Chapter Fifty-One

The Shadow that Walks

In his temporary study just under the dragon roost of Vroengard's fortress, Vrael sat at his desk and stared out of the window at the rain. It had been raining for weeks – the weather was not stormy, but the rain had continued to fall in a dreary, relentless deluge that drummed on the windows and made him feel vaguely bored and irritated.

Very little had happened recently. The Betrayer's three followers remained in the dungeons, each one suffering from starvation and torture. However, in spite of everything done to them so far, none of them had given up any useful information. Morzan, for example, had been questioned numerous times by several different people – Vrael had had him beaten and deprived of food and water, and had personally attempted to break into his mind, but nothing – pain, bribery, threats or offers of mercy – had worked. Morzan's only responses had been swearing and threats, and repeated oaths, sworn in the ancient language, that he would not betray his leader or his friends in any way, for any reason. On one occasion, he broke free during an interrogation and killed two of his guards with his bare hands, after which the survivors refused to enter his cell again. Tranah became similarly violent, and Vander simply refused to speak or even look at anyone who addressed him. Vrael, seeing that further interrogation would be pointless, had ordered it to cease and told the guards to give the prisoners food and drink. He couldn't afford to let them die. Dead, they would be useless.

In the meantime, he oversaw the preparation of the ships that would carry himself and the elves away from Alagaësia, and waited for a message to arrive from Islanzadí. Nothing came, from either her or Ilirea. There were now seven riders in Vroengard, following Brom's apparent suicide, and Vrael refused to let any of them leave. Riders were precious now, and he did not want to risk losing any more of them to the Betrayer's rage.

A sharp tapping sound disturbed Vrael from his thoughts. He looked up blankly, unable to see anything that might have caused it.

The tapping came again, and he stood up sharply when he saw the dark shape on the windowsill outside. He crossed the room in three long strides and opened the window. A large black bird flew in, landing on the desk in a flurry of wet feathers. Vrael almost ran to it, and the animal stood patiently and let him take the scroll from its leg.

The little piece of paper was sealed with the emblem of the riders. Vrael broke it and unfurled it. He recognised the handwriting instantly – Saraswati's.

He read the note. He read it again, not quite believing what he had just read. But the message had not changed.

The room seemed to grow dark, as if the rainclouds were creeping in through the open window. Vrael closed it, an action that seemed to take forever. His fingers felt like pieces of wood. He wandered back to his desk and slumped into his chair. He sat there for a long time, hearing nothing but the sound of the rain, his pale eyes staring at nothing. In his hand, the note crumpled.

A few moments later, someone knocked on the door. Vrael nearly vaulted upright, drawing his sword before he knew what he was doing. 'Who is it?' he rasped.

The door opened, and an elf came in. 'My Lord Vrael-,'

Vrael relaxed slightly. 'Maerwen. It's you.'

Maerwen's face was pale. 'My Lord, something bad has happened,' she said.

Vrael's grip tightened on his sword. 'What?'

'It's Lalla, sir. She's vanished.'

'What d'you mean "vanished"?'

'Just that, sir. She's gone. Her things are gone too, and Somerscales, her dragon. She's run off.'

'When?' said Vrael.

'We're not sure,' said Maerwen. 'Sometime during the night. She was on sentry duty, so no-one saw her leave.'

'We will have to question the others,' said Vrael. 'One of them must know something.'

'Yes, sir,' said Maerwen. She paused. 'Sir… there's something else.'

Vrael did not miss the quietness in her voice, or the hint of fear in her eyes. 'What… is it?' he asked softly, almost dangerously.

'There's someone in the fort, sir,' said Maerwen. 'I don't know who it is, but… this morning three people saw something over by the kitchens. I asked them about it, and from what they said… it sounded like a ghost.'

'Idiotic human superstitions,' said Vrael. 'Why are you wasting my time with this?'

'It's not a ghost, sir,' said Maerwen. 'The servants said it looked like a living shadow. But it has to be someone real.'

Vrael went cold. 'Why?'

Maerwen stared at her feet. 'It's Sadron, sir. He's dead. Murdered.'

Vrael stared at her for a few seconds, utterly motionless. Then he turned away.

'Sir, you've got to do something,' said Maerwen, with considerable courage. 'We have a rebel in the fort. A dangerous one. If he isn't caught…'

Vrael did not reply. Maerwen, watching him cautiously, saw the scroll of paper clenched in his hand. She glanced at the bird still perched on the table. 'What is it, sir? Have you had a message?'

Vrael turned, holding the scroll. 'Yes,' he said, his voice flat and distant. 'Saraswati has written to me. She has had a message from Queen Islanzadí.'

'At last!' said Maerwen. 'Is she finally coming here, sir?'

Vrael closed his eyes for a moment. 'No, Maerwen. She cannot leave Du Weldenvarden. The Betrayer has…'

Maerwen breathed in sharply. 'What is it, sir? What has he done?'

'Du Weldenvarden has been ravaged,' said Vrael, his voice breaking. 'Kírtan, Sílthrim, Ilía Fëon and Nädindel… gone. Just like Osilon. The Great Betrayer has destroyed them. Completely and utterly. No survivors.'

'Oh gods…' Maerwen whispered. 'No! No!'

'It's true,' Vrael said softly. 'He has destroyed us. The elves are finished. Only Ellesméra is left. He entered it and massacred many of its inhabitants, but spared the survivors. He has promised Islanzadí that he will return and kill all those who are left if her people ever leave Du Weldenvarden again.'

'How could he?' said Maerwen. 'How could…?'

'The half-breed is insane,' said Vrael. 'Insane and evil. There is no reasoning left in him. Murder is all he knows how to do. We cannot fight him. Our time is over. Our only hope of survival is to leave. Go now and inform the others. I must write a message to Saraswati.'

'What about the others, sir?' said Maerwen. 'The ones who went into hiding?'

'There is nothing we can do for them now,' said Vrael. 'Go now, Maerwen.'

Maerwen hesitated in the doorway. 'What about the murderer, sir?'

'Inform everyone in the fort,' said Vrael. 'Organise a search. Do not miss a single corner. If there is someone hiding in here, he will be found. And when that happens, he is to be brought to me, unharmed. Is that understood?'

'Yes, sir,' said Maerwen.

Night fell over Vroengard, damp and smothering. In his cell, Morzan lay on his bench, unmoving.

He was sick, and he knew it. The burns on his chest had become infected; they had turned purple and continually leaked a foul whitish pus which crusted on his ragged tunic, making it stink of decay. They did not hurt very much, but everything else did. After the numerous beatings he had endured, he had bruising on much of his body, along with two missing teeth and several cracked ribs. Every movement hurt. But he had forced himself to eat the food they brought him, and to drink as much as he could, determined to keep his strength up.

But there was nothing he could do to prevent the spread of the infection. It got into his system with alarming speed, sapping his strength. He quickly became sick and delirious; he would sleep and have spectacular fever dreams – dreams that were so real that he soon found himself unable to tell the difference between waking and sleeping, reality and hallucination. He couldn't remember how long he had been in the cell, or what had happened in there. People had asked him questions, but what had they said? And what had he answered? He'd sent someone to get help… or had he? He didn't know.

He lay and listened to the rain, and wondered how long it would be before he finally died. Maybe he could see Idün again.

You can see me now, silly, a voice whispered in his head.

Morzan blinked. 'I-Idün?'

I'm here, you big dope, her voice told him affectionately.

He stared at the roof, and thought he could see the shape of her in the shadows. 'Idün!'

Yes, I'm here. You're safe, Morzan. I've come to get you out of here.

Morzan smiled. 'I thought… you were dead.'

So did I, said Idün. But I'm all right now. Come on.

Morzan got up, and the walls of the cell melted away, leaving him standing on a grassy moor with his sword on his back. Idün was there, large as life, her red scales gleaming like rubies in the sunlight. Come on! she told him. We've got to go! The others are waiting!

Morzan climbed onto her back. 'Where are they, Idün? Are they far away?'

Not far. Not too far.

The red dragon took off, and they flew, soaring among white clouds and sharing their happiness. They knew where they were going.

Then they were there. He didn't remember their landing; one moment they were in the air, and the next they were standing side-by-side in a darkened hall. The others were there, waiting, and Galbatorix was with them. He came forward, smiling. Morzan! There you are! I was worried – we all were. What kept you?

'I couldn't help it,' said Morzan. 'It was the oath. I couldn't break it, sir.'

Galbatorix's smile faded. You betrayed me, Morzan, he said. You betrayed me!

'No!' said Morzan. 'I didn't! I wouldn't!'

But even as he spoke, a hundred shadowy figures rushed into the room. They rushed at Galbatorix, swords drawn, and began to hit him from all sides. He screamed, blood soaking into his hair. You betrayed me! he yelled. You betrayed me!

'NO!' Morzan cried. 'NO!'

He rushed at them, trying to stop it, but the shadows came after him too, knocking him down. They stabbed him in the chest, and he screamed at the pain, and then they were gone and he was alone, dying, sobbing in the dark. 'No. No. Forgive me. Don't die, don't die… Idün…'

But then he heard Galbatorix's voice again. Morzan? Morzan?

Morzan groaned. 'I couldn't help it,' he mumbled. 'I couldn't help it. Idün, Idün, Idün…'

'Morzan?' the voice said again.

Morzan looked up, and Galbatorix's face swam into view, looking down at him. 'Sir…?'

'Yes, Morzan. It's me. I'm here.' A cool hand touched his forehead. 'Oh, gods, Morzan…'

Morzan blinked slowly. He was in his cell, lying on the bench. It had all been a dream… or was it still a dream? He wasn't sure. But misery thumped into his stomach when he realised that it had not been true. Idün had not come for him, she was not alive, and nor had Galbatorix come to find him.

'Morzan,' a voice whispered. 'Stay awake, Morzan. You've got to make yourself stay awake.'

Morzan peered at the vague shape that hovered over him. 'Who's… who's there?'

'It's me, Morzan,' said the voice. 'It's Galbatorix. I've come to get you out of here.'

Morzan's heart leapt. 'Sir!'

'Shhh! Keep still. Stay quiet. If they catch me…'

The shape moved slightly, letting the torchlight from outside touch Morzan's face. His eyes finally readjusted to the gloom, and he saw Galbatorix's pale, angular face looking down at him, black eyes concerned. 'Oh my gods,' he breathed. 'It's you. It's really you. How did you get here?'

Galbatorix glanced at the cell door. 'I've infiltrated the fort. Just lie still. I've got to heal you. And hope to gods no-one comes along and sees me. I've had too many near misses already. Listen, Morzan… how badly hurt are you? Where's the worst of it?'

Morzan tried to get up, but slumped back. 'My chest,' he whispered. 'On my chest.'

Galbatorix carefully peeled back his shirt, flinching when he saw the decaying wounds. 'Oh gods… Morzan, what have they done to you?'

'They wanted… wanted to know,' Morzan mumbled. 'Where you were. I wouldn't tell them. Sir, you've got to… get out of here. It's Vrael. He's here.'

'I know,' said Galbatorix. He spread his hand over the wounds. 'I hope Vander's lessons worked… Flytja thr eitr sjá sœra.'

Black magic glowed around his hand and onto the burns, and Morzan gasped at the sudden pain. He lay still, too sick to do anything else, and closed his eyes as the magic went to work.

Little by little, the poison seeped out of the burns on Morzan's chest. Galbatorix watched closely, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of his energy seeping out of him. He raged internally at what had been done to his friend, angry not just with the ones who had done it, but at himself as well. He should have foreseen it. He should have been more cautious. He should have realised that Vrael might go to Vroengard. He should have gone himself. If Morzan died, or Tranah, or Vander…

The last of the muck finally drained out of Morzan's wounds, and the nasty purple and red swelling around them went down. Galbatorix let the flow of magic cease, and paused a moment to breathe in deeply. Morzan's face looked a little less pale already; Galbatorix sighed gladly and spread his hand over his chest again. 'Waíse heill.'

The wounds closed over, forming ugly red scars where they had been. By the time the spell had been completed, Morzan's chest was covered in raised welts, as if he had been savaged by a wolf.

Galbatorix withdrew his hand, heart fluttering with relief. The sound of footsteps came from outside, and in the blink of an eye he withdrew into the corner, pulling his hood over his head to conceal his face. The guard walked past the cell door, pausing to glance inside, and then moved on. Galbatorix sighed in relief. Staying where he was, he whispered; 'How d'you feel, Morzan?'

Morzan stirred and sat up, wincing. He touched his chest, feeling the scars, and sighed. 'Thankyou, sir. Thankyou.' He stood up, glancing at the door, and then came toward the corner where Galbatorix hid.

'Stay back,' Galbatorix warned. 'Don't look at me. I have to keep hidden.'

Morzan sat down again. 'Sorry.'

'It's fine. Hold still, I'll give you your magic back.' Galbatorix reached into Morzan's mind. Morzan let him in, and he located the mental block that had been placed in there to disable his magic and telepathy and dissolved it as gently as he could. Morzan shuddered as he withdrew, but quickly recovered. He healed a few of his other injuries, then used a spell to lift his water jug, pulling it toward him. He snatched it out of the air and downed the contents in a few gulps, grinning to himself.

'Don't show off,' Galbatorix hissed. 'Now listen…' he made mental contact again. 'It's probably better if we talk like this,' his mental voice said. 'Now, what do you know about the others? Vander and Tranah? Are they in here too?'

'Yeah,' said Morzan. 'Tranah's opposite me an' Vander's down the hall.'

'How are they? Are they hurt?'

'Yes,' said Morzan. 'Both tortured, same as me. Dunno how bad. Tran's alive, and I think I heard Vander's voice a while back… dunno how long ago. Sir, what's going on with you? How'd you get in here? Where're the others?'

'Shruikan's hiding outside,' said Galbatorix. 'The others are on the coast, West of Therinsford. Or that's where I left them. At dawn they'll fly over here.'

'You came here on your own?'

'Not alone. Shruikan's not far away. I got into the fort yesterday – got a door open with magic and hid in the wine cellar. They figured out I was around – I spent most of today hiding from the bastards. Had to wait until night to come down here.'

'What're we gonna do?' said Morzan. 'I'll try an' help, but I'm not much good right now. If they catch you in here…'

'Who in their right mind would look inside a locked cell? Don't worry; as long as we're quick we'll be fine. I'm going to leave you in here and break into Tranah's cell. I'll heal her and give her her magic back, and once I've done that I'll go to Vander. Once you're all ready, I'll let you out of your cells and we'll get out of the fort to where Shruikan is. You'll be safe by the time the others get here.'

'How many of the others are coming?' said Morzan. 'There's a lot of riders here. I don't know how many…'

'Five including Vrael,' said Galbatorix. 'There were seven, but one of them's run away and another one had an unwelcome visitor.'

'Listen, sir,' said Morzan. 'One of the riders here… human woman called Lalla… she's kind of on our side. They sent her to question me but she didn't – told me she didn't want to do it and she wouldn't hurt me even though they'd ordered her to because she knew you'd kill her for it. I told her to run away and find you. Dunno if she listened, but she never laid a hand on me. She wanted to help me, but they'd made her swear.'

'Lalla,' Galbatorix repeated. 'I know that name. She's the one who's run off. I haven't seen her, but she's not here any more.'

'So she didn't find you?' said Morzan. 'When I saw you, I thought maybe she'd gone to you and told you I was here. But if she didn't, then how'd you know, sir?'

Galbatorix paused. 'I had a feeling. I've brought the others. All of them. We're going to destroy this place. That bastard Vrael is going to pay, and so is everyone helping him.'

Morzan sighed deeply. 'I'm sorry, sir. Sorry I let meself end up here. I got hurt. I mean…' he paused and shuddered. 'Idün… Idün was hurt. I was trying to heal her an' I passed out. When I woke up, I was in here. And Idün's… she's dead. I've lost her, sir.'

'Don't apologise,' Galbatorix said softly. 'It's my fault. I shouldn't have sent you here. I was arrogant. I thought all the real opposition had gone, but I was wrong. Please forgive me, Morzan. For what happened to you, and to Idün… gods, Morzan, how can you possibly want to follow me any more, after what I've done to you? No rider should lose their dragon, but I made it happen to you. I'm a fool, Morzan.'

Morzan stood up. 'It ain't your fault, sir,' he said. 'I knew the risk. We both did. You've led us better than anyone could. So many victories, and no-one dead except them.'

'Then it should have stayed that way,' Galbatorix said bitterly.

'Idün knew what she was doing,' said Morzan. 'She was willing to die for you if she had to. An' so did I.'

'Don't talk like that!' Galbatorix exclaimed. 'I don't want people to die for me! If anyone's going to die to win this war, it should be me.'

'No, sir,' said Morzan. 'It should be them.'

Galbatorix calmed down a little. 'Yes… you're right.' The shadow moved slightly as he stared out through the cell door. 'No sign of anyone… I should go now.' He emerged from the shadow, holding a hand out toward the door. A soft clicking sound came from it, and it swung very slightly ajar. Galbatorix walked toward it with his usual prowling movement, eerily silent as always. He paused with his hand on the door, watching the corridor for any sign of movement.

Morzan stood up. 'Good luck, sir,' he murmured, and embraced his master fiercely. Galbatorix hugged him back. 'I'm so sorry, Morzan,' he said. 'I swear I'll get you out of here. I swear it.'

Morzan let go of him. 'I trust you, sir,' he said, hope returning to his dulled eyes.

Galbatorix held out a hand toward the door of the cell opposite, and concentrated. He heard the lock click and paused again, looking down the corridor in both directions. There was still no-one in sight. He opened the door of Morzan's cell, closed it behind him and slipped into Tranah's cell with a flick of his robe. Once he was safely inside he closed the door, hearing the lock click back into place, and melted into a shadowy corner. He waited there, scarcely breathing, watching another guard pass. He'd made it.

Once the guard was out of sight, he looked for Tranah and found her lying on her side in the other corner of the cell, her arms clasped protectively around her chest. She seemed to be asleep; he could hear her soft, shuddering breathing.

He reached into her mind, carefully weaving his way through her dark dreams, and removed the mental block. She stirred and moaned slightly at this, but made no other sound, and he spoke to her, keeping his mental voice low. 'Tranah. Tranah, wake up. It's me. You're safe.'

Tranah groaned and moved her head. 'What…?' she said in a slurred voice. 'Aedua?'

Galbatorix checked the corridor, and emerged from his shadow, letting her see him. She squinted at him. One of her eyes was swollen shut, but the other one blinked and focused on him. 'Sir?' she mumbled. 'Is that… is that you? No. No, can't be.'

'It's me,' said Galbatorix. 'It's Galbatorix. Keep quiet. We can't let them hear us.' He withdrew into his shadow again, not daring to stay visible any longer.

Tranah raised herself with her arms, staring at the spot where he'd been with an expression of pure joy. 'Sir!' she said again. 'I don't believe it! How did you-?'

'Quiet!' Galbatorix hissed. 'The guards!'

Tranah glanced quickly at the door, and reached out mentally. He let her in, and her mental voice said; 'Sir, what the hell are you doing here? They haven't caught you too, have they?'

'No, Tranah. I've broken in. I've come to rescue you.'

Tranah was silent for a while, and then he sensed a feeling of intense happiness from her. 'Aedua's alive,' she said. 'She's alive! Oh, thank gods, thank gods, I thought she was dead! They blocked my mind so I couldn't feel her any more… did you remove it, sir?'

'Yes. Tranah, are you all right? Are you hurt?'

Tranah shuddered, her joy suddenly evaporating. 'They've… my legs are broken. I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't help it. I fought as hard as I could, but they got Morzan. It's Vrael, sir. He's here, and at least five others with him. They got Morzan… told us to surrender or they'd kill him. I didn't have a choice. They took my sword… brought me down here… Vander too, and Morzan. They… we all… the guards came in here, and…'

'What did they do?' Galbatorix asked urgently. 'Tranah, calm down. What did they do? Do you have any other injuries? I need to know so I can heal them.'

'Just my legs, and a few bruises,' said Tranah. 'But it's… oh gods, I'm such a fool.' Her distress was so deep it nearly overwhelmed him as well. He could feel her fear, and her agony. Realising that she was close to panicking, he wrapped his mind around hers and fed her a feeling of calmness, as he had once done to Laela when she needed comfort. Tranah responded, and he felt he slowly relax again. 'Thankyou… thankyou, sir. I just… need to rest.'

'Tranah, what did they do?' said Galbatorix, though he had a horrible feeling that he already knew.

Tranah was silent for a long time. 'They wanted information,' she said at last, in a sharp, bitter voice. 'So they let the guards use me however they wanted. They broke my legs when I fought back.'

Rage flooded into Galbatorix's mind. He broke off contact with Tranah and slammed his fist into the wall, so hard his knuckles cracked. 'Rwyt ti'n esgys fach pathetic am dyn! Godsdammit, godsdammit, godsdammit!'

'Are you going to get us out of here?' Tranah asked in defeated tones. 'I can't walk, sir. I'm sorry.'

Galbatorix said nothing. He edged toward her, ignoring the pain in his knuckles, and spread his hand over her right leg. 'Waíse heill.'

Tranah cried out as the bone in her leg cracked, shifting around as it melded back into a solid whole. Galbatorix kept the magic flowing until it was done, and once he had hidden to let the guard pass again he returned and healed the other. After that Tranah was able to get up and attend to her other wounds. 'What d'you want me to do, sir?' she asked mentally. 'I'll go out there with you and fight those pieces of filth. Just say the word. I'm going to make them pay.'

'Where's Vander?' said Galbatorix. 'I have to get to him and heal him before I let you all out. Once he's all right, I'll get you out of here to safety. The others are going to come at dawn and attack.'

'The others?' said Tranah. 'Which others?'

'All of them.'

'All? What about the elves? Have you attacked them yet?'

'Yes, Tranah.'

'How did it go?'

'We won,' said Galbatorix. 'Kírtan, Sílthrim, Ilía Fëon and Nädindel are gone. We left no-one alive. As for Ellesméra, we attacked there too. Defeated them, took Islanzadí hostage and rounded them all up. I gave them the warning, and we left. There's only a couple of hundred elves left in Du Weldenvarden now, and if they've got any sense they'll never leave it again.'

'I knew it,' said Tranah, her eyes shining. 'I knew it, sir. I knew you'd do it. It kept me going in here, knowing the elves were being punished. Knowing you were going to win even if I didn't live to see it. I told Vrael that myself, you know. Told him to his face. I said that even if he killed me, you'd find him and kill him. "He's coming for you", I said. "You and the rest of your kind". He sneered at me, but I saw the look in his eyes. He knows it, and he's afraid. And he should be.'

'You didn't tell him anything?'

'Of course not,' said Tranah. 'I would rather die.' She sat down on the bench. 'You should go now, sir. Vander's in a cell a few along from me. That way.'

Galbatorix nodded. 'I'll be back soon, Tranah.'

He unlocked her door again, slipped out into the corridor and walked silently along past the rows of doors, horribly aware of how exposed he was. But he found Vander's cell after a quick search, and unlocked it with a spell.

As he was reaching out to open it, the sound of footsteps behind him made his blood turn to ice. Without thinking, he moved back from the door and flattened himself against the wall beside it, turning his head to make himself as small as possible.

He could see the guard coming, and his heart pounded. The shadow by the wall was hopelessly inadequate – nowhere near big enough to hide him. The guard was going to see him, and when that happened all hell would break loose.

Nearly panicking, he started to summon up a spell that would take the man down quickly and quietly, but there was no time, no time… even as the magic responded to his will, it was already too late – the guard was on him.

Galbatorix stayed utterly still, his face pressed against the hard stone of the wall, his heart pounding so hard it made him feel dizzy. He could see the guard, right in front of him, see his armour and the sword at his side, see his eyes gleaming in the torchlight. Any second now those eyes would land on him, and then would come the shout of surprise, the attack, the alert, the summoning of the other guards stationed at the end of the corridor, and then, most likely, the alerting of Vrael and the other riders, and an assault by them that he would not be able to fight off alone.

But then, as he braced himself for the battle to come, the guard walked on by. He passed Vander's cell, casting a cursory glance at its occupant, and them moved on.

For a long time, Galbatorix didn't move. He stayed where he was, nearly rigid with fright, until the sound of a groan from Vander's cell snapped him out of his shock. He breathed in deeply and slipped into the cell, closing the door behind him.

Vander was awake and sitting up on his bench, staring at him in utter astonishment. 'My Lord Galbatorix?'

Galbatorix hid himself in a shadow. 'Keep quiet, Vander,' he hissed.

Vander stood up. 'How did you get here, sir?' he whispered.

'I've broken in. Go back and sit down, Vander. Don't look at me.'

Vander hastily obeyed. 'By Xanathus, I'm glad to see you sir,' he said. 'I was starting to give up.'

Galbatorix reached into his mind and removed the mental block. 'There,' he said mentally once this was done. 'You're free. Vander, how are you?'

'I'm hurt, sir,' said Vander. 'Not too badly, but…'

'Come over here and let me heal you. There's no time to waste. I've visited Morzan and Tranah; they're both all right – I've healed their wounds. I'll heal you and then we'll get out of here together. I'll get you to safety, all right?'

'Understood, sir,' said Vander, coming to stand by the back wall.

'Good. Now hold still.'

Every single one of Vander's delicate fingers was broken. Galbatorix healed them one at a time, though he felt himself becoming dangerously fatigued, and when he had done Vander said; 'Thankyou, sir. That's all I really needed. They were a little more gentle with me. They probably thought I wouldn't survive if they were too rough…'

Galbatorix had to stifle an incredulous laugh at this. '"Gentle"! Always a master of understatement, aren't you, Vander?'

Vander did not smile. 'I consider myself lucky, after what they did to Morzan and Tranah. How are they, sir?'

'They'll live,' Galbatorix said grimly. 'But they won't be the same again. Morzan's lost Idün. And poor Tranah…'

'No time for that, sir,' said Vander. 'What's the plan?'

'We get out of here,' said Galbatorix. 'Wait here. I'm going to go and get your swords back, if I can find them, or at least find some you can use. When I get back, I'll let you out and we'll make a break for it. Shruikan says it's nearly dawn now. The others will attack here soon, and we have to get clear before then. D'you think you can fight, Vander?'

'I'll do my best, sir.'

'All right. Wait here. I'll be back soon.'

'Good luck, sir,' said Vander.

Galbatorix patted him on the shoulder and made for the door. Once the guard had passed again, he opened it and sprinted down the corridor as fast as he could go. He reached the end of it and ducked into the storeroom beyond. It was unoccupied, and he closed the door behind him and used magic to summon up a dim light.

The room was full of sacks and crates; he had a look inside one or two and found they contained supplies like food and blankets. Against one wall was a cupboard. It was locked, but he opened it easily enough with magic. Inside there was a little heap of items – daggers, lengths of string, pieces of jewellery and other odds and ends – the kinds of things people kept in their pockets. He recognised some of them as having belonged to Morzan, Tranah or Vander, and quickly pocketed them. But on the back wall of the cupboard was something else – weapons. Bows, arrows, axes… and swords. Three swords – riders' swords – one red, one green and one brown. Galbatorix lifted them down and tucked them into his swordbelt, then exited the storeroom.

Back in the corridor, he reached Morzan's cell first and quickly opened the door. Morzan was waiting, and he gave Zar'roc back to him. 'Wait here,' he told him. 'Hold onto the door – don't let it close or it'll lock. The instant you see me pass, come out and follow. All right?'

Morzan nodded quickly. 'Yes, sir,' he said, gripping Zar'roc's hilt tightly.

Galbatorix waited for the guard to pass again, and returned to Tranah's cell. She too was ready, and he gave her back her sword, Laufsblađ. 'Wait here; I'll get Vander,' he told her. 'Keep the door slightly open, and be ready to fight. When we come past, follow us. Keep it quiet. If we're confronted by anyone, we attack. Take them down quick and quiet. Got that?'

Tranah nodded once, and Galbatorix returned to Vander's cell. The skinny man was also prepared, and eagerly took back his sword, Xantho Rannimuch.

Galbatorix drew White Violence and withdrew into the shadows. 'Right,' he said in an undertone. 'We'll wait for the guard to go past again, and then we're out of here.'

Vander hid his sword under the bench, and waited. As soon as the guard had gone by again, Galbatorix re-emerged. He opened the door and slipped out into the corridor, and Vander followed. They sneaked along it until they were well away from the guardroom behind them, and then they broke into a run. Morzan and Tranah emerged from their cells as they passed, and fell in behind them, swords at the ready.

Galbatorix had already explored various escape-routes earlier in the day, and had gone over the one he had chosen in his head over and over again, mentally rehearsing it. He led the way up a flight of stairs and turned left at the corridor above, following it around a corner and into the abandoned kitchens. There the four of them helped themselves to some unattended food, and rested for a few brief moments.

Galbatorix crossed to a spot beside the big fireplace where the spit stood cold and empty, and opened a large metal hatch set into the wall. 'Garbage chute,' he said briefly. 'It leads straight out of the fort. There's a drop into the sea on the other side. Anyone fancy a swim?'

Vander came and peered through. 'A narrow fit,' he observed. 'But I can make it. Where do I go from there?'

Galbatorix pointed to his left. 'That way along the coastline, until you reach the spot where there's a big cliff. There's a cave in there – you can't miss it. Shruikan's inside. He'll be watching out for you. Go in there and lie low. There's some food there; not much, but it should do. Who wants to go first?'

'I'll go first,' said Vander. He put his sword back into its sheath, and Galbatorix held the hatch open while he poked one leg through. Tranah and Morzan had to lift him so he could get the other through, but it was plain that he was going to fit easily. He paused, stuck halfway through the opening, and looked at Galbatorix. 'Thankyou, sir,' he said softly. 'You've saved our lives.'

Galbatorix smiled. 'You're more than welcome; you're entitled. Now get going, dammit!'

Vander slid through the chute and vanished.

'I'll go next,' said Tranah.

It was a tighter fit this time, but she made it through thanks to a shove from Morzan, and once she had gone Galbatorix said; 'You next, Morzan.'

Morzan hesitated. 'You should go next, sir. In case I don't fit.'

Galbatorix glanced quickly over his shoulder. 'You'll need me here to help you through if that happens. Go on, there's no time for arguing.'

'All right, sir. And thankyou, sir.'

Galbatorix held the chute open as far as it would go. 'Go on, Morzan. We can talk later.'

Morzan didn't waste any more time. He lifted one leg into the chute, and Galbatorix gave him a leg up for the other. This time it was not so easy; in spite of the starvation he had endured, Morzan's broad chest wouldn't fit through the gap. He snarled and wriggled frantically, trying to make himself squeeze through, but the motion only made things worse, and he ended up wedged in place, unable to go in either direction.

'I'm stuck, sir,' he said. 'Godsdammit, I'm sorry.'

Galbatorix shoved at his shoulders, but couldn't move him. 'It's Zar'roc,' he said. 'You didn't take it out of its sheath – it's in the way. Hold on a moment.' He took hold of the red sword's hilt and wrenched it out of its scabbard, though he had to brace himself against the wall in order to do so. The moment it was out, Morzan felt the gap loosen slightly. He slid through it with a grateful sigh, but put one arm back to grab the edge of the chute and prevent himself from falling through. 'Gimme back Zar'roc, will yeh?'

Galbatorix put the hilt into his hand. 'There. See you later.'

Morzan grasped the sword, and let himself fall. He hit the water below with a loud splash, and nearly lost hold of Zar'roc in the process, but managed not to lose it. He clawed his way to the surface and thrashed there for a while, gasping in air, Zar'roc still clasped tightly in one hand. The weapon was heavy and kept dragging him down, but he refused to let go of it. He breathed in deeply and took it in both hands, clumsily guiding it back into its scabbard. It went in after a few goes, and he resurfaced in near-complete blackness. It was still raining, and he could hear the sound of surf. The sea was icy cold and very deep, and he had no idea where land was. He swam off in arbitrary direction, hoping to find something to guide him, but he made very little progress – Zar'roc, combined with his wet clothes, weighed him down and made him even clumsier in the water than usual. He started to panic, but before he had sunk again a wave picked him up and carried him away with it. He fought against it, but it was stronger. It dragged him sideways with relentless force, and a few seconds later he slammed bodily into something hard. He grabbed at it, pain spiking through his back, and his fingers gripped something rough and jagged. A rock, he realised, with a surge of relief.

He held onto it until he had his breath back, more waves splashing against him, and then cast about for some sign of where he should go. He had lost his sense of direction almost immediately, and now he didn't know where he was. In the end, not knowing what else to do, he reached out with his mind in the hopes of finding help.

He made contact with Tranah after a few moments; she recognised him and let him speak to her. 'Morzan, where are you?' she said immediately.

'I dunno, in the water somewhere. I'm holding onto a big rock. Dunno which way to go.'

'Where's the moon?' said Tranah. 'Right or left?'

Morzan looked around, lifting his chin awkwardly to avoid the spray. He finally spotted the moon, sitting low in the sky somewhere to his right. 'It's on the right side of me,' he said.

'Then head away from it,' said Tranah. 'The cave's not far.'

'All right.' Morzan let go of the rock and struck out in that direction, forcing his powerful arms to work as hard as they could. The waves constantly pulled him toward the shore, and more than once he smacked into the rocks that stood out at the base of the cliff, but he kept going, occasionally finding solid ground under his feet to shove off from. After what felt like fifteen minutes of cold, blind swimming, he spotted a light up ahead and headed hopefully toward it.

A few moments later the sea calmed, and he wearily swam the last part of the journey, feeling as if he hadn't slept in months. His boots suddenly hit rock, and he climbed out of the water and slumped down on the floor of the cave, gasping like a landed fish.

Tranah and Vander were there already, and helped him get up and come into the relative shelter of the cave. They had already lit a fire, and Shruikan was there, crouched at the back of the cave like some dark sentinel, his gold eyes gleaming.

Morzan sat down by the fire, teeth chattering. 'A sh-short bl-bloody way!' he said. 'I'll c-call you a d-damned liar for that, Tranah.'

Tranah crouched wearily on the opposite side of the fire. 'Well it's a small price to pay. Did you see Galbatorix?'

Morzan shook his head. 'I w-went before him. He'll be here in a minute, probably.'Shruikan stirred and brought his head down toward them. 'He's not coming.'

'What, Shruikan?' said Tranah.

'He's not coming,' Shruikan said again. 'He stayed behind.'

Morzan swore. 'He what? Why?'

'He's gone to look for Vrael,' said Shruikan.