Chapter Twenty

Tool of Fate

She was lost.

She ran through howling blackness and icy cold, faster and faster, the metallic taste of fear in her mouth. She didn't know where she was or how she had got there, but as she ran, she saw things that she recognised. She saw herself. Not just one self, but many different versions. She saw herself as she had been in the past. Same name, same soul, but always changing. Happy, sad, angry or afraid. From warrior to lover to mother to daughter to leader to fugitive. All different. All one. All her.

She ran and ran, never tiring, her shape flicking back and forth all the while. She could not see her pursuer, but she was always there, just behind her, dragging her own memories behind her, seeking to catch her and smother her under them forever.

And still she ran, her voice echoing all about. Who you?… not understand. Not like elf. My father, not hear for long time. Your kind are my enemies, I will tell my father if it takes me a hundred years, you stole me, the storm, the storm he said, protection, I do not owe the race of the elves anything, you are all scum, cowards! I have no name, I am not an elf! I am a dragon!

But she did not know which one she was. Here, she was both. And a storm was gathering all around her, and she was afraid.

Caught up in the roar and flash and the savage wind, she cried out. HELP ME!

That was when she became aware that there was a third presence. It was all around her and growing stronger by the second, its warmth banishing the cold. Her fear died when he came.

A great dark dragon, lithe and powerful, his shape flicking back and forth, surrounded by a ghostly white glow. He attacked her enemy, driving it away. She turned and joined her strength with his, and the enemy's memories faded, one by one. And as they left her, a new and powerful certainty filled her. I remember now, she thought. Elf and dragon, dragon and elf, she was both.

The dark dragon changed into a dark man, and held out his hand toward her. Follow me.

She took it, and let him show her the way back.

Skade's eyes blinked open.

The first thing she saw was a pattern of leaves, glowing green in the sunlight. A light breeze ruffled her hair. She felt warm and aching.

She raised her head with some effort; it felt several times heavier than it should have, and throbbed unpleasantly. She found that she was lying in the hammock under the trees, with several blankets over her and another folded under her head to serve as a crude pillow. How had she got there? Fear bit into her, and she looked around for Galbatorix.

He was nearby, slumped against the trunk of a tree, his face deathly pale, not moving at all.

Skade's eyes widened. 'Galbatorix!'

Galbatorix jerked upright. 'What? What's going on – Skade!' He got up and was at her side in seconds, clasping her hand. 'Are you all right? How d'you feel? Is there any pain?'

Skade sighed deeply. 'Galbatorix,' she said. 'I thought you were…'

To her surprise, he looked guilty. 'I didn't mean to fall asleep, but it's been three days…'

Skade tried to sit up, but slumped back again. 'What happened?'

'You killed Rangda,' said Galbatorix. 'There's nothing left of her. She tried to take your body over after hers was destroyed. You were like… your heart stopped beating for a few minutes. I had to give you some of my energy of you would have died.'

Skade looked up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed; he was unshaven and dishevelled, and the hair he took so much pride in was lank and greasy. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. 'So you stayed by me the whole time?'

'Of course I did,' he said. 'I couldn't… if you'd died while I wasn't there… and Rangda was still in your head.'

'I remember it,' said Skade. 'But you drove her out for me. You saved me.'

He blinked. 'No I didn't. I tried to reach into your mind, but I couldn't get in.'

'Why not?'

'You were blocking me. If I'd forced a way in, it would have hurt you.'

'But I saw you,' said Skade. 'You were there, and you helped me…'

'Not me,' said Galbatorix. 'Maybe just the memory of me.' He smiled, his tired eyes a little brighter. 'Sometimes when someone suffers an attack like that, they summon up something that means a lot to them. Something that helps them remember who they are.'

Skade gave his hand a squeeze. 'You should rest.'

'I'm fine,' said Galbatorix. 'Here, have something to drink.' He handed her a flask of water.

Skade drank as deeply as she could. The water tasted of leaves and dirt, but it was cool and sweet, and made her feel a lot better. 'So Rangda's dead,' she said, once she'd emptied the flask.

Galbatorix nodded. 'Vervada too. You saved my life, Skade. This damned leg of mine just folded up, and if you hadn't done what you did… when I thought you might die, I blamed myself for it.'

Skade prodded him in the chest. 'Stop being silly. You always blame yourself.'

Galbatorix pretended to look contrite. 'Well, all right. But it would've been very selfish of you to go and die on me.'

'Don't presume to tell me what to do,' said Skade, mock-indignant. 'It's my life and I can die if I want to.'

'Yes, but if you died I'd have to die as well,' said Galbatorix.

'Why?' said Skade.

'Because wherever you go, I go.' He grinned. 'And if you think you can get away by running off into the afterlife, think again.'

Skade had to laugh. 'You're demented. Honestly. Has anyone ever told you that?'

'Hundreds of times,' said Galbatorix, with a kind of playful sulkiness. 'And if anyone else but you said it, I'd punch them in the stomach.'

Skade prodded him again. 'Because you know that if you punched me, I'd hit you right back.'

'Exactly. Now, wait here a few moments… I'll get you something to eat.'

Skade watched him as he rummaged through a bag of provisions. Not for the first time, she considered how lucky she was to have him. Since the day she had hatched, everyone she trusted had betrayed her. Einás, the old elf who raised her. Her sister, Saphira. Her brother, Kullervo. Even her own father had deceived her.

Throughout her whole life, only one person had always been there for her, and that was Galbatorix. He had never lied to her, or fooled her. He had confided his darkest secrets to her, and made himself vulnerable to her in a way he would never do with anyone else. He trusted her completely, just as she did him.

And she noticed how he acted a little differently when she was there. She almost never saw him smile or laugh with anyone else, or make a joke, or be playful. In spite of his great age he could still make himself young – but only when she was with him. It was as if he had a lightness and a joy in him which only she knew how to release. She saw him as no-one else did or ever would. They all saw someone dark and brooding and sarcastic, with a humourless laugh and cold, commanding voice. They saw Galbatorix the King. She was the one who saw his other side. She saw someone who was closer to what he had once been, long ago, before he became so lonely and wounded. What she knew was that underneath the mask he wore was another him, a younger him – a headstrong, mischievous, carefree boy – one who wore a touchingly serious frown when deep in thought, but whose eyes lit up when he smiled, as if the flame of life inside him was too bright to stay hidden. One who would rush into things on a whim and get himself into trouble, but somehow always find a way out again. Who would show off his abilities with a kind of cocksure showmanship, often glancing at his audience to make sure he had their full attention, and who would sulk if someone did something he didn't like – such as calling him Arren, or suggesting that he was mentally unstable. Who fussed over keeping his hair neat, and talked quickly and waved his hands about when he was excited, and swore in dark elvish if things weren't going his way, but who, in spite of his brash self-confidence, was more vulnerable than anyone she had ever known. It showed from time to time, when he talked about the past. When he spoke of Laela, or his parents, or the fate of the riders, his voice would go quiet and his eyes distant. She sometimes considered that it was moments like that which revealed the part of him she loved the most. It was the first version of him that she had seen; that sad, distant look was the one he had worn when he first looked at her and asked her who she was and said that she was beautiful.

That was the side of him she cherished, and he occasionally did show it to other people. But none of them ever truly saw it. Perhaps the mask of the King held them back.

With a little chill at her heart, she realised that his remark about following her into the afterlife had not truly been a joke. She was all he had in the world, and if he lost her, it would almost certainly destroy him. Even an immortal could only bear so much loss before they broke under the burden. It had been the same for her, and she vowed there and then that, no matter what happened, she would not let him die. If she had to stand between him and Ravana himself, she would, even if it meant her own death.

Galbatorix returned to her side with some bread and cheese and a handful of dried berries. 'I'm afraid it's all we've got,' he said apologetically, offering it to her.

Skade ignored the food. She pulled him down toward her and kissed him. He kissed her back, and the two of them shared an awkward embrace.

They didn't let go for a long time.

When they finally parted, Skade had a go at eating the food, although each mouthful seemed to take a year to chew.

A thought occurred to her. 'Where is everyone?'

'Oh… well, the dragons are off hunting. Skömm was here a while ago, but the hatchlings wouldn't let him sleep. Little beggars never seem to stop going.'

'What about Nasuada and Murtagh and the rest of them?' said Skade.

'Back in their hideout, wherever that is.' Galbatorix pulled a disgusted face. 'They wouldn't let me take you there where it might've been a little more comfortable. Said they didn't want me to know where they were hiding. I told them you might die if you weren't properly cared for. Might as well have told them you had a splinter in your hand for all the concern they showed. Pack of bloody ungrateful…'

Skade growled under her breath. 'I hate them. Can't they just put the past behind them?'

'Of course not,' said Galbatorix. 'It's us, remember? The evil ruler and his evil queen. We're just lucky they didn't decide to try and kill us on the spot. But I don't think they hate you quite as much as they used to. You killed Rangda, after all, and that's not something anyone's likely to forget in a hurry. Do you know how many people have ever managed to kill a Shade? About four, I think, and only one or two survived it. Oh, and I think this is yours.' He picked up a sword that was leaning against a tree, and held it out for her.

Skade touched the hilt. It was Rangda's sword, the yellow-bladed weapon that had once belonged to Eragon, first of the elvish riders. She hadn't had such a close look at it before, but now she did she was surprised by how beautiful it was. The blade was tapering and elegant, the hilt crafted from gold and set with round stones like little suns. On the crosspiece, just below the blade, was the name 'Rǿđull-Viđr'. Sunbeam. The first of the riders' blades.

'Yours by right of victory,' said Galbatorix. 'And these, too.' He rummaged in his pocket and produced a handful of finely-crafted silver rings. 'Rangda's, too. I picked them up off the ground after she disintegrated. Took hours to find them all.'

Skade took them. Each ring was silver, each one beautifully made. No two were alike. Every dragon is fascinated by things which shine and glitter, hence the tales of wild ones who hoarded treasure (although most of the time said 'treasure' consisted of pieces of shiny rock and glass and other rubbish). Skade put the rings on her own fingers with some pride.

'They suit you,' said Galbatorix. 'They're calling you Shadeslayer, now. Skade Shadeslayer.'

Skade blinked. 'Why?'

'It's an honorific thing. Take pride in it; there aren't many people who can call themselves Shadeslayer. None living, anyway. And once you've recovered, it'll be time for me to try for the same title. Word will have reached Durza about what happened by now, and I'll be my beard he isn't happy about it.'

Skade shivered. She'd almost forgotten that there was still another Shade left to fight. 'You're going to go after him?'

'Yes. Although it wouldn't surprise me if he showed up here in person. Rangda was his beloved, after all. Hell, if it was me, I'd throw myself into a pit of lava if it meant getting revenge. But if he doesn't come, I'll go to him.'

'Do you really have to do it?' said Skade.

He nodded. 'I gave my word that I would. And anyway, Durza betrayed me. Him and Rangda both. They cheated me out of my revenge and stole my Empire from me. If it weren't for them I wouldn't be in this sorry state. Well, I'll make him pay for that. Never let it be said that I don't remember it when I owe someone a bad turn.'

There was a sound of voices from nearby. Galbatorix tensed immediately, reaching for his sword, but it was only Sif. The girl entered their little clearing, giggling and breathless. She was holding a stick in one hand. When she saw Skade, she stopped and said; 'Hey! The dragon lady's awake!'

Galbatorix put his sword down. 'Hello, Sif. What have you been up to?'

'Uncle Murtagh's been teaching me how to do sword fighting,' said Sif. 'He said I'm really good at it,' she added proudly.

'Your father was a good swordsman,' said Galbatorix. 'I fought him twice.'

Sif lost her smile. 'Mother said you were a bad man.'

'Did she now,' Galbatorix said evenly. 'That was rude of her.'

'She said you tried to kill Father,' said Sif. 'She said you killed lots of people.'

'Really,' said Galbatorix. 'Did you know what your father did?'

'My father was a hero,' said Sif, lifting her chin defiantly. 'He saved lots of people, and…'

'…disturbed the peace, killed lots of people dishonourably, had me beaten and poisoned and locked in a cell for weeks in total darkness without any food, murdered my son and several of my grandchildren, ran away from a battle and left his followers to die in his place, killed my dragon and left me crippled for life, caused civil war that left thousands of people dead, sent an assassin after a pregnant woman, tried to kill a baby that was only a few days old, destroyed entire cities and killed their inhabitants for refusing to follow him, led his followers to their deaths out of pure stupidity, and then got himself turned into a Shade and left the Empire in the perfect position to be taken over and turned into the miserable place it is now. And when he wasn't doing that, he was whingeing and complaining and expecting to have whatever he wanted handed to him on a silver platter.' Galbatorix paused. 'But he was a very good swordsman.'

Sif looked at him blankly, and he resisted the urge to tell her it made her look a lot like her father. 'You're a liar,' the girl said eventually, sounding upset.

Galbatorix ground his teeth. 'You know what? I am very, very tired of hearing that. Oh, hello, Murtagh.'

Murtagh appeared from among the trees. 'There you are,' he said to Sif. 'Don't wander off like that. Oh, hello… Galbatorix. Oh! Skade! You're awake! How are you?'

'Well enough, Murtagh,' said Skade.

Sif was almost in tears. 'Uncle, he said bad things about Father,' she said, pointing accusingly at Galbatorix. 'He said he was evil!'

Skade hid a smirk behind her hand. 'Your niece just learned that it's a bad idea to call the Brat a hero when Galbatorix is around.'

Murtagh didn't look amused. 'He didn't get on well with your father, Sif. Don't listen to him.'

'I never said he was evil,' Galbatorix said mildly. 'Arrogant and stupid, yes, but not evil.'

'And now he's enslaved,' said Murtagh, still addressing Sif. 'And the… the bad man is going to set him free whether he wants to or not. Because he promised your mother he would.'

Galbatorix sighed. 'Come on, Murtagh – don't try and tell me you've forgotten what he did.'

'He was still my brother,' Murtagh said, with a stubbornness that was distinctly Eragon-like. 'And I blame you for what happened to him.'

'Me? How is it my fault? I wasn't the one who-,'

'You stood by and let it happen,' said Murtagh. 'You said you had the power to kill a Shade, but you ran away. Why didn't you stand and fight?'

'Because I would have died,' said Galbatorix. 'Me, fight two Shades at once? On my own? You have to be joking. I would have been killed.'

'And no-one would have cared,' said Murtagh.

At that, Skade rolled out of the hammock. She landed awkwardly on her feet, stood upright with Galbatorix's help, then strode unsteadily toward Murtagh and slapped him across the face, hard. Her claws left a row of gashes on his cheek. She grabbed him by the collar, almost lifting him off his feet, and dragged him forward until they were face-to-face. 'I would have cared,' she snarled. The silver elf almost threw the astonished Murtagh to the ground, then pointed at Sif. 'If he had died, her mother would have died. If you say anything like that to him again, I'll rip your head off.'

Sif ran away. Murtagh scrambled to his feet. For a moment he stood there in indecision, staring at his former King and Queen. They stared back, stone-faced. Murtagh touched the hilt of his sword, then ran after Sif, calling her name.

Galbatorix and Skade stayed where they were, watching the young rider disappear off into the trees.

Once he was gone, both of them started to laugh.

'Oh, gods, the look on his face,' said Galbatorix, sniggering. 'I'm going to remember that for the rest of my life. Skade, did I mention how much I love you?'

In spite of her lingering rage, Skade was unable to hide a grin. 'He really thought I was serious.'

'You weren't?' said Galbatorix.

Skade nodded solemnly. 'Of course I was serious. It makes me furious when people talk like that to you. You shouldn't let them get away with it.'

Galbatorix shrugged. 'They have every right to be angry with me. A few insults is the least they can throw at me.'

Skade realised her gown was torn and grubby. Her bag was sitting at the base of the tree by the hammock, so she went to it and started rummaging through it for a new one. The silver egg was still in there, and she lifted it out and examined it, feeling its surface. It was warm. And when she put her ear to it, she could hear a heartbeat.

'Is he all right?' Galbatorix asked. 'I kept a close eye on him while you were unconscious… he's alive, but he doesn't seem to want to come out. Assuming that's what your father had in mind.'

'He'll hatch when he's ready,' said Skade. 'We can trust my father. He'd never hurt a member of his own family.'

She put the egg down carefully, and took out a new gown, this one light blue. She pulled off the old one. Completely naked with the new gown in her hands, she turned to Galbatorix and said; 'You shouldn't trust them. They'll betray you again.'

He eyed her appreciatively. 'I don't have a choice. I made a promise.'

'Then you shouldn't have,' said Skade. She donned the new gown, muttering; 'Humans are ridiculous. No scales, so they have to cover themselves with cloth. What were you thinking, taking an oath like that?'

He shrugged. 'We have a common cause, and they wanted an oath.'

'But in the ancient language? And to them? Why bother, anyway?'

'Because I want revenge. And because I made a promise. I have to bring the riders back.'

'Why?' said Skade. 'They were despots. You hated them as much as I did.'

'They didn't have to be like that,' said Galbatorix. 'Many of them weren't. They were just taught by the wrong people. Every young rider had the same nonsense ground into his head. Stop being human, be like an elf. Everyone is inferior to you. Kill people who won't obey.' He spat contemptuously. 'I couldn't change the world. Not even after a hundred years. But if there were new riders, and I could teach them what I know… who knows? Maybe something good could come out of it.'

Skade took his hand. 'No,' she said softly. 'It was a dream. An impossible dream.'

Galbatorix looked sorrowfully at her. 'But it's a dream I still haven't given up.'

Skade let go of his hand with a slightly exasperated gesture. 'You've got that look again,' she said, striding off to pick up Rǿđull-Viđr. 'I don't like it. Not one bit. Those humans are out of their minds. What were they thinking when they told us we'd been gone ten years? It's ridiculous!'

'We were gone ten years,' said Galbatorix. 'Didn't you see the child? She's at least ten years old. Nasuada was pregnant when I left her here, and the Brat was the father. She can't have been born before then – we both saw Nasuada when we had her prisoner. No daughter then, or any mention of one.'

'But we weren't gone that long,' said Skade. 'You only left here a week or so ago.'

'That's what I thought,' said Galbatorix. 'But we've lost ten years. Remember when we were in your father's country? Something strange happened.'

'That mist,' said Skade. 'After you left me, I saw…'

'…Someone spoke to you, didn't they?'

'Yes. How did you know?'

'Because someone spoke to me too,' said Galbatorix. 'I thought it might have been just a dream, but when they told me we'd been gone ten years, I knew it was real. What did you see, Skade?'

'Nothing,' said Skade. 'Just Lifrasir. She spoke to me, but… it wasn't her.'

'What did she tell you?'

'She told me you would die if I didn't go to you,' said Skade. 'She said… she said you needed me to be there, and it was my choice if you lived or died. But then – then it was like I woke up, and Lifrasir was asleep. I asked her if she said anything later on, and she didn't remember it and there was no reason for her to lie. What did you see?'

'The past,' said Galbatorix. 'Ghosts. The dead can come back, under the right circumstances. After the Brat opened the Vault of Souls, he set them free. And they came to find me.'

'Who did?' said Skade.

'My victims,' Galbatorix said baldly. 'The riders. All of them.'

'And what did they say?'

'They told me to bring them back. They promised me… they told me I would be free of my guilt if I could do it. And after what I did, how could I ignore them? This is the only way to make things right again. If I do anything good at all in my life, let it be this.'

'I believe you,' said Skade. 'But… how is it possible? And how would that make the time go so fast?'

'The dead have no concept of time,' said Galbatorix. 'That mist was of their making. To talk to us they would have had to bring the whole land under their influence, and that was where the time went. We simply missed it. After it happened I woke up and they were gone, and I had no memory of ever falling asleep. Who knows – I could have been lying there for ten years. And your father – I wouldn't be surprised if he saw something too.'

Skade listened solemnly. 'What does it all mean? And how will you bring the riders back?'

'I don't know,' said Galbatorix. 'But I'll find a way.'

'You usually do,' said Skade. 'But-,' she broke off and sniffed the air. 'The Brat's mate is coming.'

So was Skömm. The black dragon appeared, skimming over the treetops, and landed neatly in their clearing. He was followed by the hatchlings, which landed on and around him in a noisy little flock.

Skömm rushed straight toward Skade, nearly knocking Galbatorix over. 'Mother! You're all right!'

Skade hugged the dragon tightly. 'Skömm.'

'I was so worried about you!' said Skömm. 'After you killed Rangda, and… it was terrifying. Father never left your side, you know. Not once. He hardly slept.'

'And what have you been doing, Skömm?' said Skade.

'Teaching the hatchlings how to fly,' said Skömm. 'And fight. The black one's the strongest. Very bold. Reminds me of Skirnir.'

The black hatchling waddled over to them, chirping. She was exactly the same ebony shade as Skömm, but her wings were gold and her eyes silver. Skade reached down to touch her, but she seemed more interested in something that was behind her. The little dragon walked on past the elf, her eyes fixed intently on something at the far end of the clearing.

Skade and Galbatorix turned to look.

It was Nasuada. The dark-skinned woman emerged from the trees and stopped when she saw Skade. 'Oh,' she said. 'It's good to see you're all right, Shadeslayer.'

'Hello, Nasuada,' said Skade.

Galbatorix strode forward and picked up the black hatchling. 'As you can see, your new Shadeslayer is up and about again and should be strong enough to fight in a week at most. Probably sooner if I'm any judge. I'm ready to fulfil my promise – are you and your people ready?'

'We are,' said Nasuada. 'What do you have in mind?'

'Durza is probably smarter than to come out here himself,' said Galbatorix. 'He knows we're capable of killing a Shade now. He'll be hiding in Urû'baen. And if he won't come to us, we'll go to him.'

Nasuada coughed. 'Are you insane? Us? Go to Urû'baen? Durza won't even open the gates – we'll be slaughtered without ever seeing him, let alone getting a chance to fight him.'

'He'll give us the chance if we offer him what he wants,' said Galbatorix. 'The one who killed Rangda – me.'

Nasuada took a moment to figure out what he meant. 'I see.' She looked at him, showing a hint of what could have been admiration. 'You'd really do that? Go in there alone to fight him?'

'I would, but Skade won't let me,' said Galbatorix. 'She'll insist on coming too.'

Skade nodded. 'I'm not leaving him again.'

'And afterward?' said Nasuada. 'If there is an afterward. What then? You'll go back to ruling your little Empire and send me back to the mines?'

'We'll leave it to the people, afterward,' said Galbatorix, giving her his coldest look. 'I think it's about time they chose their own leader. But I suspect I know what you'd prefer.'

'Oh?' said Nasuada. 'What might that be?'

'What the Brat wanted, of course,' said Galbatorix. 'A return to the old ways. Rule by dragon rider. And we all know how well that turned out.'

'That's not funny,' said Nasuada.

'I wasn't joking.'

'Don't you know?' said Nasuada, her voice suddenly breaking. 'There are no riders left except you and Murtagh, and there never will be more. It's over.'

Galbatorix went cold. 'The dragons… did something happen to them?'

'No,' said Nasuada. 'They're still there. Enslaved, but alive…' she was very close to tears. 'But it's over, half-breed. There can't be any more riders. The Shades, they…'

'They what?' Galbatorix said sharply. 'What did they do?'

'They broke the ancient magic,' said Nasuada. 'Dragon hatchlings can't bond with humans any more. The magic just isn't there any more.'

Galbatorix's grip on the black hatchling tightened, and a deep shudder went through him. 'Godsdammit,' he half-whispered. His mind was reeling. It was over. Rangda and Durza had destroyed the riders forever. He and Murtagh were the last of their kind and always would be. The riders could not be brought back, and his promise meant nothing. The spirits had come to him in vain. He had failed when he had barely begun his quest.

In his arms, the black hatchling wriggled and squeaked in protest. He relaxed his hold on her with some effort, and she stretched her head out toward Nasuada, straining to reach her, her mouth opening to emit a high crooning call – the kind of sound a hatchling dragon makes to summon her mother's protection.

Galbatorix watched her blankly, not letting go of her. The hatchling struggled against him, reaching out a foreclaw, still making that strange piping call, her eyes fixed on Nasuada.

Something strange happened to Galbatorix then. He felt icy cold all over. He shivered slightly, all over, and then a powerful force took hold of him, shooting up from the ground and into him, reaching into his mind and taking it for its own. And after that came certainty, and calm.

He looked at Nasuada, who was watching the hatchling with a strange yearning look on her face.

'Touch her,' Galbatorix said in a low voice.

'What?' said Nasuada.

'Touch her,' Galbatorix said again… but as he spoke, a hundred other voices spoke in unison with him. 'Forge the bond, Argetlam.'

Nasuada didn't hesitate. She reached out and put her hand on the hatchling's head.

Instantly, a glow of white light appeared all around Galbatorix. It shone like moonlight, covering every inch of him, glowing in his eyes until black became white. The light spread onto the hatchling, and then enveloped Nasuada.

An instant later it died away. Galbatorix slumped where he stood, his head bowed as if in shame. Nasuada looked at him, then at the dragon hatchling. All her strength seemed to have gone. She slumped to the ground without a sound.

She never knew how long she lay there, but the next thing she knew there was a presence. She could feel it inside her head, touching her consciousness. A small, gentle presence, but one which made her feel completely safe. She opened her eyes and saw the face of a dragon looking down at her. Small and black-scaled, with bright silver eyes.

And then there was a voice. In her head. 'Nasuada,' it said.

'What… who is it?' she mumbled.

'Nasuada,' said the voice. 'Please don't die.'

'Who are you?' Nasuada thought. 'Why are you in my head?'

'I'm Silarae,' said the voice. 'I'm here with you. Please get up, Nasuada. I want you to get up.'

Nasuada set up. Her head ached. So did her hand. No… it didn't ache. It iched and burned, as if she had been bitten by something. She looked at the palm, and her heart froze inside her.

There was a silver circle on the palm of her hand. A shining circle of silver skin, marked indelibly onto her. It was a gedwëy ignaesia.

On the ground beside her, the black hatchling fluttered its wings. The voice in her head said; 'Are you all right?'

Nasuada looked at the dragon, and knew that it was what had spoken to her. 'Is this a dream?' she asked.

And the hatchling said; 'No. You are a rider, Nasuada. I have chosen you.'

Nasuada looked up. She was still in the clearing, and Galbatorix and Skade were there, seeming to tower over her. Skade looked astonished; Galbatorix strangely saddened. 'Are you all right?' he asked her.

Nasuada got up. The little dragon stood by her feet, blinking, oddly calm. She looked at her palm again. 'What is… how is this possible? What did you do to me?'

'Show me,' said Galbatorix.

Nasuada held out her hand so that he could see the gedwëy ignaesia. He leaned forward a little to examine it, and then sighed. 'I see. I see now. So that's how it is.'

'What did you do?' Nasuada demanded again. 'This can't be real!'

'Can you feel her?' Galbatorix asked. He indicated the hatchling. 'Can you feel her, in your head?'

'Yes,' said Nasuada. 'She's speaking to me. She said her name was Silarae.'

Galbatorix nodded. 'After her grandmother. Nasuada, you're a rider.'

'Wh – no I'm not!' said Nasuada. 'That's impossible!'

'You're not the sort of person I would have chosen, but it was up to Silarae and she chose you,' said Galbatorix. 'There's no impossibles about it. You're a rider now and you always will be.'

'But how did you do it?' said Nasuada.

Galbatorix simply shook his head. 'Don't ask me. You and Silarae will take some time to get used to each other, but don't worry – it's all natural. I'm sure Murtagh will be happy to teach you what you need to know. I trained him myself. Now, if you'll excuse me… I need to be alone for a while.' He turned and walked away.

Nasuada watched him go, unable to think of anything to say. 'But – but -,'

Skade gave her a disgusted look. 'You, a rider? How appropriate. You're as narrow-minded as they were.' She walked off, following Galbatorix.

Skade caught up with Galbatorix at the edge of the clearing. 'Are you all right?' she asked, taking hold of his arm. 'How did you do that?'

Galbatorix pulled away from her. 'Just… not now, Skade,' he said. 'I need to be alone.'

Skade let him go, a hurt and troubled expression on her face.

Galbatorix walked away through the trees, alone. Night was falling, and the last remnants of the sun were glowing red and orange on the horizon, over the mountains.

He wandered out of the trees and into the stony waste surrounding Farthen Dûr as the stars came out.

It started to get cold, but he didn't notice. He wandered on distractedly, his boots scuffing on the loose stones. He kicked one, and the hollow thunk it made as it bounced over the ground echoed among the mountains. Stopping at last, he looked up at the stars. Were they the souls of the dead, as some people claimed? He remembered the spirits he had seen in the mist, each with its little star of light at its heart.

'So that's the way it's going to be,' he said aloud. 'That's how it is. You choose them, I make them. I just… Shruikan's daughter, bonded to that woman! The Brat's mate, the one who-,' he broke off and kicked the steep wall of stone at the base of the mountain. Rage burnt inside him. 'You can't do this to me!' he shouted, striking the stone again and not noticing when he grazed his knuckles. 'I won't let you use me again, damn you all! I'm not your tool! Let someone else do it!'

Only silence answered him. He half-screamed in fury and flung himself at the stone, bashing himself against it as if it were his worst enemy. Pain crackled through him, again and again, but he ignored it and continued to attack the stone, ranting and screaming in his red-hot, maddened anger. In the end his energy ran out, and he slid down the rock face and landed in a heap at its base. There he curled up, shaking with sobs. 'I can't do this, Laela,' he said. 'I can't. After all I've been through? Help them? Bring them back? At that cost? It's too much, Laela, too much, I can't do it, I can't…'

But there was no answer and no comfort. There was just him and his fear.

In the end he calmed down a little, and laughed. It was a short, half-crazed, utterly humourless laugh. 'But that's all I am, isn't it?' he said. 'That's all I've ever been. Just a tool. And a tool doesn't choose what he does.'