Chapter Twelve

Dras-Leona

Laela crouched by the boulder, looking at it irritably. It was bigger than she was, and extremely heavy. The side of it closest to her was riddled with gouge-marks, and the ground beneath her claws was furrowed as if by a plough.

Nöst, towering over her to the left, gave her a stern look. 'Try again.'

Laela sighed and rested her front claws against the boulder. She braced herself on the ground, and pushed with all her might. Her hind claws dug deep into the ground, and the muscles on her flanks moved under the scales, flexing and straining powerfully.

The boulder moved a fraction. Laela increased her efforts, baring her teeth in a silent snarl.

Her hind legs started to slip. She inched them forward, digging her claws as deep as she could, and put her full weight into it, until red lights flashed on and off in front of her eyes. She could feel her bones and joints twinging painfully, but she kept going until the only thing driving her was sheer willpower. She roared, and at last the boulder rolled out of the hollow it had rested in. Laela withdrew her claws and sat back gratefully.

Then, to her fury, the boulder rolled straight back into place. The white dragon snarled and flung herself bodily at it, battering herself against the solid stone, so angry she didn't notice the pain.

Nöst stood by patiently until her rage was spent, and she subsided onto the ground, panting.

'Anger will get you nowhere,' said Nöst. 'Calm yourself, Laela.'

Laela, lying on her stomach, glared up at him. 'Yes, master.'

'Rest, and then try again,' said Nöst.

Laela got up slowly, feeling her heart pounding in her ears. While she crouched there, trying to get her breath back, she felt Galbatorix's presence in her mind.

'What is it?' she asked. 'I'm busy.'

'That hurt,' the boy's voice said reproachfully. 'What did you do, fly into a wall?'

'Not quite. Nöst has me trying to move some damn boulder. What do you want?'

Nöst was watching her. 'Are you ready to continue?'

Laela glanced distractedly at him. 'Galbatorix is calling me,' she said.

'Well then tell him you can't come,' said Nöst.

Laela paused. 'I told him that.'

'What did he say?'

'He said this is more important, damn you,' said Laela, with a hint of sly amusement.

Nöst sighed. 'The human is as impatient as you are.'

Laela opened and closed her wings in a shrug. 'I have to go to him,' she said. 'He needs me.'

'Then go,' said Nöst. 'And hope it's as important as he seems to think it is.'

Laela dipped her head briefly toward him and flew away.

The lesson had been taking place in the forest which surrounded the city, and it took only a minute or two to get back. Finding Galbatorix wasn't hard. Knowing where he was came as naturally to her as knowing that her wings were on her back and her teeth in her mouth.

He was at the top of the tallest of the six towers of Ilirea, sitting on an open balcony designed for dragons to land on, his hair blowing in the wind. Laela landed neatly beside him and sat on her haunches, her tail coiled around him as always. She noticed that he looked rather pensive; he was sitting with his shoulders hunched, hugging his knees as he often did when he was thinking deeply.

Seeing him, Laela felt a little surge of sadness. She'd seen so little of him over the last year, and the time they had spent together had been all too fleeting. And every time she had been with him, he'd been so hard to connect with all of a sudden. The brash, touchingly wounded boy she had hatched for had changed into a cynical, bad-tempered young man who would not share his feelings with her as he'd once done so freely, even in spite of their mental link. And she had longed for a way to reach out to him, but had not been able to find one. What had once been so easy and natural was suddenly beyond her, and many nights she had lain awake in her cold, solitary roost and shed tears of frustration and loneliness.

So when Galbatorix had suddenly called for her in the middle of a lesson, hope had risen in her chest.

She came to him more than prepared to vent her anger at him for leaving her alone, but when she saw him, sitting there and looking so vulnerable, all she wanted to do was reach out to him and comfort him, to tell him she was there and would not leave him again.

But she couldn't find the words, and sat there uselessly, waiting for him to speak first.

He looked up at her. She had grown a lot during their time in Ilirea, and her foreleg was now as long as he was tall.

The silence drew out a little longer, and Galbatorix finally broke it by saying; 'I didn't get you into trouble with Nöst, did I?'

'Him?' said Laela. 'Oh, well… he wasn't too pleased. But I told him you needed me and he let me go.'

'Oh.' He seemed disappointed, but she wasn't sure why.

'To be honest,' she said, to hide her embarrassment, 'I would have come with or without his permission.'

Galbatorix looked up at her again, wearing the first smile she'd seen on his face in a long time. 'Really?'

'Of course I would!' said Laela. 'They've kept us apart too long.'

It was as if a floodgate had been opened. 'They have!' Galbatorix exclaimed. 'I missed you so much, Laela. What were they thinking? I thought…'

'Yes?' said Laela. Nöst had taught her that what people were reluctant to say was often what mattered the most.

'I used to think I was just, well, me,' said Galbatorix, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. 'Just me, alone. I did everything on my own. I didn't have any friends. That was how I liked it. I thought it made me special. And after we were pulled apart like that, I thought I could live with it because I had before.' He looked her in the face, that sweet vulnerability still written in his eyes. 'But I can't,' he said simply. 'I can't bear to be apart from you, Laela. And being away from you all this time made me feel like I was going crazy. Even when we met, I couldn't talk to you any more. It was horrible.'

It was the same for me. Laela wanted to say it. I felt the same. I missed you until I thought I would die. But she couldn't say it, and she didn't need to say it either. He already knew.

She draped her wing over him, encasing him in a white and silver cave. It was her way of showing that he was in her protection – both physical and spiritual.

The two of them stayed like that for some time, watching the clouds drift across the sky.

Then Galbatorix said; 'Vrael told me… my training's completed.'

'It… what?' said Laela. 'Completed? Are you sure?'

'Yes. He told me he's going to send a message to Ellesméra so they'll start making my sword. I told him… I made a sketch of the fairth I made and asked him to send it as well.'

Laela rustled her free wing. 'Even I didn't expect this. So quickly? What did you do to make the old grouch's mind up for him?'

'We sparred in the training yard, and I won,' said Galbatorix. 'Afterwards he said he had nothing more to teach me.'

'What, just like that?' said Laela. 'What do you do now?'

'Well… how far along are you in your own training?'

Laela flicked her snout dismissively. 'Far enough. Nöst never tells me how well I'm doing. He only complains and gives orders. He treats me like an idiot.'

'I know what that feels like,' said Galbatorix. 'Trust me. Anyway… they'll give me my sword and make me a full rider at the Blood-Oath celebration.'

'But that's weeks away,' said Laela. 'What are you supposed to do until then?'

'I asked Vrael the same question,' said Galbatorix. 'And he said I could do whatever I wanted. But he added that he had an assignment he could send me on if I was interested. A taste of what fully-trained riders do, he said.'

'An assignment?' said Laela. 'What kind?'

'There's been a Ra'zac spotted near Dras-Leona,' said Galbatorix. 'Someone has to go and chase the thing, and kill it.'

'A Ra'zac?' said Laela. 'Aren't they… those things that eat people?'

'Yes. I've seen pictures of them in books. They look like-,' he broke off and showed her an image of what he'd seen. It showed a hunched figure in a hooded robe. A serrated claw showed through the sleeve. He shared a second picture, one which showed the creature unrobed.

Laela bared her teeth in disgust. 'Ugh. It's horrible.'

'Very. This one's been snatching people who stray too far from the city. If you'd like, we can go and put paid to the monster. So… are you interested?'
Laela grinned and spread her wings wide. 'A chance for some action and to spend time with you again… did you really need to ask me at all?'

'Well, I thought it would be more polite if-,'

'Oh, shut up and go tell Vrael we accept,' said Laela.

Galbatorix stood up, grinning like an idiot. 'I'd be happy to.'

He'd never expected it to be so easy, but it was. Once he'd told Vrael he was willing to go on the assignment, he spent the rest of the day preparing to leave. He packed a bag with spare clothes and other supplies, and was given access to the armoury so that he could choose a sword and some armour.

He selected a fine long sword which, though it was nowhere near as good as a true rider's sword, was still high-quality and about the same size and shape. He also chose a light breastplate and a pair of gauntlets, but left it at that as far as armour went. Vrael had taught him that there were two kinds of fighter – the sort who relied on brute strength and the sort who relied on speed. The former kind needed full armour, but he was the second kind and too much armour always made him feel imprisoned.

There was dragon armour available for Laela, but she refused to wear it. Dragons usually only wore armour in battle, and it would only slow her down. She waited for him up on one of the platforms on the tower built for that very purpose, and once he'd gathered everything he needed he rejoined her. She was already wearing her saddle – this one a much larger and more substantial thing, made to last. Laela crouched patiently while he tied his bags to the saddle.

'Right,' he said once this was done. 'I suppose that's everything…'

The door leading back into the tower opened, and Flell came through it and hurried to join them. 'There you are!' she said. 'I thought I'd missed you. You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?'

Galbatorix put his arm around her. 'Hello, Flell. I was wondering if you'd come and see me off, but I didn't think Vrael would let you.'

'I only just found out you were leaving,' said Flell. 'Are you really going to fight a Ra'zac?'

Galbatorix nodded. 'There's one lurking around near Dras-Leona, snatching people. We'll put a stop to it.'

'But aren't they dangerous?' said Flell. 'What if you get hurt?'

'Dangerous? To me? Not in a million years,' Galbatorix said airily. 'I'll bring you back its head as a present.'

Flell shuddered. 'Yuck. Please don't.'

Galbatorix embraced and kissed her. She kissed him back. 'Be careful, won't you?' she murmured. 'Look after yourself, my sweet Galby.'

Galbatorix let go of her. 'Galby?'

'What? I think it's cute,' said Flell.

He grinned despite himself. 'Just don't call me that when anyone else is listening.'

Flell stood back as he climbed into Laela's saddle and strapped his legs into place. 'Just be careful,' she said again.

'I'll be fine,' said Galbatorix. 'Honestly. When me and Laela are together, nothing and no-one can stand up to us.'

Laela growled. 'Nothing and no-one,' she agreed.

'I'll be back in a few days,' Galbatorix added. 'See you later, Flell.'

Laela took off, circled the towers a few times as she gained height, and then flew away from Ilirea with slow, steady wingbeats.

'Now,' she said after a moment or two, 'Which way to Dras-Leona?'

Galbatorix shared a mental image of a map of Alagaësia he'd studied, and, studying it between them, they plotted a course toward the city. The action was simple and natural; they did it in minutes, without saying a single word. Two minds thinking as one. It was something their masters had taught them, and was a reason for the supposed higher intelligence of a rider. In fact plenty of riders were of average intelligence, and some were even a little slow, but two minds working together could outclass any ordinary thinker with ease.

Laela turned West, and their journey began. 'We should be there in a day or so,' said the white dragon. 'No need to hurry.'

Galbatorix relaxed in the saddle, and let himself enjoy the sensation of flying. It had been some time since he'd last ridden Laela, and he realised now how much he'd missed it. The gentle rise and fall, which had once scared him so much, was soothing, and he felt the wind blow through his hair, like a cool caress. He sighed. Only a few hours ago, life had been hard and complicated and full of things to worry about, but now it was so simple. No more lessons, no more humiliation, no more of Vrael's little unkindnesses. Now it was just him, and Laela, and a job to do, and the world was at his feet. He was free.

He wallowed in this thought for an hour or so, and let his mind wander. Once the idea of fighting a monster like a Ra'zac would have frightened him, but not any more. He was a rider now, and a grown man. His command of magic was complete. He could use a sword or a bow with equal skill, govern a city or command an army in battle. And first and most importantly, he had Laela. His friend, his partner, his comrade in arms, his other and stronger half. With her at his side, nothing scared him and no challenge was insurmountable. He almost laughed aloud at that thought. How could anyone else bear to be alone? He couldn't imagine how he'd lived without her before, and the idea of someone going their whole life without knowing what it was like to be so… so complete was almost frightening. Like only having half a soul.

But his elation didn't last forever. As the sky began to darken, he moved on to other thoughts. He remembered the books in the library, with a little chill at the base of his spine. How could he have forgotten that?

Laela was quick to notice his change in mood. 'What's up?'

'Oh… nothing.'

'Don't even think about hiding anything from me,' said Laela. 'Just tell me. Or else.'

'Or else what?'

'Or else I'll fly up above the clouds and you'll freeze your widdle off.'

Galbatorix sniggered. 'My gods… where did you even learn that word? You're so weird.'

'Takes one to know one. Now, what's the problem?'

Galbatorix's amusement faded. 'I found out something today. In the library. About my father's people.'

'Oh?' Laela was paying close attention now.

'They killed them, Laela,' said Galbatorix. 'The riders! They killed my father's people! All of them! And Vrael was there. He helped them do it.'

He sensed Laela's unhappy surprise. 'Why?'

'I don't know why. Vrael said the dark elves were evil, but… how can that be true? He said they used black magic, dark spirits… what if it's true? I don't know who to believe, but… how can an entire race be evil? And even if they were, how can the riders just kill them all like that?'

'These things happen in war,' said Laela, in a hesitating kind of way.

'But my father… the riders sold him into slavery. He was only a child. How could anyone do that to a child? And my father… my father can't have been evil. He just can't.'

'Galbatorix, you never met him,' Laela said gently. 'You'll never know.'

'But I feel it,' said Galbatorix. He touched his chest, right over his heart. 'My father is part of who I am. I'll never know him, but I'm all that's left of him. The dark elves… they're half of my inheritance. Half of me. And if Vrael's right…'

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Laela. 'You can't inherit evil. Evil is what you do, not what you are. The dark elves are gone.'

'But it wasn't just them,' said Galbatorix. 'There were others… thousands of them. Races I never knew existed. Red dwarves, silver elves, plains dragons, werewolves, shape-shifters, Halflings, sand people, unicorn herders, yellowskins, Drei'toza… so many of them, all written down in those books, all of them gone forever. Just like my father's people. The riders killed them, Laela. Like they were animals to be slaughtered. I just can't… and I found the record.'

'What record?' said Laela.

'The one about my parents. How they were executed. Just because they loved each other! And my mother…' his mental voice broke. 'My mother… they would have let her live. If she had let them kill her child… me. If she had stopped me from being born. But she wouldn't, so they killed her. She was nineteen. She was barely older than I am. And they killed her.'

'The riders did all that…' said Laela.

'Yes. And now I'm one of them. Gods, Laela… what if they find out about me? What will they do to me?'

'Don't tell them,' said Laela.

'But what if someone starts asking questions? All they have to do is ask my foster parents, or anyone back home in the marketplace… they'll find out, and then – then – what if they kill me, Laela? What if they find out, and then… they'd cut my head off, just like they did to my parents, oh gods…'

'No!' said Laela. 'Stop it, Galbatorix, you're being hysterical. They won't find out.'

'But-,'

'They won't,' said Laela. 'And you know why they won't? Because it would never, ever occur to them that one of their own could be a half-breed, living right under their noses. It just couldn't happen. They'd never consider it in a million years. They're so secure in their power – you've seen what they're like by now. How they treat their own. You're one of them, Galbatorix. One of the ruling elite. No-one would question you. No-one ever questions Vrael, do they? Everyone knows about him and Saraswati, but nobody would even think of saying anything.'

'But he's Vrael, and I'm just-,'

'Just Vrael's prize student, said to be the most gifted and powerful young rider to come along in a century. Open your eyes, Galbatorix. Even the other riders respect you. You might not be an elder, but you beat Vrael in combat. People won't forget that, and they won't have forgotten what you did in Ellesméra, either. Nobody would dream of snooping around after you. Even if someone who knew you from Teirm came forward and said you were a half-breed, nobody would listen. You're untouchable.'

Galbatorix started to calm down. He remembered the day when he had tried to speak with Menulis. He'd never so much as set foot inside the castle; as far as Menulis was concerned, he hadn't existed. Laela was right. Nobody talked to the riders unless the riders spoke to them first. Who would dare to interfere with one, even one who had only just finished his training?

'You're right,' he said at length. 'As always.'

'Good,' said Laela. 'Now put it out of your mind. You've got your whole life ahead of you, and you won't achieve anything by brooding over people who died a long time ago.'

Galbatorix was silent for a long time. 'You know what?' he said eventually. 'When I first set out to become a rider, I did it because I wanted to change things. I thought if I had the power of a rider, I could make the world a better place. Stop things like what happened to me from happening to anyone else. And I forgot all about it. Gods, I'm so pathetic. I was so caught up with gloating over my own cleverness that I forgot the whole reason why I became a rider in the first place.'

'Go easy on yourself,' Laela advised. 'It's still very early days, Galbatorix. You've only just finished your training, for the sky's sake. It doesn't matter that you forgot – you haven't had any chance to do anything about it yet. Wait a while. You'll be given some responsibilities soon. They'll get you to supervise something… take charge somewhere… and as soon as that happens, you can start changing things.'

'Yeah… I suppose so.'

Night had fallen by now, and overhead the stars were beginning to show. 'Should we stop for the night?' Laela enquired. 'I can keep going easily, but…'

'I can sleep in the saddle. Stop if you want to, but I'm fine.'

'We'll fly on for a while, then,' said Laela.

And for the next few hours, they did. A silvery crescent moon rose over the darkened land, its light shining on Laela's scales. After a while, Galbatorix dozed. Laela flew carefully, to avoid waking him up, keeping her wings rigid and slowing her flight into a gentle glide.

By dawn, she was still flying. Galbatorix woke up feeling stiff and cold. He stretched and yawned. 'Have you been flying all night?'

'Yes.' They were flying over farmland by now, and the sky was icy blue. Laela was still going strong, but a little wearily.

'You didn't have to do that.'

'I'm fine,' said Laela. 'And look!'

Up ahead, where the land became more hilly, a dark mountain with three peaks loomed.

'Helgrind.'

'And the city's behind that,' said Laela. 'They'll be surprised to see us so early.'

She flew on a little faster, and within an hour the city was in sight. It was larger than Galbatorix had expected, built in the valley by the mountain and surrounded by stone walls. In the centre was the castle which belonged to the local lord. Galbatorix had heard about him – Lord Ranech Aisling of the Dras-Leona Aislings, who had only just been given the governorship of the city following the death of his father. The Aislings were an extremely rich and powerful old family, but even Lord Aisling had to answer to the riders.

There was a single and extremely wide tower at the centre of the castle, its top flat and so big a house could have fitted on it. Laela landed there, which was exactly what it had been built for, and sagged gratefully onto her stomach. Galbatorix undid the leg straps and slid off her back. His legs were stiff, and he fell awkwardly onto his backside.

A trapdoor set into the roof to his left opened. He got up hastily and straightened his clothing, as a finely-dressed middle-aged man emerged into the open air.

The man glanced warily at Laela, and then bowed low to Galbatorix. 'Greetings, Shur'tugal,' he said in a deep voice. 'I… I'm terribly sorry, but we didn't expect you to come so early.'

Over the last year, he'd been used to having non-riders defer to him, but this reception still took Galbatorix by surprise. 'Uh… I'm sorry,' he said. 'We flew through the night.'

'I am flattered that you went to the trouble, my Lord,' the man said unctuously. 'If I may introduce myself… I am Lord Ranech Aisling, of Dras-Leona.'

Galbatorix inclined his head politely. 'I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Arren Cardockson, and this is Laela.'

Laela brought her head around to look at Lord Aisling, who made a nervous motion as if he wanted to run away. He glanced quickly at Galbatorix. 'I'm sorry, my Lord. I've… never been this close to a dragon before.'

'I'm sure Laela understands,' said Galbatorix.

Laela yawned widely, exposing rows of pure white, serrated fangs. Lord Aisling yelped and ducked.

'Calm down,' said Galbatorix, forcing himself not to laugh. 'She's a little tired.'

'Of course, my Lord,' said Lord Aisling, making an attempt to recover his dignity which didn't work very well. 'Would you care to enter the castle? I have had our finest guest room prepared for you. I would be honoured if you would join me for lunch after you have rested.'

Galbatorix pulled himself together. 'Thankyou, Lord Aisling. Let me just get my bags…' He began to detach them from Laela's saddle.

Lord Aisling looked mortified. 'Please, my Lord, allow us to help you…'

A pair of servants emerged from the still-open trap-door, as if summoned by magic. Galbatorix stood aside and let them take charge of his luggage. They carried it away into the tower.

'They'll take it to your room, Lord,' said Lord Aisling. 'I will have meat brought up for your dragon.'

'Tell him to make sure it's good meat,' Laela put in.

'She said she's very grateful,' said Galbatorix.

'Liar.'

Aisling bowed again. 'My home is yours, Shur'tugal. If you would care to follow me, I will show you to your quarters.'

Galbatorix patted Laela's neck. 'See you later, okay?'

'Be sure to let me know how long you manage to put up with this idiot,' said Laela.

Galbatorix stifled a grin. 'All right.'

He followed Aisling through the trapdoor and down into the castle.

After a few hours of sleep in his quarters, which were the richest he'd ever been in, Galbatorix donned the formal outfit he'd brought with him and allowed a servant to escort him to the banqueting hall.

He was astonished by what he found there.

The banqueting hall was a long, high-ceilinged affair, its roof painted with an elegant fresco of dragons in flight. A huge table, carved from oak, dominated the space. It was laden with fine dishes, and around it sat half a dozen richly-clad men and women. When Galbatorix entered they all stood up, and bowed to him. Lord Aisling was there, and he indicated the large chair at the head of the table, saying; 'Please be seated, my Lord.'

Galbatorix sat, noticing that the large silver salt dish was right in front of him. He glanced around at the assembled nobles. They were all of the highest birth and the greatest influence, every single one born into wealth and status. But he, a mere eighteen years old, born not only as a commoner but as a bastard as well, was at the head of the table, with the salt dish in front of him – both clear signs that he, and not they, was the most respected person there.

He did his best to look dignified, and waited patiently while Aisling introduced him to the other nobles. They gave their own names and titles, which were many and long, and though he didn't know much about the nobility it all sounded very impressive. Thereafter he had to sit politely and listen to them talk about their family histories, which they seemed to think would impress him. Lineage, money, political clout… it went on and on and on. He tried to look interested.

The food was more satisfactory than the conversation. He was very pleased to see that the main dish was a haunch of roast boar, and when the servants came to fill his plate for him he made sure they gave him a generous portion of the rich, steaming meat. He ate heartily and listened to Lord Aisling drone on about his ancestor, Aisling of Dras-Leona, who had been made a knight by King Palencar.

'Blood always tells,' he finished proudly. 'No matter what happens in this uncertain world, we can always rely upon the deeds of our proud forebears. My Lord,' he added unexpectedly, turning to Galbatorix. 'I have lectured you long enough about my own family. Would you favour us by speaking of your own birth and background? Where were you born?'

'Oh…' Galbatorix took a drink of wine to buy himself some time. 'Well, I was born in Teirm.'

'Ah, Teirm!' said Aisling. 'A fine old city. I spent part of my boyhood there. Who were your parents, may I ask? Where were you brought up?'

Galbatorix felt himself starting to go hot with embarrassment. 'Uh…' he coughed. 'I… unfortunately, my Lord, my lineage is nothing to boast about. My parents were leatherworkers. The – the boots I'm wearing right now, I made them myself.' He almost lifted a foot to show them, but restrained himself as his words replayed themselves in his head. He groaned internally and stared at the tabletop.

Lord Aisling coughed. 'There is no need to be embarrassed, my Lord,' he said. 'How one is born is nothing beside what one does in life. Is that not so?' he glanced around at his fellow nobles for support, and got a hasty chorus of agreement.

It did absolutely nothing to make Galbatorix feel less of an idiot. In fact it made it worse. He sought desperately for inspiration. 'I'm afraid I haven't had much opportunity to spend time among such fine people as yourselves,' he said. 'Forgive me if I've said or done anything improper.'

'Oh, no my Lord, you've done nothing of the kind,' said Aisling. 'Don't trouble yourself; I'm – we're all very flattered and honoured to have you here.'

'Indeed,' said the silk-and-pearls wearing lady sitting next to him.

There was an awkward silence. Galbatorix sought desperately for something to say, and at long last it came to him. 'The most prominent noble family I heard of in Teirm was the House of Taranis,' he said. 'I remember seeing the old family home one day, up near the castle. Do you know anything about them?'

'Ah,' said Aisling. 'The Ancient House of Taranis. A very great family. One of the greatest, in fact, although now sadly defunct.'

'What happened to them?' Galbatorix asked.

'Oh,' said Aisling. 'Well, the line ended, you see. A terrible loss to us all. There was a ghastly scandal… would you suffer me to tell you the story?'

'Go ahead,' said Galbatorix.

'Well, the House of Taranis began with Taranis himself, as I'm sure you already know, my Lord,' said Aisling. 'He was the most prominent human warrior of his time, and served under King Paelis, who was an ancestor to King Palencar. This was over a thousand years ago, during the elf and dragon war and before the creation of the riders. In fact Taranis himself is said to have been a rider. He led an army down the coast from King Paelis' capital, and razed several cities to the ground during the great rebellion of the day – he won many great victories in Paelis' name, before he was defeated by an alliance between the rebels and the elves. Now here is the most fascinating thing about this story – the elves in question were under the leadership of Eragon himself. Yes, the first rider. He and Taranis fought in single combat, or so legend says, and Taranis was killed. However, he left a great legacy behind. His daughter married the son of King Paelis and eventually became Queen, although since she never gave birth to a son her husband was succeeded by his nephew. But her daughters married into other noble houses, and the Ancient House of Taranis was created when her granddaughter married her cousin, Taranis the Second. That was when the surname, Taranisäii, was created, or so the records say. The line carried on in the city of Teirm… many of the greatest warriors in history came from the House of Taranis, although sadly none ever became dragon riders. Some believe the elves still distrust them and would not let any of them go to Ellesméra.'

Galbatorix listened closely. So this was his true family history. He tried to imagine what his great ancestor might have looked like, but for some reason the picture of Taranis in his head looked like a black-haired Vrael.

'But the line died out,' he said, when Aisling paused to take a drink.

'Yes, my Lord,' said Aisling, putting down his goblet. 'And a very sad thing it was. The last Lord and Lady Taranisäii only produced one child – a daughter.'

'Ingë Taranisäii,' Galbatorix muttered.

'I beg your pardon, my Lord?'

'Her name was Ingë Taranisäii,' Galbatorix said more loudly. 'Wasn't it?'

'Indeed it was,' said Aisling. 'I knew her quite well in my youth. In fact, I was going to be married to her.'

Galbatorix raised his eyebrows.

'Oh yes!' said Aisling. 'It would have been a most advantageous marriage, had it ever taken place. We had been promised to each other from birth, as it happens, and our union would have strengthened the ties between Teirm and Dras-Leona most excellently. Unfortunately, however, it never came to pass.'

'What did she look like?' Galbatorix asked.

Aisling paused. 'Very beautiful,' he said at length. 'Very tall. Taller than I was, as a matter of fact. Green eyes, and a fine head of curly hair the colour of chestnuts…' his voice trailed off, and his eyes became distant, a little wistful.

Galbatorix felt a terrible sadness bite into him. Without thinking, he touched his own hair. Tall with curly hair, just like him…

'She was a very intelligent young woman,' Aisling continued. 'But wilful, very wilful. And headstrong. Far too much for her station in life. Spirited, people called her. I used to hear shocking stories about her. Sneaking out of her room to learn swordplay in the middle of the night, defying her father, speaking out of turn…' he shook his head sadly, as if he were talking about a child. 'In the end,' he said, 'She brought shame and destruction on her entire house.'

Galbatorix forced himself to ask the question. 'How?'

'She…' Aisling hesitated, glancing around as if he was afraid someone might object to what he was about to say. 'She committed obscenity,' he said at last, in a low voice. 'I heard the story from some friends of mine who were in Teirm at the time… my Lord, I'm not sure if this is appropriate conversation for mealtime.'

Galbatorix fixed him with a cold, commanding stare. 'Go on, Lord Aisling.'

'Very well,' Aisling said rather stiffly. 'But kindly forgive me if it offends you, Lord Arren. Lady Ingë had bought herself a personal slave from an auction – the riders had brought a number of prisoners from a recent conquest and were keen to be rid of them. Many people protested when she went to the slave auction – it was no place for a lady, but she would not heed them. While she was there, she came across a male slave who somehow appealed to her, and she bought him on the spot and brought him back to her home, over the protests of her family. I do not know what the slave's name was, but he was… not human. He was an elf. An accursed dark elf. I'm afraid I know very little about that race, but… in any case, Ingë took this elf to her home, and proceeded to horrify everybody by giving him fine clothes and food and speaking to him as if he were her equal – her parents thought she had lost her mind and forced him to go to work in distant parts of the house, where she would not encounter him. He was with them for a year before they noticed Ingë was behaving strangely. And then, one day, she seemed to become ill. Healers were sent for, and when they examined her… they found that she was pregnant.'

There was a muttering from the other nobles.

'Indeed,' said Aisling. 'I'm sure you can imagine their reaction, my Lord. She was pregnant out of wedlock, and no matter what they tried her parents could not make her tell them who the father was. They tried to make her terminate her pregnancy lest anyone else find out, but she refused. In the end, they let her go free and had her followed in the hopes that she would lead them to her lover. Which, in the end, she did.'

'It was the slave,' said Galbatorix.

Aisling nodded. 'The scandal… when the news got out, which it eventually did, it shocked the city. She had not only conceived out of wedlock, but had done so with…' He broke off, visibly distressed.

'She was carrying a half-breed,' said Galbatorix, his eyes as cold as death.

'Yes,' said Aisling, not seeming to notice. 'After that, there was no choice but to let the authorities take her, which they did. She was brought to trial for violating the laws of obscenity, along with her lover, and both of them were sentenced to death. And so ended the line of the Ancient House of Taranis. An ignominious end to a glorious bloodline.'

There was a muttering and shaking of heads from the party.

'Did you ever hear of what became of the child?' one lord enquired.

'Hm?' said Aisling. 'Oh, the child. No. I daresay the creature died in the womb or was put down after it was born. Is there something the matter, my Lord Arren?'

Galbatorix loosened his grip on his goblet of wine with some effort. 'No, my Lord, I'm… fine. Just a little tired. Is there a library anywhere in the castle?'

'Yes, Lord,' said Aisling. 'If you would like to see it, I'm sure one of the servants could show you the way.'

Galbatorix stood up. 'I think I'll be off, Lord Aisling. Thankyou for your hospitality.'

Aisling half-rose as well, saying; 'As you wish, my Lord, but if you would care to stay there is still another course to go…'

'No thankyou,' Galbatorix said in his coldest voice. 'I will see you again tonight and you can give me the information about the Ra'zac I came to deal with. I'll begin work tomorrow, and then I'll be on my way.'

Aisling sat down again, looking rather crestfallen. 'Very well, my Lord. I hope you enjoy the remainder of your stay here.'

Galbatorix left the hall without another word.

There was a servant in the corridor outside, busily polishing the brass fittings of a wall-lamp. Galbatorix coughed to get his attention.

'What do you want, boy?' the servant asked, half-turning with an irritable expression.

'Show me the way to the library,' said Galbatorix.

'Ask someone else to do it,' said the servant. 'I'm busy.'

Without a word, Galbatorix held up his right hand, palm-forward. The servant took one look at the gedwëy ignaesia and went white. 'Oh! My Lord, I am – please forgive me, I didn't realise-,'

'Just show me the way to the library, please.'

'At once, my Lord.'

As he walked off, following the servant, Galbatorix could still see the red-faced, pudgy visage of Lord Aisling. That could have been my father. He realised his fists were clenched. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down, but the words were swimming around in his head and would not leave him alone. Ingë Taranisäii, his mother…

I know now, he thought. I know… my true name isn't Arren Cardockson, and it isn't Fárbjóđr. I'm… my name is Galbatorix Taranisäii. The House of Taranis isn't dead. It's all in me. Galbatorix Taranisäii, the last of his line. And none of them will ever know it.

They reached a pair of double doors. His guide opened them, saying; 'The library lies beyond, my Lord.'

Galbatorix entered, ignoring him.

The library wasn't as big as the one in Ilirea, but it was still impressive. There was no-one else in there, but the space was well-lit by a number of lanterns hanging from elaborate frames on the walls. Between the lanterns were the bookshelves, each one taller than his head, but not tall enough to require a ladder. Galbatorix began to browse through their contents. As he'd expected, most of the books in there were concerned with the various noble houses. He searched through them until he found one about the House of Taranis, and carried it to one of the tables provided, where he flicked through it.

It was an uninteresting read, but beautifully illustrated. On the title page was an ornate drawing of a coat of arms: two swords crossed behind a shield held up by a pair of dragons. On the shield was a strange triple-spiral design. He traced it with his fingers, wondering what it meant.

The book contained a chapter which explained the heraldry of the House of Taranis, and the significance of each of its elements. The two dragons were for Taranis' supposed status as a rider, as well as a sign of the family's allegiance to the riders, while the two swords signified warriorship. The triple spiral had supposedly been engraved on the first Taranis' sword, which had been passed down through his family line and eventually buried with its last owner. The book claimed that the three spirals symbolised three powers coming together, which seemed a little nonsensical to him, but he decided he liked it. It had an elegant, ancient look about it which he found appealing. The symbol of the House of Taranis, and therefore his symbol as well. He copied it onto a piece of scrap paper, and pocketed it.

Finally, he closed the book and put it aside. Once he might have been prepared to follow Laela's advice and simply put the issue of his parentage behind him, but not now. He tried to make himself calm down, and told himself repeatedly that it was all in the past, but he couldn't beat down his rage over what Aisling had said. The man had made his mother sound like a stupid little girl who had died because of her own stupidity, and what he had said about her child… about Galbatorix himself…

Half-breed…

The words echoed through his head, a sneering curse. Bastard half-breed.

Galbatorix's fists clenched. I daresay the creature died in the womb or was put down after it was born… she conceived out of wedlock, with a –

'My Lord!'

Galbatorix looked around sharply. A servant was standing in the doorway, panting. The man came forward toward the table, and bowed low. 'My Lord,' he said again. 'I am most terribly sorry for disturbing you, but-,'

'Out with it,' Galbatorix snapped. His voice was harsh and sharp, like a whip. He'd never heard it sound like that before.

'It's the Ra'zac, my Lord,' the servant said at once. 'It's been sighted. Just outside the city walls on the Eastern side, nearest to the mountain. We just got word – I came to find you as fast as I could.'

Galbatorix stood up. 'Tell me everything.'