surprised that Marwyn was able to reciprocate in kind.
As if on cue, the door to the study opened to show Owyn standing at the ready.
"I trust that you have some accommodations in the city" Marwyn questioned as Murtagh was making his way towards the door.
"I do"
"Excellent, meet me back here tomorrow morning, then we can discuss your interrogations and Lord Hamlin's feast".
It would cut it close Murtagh thought. He couldn't stay for much longer in the city, it would not be long before his soldiers to the south became suspicious of his whereabouts, but he trusted his friend Reynard to keep his cover.
A single curt nod was all Marwyn received before Galbatorix's renegade rider had left the room, Owyn hot on his heels.
Some time later
The lord of The Black Hand reclined in his seat, a goblet of wine casually held in one hand and a beautiful emerald within the other, curtesy of a certain Tenga.
This meeting had proven rather productive, but he still could not keep that singular thought from his mind.
"What does Murtagh Morzanson want with my old mentor?"