Chapter Thirty-Eight

The War Begins

They returned to the South without incident, and, crossing the border back into occupied land in the evening, they found a temporary refuge on the edge of the Spine where they rested and began to plan their next move.

'What we do next is simple,' said Galbatorix. 'We announce our return, and we make it something difficult to miss.'

'What did you have in mind, sir?' Roland enquired.

Galbatorix stared into the flames of the black fire. 'Ellesméra,' he said. 'We're going to attack the elves where they least expect it.'

The others were taken aback. 'Are you sure, sir?' said Tranah.

'Yes,' said Galbatorix. 'I want to make it clear that our fight is against the elves and, through them, all elvish or elf-controlled riders.'

'It'll be dangerous, sir,' said Orwyne. 'The elves are powerful fighters.'

Galbatorix laughed darkly. 'So? We're riders.' He looked around at his friends, the fire throwing shadows onto his face and turning it into a grim mask. 'We will do to those accursed Southern elves what they did to my people, and to the red dwarves, and the plains dragons, and to so many other races. We will show them what it is to see your home and your people destroyed, and the survivors will run in terror and know that their power over this land has been taken away from them forever.'

Roland stood up. 'I cannot agree,' he said. 'It would be-,'

'Cruel?' Galbatorix said sharply. 'Ruthless? Yes. This is war, Roland. Ruthlessness is what will bring us victory. We're doing this to make a point, not just to satisfy some insane bloodlust. The elves are a cursed race. It's thanks to them that this land has become what it is – empty.' He stood up as well, casting his powerful gaze not just at Roland, but at all of them. 'This land is empty,' he said again. 'Bare and barren. Think of how many races used to live here, how rich and diverse it used to be. Shapeshifters, silver elves, unicorns, red dwarves, weredragons, Durgians, sand people, yellowskins… so many races, so many languages, so many cultures, so many different ways. And they made this land what it was. But where are they now? They're dead. Dead and gone. Erased. Wiped away from the face of the land they called home. And why is that? Who is responsible? The elves, that's who. They only let humans and dragons stay because they're useful. Because that's all we are to them. That's all any of us are to them. Animals. Beasts of burden. "Share thee thy magic with us, and we shall make a power that shall bring peace for all races", that's what they told the dragons. And what did they do? They took all that power and used it to make a wasteland, and they called that peace. They killed the old kings and turned humans into their vassals. No-one rebels because no-one dares. They know they wouldn't stand a chance. The riders don't rule this land, the elves do. That's all we were to them – tools. It's our fault that this happened. They used us. And they're still using the rest of them, but they don't even realise it. They brainwash new riders with their dogma; they won't let you be human, because being human is a weakness and they can't stand weakness. Religion, laughter, asking questions, letting yourself change, having an open mind… those are all human things, and they try and take those things away from you. They won't even let you grow a beard, for the gods' sakes. And if you refuse… what happens then?' he pointed accusingly at each of them in turn – first Roland, then Tranah, then Morzan and then the others, one by one. 'Heretic! Pervert! Clumsy oaf! Traitor! Human.' He finished by smiting himself in the chest. 'And then there's me. The filthy half-breed whose very existence was such a threat to them that they would go to any lengths to crush it. I say that it's time to take the fight back to the elves. Show them the consequences of their own cruelty, their racism, their narrow-mindedness, their prejudice, their arrogance. Tomorrow I will go to Ellesméra and I will show them the horror of what they have done, and if I must I will do it alone. But if you call yourselves my followers, if you truly believe that what we are doing is just, you will help me, and we will punish the elves, and all the world will see us and know that the hour for revenge has come.'

As he finished speaking, he wrenched White Violence out of its scabbard and swung it with all his might at a nearby tree. The blade hit it hard and embedded itself nearly halfway through the trunk, where it stuck, and Galbatorix turned to stare silently at the Forsworn, waiting for their reply. His chest was heaving and his eyes were ablaze, and the depth of his hatred was there for all to see.

Morzan stood up. 'I'm coming with you,' he said. 'You're right, sir. About all of it.' He drew Zar'roc and held it up, almost in a kind of salute. 'I've sat on my arse far too long, and I ain't lettin' my sword rust. Zar'roc means misery. And that's what the elves are going to feel.'

Morzan's unusual eloquence prompted the others into action. Tranah and Strein stood and drew their swords too, silently pointing them at the sky to signify their willingness to fight. After a moment, Vander joined them, along with Kaelyn, Gern and Tuomas.

'We're with you, Master,' said Kaelyn, grim-faced.

'And you, Roland?' said Galbatorix. 'And you, Orwyne?'

Orwyne was looking hesitant, but kept glancing at Roland, evidently waiting for him to make up his mind. The old rider looked troubled, but at last he stood up and said; 'I cannot say I like it, but I must concede that you are correct. The elves it is who are responsible for what happened to the faithful, and for that they must pay. The Three Peaks teach that the punishment of the godless is a sacred thing if done with a true heart… therefore, I will do it. But may I offer some advice, my Lord?'

'Speak,' said Galbatorix.

'I agree that an attack on Ellesméra would be a powerful signal,' said Roland. 'However, it may well be too large for us to handle at this point. I suggest we turn our attack on another, smaller elvish settlement, perhaps Osilon, which is not far from here. Queen Islanzadí will have many powerful warriors around her, which we could no doubt handle, but attacking a smaller city would entail less of a risk while still carrying a great deal of impact.'

Galbatorix stroked his beard. 'Hmmm. You're probably right, Roland. All right. We'll discuss this before we make a decision.' He sat down again, his normal calm abrubtly returning, and at his prompting the others did the same.

They spent much of that night endlessly debating over the attack, ignoring their tiredness. Several arguments broke out, plans were made and scrapped, but by midnight a decision had been made. They would attack Osilon, as Roland had advised, and they would do it immediately, before word of their return had spread.

'Right,' said Galbatorix, once this was settled. 'We'll go, and immediately. If we fly quickly, we should read Osilon by dawn.' He glanced at Kaelyn, Gern and Tuomas and added; 'Now, as for you three-,'

'We're coming, Master,' said Gern.

The other two nodded.

'All right,' said Galbatorix. 'But stay close to me and don't try anything silly, understand?'

'Yes, Master,' said Kaelyn. Behind her, Sartago snorted his agreement.

And then there was no time left.

The attack at Osilon began shortly before dawn on the next day, and went down in history as the first true battle in the war that would eventually be known as the Fall of the Riders. The elvish settlement there was taken completely by surprise. Galbatorix and the Forsworn came at them from all sides, simply appearing from out of the pre-dawn gloom with a silent rush of wings. And after that, the fight began.

Keth, Calanon and Ymazu circled around the edges of the settlement, breathing lances of fire down among the trees and setting them all ablaze. Shruikan made straight for the middle of the city, where King Ainion, the elvish ruler of Osilon dwelt, and launched a savage assault on his home.

Bewildered and caught unaware, Ainion unwisely rushed out of his home to see what was happening. He was in time to see Galbatorix himself jump down from Shruikan's back and charge toward him, sword in hand.

Normally Ainion would have been quick to react, but nothing had prepared him for what he saw now.

Galbatorix had prepared himself for battle. He had decorated his hair with crow feathers and carved bone ornaments, and his face was painted with the dark elvish signs of warfare. What King Ainion saw coming toward him then was not a man but a dark elf, just like those he had fought and killed in the past. A dark elf, returned to life, coming for him, black eyes alight with hatred and bloodlust.

And Ainion panicked. He turned and fled back into his home. There, his own sword was hanging on the wall, and he grabbed it, turning around just in time to see Galbatorix kick down the door and rush in to attack him.

A brief and undignified fight ensued; Ainion managed to hold his own for a time, but, realising he was outmatched, managed to escape from the house and ran out into the city. What he saw made terror and despair close over his mind in a blank black haze.

Osilon was ablaze. Fire ringed the city, and the air was full of screams and roars. Dragons were swooping low over the settlement, teeth bared, claws spread wide, and everywhere he looked he saw his people running for their lives. But they were being pursued.

A blast of magic exploded somewhere to his left, followed by an outbreak of screams and cries, and he turned automatically to look.

But there was no more time for him. There was a crash as a window behind him broke, and Galbatorix leapt through it, raising his hand to sent a blast of black magic straight at him. Ainion managed to block it, but Galbatorix continued to attack, steadily driving him backward. In the end Ainion broke and ran. He did not get far. Bewildered, panic-stricken and scared out of his mind, he ran blindly – straight into Shruikan's waiting claws.

Galbatorix did not linger to gloat over the elvish ruler's body. He ran off into the mêlée, sword in hand, and Shruikan followed.

The elves were not completely helpless. Plenty of those there had training in the art of war, and once some of them had managed to organise themselves they put up a good fight. But they were outmatched and outled. The Forsworn were all in the city now; the riders running on foot from building to building, killing everyone they saw, while the dragons flew overhead, destroying the city with fire, occasionally landing to wreak havoc on a group of elves who had managed to group together.

By noon the last of the elvish resistance had been overcome, and then it was only a matter of rooting out and killing the survivors.

The Osilon Massacre, as it would come to be called, was also something that would begin to establish Galbatorix's true nature and intentions. One day it would be part of the making of someone who would become known as the most feared man in Alagaësia. Virtually no-one in Osilon survived.

Afterwards the Forsworn gathered together in the middle of the city, where Galbatorix was waiting for them. He was cut and bruised and his beard was singed, but he was otherwise unscathed. White Violence was still in his hand, its blade stained with blood. He was tired, filthy and sweaty, but he looked more alive then than he had ever done before. 'Everyone all right?' he enquired.

They paused to take stock. Roland was clutching a broken arm, Vander had taken an arrow in the leg, Morzan had a broken nose, Strein was bleeding from the throat and Orwyne had a deep slash from a sword that had narrowly missed tearing open her abdomen. Tuomas, Gern and Kaelyn were unhurt by virtue of having kept close to their elders, but several of the dragons were also hurt, and no-one there had a clean sword.

'Some of the bastards got away into the forest,' Morzan reported. 'Not many of 'em.'

'We'll let them go,' said Galbatorix. 'Someone has to carry the word of what we've done.'

'Quite, sir,' said Roland, wincing. 'Could someone help me with this cursed arm?'

Galbatorix nodded. 'Vander, if you could help…?'

They took some time to attend to their injuries, and afterwards they picked through the ruined buildings, looking for anything useful they might take.

It took them some time to realise the enormity of what they had done. More than fifty elves were dead, including King Ainion, who, Orwyne recalled, was a cousin of Islanzadí herself.

Most of them had seen battle before – in fact Roland, Orwyne and Tranah were surprisingly relaxed over the sight of the battlefield. Morzan, however, had gone very pale and was slightly snappish, and Gern was promptly sick. Tuomas and Kaelyn wandered here and there, their expressions faraway, as if they were in a trance.

Galbatorix walked among the rubble with nothing but disgust on his face, kicking aside lumps of charred wood and occasionally pausing to stoop and examine something. In the midst of the fight he had been savage and unstoppable; Kaelyn had seen him as he fought and seen the burning in his eyes and the snarl on his face. It had stripped away everything about him that made her feel safe. In that moment he had not been the Galbatorix she knew, but someone else, someone terrifying. Now, she did not dare approach him, though he looked bizarrely casual as he stalked through the ruined city, muttering to himself. The warpaint on his face was smeared and there was a cut on his cheek which he hadn't bothered to heal.

When the search was done with and they had gathered some loot and winkled out the last few survivors who were in hiding, they returned to the centre of the city, by Ainion's home, and there looked to Galbatorix for what to do next.

Galbatorix sighed and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. 'It's done,' he said. He glanced around at the devastation, and spat on the ground. 'No point in hanging around. We'll go now. But first gather the dragons. We're going to burn all this down.'

Which they did, with Shruikan directing his fellows to send their fire straight at the heart of each building that was left standing until everything was ablaze. They cleared the area and hovered overhead, watching Osilon burn, and once it had all been reduced to ashes Galbatorix returned to the ground, alone, and there moved slowly and laboriously among the ashes, dragging his sword along the ground and leaving a line behind him. When he had done, a huge triple-spiral design had been inscribed in the middle of the devastation.

They left after that. But the silence, which had been shocked, even reverential, did not last long. Morzan looked back at the ruins of Osilon as they flew away, and let out a wild whoop, raising his fist in the air. 'We did it!' he crowed.

The others cheered at this. Even Tuomas, Gern and Kaelyn joined in, suddenly swept up in a sense of excitement that they had not realised was there before. They had looked death in the face, but they had survived, and they had won.

The dragons roared, again and again, the sound echoing over the forest of Du Weldenvarden. It was a sound that proclaimed strength and fighting will, and the message at the heart of it was, simply, we live.

Galbatorix, hearing it, and feeling Shruikan's fierce response awaken his own animal instinct, laughed aloud.

That afternoon they came to rest at an isolated spot in the forest, dismounting in a large rocky clearing. There, in spite of their exhaustion, they congratulated each other, laughing and talking and comparing notes, each one feeling an intense sense of relief at having survived. Roland even began to sing an old battle-hymn, his rough old voice deep and surprisingly melodious, and the others joined in, laughing at each other when they realised they didn't know the words. It was almost like a celebration.

When tiredness finally set in and they calmed down, Galbatorix spoke. 'Take no pride in what we did today,' he commanded. 'If any of you ever looks on it and says it was a good thing, or a brave thing, I will be ashamed to call myself their leader. Do not delude yourselves. What we did today was evil. It was cruel and it was bloodthirsty. We did it because it needed to be done. Nothing more. If we are going to win this war, then our enemies must fear us. Today we found something inside us that was dark, and we unleashed it. That is what will win us this war. But never forget it, and never lose sight of what we are fighting for. We are fighting for justice, and justice can be ugly to look at. But it must be done.'

The others bowed their heads. 'You're right,' said Orwyne. 'I've fought before, but… I never thought of it as something people should be proud of, and I never have taken pride in the people I've killed. But we'll only be monsters if we kill when there is no reason for it. And today we had a reason.'

Galbatorix bowed his head. 'For justice.'

'For freedom,' said Vander.

'For love,' said Strein.

'For the gods,' said Roland.

Morzan grinned. 'For beer an' women an' a clean privy to shit in.'

The others laughed.

'Well, I'm not sure if there's any beer or women in the vicinity,' said Roland. 'But I wouldn't say no to a nice piece of smoked fish, if anyone has any.'

'Some food would be wonderful right about now,' Tranah agreed.

The others, realising how hungry they were, sought out some provisions, and for a while they sat around the fire, eating and drinking, and talking.

'What d'you reckon you'll do once this is over?' Morzan asked Vander.

Vander shrugged. 'Find a place for me and Ymazu to live,' he said. 'Somewhere quiet, out in the country. We needn't be alone there, of course,' he added, smiling. 'Ymazu reckons it's time we stopped being lonely. A wife and a mate, and some children and hatchlings of our own… I don't think that would be too much to ask.'

'I ain't gonna settle down anytime soon, me,' said Morzan. 'Marriage is for pussies. Give me a few cheap tavern wenches and you won't hear me complainin'.'

Vander and Orwyn laughed, although Tranah and Strein looked rather affronted.

'What about you, sir?' said Morzan, turning to Galbatorix. 'What will you do?'

Galbatorix stifled a yawn. 'Oh, I don't know. I'd prefer a simple life. A home somewhere in a city with a hammock outside so I can sleep under the stars… that's all I'd ask for. Or maybe Shruikan and I can leave here. Go away somewhere over the sea and see what's there. Laela always said how she'd like to see what's out there. We used to wish we could go together and see, if only we didn't have so many things to do here. That can never happen now, but I can go, and Shruikan too, and we can find out for Laela.'

'Sounds kind've lonely,' said Morzan. 'Ain't you plannin' on takin' anyone else?'

Galbatorix shrugged. 'What can I say? I'm a solitary man, Morzan. Always have been.'

'But don't you want a family?' said Tranah.

'I don't know. I did used to imagine what it would be like to be a father… but now I know it'll never happen.'

'How?' said Roland.

'Call it a hunch,' said Galbatorix.

'So you have no-one special, then?' said Roland. 'No beloved to call your own?'

Galbatorix looked furtive. 'Maybe.'

Tranah tittered, which was most unlike her. 'A secret love? That's so beautiful.'

'That's so stupid, for a morelike,' Morzan opined. He nudged Galbatorix heavily in the ribs. 'C'mon, spill it. Who is she?'

'She's very beautiful,' Galbatorix admitted. 'Beautiful, but… wild.'

'Got spirit, eh?' said Morzan.

'She's a warrior,' said Galbatorix. 'A fighter. She's as fierce as a dragon. I met her while I was in hiding, and she… well, let's just say one thing led to another.'

'Yes, but what's her name?' said Tranah.

Galbatorix shook his head. 'That I'm not telling.'

'Yeah, all right,' said Morzan. 'But c'mon, you gotta tell us more'n that.'

'Well, what did you want to know?'

Morzan grinned and nudged him again. 'Well, is she a good lay or what?'

The others let out cries of shock at this, but there were plenty of laughs too.

'Morzan!' Roland exclaimed, aghast. 'There are women present!'

Galbatorix laughed in spite of himself. 'She bites,' he said, which prompted fresh gales of laughter from the others.

'Damn,' said Morzan, much impressed. 'Where I can find her?'

'She went away over the sea,' said Galbatorix.

Silence fell.

'Ah,' Roland said knowingly. 'That explains your interest in leaving the country, I suspect.'

'She promised she'd come back,' said Galbatorix, more fiercely than he'd intended.

'I've no doubt she will some day, sir,' Roland said in his most grandfatherly tone.

Galbatorix didn't miss the pitying looks he was getting from the others. 'She will,' he muttered.

'I suggest we get some sleep now,' Roland said loudly. 'That goes for everyone.'

The others nodded and mumbled, some yawning. The good cheer had gone out of the atmosphere, and now tiredness and a kind of faint despair had settled in, as if they were only now allowing themselves to think about what had happened.

They wandered off separately to find a place to sleep, only half-heartedly listening to Galbatorix's instruction about how they should stay within earshot.

Kaelyn, however, couldn't sleep. She found a spot by a pool and sat there, hugging her knees and staring vaguely at the water. Sartago was beside her as always, and she could sense his own fatigue. 'You should get some rest,' the grey dragon suggested gently.

Kaelyn lay down, curling up against his flank, and tried to sleep. But she couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Osilon again. Saw the dying elves and the burning houses. Heard the screams.

She shuddered and sat up sharply, not sure if she had slept. She realised that she was covered in sweat, and wiped it away from her face, trying to make herself breathe calmly. But she couldn't. 'Oh gods, Sartago… what did we do?'

Sartago stirred beside her. 'We fought,' he said. 'Isn't that what you wanted?'

'Yes, but… I didn't know it would be like that. I didn't know.' She shuddered, fighting back tears. 'What did I do, Sartago?'

'You were a warrior, Kaelyn,' said Sartago. 'A warrior fights.'

'But Galbatorix didn't say…'

'Yes he did. He told you hundreds of times. It was your choice, Kaelyn. And what is it that you want?'

'I don't know. I just don't…'

'Well, do you still want to be a warrior? Because you don't have to if you don't want to.'

Kaelyn said nothing for a long time. 'No,' she said at last. 'I'll be a warrior. I'll make myself be strong. There's no other choice.'

On the next day when they gathered together again, the first thing to do was discuss their next move. As expected, Galbatorix already had something in mind.

'We're going to split up,' he said. 'I don't like it, but we simply can't afford to stay in a big group like this. If we're discovered and there's an attack on us, we could all be killed or captured. But in smaller groups, we'll be harder to find. What do you think?'

'A sensible move,' said Roland. 'But we'll need some way to stay in touch, and every group will need to have a definite plan.'

'Yes. There should be at least one senior rider to each group as well. We need to be able to act independently of each other; I can't be everywhere. But here's my idea. After we split up and go our separate ways, each group will choose a permanent base of some sort – somewhere they'll return to regularly. Meanwhile I – and anyone who stays with me – will stay on the move. We'll check in on each group every now and then, to exchange news and give orders. But we'll need to plan it carefully, again. Everyone has to be clear on what they're supposed to be doing and where they'll be going.'

'Tranah and I know how to work together,' Strien volunteered. 'We'll be one group.'

'And Roland and I are a natural pair,' said Orwyne.

'I'll go with you, if I may,' said Vander, to Roland.

'Certainly,' said Roland.

'I'm stayin' with you,' said Morzan, addressing Galbatorix.

Galbatorix nodded. 'Morzan comes with me. Kaelyn, Gern, Tuomas… you can choose which group you want to go with.'

'I'll go with Tranah,' said Tuomas.

'I'm staying with you,' said Kaelyn.

'I will too,' said Gern. 'If that's okay.'

'Of course it is,' said Galbatorix. 'I would've preferred a smaller group, but I'll feel better if I can keep an eye on you.'

In the end, it was decided that Roland, Orwyne and Vander would go to the Beors and lay low for a while, Tranah, Strein and Tuomas would stay in Du Weldenvarden, and Galbatorix's group would travel between the two, using the Spine as cover.

They planned several future attacks and other activities to be carried out by the separate groups; Roland and Orwyne would keep an eye on Dras-Leona and attack any riders they found in the vicinity, and Tranah and Strein would carry out raids on the elvish settlements in Du Weldenvarden. Galbatorix meanwhile would try and recruit more riders to help them and do what they could to neutralise the wild dragons, who, if they were unleashed, could cause massive damage.

Once all had been decided, the Forsworn wished each other good luck and went their separate ways.

'As long as we keep our heads and don't lose courage, we'll survive,' Galbatorix said. 'I know I can rely on all of you. But we must be careful. After Osilon, our enemies will begin to see just how dangerous we really are. Soon they'll strike back. I don't know how they'll do it, but they won't be on the defensive forever.'

They glanced at each other, unable to hide their nervousness. They knew he was right. Sooner or later their winning streak would come to an end. Sooner or later, their luck would run out.

And, a few months after the massacre at Osilon, it did.

Kaelyn and Gern quickly adapted to their new life spent on the move. Now that they had been trained after a fashion, Galbatorix treated them as if they were fully qualified riders who knew how to handle themselves, and did not patronise them because of their youth and inexperience, and made it clear that he expected Morzan to do the same.

At first there was not much fighting involved, as they travelled along the Spine and reaquainted themselves with what was going on in the South. From time to time Galbatorix or Morzan would sneak into some city to gather information – risky, but worth it. At one point Morzan was recognised and came close to being captured, but a well-timed appearance by Idün got him to safety. He brought the news that word of the attack at Osilon had spread far and wide.

'And they're very, very scared now,' he added. 'Everyone knows how powerful elves are supposed to be. Some idiots talks about 'em like they was some kinda gods. But we proved 'em wrong, didn't we? They're scared of you now, sir. But people're sayin' – ordinary people, I mean… well, they believe you're doin' it for them. To stop the elves lording it over us humans. I mean, you haven't done that to any human cities, have you? I think they're getting what this is all about. They won't let elves into Teirm any more. One of 'em tried it and got the sap beaten out of him. Some people won't even use elvish-made stuff any more.'

'It sounds like they're ready to rebel,' said Galbatorix.

'Definitely. Just step forward and show yourself to 'em, and they'll run straight to you.'

'But there has to be something more than that,' said Galbatorix, frowning. 'They need a signal. Something to show them it's time to act. Something…'

'You'll think of something, sir,' said Morzan.

But it was not long before there were other, far more pressing things to worry about. Two days later, Galbatorix contacted Durza again. When he went to the others to share what he had learned, he was grim-faced.

'There's bad news,' he said. 'From Gil'ead.'

'What is it, sir?' said Gern.

Galbatorix sighed and sat down, then looked at Kaelyn. 'Kaelyn, they've arrested your parents.'

Kaelyn went pale. 'What? Why?'

'I don't know, maybe they think they know something. Either way… they're being held at the castle. Kaelyn, try and scry them. You're the only one here who's seen them before.'

Kaelyn scooped some water out of the stream they were camped by, and cast the spell as well as she could. She was still inexperienced with it; it took several tries before the water went dark. She concentrated on her parents, willing the water to show her where they were. And, little by little, an image formed. She saw them sitting huddled together in some anonymous dark place. Her mother was crying while her father tried to comfort her. They appeared to be unhurt… but as Kaelyn tried desperately to make the vision stay where it was her distress got the better of her and it faded away. She swore and slammed her fist into the ground.

'Calm down,' said Galbatorix. 'At least we know they're all right. Try again later and see if you can find out anything more, all right?'

Kaelyn stood up. 'I have to go to them.'

'No.' The answer was flat and firm, and grimly inevitable. 'That's exactly what they'll expect you to do.'

Kaelyn fought down her rage. 'But if I don't, what'll happen to them then?'

'I don't know, Kaelyn. But panicking won't help them.'

Kaelyn spent the rest of that day in agonies. Part of it was guilt. If anything happened to her parents, it would be her fault. She had never considered that becoming a rebel could bring them in danger, but now it had happened she berated herself for being so short-sighted. But another part of it was anger, and not just toward the riders who had imprisoned them. She was angry with Galbatorix as well. She kept expecting him to do something, to stand up and announce that they were going to Gil'ead to rescue her parents, but he didn't. He stayed in the camp, saying nothing, apparently deep in thought, and ignored all attempts to converse with him. When evening came, he still hadn't acted, and broke his silence only to advise them to get some sleep.

Kaelyn retreated to a spot out of sight of the others, where Sartago was waiting for her in gloomy silence. She sat down beside him, wanting to talk to him, but unable to think of anything to say. Her insides were churning. Finally, unable to go on doing nothing, she poured some water into a little hollow in the ground and spread her hand over it. 'Draumr kópa.'

The water went dark, and she concentrated as hard as she could.

This time, the magic worked more quickly. The darkness opened up into a picture of her parents. This time, however, they were not alone. They were being confronted by someone she recognised all too well from her time in Ilirea – Menulis the elder. The image had no sound, but she could see the old elf looming over her parents, his dark eyes fixed on them as he mouthed some words. She knew what they had to be. Where is she? Tell us where she is.

Her father shook his head vehemently and said something in return, and Kaelyn saw Menulis' anger. The elf spoke again, and her father suddenly started upright, raising his hand in a threatening gesture. Immediately, shadowy figures fell upon him from both sides, and she saw him fall, mouth open in a cry of pain as blows rained down on him.

Kaelyn couldn't bear to watch any more. She let the vision fade, and stood up quickly. Saying nothing at all, she picked up her sword and began to pack her bag. Sartago knew what she was thinking. He growled and shifted, but said nothing and let her hang her bags on the saddle.

As she was getting on the grey dragon's back, there was a noise behind her and she turned to see Gern coming, with Leahdorus behind him. He saw what she was doing and stopped dead. 'Kaelyn? What are you doing?'

Kaelyn scowled and heaved herself into the saddle. 'I'm going to get my parents out of there,' she said.

Gern ran to her. 'Kaelyn, no! That's insane; you can't go on your own.'

Kaelyn began doing up the leg-straps. 'Why not? I'm a rider. I've finished my training. If Galbatorix isn't going to do anything, then I will.'

'But-,'

'Don't you understand?' said Kaelyn, fixing him with a furious stare. 'It's my fault! They're beating my father in a dungeon right now, and it's because of me. I'm going to set them free, and you can't stop me.' Before Gern could say another word, Sartago took off, flying up and away as fast as he could go.

Gern hesitated for a long, agonising moment. 'She's mad!' he exclaimed.

'Hurry up,' Leahdorus snapped, thumping him with her snout. 'We've got to go after them. Now!'

Her words galvanised Gern into action. He climbed into the saddle as fast as he could go, and the orange dragon flew off.