Chapter Fifteen

White Violence

Galbatorix woke up slowly the next morning. He groaned and rolled over in bed. His head was aching. Was he hung over? He opened his eyes, utterly confused. Where was he? How had he got there?

It took him a few minutes to recognise his new temporary home. He was lying in the bed, still clad in his ceremonial outfit, and a blaze of sunshine was coming in through the windows. He sat up carefully.

Something had changed. He wasn't sure what. He ached all over, as if he'd been in a fight. He tried to remember what had happened the night before. When he spotted the white-bladed sword, lying innocently on the table, it came rushing back.

He patted himself down frantically, checking for injuries. There weren't any. Although he was a little sore, he felt fine. Feeling a little calmer, he picked up the sword and examined it again. It was beautiful. Every bit as fine as Vrael's, or any of the other riders' swords he'd seen. No. It was better. It was his sword.

He grasped it by the hilt and flourished it experimentally. It was heavier than it looked, but it was perfectly balanced and natural in his hands. He swung it at the empty air, taking hold of it with both hands, and performed several mock-fighting moves with it, twirling the weapon expertly. It was perfect. A million times better than the practise swords he had learned with, and better than the one he had used at Dras-Leona to fight the Ra'zac. My sword.

He put it aside, feeling warm all over with pride, and went to the basin to splash his face. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and froze.

Something had caught his eye. He examined himself closely, not sure what it was. He didn't look any different. A little tired and wan, but otherwise fine. But there was something… something he wasn't sure of, but something had definitely changed.

He calmed down a little. It was probably nothing. Remembering something else, he reached out mentally. 'Laela, are you there?'

'Yes,' she replied fairly quickly. 'How do you feel?'

'Fine. What happened?'

'You fainted,' said Laela. 'At the ceremony, when they finished casting the spell.'

Galbatorix cringed. 'Oh no. Did everyone see me?'

'Of course. But there's nothing to be embarrassed about. They told me every new rider passes out after the spell is completed. It takes a massive toll on you, you see, so fainting is a perfectly normal response. They carried you back here afterward.'

'Are you all right, Laela?'

'I'm well enough,' said Laela. 'The spell affected me too. Congratulations, Galbatorix… you're a full rider now. Sword and all.'

Galbatorix grinned. 'It's a beautiful sword. I-,' He stopped dead.

'What is it?' said Laela.

Galbatorix didn't reply. He was looking at himself in the mirror again, and at long last he realised what it was that had bothered him before.

All the joy went out of him.

'What's wrong?' said Laela, a note of concern in her voice now.

'Laela… did you know?'

'Know what?'

Galbatorix looked at his reflection, his stomach churning with horror. He touched them to see if they were real, and they were. 'Oh no,' he mumbled. 'No! No, no, no, no…'

'What is it?' Laela demanded, by now very worried indeed.

Galbatorix sat down by the fire that was burning in the grate. He could feel himself trembling slightly. 'Laela, it's…'

'It's what? For the love of gods, tell me!'

'My ears,' said Galbatorix. 'They're pointed!'

Laela shared a feeling of confusion. 'What's so terrible about that?'

'Laela, you don't understand! It's the spell! They've – I don't want… they're turning me into an elf! I won't let them, dammit, I don't want to be an elf! I want to stay human!'

'Calm down,' said Laela. 'It doesn't matter. Who cares if your ears are pointed now? It doesn't change anything.'

Galbatorix didn't hear her. His breathing had gone harsh and ragged. He forced himself to look in the mirror again, and he hated what he saw. An elf. An elf, staring back at him. He had all the features. A fine, pale face, angular features, and pointed ears.

It made hot bile rise in his throat. 'I've been changed against my will,' he raged, digging his fingers into his now-pointed ears as if trying to force them to become round again. 'I don't want this! They violated me, Laela!'

She could sense his rising anger, and he could sense her apprehension. 'Calm down, just calm down,' she said. 'Don't do anything stupid…'

But he couldn't make himself be calm. 'I'm not taking it,' he snarled, standing up. 'They're not going to make me do this. I'm human and I always will be, and they're not taking that away from me. I'm going to fight back.'

'But how?'

Galbatorix cast about, wild-eyed, and saw a dagger lying innocently on the table. His fingers closed around it.

A few seconds later Laela shuddered. 'What are you doing? What are you doing to yourself? Stop it! Stop it! It hurts!'

But her cries went unheeded. Galbatorix shut her out of his mind, and she could not feel him at all.

She waited in her little home, caught in the grip of a terror so profound that it infected every inch of her. She could not stop shivering. She reached out desperately with her mind, trying to find Galbatorix's mind again, but he blocked her with terrible, ruthless ease. She had never realised that he was so strong in the mind. Before they had always been in harmony with each other, but now he had suddenly turned on her, and it left her feeling more alone than she had ever been in her life. Whereas once she could always feel his presence in the back of her mind, now she felt nothing. He was gone, and suddenly Laela did not know what to do.

At long last, when she was half-mad with fear, he reopened the channel and gently let her back into his mind. The first thing she got from him was pain. She could feel it, and it was deep and terrible. With it came fear – his fear. 'Galbatorix!' she called. 'Where are you? What's going on? What have you done!'

He was silent for a long time before he replied. 'I… I've chosen a name for my sword.'

'What? What are you talking about? You're scaring me.'

He did not reply. Laela left her shelter and emerged into the sunlight, staring up at the windows of his lodgings. She couldn't see any sign of him.

Finally, she could bear it no longer. She dug her claws into the wall and lifted herself up to the nearest window. It was closed, but she smashed it with her snout and forced her head through the hole, ignoring the broken glass jabbing into her neck.

Galbatorix was inside, sitting hunched by the fire and staring at something in the palm of his hand. His hair and clothes were stained with blood.

Laela strained desperately to reach him, jamming her neck through the broken window-frame until she could go no further. But it was just far enough to reach him. She touched him with her snout. 'Galbatorix,' she said aloud. 'Galbatorix, can you hear me? What's wrong with you?'

He looked up at her and smiled wanly. 'I was trying to think of a name for my sword,' he said, sounding slightly dazed. 'I'm going to call it Hvítr Atganga. White Violence. D'you… d'you think that's a good name?' His voice suddenly became vague, and he slumped backward into a chair, his free hand scrabbling at the floor in an attempt to pull himself up again. That was when Laela saw the bloody dagger on the floor in front of him. There was more blood on his hands. And, as he rolled onto his side and got unsteadily to his feet, she realised what he had done.

'Your ears…' she said.

Galbatorix grinned manically at her. 'I told… told you they wouldn't make me an elf.'

'How could you do that to yourself?' Laela demanded. 'Are you out of your mind? You've mutilated yourself!'

'No!' Galbatorix shouted, stumbling toward her. 'They mutilated me. I just… oh…' he groaned and clutched at his head, and sank into a chair. He held his right hand over his head and said; 'W-waíse heill.'

The bleeding stopped a few seconds later, and he felt his ears carefully. He sighed. 'It worked. It worked. They're round again. Thank gods.'

'That's it!' Laela roared. 'I've had it! What the hell is wrong with you, Galbatorix? Why are you so terrified of becoming an elf? What's wrong with it? How could you possibly do that to yourself just because you don't like them?'

Galbatorix looked up at her. He was pale, but strangely calm. 'Because I'm human,' he said simply. 'Because I was born human and I'll stay human because that's what I am. I don't want to be like… have you seen them, Laela? I mean, really seen them? Seen what they're like? They're all the same! They all look exactly the same! You can't even tell the men from the women, for gods' sakes! I hate them. They smile like… everything they are is so hollow, it's as if they don't have souls or minds of their own. All the laughter and singing, it's sickening. They were the ones who taught the riders all that… made them do all those terrible things. My father's people died because of them. The elves didn't like them, so they made the riders destroy them. It's wrong, Laela. All wrong. Why this…? All the new riders come to the elves to learn. Why? Why not the dwarves? Why not the dragons? Why not other humans? Humans know how to fight and lead. Why do we have to become elves to be riders? Why can't they just accept us as we are? I don't care that humans are weaker than elves. We're people. We shouldn't have to change that to please someone else. All that philosophy they taught us, all that garbage about… there are no gods. That's what they told me. All gods are false. They wiped out believers everywhere. Just having a god is enough to make you inferior. And if you're inferior, you conform or you die. No, Laela. They're not making me do it. They'll never make me do it. Never. I'm human and I'll fight to stay that way if I have to. Because if they try and force me to turn into an elf… I would rather die.'

He fell silent, staring at what he was still holding in his hand. As Laela tried once again to reach him, he turned and threw the two little triangles of flesh into the fire.

Then, at long last, he went to her and embraced her tightly. 'I'm sorry,' he said, reverting to mental speech. 'Sorry I scared you. It's just that… seeing myself like that put a madness in me. Are you all right?'

Laela stilled under his touch. 'I need… I need to be alone for a while. To think.'

Galbatorix let go of her. 'All right. Look after yourself, Laela.'

Laela pulled her head back out of the window without saying anything, leaving Galbatorix all alone. He realised that there was blood all over his hands, and tried to clean it off on his clothes, which were now utterly ruined. He was feeling weak and shaky from a combination of pain, blood loss and fear, and his hands were trembling.

He was about to begin clearing away the mess he had made when there was a knock on the door. Before he could call out to the visitor to leave him alone, the door opened and Flell came in. She froze in the doorway, her blue eyes taking in everything. 'Oh my gods,' she said. 'What happened here?'

Galbatorix turned. 'Hello, Flell,' he said huskily.

Flell hurried toward him. 'I saw Laela break the window, and… oh my gods, your hands! Where's… are you hurt?'

'I'm fine,' said Galbatorix.

She clasped his blood-stained hands, looking up at him with a bewildered expression. 'I don't understand. Where did all this blood come from?'

'I cut myself,' said Galbatorix. 'It's fine now. I've healed it. Flell, what's the matter?'

Flell was looking visibly distressed. 'I'm… Galbatorix, I've got something to tell you, but…'

'Sit down,' said Galbatorix. 'Here.' He guided her to the chair by the fireplace, hastily kicking the dagger away out of sight. She didn't notice. She sat down, and he saw that she was pale and that her eyes were reddened.

He sat down in the chair opposite her. 'What's going on?' he asked. 'Has something happened?'

Flell was tangling her fingers together, twisting them together again and again. He realised that she was still wearing her clothes from the previous night, and her hair was a tangled mess. There was a tense silence, and then she looked up at him. 'Galbatorix, I'm pregnant.'

He blinked. 'What?'

'I wasn't sure… I thought maybe I was just ill,' said Flell, the works tumbling out of her in a rush. 'But… it's been two full moons and I haven't bled. Last night I talked to an elvish herbalist, and she said… well, I should start to have a swelling in a month or so.'

She looked at him with terrible helplessness. 'Galbatorix, what am I going to do?'

He couldn't quite grasp this. 'But… how did this happen? Weren't you taking the potion?'

Flell let out a sound that might have been a sob. 'I thought… I didn't think it would matter,' she said, now on the verge of tears. 'I thought it would be all right. Oh gods, I'm so stupid…'

Galbatorix took her into his arms. 'It's all right,' he soothed. 'Calm down. You'll be fine. I just… well, what are you going to do?' he looked at her seriously. 'You could… if you don't want it, you could give it out for adoption, or…'

'I want to keep it,' said Flell. 'It's mine. Ours. But… will you help me?'

Galbatorix looked at her. 'You mean… you want me to marry you?'

'I can't do this alone,' said Flell, her slim form shuddering in his arms. 'I need… it's your child, Galbatorix. Every child needs parents.'

Galbatorix let go of her and sat down heavily. His stomach was churning a hundred times worse than it had done the previous night at the Blood-Oath celebration. He was going to be a father. It was too much to take in.

Flell was looking at him entreatingly, and he knew what she was truly asking him for. She needed support. She hadn't been prepared for this to happen, and now that it had she couldn't do it alone. So she had come to him to look for strength. She wanted him to marry her so that he would stay with her and help her, and if he said no it would be tantamount to leaving her to fend for herself.

It was a strange feeling. Did he really want to marry Flell? When he had been younger, back in Teirm, he had always assumed that one day he would marry and settle down to raise a family. But after he became a rider he had forgotten all about such notions. It had never really occurred to him that riders could marry or become parents.

He looked at Flell again, as if hoping to find an answer in her pretty, tear-stained face. And he did find it, or so he thought. He loved Flell very much. The prospect of staying with her for the rest of his life wasn't an unpleasant one. He had just never thought of marrying so young, when he was barely setting out on his new way of life.

But he couldn't abandon Flell. Not now.

He took her hands in his. 'Fell,' he said softly. 'If… if that's what you want, then yes. I'm as responsible for this as you are. If you want to marry me, then that's what we'll do, and I'll help you raise the child. Our child. But…'

Flell's hands tensed in his. 'But what?' she said, sitting down and watching him closely.

Galbatorix hesitated. 'I can't… I'll be your husband, Flell, but there's something you have to know. I can't keep it a secret from you. Not now.'

'What is it?' said Flell. She was looking confused and frightened.

Galbatorix bowed his head. 'I should have told you a long time ago, Flell. I'm telling you because I trust you completely. I love you, Flell. Truly. Do you know that?'

'I do,' said Flell. 'I know it, Galbatorix.'

'You must never tell this to anyone else,' said Galbatorix. 'Never, do you understand? It has to be kept a secret. If anyone else finds out, it could put my life in danger and maybe yours as well.'

'I understand,' said Flell, but he knew that she didn't. How could she? 'You're scaring me,' she said.

'I'm sorry,' said Galbatorix. 'But you have to know. Flell, I'm… I'm a half-breed.'

'What?' said Flell. 'Galbatorix, I don't understand.'

'I'm a half-breed,' Galbatorix said again, in a low voice. 'I'm half elvish. Half dark elf. On my father's side.'

Flell let go of his hand. 'No. No that's not… that's not possible.'

Galbatorix fumbled in his pocket. 'No… no. It's true. Look. Here. See?' he handed her a piece of paper. Flell unfolded it and read what was on it. Galbatorix watched her with terrible sadness in his eyes. 'Skandar Traeganni of the dark elves of the North, and Ingë Taranisäii of the Ancient House of Taranis. My parents, Flell.'

She looked up at him again, the paper held loosely in one hand. 'But this is… this is just an old record. It doesn't mean anything.'

'It does,' Galbatorix insisted. 'Look! "…was offered a pardon under condition of terminating her pregnancy… sentenced to die upon the birth of the child…" The child was me, Flell, don't you understand?'

'But-,'

'Look at me,' Galbatorix urged. 'Can't you see it in my face? Didn't you ever think that I didn't look human? I'm half dark elf. I was born that way. That's why I'm stronger than other humans. That's why I could fight like an elf. It's because I am one.'

Flell's bewilderment and fear was written all over her face. 'But… why didn't you tell me?'

'I'm sorry, Flell,' said Galbatorix. 'I should have. But I was afraid. You see… I'm the only half-breed I know of. When people knew it back home, they… people tried to kill me. And if the riders knew… if Vrael knew what I was… he fought the dark elves. He was the one who sold my father into slavery. If he found out I was one of his enemies, if he found out I was a half-breed… I don't know what he would do. But if it got out, I could die for it. Do you understand, Flell?'

He reached out to take her hand again, but she pulled away. She was looking at him now with undisguised horror. 'But – a half-breed? And you never told me, and… and…'

'You mustn't tell anyone,' Galbatorix said urgently. 'Flell, you mustn't. For my sake. Please.'

Flell rose from her chair. She had gone very pale. For a moment it looked as if she were trying to speak, but then she turned and hurried out, closing the door behind her.

Later that day, once he had cleaned himself up and rested a while, Galbatorix went to see Vrael. He did so reluctantly, and had pulled his hair over his ears in the hopes that no-one would notice the scars.

To his surprise he found Vrael was looking decidedly the worse for wear. He was sitting in the sunshine with a jug of water, and was pale and red-eyed. He moved rather gingerly, and winced at the slightest sound, and in spite of everything Galbatorix had to stifle a laugh when he realised what that meant. Apparently even the lord of the riders could have a hangover.

He presented himself to his former master, clad in his customary black with his sword slung across his back, and waited for him to speak first.

'Ah. Good morning, young Arren,' Vrael mumbled. 'You slept well, I trust?'

'Yes, master,' said Galbatorix, not troubling to keep his voice down. 'And I've named my sword.'

Vrael cringed. 'Ah. Good, good… may I enquire as to what you have named it?'

Galbatorix touched the hilt. 'Its name is 'Hvítr Atganga,' he said. 'White Violence.'

'A good name,' said Vrael. 'Tell the smith, and she will engrave the name on the hilt. And afterwards…' he paused and downed another cup of water. 'We have an assignment for you,' he croaked.

Galbatorix waited.

'We have decided to grant you the governorship of Teirm, your home city,' Vrael told him. 'We think the role would suit you. You'll oversee trade negotiations and building projects, preside over legal cases and, if need be, organise military tactics in the event of war.'

Galbatorix blinked. 'Me, govern a city? But… wouldn't someone more experienced with that sort of thing be better? I only just finished my training – I thought I'd spend some time working alongside someone more senior or something.'

Vrael, however, was in no mood for discussing matters. 'I have given you an order, Arren. Now carry it out.'

Galbatorix took the hint. 'Yes, my Lord,' he said promptly.

'Now, leave me,' said Vrael. 'I will speak to you again later.'

Galbatorix left, deep in thought. This was bad news. While he was miles away in Teirm, unable to leave because of his duties, Flell would be still in training in Ilirea. He wouldn't be able to be there for her. Without him there she would be isolated and probably afraid, but what could he do? Perhaps he could ask for permission to take her with him to Teirm. But he couldn't see why Vrael would let him do that. What would he do if he found out about the child? Would he force Flell to give it away? Would the pair of them be in trouble? He doubted that. Vrael was, after all, an elf, and elves proclaimed themselves to be a people who honoured life. And a child, after all, was a new life. Maybe they would be pleased. Maybe they would offer their help and everything would be all right. Maybe Flell's fear was completely groundless.

The only thing to do was to find her and talk it over with her. He hadn't missed the shock in her eyes when he had told her the truth, and he knew he had to find her and try and explain himself, and hope that she would accept the truth.

But he couldn't find her. He spent the rest of that day wandering Ellesméra at a loose end, feeling more and more isolated and unhappy. He couldn't find Flell anywhere, and nor did anyone seem to know where she was. Nor did he know where Laela was. He felt cut off, as if he had been abandoned by everyone he cared about.

In the end, not knowing what else to do, he found a secluded spot by a river and sat down there under a willow tree – the same tree, he realised, that he and Laela had once sat in and shared their pasts. There he sat down by the waterside, hugging his knees and nursing the dull, hollow ache in his chest.

But he was not the only one feeling miserable and uncertain. Somewhere up in the mountains, Laela was pacing back and forth in an isolated valley, her tail lashing over the ground and her claws scattering the loose stones. Her head was low to the ground, and from time to time she would stop and compulsively groom her wings. She made no attempt to talk to Galbatorix, but she could still feel him in her head and she could feel his anxiety mirroring her own. She had thought she knew him better than anyone else; better than he knew himself, but from the moment he had begun doing what he did he had suddenly felt more alien to her than she had ever imagined he could be. He had been right when he said he had changed. The boy was becoming a man. And she wasn't sure if she liked or understood the kind of man he was becoming.

And, hidden away in a glade deep in the forest, Flell too was unhappy. She sat hugging her knees, unknowingly mimicking what Galbatorix was doing at that moment. There were tears on her face, but her sobs had died away by now.

Thrain was with her. The purple dragon sat hunched by her rider, trying to comfort her with her presence. 'What are you going to do, Flell?' she asked.

'I don't know, Thrain,' said Flell. 'I just don't…'

Her head was full of Galbatorix. All she could think of was his face. That fierce, angular face with its glittering black eyes, staring at her with a pleading, frightened look. It was a face she had believed that she loved, but she could not make herself forget what he had told her. And whenever she thought of him now, all she could think of was the blood on his hands, the terrible things he had said.

Flell shuddered. 'He's a half-breed,' she whispered. 'A half-breed! I can't… I never… and I'm… it's his child inside me.'

'Do you love him?' Thrain asked her quietly.

'I don't know,' Flell faltered. 'I just don't…' she broke into a fresh wave of sobs.

'Calm down, Flell,' said Thrain. 'Breath. Don't panic, just think. Do you love him?'

'He's a-,'

'Do you love him?' Thrain said again.

Flell controlled herself with some effort. 'I do,' she said. 'I do love him. But I'm frightened of him, Thrain. Where did all that blood come from? What did he do to himself? How can I marry him?'

'You wanted to before,' said Thrain. 'Why should that have changed?'

Flell didn't know. 'He's been lying to us all this time,' she said. 'Lying to me! He put this child in me… this half-breed child. What if someone finds out? What will they do to me if they know? What will they do to the child?'

'I don't know, Flell.'

Flell shuddered. 'How could he do this to me?' she shouted suddenly, aloud. 'He lied to me!'

'He didn't do it to hurt you, Flell,' said Thrain. 'He was frightened. He needs you to help him, Flell. Just like you need him. You should talk to him.'

Flell said nothing.

'Did you hear me?' Thrain said sharply. 'Talk to him, Flell. You have to.'

Flell stood up. 'I can't.'

Galbatorix didn't leave the spot under the willow tree until the sun was almost ready to set. When he realised the sky was darkening, he stood up. He couldn't bear it any longer, and he reached out mentally for Laela. She was receptive, but didn't say anything.

'Laela, where are you?'

There was no reply. He started to feel frightened, but a few moments later there was a rush of air and she was there, coming down to land beside him. The white dragon closed her wings and brought her head down toward him, and he touched her snout, his heart fluttering with relief. 'There you are. Where were you? Are you all right?'

Laela sighed deeply, her hot breath ruffling his hair. 'I've been thinking,' she said. 'And… I don't know if what you're doing is right. But I can understand why you don't want to be an elf, and if this is the only way you can stop it…' she looked at him, her silver eyes full of compassion. 'I just want you to know that I'm with you, and I agree with you.'

Galbatorix felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He put his arms around Laela's neck and hugged her. 'Thankyou, Laela. Thankyou so much.'

She growled deep in her throat. 'We're partners, you little fool. I'll stand by you no matter what you do, just as you'll stand by me. It's what we'll always do. And if you've got any consideration for me at all, you won't do that to me again.'

'I didn't do anything to you, Laela. I did it to myself.'

Laela groaned. 'Are you really that stupid, Galbatorix? Don't you get it by now? Everything you do to yourself, you do to me.'

'I'm sorry I shut you out, but I didn't want you to be hurt. That's all.'

'I can handle pain,' Laela growled. 'What I can't handle is you blocking me out like that. It just… I can't stand it. It makes me feel lost. Never do that to me again, understand? I'm your partner. Share everything with me. Including your pain.'

Galbatorix hesitated. 'Are you sure, Laela?'

'Yes.'

He sat down. 'There's something I have to tell you, then.'

'I'm listening.'

Galbatorix told her about Flell. 'Did I do the right thing, telling her?'

Laela shared a feeling of nervousness. 'I suppose you owed it to her. What did she say?'

'Nothing. She just ran off.'

'Well, I can understand that,' said Laela. 'But you should look for her and talk to her again, to make sure she's all right.'

'I've been trying to find her, but I don't know where she is. And if I don't talk to her before we leave Ellesméra, I don't know when I'll get to see her again. Vrael's making me the governor of Teirm. Flell will still be in Ilirea. We might not see each other for months.'

'You'll have to talk to Vrael, then,' said Laela. 'Make sure he looks after her.'

For some reason the idea disgusted Galbatorix. 'I don't trust him.'

'You'll have to. Talk it over with Flell. Find a way.'

But he didn't see Flell again in Ellesméra. When he and Laela returned to the valley they were greeted by an elf. 'My Lord Arren. We have been looking for you.'

Galbatorix looked around. There was a strange quietness in the elvish settlement. He couldn't see any dragons anywhere. 'Where is everyone?' he asked.

'They have gone, my Lord,' said the elf. 'Lord Vrael has returned to Ilirea with his student, and the others have gone their separate ways. Lord Vrael gave me a message for you, which is that you are to go to Teirm immediately and take up your new duties. The people have been informed of your coming and will be prepared to help you settle in.'

Galbatorix's heart sank. 'I understand,' he said.

He returned to his lodgings and began packing while Laela waited outside. A pair of elves put her saddle on, and by the time Galbatorix emerged with his luggage she was ready to go. Once his bags were secured to the saddle, he climbed up and strapped his legs into place. He was clad in thick black wool, and White Violence was in its sheath on his back.

As he settled into place and took hold of the handholds built into the saddle to steady himself, there was a sudden commotion from the trees to his left. He looked around in time to see an elf come running toward him, shouting; 'My Lord! My Lord! You must help!'

'What is it?' Galbatorix demanded.

The elf pointed Northward, in the direction of the mountains. 'The Queen has been attacked by a wild dragon! You must catch it!'

Galbatorix looked up. Seconds later, a huge shape rose over the treetops. It was a dragon, its silver scales glinting in the sun. A small figure was hanging from its claws. As he watched, the dragon flew up and over the mountains, and away.

'Go after it!' the elf shouted. 'Quickly!'

Galbatorix looked at him. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'But I don't take orders from elves.'

Laela took off, and the pair of them flew away, heading South and away from Ellesméra.