A/N: I'm aware that actual, successful problem solving looks different from what the guys are doing in this chapter. Usually, there should be some sort of result or conclusion in the end. Here, though… The way I imagine Eragon and Murtagh is that they might very well be inclined to talk about issues, but more with the intent of getting their points across, not so much wanting to empathize with the other's reasons. I think they're both quite stubborn, and once they've made up their mind about a problem and the possible solution, compromises are not really what they're looking for. It's a behaviour pattern I've often come across, and usually it only changes if an "affected" person truly cares about another person, the latter than being able to get the former to listen and sometimes even to drastically reconsider his standpoint. But the guys in question are obviously not quite there yet.
Apart from that, I hope you're all celebrating as you should, and as next Thursday is already the 1st, I hereby wish you all the best for the new year!
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malthinae: to bind. However, lacking the grammar rules of the Ancient Language, I used it a bit freely, i.e. as an imperative. May CP's wrath pass me by unnoticed!
skulblaka: dragon
There's a way to do better... find it - Thomas Edison
Chapter 7
18th Grain Moon
Life was unfair, but now at least it had stopped deceiving him.
Try as he might, Murtagh could not avert his gaze from the scene playing out not far away: a very uncomfortable looking Eragon was trying to drag a very smug Arya away, looking anywhere but in Murtagh's direction. In the end, Arya gave up her mock resistance and followed willingly, a sexy smile playing around her lips.
Leave him alone! Murtagh thought fervently. Leave him alone, witch! To him, it was inexplicable how Arya had coaxed Eragon into intimacy so soon. Intimacy as in having him kiss back passionately, Murtagh reminded himself, seeing it repeated in his head. He did not kiss me like that! So all he was left with was the realization that he had been wrong – again. Eragon remained unpredictable. Four weeks of travelling together had not changed a thing.
He let go of the bars and sank down into a halfway comfortable sitting position with his head resting against the side of the cage.
Of course he had been betrayed before, but in the last decade or so he had always expected at least the possibility of it. It was unbelievable how much more it hurt when it came as a surprise, and when he had previously allowed hope to rise.
Stupid me. What is there to like about me?
Gradually his sadness was replaced by anger. Anger about Eragon, anger about the elves, and, most of all, anger about himself. Soon Murtagh was so mad that he got up again and tried to pace in the little cage. If only I had behaved differently from the start! If he had found out sooner that Eragon knew indeed nothing of this world and its habits, he could have spared him some unnecessary cruelty. He could have been nice. These days he knew that he was actually capable of being so, the kiss had proven that-
The kiss had proven nothing.
Eragon, on the other hand, had demonstrated early on that he was intelligent. And somehow he must have figured out how to breach Murtagh's defences, how to trigger the protective instinct and the emotions of which existence Murtagh himself had not even been aware of… What a fool I've been! He had escaped more than one powerful madman in his life, but now he had been caught like a rabbit in a trap because his thoughts had been full of someone that had only used him. Good that Thorn isn't around! In that case, his dragon would free him eventually, of course, but would make sure to mock him beforehand. As for Eragon… The measures the young man had taken made perfect sense, Murtagh had to admit, and he also figured that he would have done the same in the other's situation – though probably not half as convincing.
Knowing this, however, did not lessen the pain. Not at all.
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The sun was already sending long, orange rays through the trees when the constant stream of low murmur became excited and joyful. The elves, Murtagh knew, were preparing for their evening pastimes, which consisted of music and poetry readings. It was the same routine every night, and he had gotten used to it quickly.
Tonight, though, something was different.
Murtagh smirked, acutely aware of the person a few yards behind him: male, too clumsy for an elf, too afraid to come near. Eragon had been half circling the cage for almost an hour, trying to be invisible among the trees, but failing to do so for Murtagh's trained senses.
The anger of the previous day had long since evaporated, leaving behind an empty space that was longing to be filled. Longing for Eragon, Murtagh had realized at one point, although he could not stand that fact. If he was to decide, Arya could go straight to eternal damnation for what she had brought about. Still, he would like to talk to Eragon. Perhaps there even is an explana- No! There is none! But for some reason the other had come, and his presence was very much preferable to the horrible boredom – and it could keep Murtagh's unease concerning the next interrogation at bay.
Thus he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and evened out his breathing. He had a feeling that Eragon might approach if he thought him sleeping, and so far, the younger one had always been easy to fool. True enough, it did not take long until he heard hesitant footsteps nearing and stopping a little distance away, and eventually Eragon sat down with a little sigh.
Peeping through lidded eyes, Murtagh saw that the other was leaning against the cage with his back to him. Eragon's hands were busy fiddling with a little stick, bending it and peeling at its bark. Part of Murtagh urged him to extend one hand, to make contact and try to calm the other, but he had long since learned to control his body and knew better. So he only waited a little more, watching the crouched figure, until at length he drawled, "I'm not sleeping."
Eragon nearly jumped out of his skin and turned around in a flash, his eyes wide.
Murtagh chuckled quietly. "I can hear your heart beat… it's racing. Easy now." It'll get difficult soon enough.
Eragon forced a little smile and Murtagh saw goosebumps on the other's skin. Then the younger one struggled for some time until any words left his mouth. "How are you?" he finally asked meekly.
Great question… Murtagh only snorted.
Eragon bit his lip and looked away. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"What for? For asking so stupid a question? Or might you even be sorry for fucking Arya?"
Eragon's head snapped back. "What?"
Righteous indignation? Curse you, Eragon! "So you know the word… I wonder where you've learned it. I never told you. And elves don't use it – normally."
Eragon only glared at him without explaining himself. "Why are you like this?" he asked after a while. "Why are you such… such an arse-whole?"
"Don't act as if that's a surprise!" Murtagh grunted. "I've told you before. It's who I am." But for the first time the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"But you-"
"No, Eragon! I am bad! Cruel! They aren't wrong about that. There's many a flaw in elven logic, but compared to normal moral standards, I am no good." This is why you having sex with Arya does not affect me at all, of course. I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine.
Eragon shook his head, looking less angry but rather disappointed. "I came to explain that- Well, never mind." He poked his stick into the ground and shoved some earth away, then threw it to the side and folded his hands. "Do you know what your words do? Do you… do you care?"
"Usually not," Murtagh answered without hesitation, shrugging. He decided to pass the initiative back to Eragon, but when the other kept quiet, Murtagh's curiosity won the better of him. "What did you want to explain?"
"You want to know?" Eragon snorted and looked away. "I… I wanted to say that I'm sorry, that I didn't mean it. Wanted, not want. I know the difference."
Murtagh did not reply. How often had he heard that.
"You should say something."
Should I? Wouldn't that make you feel better, though? "…What didn't you mean?"
"The kiss!" Eragon said like a shot. "It just… happened! I didn't want that you see it!"
As if. Murtagh only wished for Eragon to shut up. "What now?" he asked icily. "Did you not want it to happen, or did you not want me to see it. Or, wait, you're going to tell me that you did not stand a chance against Arya. Are you saying that what I've seen was not what truly happened?"
"Don't!" Eragon stood up and began walking around, his hands clenching into fists. "Don't do this! You make the words all wrong. I know that I speak this language good enough-"
"Well enough."
Eragon stopped in his tracks and stared at Murtagh, anger creeping back in his eyes. "Enough, I'm leaving," he whispered. "I'm not talking to you! Not like this!" Making a pointedly snotty face, he raised his voice. "I hate that cage, but… but right now I'm happy that I can leave and you must stay!" He turned on his heels, squared his shoulders, and hurried away.
No! All but not that! Murtagh felt his throat go dry and he jumped to his feet. "Wait!" he called.
No reaction.
"Don't go!"
Still Eragon walked on, albeit lessening his pace.
Don't leave me so soon. I didn't mean it. "I'll listen!" Murtagh nearly shouted now to cover the distance.
Eragon halted, but did not turn around.
Murtagh licked his lips, hesitating.
After a moment, Eragon started moving again, his head hanging.
"Please," Murtagh whispered, but he could hardly hear it himself. "Please!" he repeated, this time calling it. He did not want to scream the word.
He did not have to.
Eragon threw him a long, questioning glance before hesitantly returning. He sat back down, although nowhere near the cage this time. "You confuse me," he admitted freely.
"I confuse myself," Murtagh conceded just as freely, remaining upright. "I'm not so good a listener. But I'll try. I won't interrupt you." Just stay, please!
Eragon tilted his head to the side and regarded him for a while. "Yesterday… Arya kissed me. And I kissed her back. We did not have secks."
It was simply too good to be true, and Murtagh could not refrain from commenting, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure."
"Murtagh!" There was a definite warning in both voice and expression.
Murtagh closed his eyes. Why could he bite back any response when he was around the king? Why was it impossible to do so now? Eragon mattered so much more… "Sorry," he whispered, breaking his personal record of times using this word in one day. While he did not dare to open his eyes, the rest of his body was alert, waiting to detect any change indicating that Eragon stood up. He never sensed a thing.
"What, exactly, is your problem?" Eragon sounded more curious than anything else. "Is it Arya? Or is it that I kiss somebody? The thought that I sleep with somebody?" His voice… was it smug? When there was no answer, Eragon continued. "When I saw that you… that you saw everything… I knew the kiss was wrong. I don't want to kiss her again. And I want that I learned this without… hurting you."
Murtagh did not trust his hearing. Eragon sounded completely sincere. "May I speak?" He finally opened his eyes and slumped down, watching Eragon, who held his gaze.
"Yes. I told you what I wanted to tell."
"You should know that I know Arya." The words turned bitter. "She means trouble for us men."
"That is not true! She is very nice! She understands me better than the other elves. She has explained so much."
Murtagh smirked. "That is one side of her. There is another one, too, but I can imagine what face she is showing you. The understanding elf, the one who is not belittling you, who is not like, say, Vanir. I can also imagine that you're quite appealing to her."
Eragon frowned and shook his head. "What makes you think this? Do you know her goo- well? Why do you not like her? I mean… she hates you, too. Why?"
"Yes, I know her well. And I don't like her. The reason for both you've already guessed weeks ago."
"Huh?" Eragon's eyebrows shot up, and confusion left his mouth partly open.
So gorgeous! If only he meant what he has said about the kiss… "Think back."
"Wait…" Eragon put an index finger to his lips and it immediately began drumming. "Oh." It stopped. "Oh! The elf woman? Arya is…? You and Arya?"
Murtagh flipped his tongue. "Exactly. I and the princess. A resentful princess on top of that. I was… not young. But younger. Believe me, I know her and I know how charming she can make herself. So… sympathetic. She can give you the feeling that you're very special."
"Princess? Arya is a princess?"
"Have you not noticed her demeanour?"
"Uhm… deemenour? All the elves look special to me. I didn't notice that what you said." Eragon briefly displayed a crooked, apologetic smile, then shrugged. "And you and Arya were…?"
"Lovers." Prompted by Eragon's blank expression, Murtagh added, "We had sex. Lots of it."
"Ah." Eragon blushed deeply and stared at his feet, picking up the stick again. "Not more?"
"More?" Murtagh turned his head away. "I'm not made for more, Eragon. Not with Arya nor with anyone else." Though there's someone I could imagine trying…
"But…" the younger one began without finishing, seeming quite uncomfortable for some time. "So that was the Arya part," he said eventually. "What about if I kissing someone?" He held his breath.
"If I kiss someone…" Murtagh looked at his hands, wishing that he also had a stick to fiddle with. "I did not like that," he admitted quietly, lightly scratching the scales of one of his boots.
Eragon did not react until he had Murtagh's attention back. "But why … why are you…?" He waved a hand, obviously missing a word. "Why do you want to decide what I do? You never told me, but… am I your prisoner?" Eragon looked pointedly at the cage and suppressed a giggle.
To his surprise, Murtagh realized that he had never thought about this. It had simply been clear that the younger one would accompany him as long as Murtagh wanted, because… Because I like him. "No you're not." Because I like him, I will let him go. For a brief second Murtagh remembered what Tornac had told him about his mother, and about the treatment Morzan had granted her. I am not him!
"Then why?" Eragon shifted closer.
Murtagh briefly considered telling Eragon the truth, but decided otherwise. Eragon would gain too much power if he knew, and that could not be afforded. Murtagh had to bury the hope of their kiss once and for all. "Have they not told you that I don't like anybody and am impossible to like?" His voice was cold and hard, effectively hiding what it looked like inside of him at that moment. "For once do as I tell you and believe them in this!"
Sadness coloured Eragon's eyes a shade darker, but in the end he nodded. Whether it was a confirmation of the statement or not, Murtagh could not guess.
They were quiet for a long time, sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Daylight was completely gone by now, but Ellesméra was never dark. A faint, unnatural twilight illuminated the space between the trees, making it possible for both of them to see each other's faces very clearly.
"I don't like the way they're keeping you," Eragon said after a long time.
"I don't, either," Murtagh agreed and they exchanged a little smile. "… Can you stay a little?"
"Yes. There is no one here who sends me to bed." Eragon's expression suddenly turned very melancholy, but then it was back to neutral in an instant. "Do you… want to talk?"
"I'd like to."
"…What about?"
Murtagh thought that everybody except Eragon must know that he was the last person to be asked such a question like. The thought amused him – and somehow the other asking warmed his heart. "Perhaps… how are you, Eragon? I never meant for all this to happen, I did not want to be caught… I see Vanir grants you some love every day?"
Eragon snorted. "Vanir is… I don't like him. And I spend too much time with him. But the others are very nice, very kind."
"Not like me, eh?"
Eragon ignored him. Instead, he cocked his head and scrutinized Murtagh for a while. Then his face lit up as if the sun had just risen. "You're the Rider! Ar- Somebody told me about you. You're the person you told me about. You are a Shur'tugal!"
"Aye. I'm the Rider." Murtagh smiled at the childlike excitement. "Who told you that? Arya? What else has she told you? That I eat infants for breakfast? That I turn into a demon at night?"
"Murtagh!"
Murtagh raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I can't help myself, I don't especially like these people. And they don't like me – it's mutual. Which is too bad," he quickly carried on before Eragon could interrupt, "because otherwise they don't lock their prisoners up like this and I could take part in your training. Vanir is a bastard." Safe terrain.
Some heat might have been rising in Eragon's cheeks, but it was hard to tell in the grey light. "So… you do watch my sparring?" He threw Murtagh a shy glance.
"Yes, indeed I do. There isn't much else to occupy myself with here." And there are things I do not want to think about, matters best to be forgotten. Murtagh swallowed. I wonder when next they will come for me… "I've trained many a man, Eragon. You're not nearly as hopeless as he makes it seem."
"Really?"
"If I ever get out here with time and a sword at my hands, and you near, I will show you."
"Thank you," Eragon murmured. Soon his pondering expression was back and quickly after another smile graced his lips. "You have a dragon, too!" His eyes were sparkling.
Murtagh chuckled. "Tell that Thorn and you are a head shorter. Yes, I am a Rider, but I don't have a dragon, instead a dragon hatched for me. After that, your dragon and you are soul mates. It's not as it is with a horse… speaking of which: have you been riding? Have you seen my horse?"
"Yes and yes. I'm getting more good, I think. Tornac is fine. They are… well… treating him more good than you." Eragon smiled apologetically.
"Better. Not more good. And don't you feel bad about the treatment."
"Murtagh, I-"
"No. Don't say anything. It's a conflict between me and the elves, not you. I didn't mean to involve you." Apparently it was impossible to avoid the topic.
Eragon hunched his shoulders. "Can we talk about this without… being mad at each other?" he mumbled. "I told you I'm sorry about-"
Murtagh stopped him with a gesture. "Yes, yes we can."
Eragon nodded slowly. "I… err… do not mean to… go in your privacy, but… they're questioning you? They have told me they do. Are they bad? What will happen to you?"
"It's a long story." Murtagh sighed. " Yes, they are trying to question me, but I have measures to protect my mind. What will happen to me? I'm not sure, to be honest. They will probably inform 'my master' Galbatorix and- Eragon? What's with that look on your face?"
"Nothing, nothing."
Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "Eragon…"
Eragon bit his lip. "It's something Arya has said. About what should happen to you."
"Death?" Murtagh guessed right away.
Crestfallen, Eragon nodded.
Murtagh laughed a little and only stopped when he saw the shocked look on the other's face. "It's Arya, Eragon. I know she wants me dead. The rest of them, though, is not as mad. Their moral forbids it to kill someone unarmed and at their mercy. In battle, yes, but never a prisoner."
Eragon remained sceptical. "She sounded serious…"
"I can well imagine that she is. But trust me."
"I would like to trust you, I would like that you are right." Eragon leaned back on his elbows. "I think you need to change the hate. Arya, too. It's not good for you or her."
"That might be the case," Murtagh agreed absentmindedly. The little movement of Eragon had caused his hair to meet the light in another angle, and suddenly it looked almost silver… and so soft. How beautiful! Murtagh would have given a lot to touch it at that moment. Instead, all he was left with was to run a hand through his own greasy mane. I need a bath! I need… I need him to bathe with me!
They were quiet again for so long that after some time Murtagh was only waiting for Eragon to take his leave. When this turned out wrong, however, it did not come as much of a surprise. Murtagh silently conceded complete defeat in terms of interpreting the other. How it turned out, though, had him think he had misunderstood.
It took Eragon apparent effort to get his mouth to speak. And then: "So… What about Durza and Brom? What do you know about them?" He sounded ten years younger than he was. "You never told me much…" The moss next to Eragon's leg seemed to be very interesting.
Too stunned to speak, Murtagh did some thinking first. This can't be true. They have involved Eragon? How dare they? The attempt of the young man, though, was hilarious. Murtagh nearly giggled. This shall be fun! "Yes, I haven't. I thought it would disturb you."
"It won't. I'm old enough."
"They're… you must keep this to yourself! Do you know what a secret is? Aye? Fine, listen." Murtagh leaned towards Eragon, who likewise brought his head closer to the other man. "They're having an affair, but it's not about love, only about physical needs." He was dead serious. "It's very passionate between the two."
Eragon again tugged at moss. "Ah…"
In the last instant Murtagh suppressed bursting out in laughter, which ended in a strange, loud cough. In the distance some elves turned their heads. "Nonsense! Absolute, complete nonsense! You're the worst spy I've ever met, Eragon."
Eragon fell apart, and when his eyes met Murtagh's for a fleeting moment, his were wet. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, half choking on the words. "They asked me… I am their guest, I owe them. And I had thought I could not harm you with it."
For some, this confession would have been unhealthy. In Eragon's case, Murtagh could not stop being amused. Moreover, he was aware that there was no way for Eragon to withstand the elves, and he would not blame him for it. "Your thoughts weren't that wrong," he assured him, "although I do not like being spied upon, especially not by you."
"What shall I do now?" Eragon asked with a helpless shrug.
"Hmm… tell them the following: about Brom, I told you nothing. As for Durza… Tell them he suspects the elves to be responsible for the theft, because he has intercepted one of my sources. Tell them I believe he will soon come to Ellesméra – if he's not already near. Tell them that I consider him to be incredibly strong."
Eragon looked not one ounce better than before. "I cannot lie to them!"
Murtagh extended his hands through the bars and took hold of one of Eragon's. For an instant he allowed himself to rejoice at the contact. "Sadly, I'm not lying." He squeezed the hand lightly. "I am not lying. There's more to it, but the elves might be in danger. Now, you know I don't like them, but Durza… Durza is another matter. He is a monster, Eragon."
Eragon looked at their hands, and then for a long time into Murtagh's eyes, obviously assessing what he had heard. Eventually he nodded. "Can you promise that nothing bad will happen because of this?"
"I do not promise, especially not in these times. But alarming the elves is truly only for their best. Believe me."
"I do." Almost visibly a weight was lifted off Eragon's shoulders and he took one deep breath and straightened up. "I guess… I guess I should go now. I have a lot to think."
Murtagh inclined his head in Eragon's direction. "I can imagine that you do. Go now and rest." It was easier on his lips than it was on his heart.
With a little grunt Eragon rose to his feet and shook his stiff legs. "I can come back whenever I want. Do you… want that?"
"Yes." Murtagh found himself smiling.
Eragon smiled in return. "Good night, Murtagh!"
"Good night!"
Eragon had walked only a yard or two when he halted and turned around, frowning. "They're coming back, too. You know that?"
Murtagh growled quietly. With only so many words Eragon had successfully destroyed his mood. "I have not told them anything yet, so I'm expecting it."
"Does it… hurt? When they ask you?"
"No." Murtagh saw Eragon's features relax. "No, it does not hurt. Go to bed!" To his relief, it remained easy to deceive Eragon. Now that the names of Durza and Brom were out in the open, the next interrogation would be a different matter than those before.
Murtagh's heart grew cold with anxiety while he was watching Eragon disappear in the twilight.
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Queen Islanzadí was in front, closely followed by the tall form of the former king, Evandar. Last was Norgia, one of the most powerful spellcaster the elves had. Her presence justified the lousy feeling Murtagh had, the feeling that this time it would get worse.
He groaned inwardly while at the same time gathering himself. The familiar call for his magic ebbed away unanswered. So be it, he thought grimly. After all, he had withstood both his father and, for long years Galbatorix, too, without magic. Yet it had always been painful, and he knew this day would be the same, feeling a strong mind probe his, attempting to invade.
Murtagh swallowed and shifted, presenting the arriving elves a shoulder and not his face. He clenched his slightly shaking hands into fists, determined not to let them see how much their previous visits had already affected him.
"Murtagh," the queen greeted, her tone frosty. "As always, you choose."
Murtagh bowed his head a fraction, and only to the queen, before he looked away again. There had been something in Norgia's eyes that made him shiver. "Milady. I am flattered by your kindness… as always." His tone did not quite agree.
"Your choice?" she asked impatiently.
He grunted. "My mind is my own!"
The elves were not in the least surprised. Norgia exchanged a look with the queen, who nodded, and the spellcaster called, "Malthinae!" Immediately the two guards on duty were at the cage.
Bind me? When other elves had ordered this before, it had not made Murtagh's hairs stand on end. Dutifully but with a sneer he held out his hands in front of him. He was, by no means, collaborating, but wanted to get the procedure over with as quickly as possible.
"No, Morzan's son." Norgia smirked. "I prefer it differently."
The guards put their hands to the cage where the side and top bars met. There, they briefly applied some pressure, and suddenly the whole row of bars of the side of the cage they were standing at was moving – they were pushing it towards Murtagh.
No! Murtagh thought, his mouth going dry. You can't be serious! His heart was beating faster, and of course the elves noticed it. A low growl escaped him, promising his inquisitors a bad future if he ever met them again in a position not as helpless. Within moments, the bars were pushing him, hitting his right side. He ground his teeth and stood with his legs apart, struggling to resist, but it became increasingly hard.
Norgia sighed, stepped forward, and grabbed one of his arms, pulling at it. Murtagh lost his balance and fell into the position they wanted him in: his chest was pressed to the front side of the cage, facing the elves, and from behind the bars only stopped when he thought he could not breathe anymore. I hate you! Now more than ever!
"Finally," Evandar remarked in his deep voice. "Norgia? Please, see whether you get further than the others."
Norgia nodded and stepped behind Murtagh, reaching with her hands through the bars. With her fingertips she applied light pressure on his temples. Immediately there was a humming in his mind and he raised his already high shields even higher, concentrating, as he always did in such a situation, on Thorn. Help me! he pleaded. Help me, oh mighty skulblaka!
"We have received news from Osilon this morning," the queen began, her voice bitter and hard. "There have been several terrible murders."
Murtagh's attentiveness wavered for a split second and Norgia was right there, pressing into his mind, piercing it with icy needles. Murtagh flinched and focused again. What on earth do they want now? the imaginary Thorn wondered.
"We know you have news of Durza which you have kept from us," Evandar continued, probably referring to the information they thought Eragon had gathered. "Now is the time to change that."
Murtagh pretended to be surprised. "You're using him!" he accused the elves. "Leave Eragon out!"
"Hypocrite! You are the one who forced him along on your fruitless journey." Islanzadí's agitation told Murtagh more than her words.
"And how would that give you the right to- Aarrrgh!" He bit down on his lip to stifle the moan and soon tasted the sweet, metallic flavour of his blood. Norgia had used the moment of split concentration wisely and had circumvented the image of Thorn, who now roared in protest, pushing her back.
Queen Islanzadí tried one last time. "You, of all people, must know what the invasion of one's mind is like. Imagine how someone like Norgia, someone who has seen so many summers, has perfected those skills. Cooperate!"
"Never!" Murtagh spat, closing his eyes. He shut out the world, concentrating even harder, preparing for what was sure to come.
Suddenly Norgia attacked his barriers full force, chanting quietly to herself. A hot and stinging bolt of energy invaded Murtagh's mind, peeling away the outer layers of his protection. Thorn was fading at an increasing pace, screaming in agony. This, however, triggered Murtagh's most animalistic instincts and he pushed Norgia back, an imaginary part of himself stepping in front of the imaginary ruby dragon.
It only took moments until Norgia attacked a second time.
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Murtagh was slightly dizzy still, and whenever he did not focus, the piercing presence of Norgia ghosted through his consciousness, although she was long since gone. I hope they'll feed me soon, he thought weakly, another interrogation I will not be able to last.
Fortunately, his worst fears had not come true. Norgia, and the queen and former king, for that matter, were still underestimating him. After the first, frightening, forceful assaults he had soon been able to detect the structure of the spellcaster's mind, thereby managing to either counteract or evade her. Once his rightful fear of the beginning had subsided, he had even managed to use Norgia's intervals of rest to sneak into her mind, every time a bit further.
Murtagh smiled despite his discomfort. He could not help but feel the winner of the encounter. Norgia, in her position, was in on the secret of the egg – as now was he! Best of all, the elves were not aware of it. However, if they did not give him anything to eat soon, his knowledge would be all for naught. He was drained and tired, even though he had had almost a whole day to recover.
He was not sure how much time had passed when he became aware of the hectic around him. Elves were passing to and fro, no one close to his cage, but everywhere else he looked. Ellesméra was buzzing with activity.
He blinked and urged his mind to work a bit faster. Soon he noticed the anxiety that was ever present in the elves' expressions, saw them gather weapons and food. Horses were led into the city, and before Murtagh had gained any information on the reason for all this, a big group of almost five hundred elves mounted their steeds and swiftly left, heading west. Murtagh had seen both Arya and Queen Islanzadí in front.
Rubbing both hands over his eyes, he tried to rid himself of the feeling of a strange dream. He could not make sense of what he had seen, yet he had lived long enough not to have a good feeling about it. So many elves, dressed for war, leaving this hastily…
He rose to get his blood circulating, marvelling at how quiet it suddenly was. Even his guards were gone – for quite some time the only living being he perceived was a woodpecker. How odd!
The afternoon Murtagh spent thinking, thinking hard, about what could have happened. A host of elves this big usually meant only one thing: an equally big host of Galbatorix at a place that the elves considered a threat. Or maybe the host was smaller, but as dangerous. Maybe it was only a hundred men, or two hundred, but they could be accompanied by Durza, for example, or Thorn… Please, not Thorn!
He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. Durza made a lot more sense. After all, the queen had told him there had been a murder in Osilon, and from Norgia's thoughts he had gathered that the egg must have passed the western city of the elves not too long ago. Durza, if he had travelled fast after Ceunon, was the perfect suspect for the crime. What if he has even intercepted the egg? Murtagh was suddenly very cold. His imprisonment here would then become the smallest of his problems…
It was night again when an elf neared the cage, taking on the watch. Murtagh studied him for a moment, mostly to see whether he had brought food, and thus he recognized Dirwen, the man Eragon was staying with. It was also a man who was as much a warrior as Murtagh was a cat, which had Murtagh wonder whether there was truly no one left who was better fit for the job of guarding him. Had he perhaps missed that even more elves had left earlier?
He hit his head against the bars full force. Something had been set into motion – whether for better or for worse was yet to be seen – and he was stuck in a cage in Ellesméra. People would laugh about him. History would laugh about him. And he could not take part in forming the country in the way that he saw fit – a task that had seemed hopeless from the start and now was impossible.
An uncommon motion in a bush some distance to Murtagh's right caught his attention and interrupted his thoughts. It was not just a gust of wind, it could be some larger animal, or-
Eragon!
Murtagh gulped. It had taken him less than an instant to see that Eragon was trying to be invisible, while at the same time not being good at it, causing a multitude of treacherous sounds. Little twigs were breaking and leaves were rustling, and on top of it, the fair hair was shining like a patch of gold in the nightly forest. Murtagh's entire body tensed out of solidarity with the pitiful attempt. And where is he heading? His eyes darted in the direction of Eragon's destination and came to rest on Dirwen, who, in turn, stared back at Murtagh.
In the last moment Murtagh realized that the elf would soon notice his unusual posture, so he forced his body to unclench, and nonchalantly scratched the back of his head. Next, he slowly sat back down and gave himself a pensive look.
Finally Dirwen looked away again.
All political tidings momentarily forgotten, Murtagh watched with increasing astonishment how Eragon continued to edge forward inch by inch. He never once looked into Murtagh's direction – probably instructed by Arya to stay away from me – and therefore never saw the subtle but distinct gestures to halt any progress. Murtagh knew there was no way for Eragon to approach Dirwen unnoticed – whatever the purpose. And he also knew that Eragon would not be doing this if his intentions were pure.
Despite everything that should be pressing on his mind, Murtagh could not help but worry about Eragon, who was doing his best to get himself into trouble.