Chapter Fifty-Two

Duel of the Fates

Vrael lay in his fine bed with his sword beside him, his fine face furrowed as he dreamed dark dreams to the relentless drumming of the rain.

He dreamed that he was in the elders' chamber in Ilirea, with Nöst and Saraswati beside him. A bed lay in front of him, and on it lay a child. He could hear it crying. But when he looked down at it, he saw that it already had a full head of fine, curly black hair. It opened its eyes and stared up at him. Black eyes. Cold and glittering, staring at him.

Murderer, it whispered. An adult voice, deep and dark and commanding, with a Teirmish accent.

There was a pillow in his hands, and he pressed it over the child's face, blotting out those accusing eyes. But he could still hear the voice.

Murderer.

Vrael woke up with a start, reaching automatically for his sword. He found it and pulled the weapon toward him, heart pounding. The feel of the cool metal on his skin soothed him, and he looked around, trying to collect himself. It was still dark, and his eyes ached. Outside he could hear the rain still falling. He sighed and lay back, trying to relax again.

A faint breath of air blew past him, and the back of his neck prickled. He lifted his head, staring at the shadows, but saw nothing.

But he did not relax again. He sat up slowly and carefully, grasping Snœr'ónd tighly. There was a presence in the room. He could sense it.

'Who's there?' he said aloud.

There was no reply.

Vrael's heart pounded. 'Show yourself.'

Still, nothing moved and he heard nothing. But then he saw something out of the corner of his eye, and turned sharply. Nothing. Just shadows.

'I am the shadow that comes in the night.'

Vrael went cold all over. The voice had been faint, so faint he had barely heard it.

'Show yourself!'

'I am the fear that lurks in your heart.'

Vrael fumbled for the candle on his bedside table, nearly sick with fear.

'I am the King who rules over the dead.'

His fingers closed around the candle, and he lifted it. Cold laughter echoed in his ears as he raised his right hand and muttered the lighting spell. The candle spluttered into life, and light finally came into the room.

Vrael stared straight ahead, and his heart leapt into his mouth.

A tall, shrouded figure was standing at the end of his bed, its face covered. Even as Vrael snatched up his sword, it pulled back its hood, and for a fraction of a second the two of them looked directly at each other.

The Great Betrayer grinned wolfishly at him. 'Surprise!' he said, and vanished with a flick of his black robe.

Vrael lurched out of bed, his bare feet hitting the floor, and ran at the spot where he had been. There was no-one there. He heard the door slam and ran toward it, sword in hand. He reached it, wrenched it open, and burst out into the corridor. He was just in time to see the dark figure disappear around the corner, and went in pursuit. Around the corner there was another corridor leading into a number of other bedchambers.

Vrael paused, looking around urgently. The corridor was empty except for the silent bodies of the guards that had been posted there, lying where they had fallen. None of them had drawn their swords.

'Try and keep up,' a voice said in his ear.

Vrael turned, swinging his sword. It hit the wall in a shower of sparks, and laughter came from somewhere to his right.

'Too slow!' the voice called, and when Vrael turned he saw him there, large as life, lounging against a door and examining his fingernails.

'YOU!' he snarled, starting toward him.

The Great Betrayer laughed at him and darted away down the corridor, making no sound at all, like a shadow come to life. Vrael ran after him as fast as he could, but it was like chasing a ghost. The Betrayer seemed to appear and disappear at will, slipping in and out of the shadows, mocking him at every turn.

'I am the shadow that comes in the night, I am the fear that lurks in your heart, I am the one with the hole in his heart, I am the Betrayer and the Betrayed,' he chanted, leading Vrael on along the corridor. 'I am the King who rules over the dead, I am the rider on the wings of the storm. The Scourge of the Elves, the Riders' Bane, Master of the Night, Lord of the Forsworn, Vrael's Curse.' And he laughed, his cold snickering echoing in the shadows as he darted through a door and vanished.

Vrael reached it a few seconds later, and wrenched it open. On the other side was a set of stairs, leading up to the dragon roost. The Lord of Riders ran up them, taking them two at a time. 'I've got you,' he snarled as he ran. 'There's nowhere to go from there.'

The trapdoor at the top was open. Vrael vaulted through it and into the open air. The dragon roost was unoccupied; all the dragons were sheltering on the ground, where they would be less obvious targets. The stone underfoot was wet and slick from the rain, and overhead, pale lightning flashed from time to time. Somewhere among the clouds, a silvery crescent moon gleamed faintly.

The Great Betrayer was standing by the edge, the wind ruffling his hair. He had his sword in his hand, and his eyes were fixed on Vrael's face. 'Murderer,' he said softly.

Vrael advanced on him. 'I've got you now, half-breed,' he snarled. 'There's nowhere to go from here. You're cornered. Surrender, and you'll be exiled.'

Galbatorix laughed again – a dead, humourless laugh. 'You should have known this was going to happen. You should have known I would come for you… Father.'

'I am not your father,' Vrael rasped.

'But you made me, Vrael,' said Galbatorix, pointing at him. 'You made me into what I am. My father was Skandar Traeganni, but the Great Betrayer's father is you.' Lightning flashed in the sky, reflected in his eyes.

'You're mad,' said Vrael. 'You're insane!'

'And you're dead, murderer,' Galbatorix said, and charged.

But Vrael had already prepared himself. He raised his hand and sent a bolt of white light straight at him, hitting him in the chest. Galbatorix was sent flying backward across the dragon roost. He landed hard, rolled over and came to rest against the wall at the edge. His sword clattered away over the stone, and Vrael kicked it over the edge and into space.

But Galbatorix was not defeated. He flipped himself onto his side and raised his hand.

'Brisingr!'

A ball of black fire shot from his palm, and Vrael narrowly dodged it and hurled another spell. Galbatorix blocked it and leapt forward and upward, regaining his feet with the speed of a cat and simultaneously hurling himself straight at Vrael. The suddenness of the attack caught the elf off guard; Galbatorix's shoulder slammed into his chest, sending him staggering backward. Vrael caught his balance and swung Snœr'ónd directly at Galbatorix's neck. Galbatorix ducked it and punched Vrael in the jaw before quickly darting away from him, seeking the space he needed to attack again with magic. A barrage of spells came thick and fast, each one powerful and well-aimed. Vrael dodged, blocked and counter-attacked, seeking to wear his opponent down so he could get in close and finish him off with his sword. That seemed to have occurred to Galbatorix too, for he started to aim for Vrael's sword-arm, in the hopes of disarming or disabling him. Vrael, grasping his sword in his left hand to leave the right one free, hurled a wordless blast of white lightning across the gap between them. Galbatorix did not have time to shield, and threw himself sideways to avoid it. It hit the stone where he had been standing, shattering it. A piece of red-hot rock clipped his arm, leaving a smoking hole in his robe, and he yelled and sent a reckless blast of black fire back at Vrael. This time Vrael was not quick enough. The spell hit him, blasting him backward, burning his clothes and the skin beneath. He landed hard on his back, gasping and struggling to get up.

Galbatorix did not immediately go after him. He paused a moment to heal his arm, then lifted his face to the sky and howled. The sound was loud and mournful – a near-perfect imitation of a wolf's cry. He howled a second time, and then resumed his attack. Vrael had taken the opportunity to get up again, and he charged at Galbatorix, sword raised.

Galbatorix darted out of the way, and threw another fireball at him. Vrael dodged it and swung Snœr'ónd, landing a glancing blow on Galbatorix's side. Galbatorix ran awkwardly sideways, trying to get out of range without turning his back on his enemy, and continued to throw magic at him. Vrael avoided them clumsily, but did not block or send any magic of his own back. He continued to lash out with his sword, trying to avoid Galbatorix's attacks and get in a decisive blow with the weapon. Galbatorix, dodging around him, realised what was happening – Vrael was badly injured and did not have the energy he needed to keep on fighting with magic, so he had resorted to relying on just his sword.

Galbatorix grinned horribly. He darted in close, and when Vrael swung the sword again he grabbed him by the arm and wrenched it sideways, making the bone crack. Vrael punched him hard in the face, making stars explode in his vision. Galbatorix roared and shoved forward, bodily knocking Vrael over. In his head, he could hear Shruikan's voice. 'Kill him! Kill him, Galbatorix!'

But Vrael still had his sword. As he fell, he brought it down hard on Galbatorix's back, inflicting a deep wound. Galbatorix reeled away from him, crying out, and fell awkwardly onto his side, blood soaking into his robe.

Vrael got up in seconds and staggered after him, kicking him onto his back. He pointed Snœr'ónd at him, touching the point to his throat.

Galbatorix, his breathing harsh and pained, glared up at him. 'Finish it, you coward,' he snarled.

But Vrael did not strike. He gripped the sword more tightly, balancing himself for one last thrust, and then stopped dead, looking up sharply at the sky. Thunder rumbled, and, mingled with it, came the roaring.

'What-?' Vrael began, and then they were there, dropping out of the sky, their scales gleaming in the grey light of dawn.

Dragons. Nine dragons, descending on the fort, mouths agape to breathe plumes of fire.

Galbatorix grabbed hold of the swordblade and wrenched it sideways as hard as he could, cutting his hands and his neck as he rolled himself away in the opposite direction. He regained his feet and kicked Vrael hard in the groin.

Vrael screamed and fell, and as the Forsworn descended on the fortress of Vroengard, Galbatorix stood over his former master, blood dripping from his hands. 'Now it ends, Vrael,' he said. 'Now it ends.'

He reached for Snœr'ónd's hilt. Too late. Another roaring sounded all around, and more dragons rose from the fort – Vrael's riders. They rushed to attack the Forsworn, and with them came another dragon – massive, white-scaled, ancient, bellowing.

Nöst smashed into the dragon roost, half-demolishing it. Broken stone showered down onto the fortress as the white dragon fought to disentangle himself, huge wings thrashing. One enormous forepaw lashed out. It hit Galbatorix in the stomach, and the next thing he knew he was falling, falling backward into space, screaming as the void swallowed him. As the wind rushed past him, he had just enough time for one last thought. The dream had come true. The nightmare was real.

In the cave, Tranah and Vander heard the sounds of the battle outside as it began. They looked up sharply from the fire, listening to the roars and the crashings.

Tranah grinned manically. 'They're here,' she said. 'It's started.'

Vander sighed and closed his eyes for a few moments. He opened them again, and joy showed in his face. 'Ymazu!' he exclaimed. 'I can hear her again! She's all right, she's been set free, she's coming here.'

Tranah reached out for Aedua. 'Aedua? Can you hear me?'

After a few moments, the green dragon's response came back. 'Yes. I'm coming, Tran. I'm coming.'

Tranah sent her an image of the cave. 'Can you find it?'

'Yes, yes, we know where it is. We're coming together.'

Tranah and Vander waited tensely. By the fire, Morzan stirred and mumbled something in his sleep.

Tranah stood up and walked to the cave entrance, where water lapped at the rock. Shruikan had already left to join in the attack. Outside, the rising sun could be seen, casting dim light into the cave. And Tranah saw the shapes silhouetted against it, just visible above the water, coming toward her. Dragons, swimming.

Aedua rose out of the water, clawing his way up into the cave, water cascading off her bright green scales, her head already stretching out toward her. Tranah ran to her and wrapped her arms around her neck, holding her tightly. 'Aedua! Aedua! Oh gods, Aedua, I thought…'

Aedua's scales were warm and alive against her skin. She nuzzled her back, her rich voice sounding in her head, full of love. 'Tranah. My Tranah.'

Ymazu squeezed past him and scrambled toward Vander, ignoring the small space. He touched his forehead to hers, murmuring her name softly. 'Vander,' she said, again and again. 'Vander. My Vander. I thought you were dead, I thought…'

'I'm all right, Ymazu. I'm here. I'm here.'

Ymazu chuckled, a rough, dragon chuckle. 'Never again,' she said. 'I'll never leave you again.'

'I wouldn't let you, Ymazu. Not for anything. Not for…' Vander broke off, blinking in confusion. 'What the-?'

Over by the cave entrance, Tranah gave a cry of delight. 'Oh my gods, I don't believe it! Vander, quick, out of the way!'

Vander flattened himself against the wall, and Ymazu reluctantly withdrew to make room. Vander, watching, laughed aloud in wonder. 'I don't believe it,' he said. 'I don't believe it!'

Over by the fire, Morzan stirred a little in his sleep. In spite of all the noise he was simply too exhausted to be woken up, and though his eyelids flickered at the sound of Tranah's shout he quickly slid back into a doze.

Something hit him in the chest. He groaned and tried to bat it away, but it hit him again. 'Stop it!' he moaned.

But the thing hit him again. 'Morzan? Morzan, you've got to get up! Please, get up!'

Morzan's eyes opened, and he stared up at the thing hovering over him. Eyes. Two big golden eyes, set into something huge and hazy and red. 'What's… what's that?' he mumbled.

'Morzan! You're alive!'

Morzan's brain finally awoke from its stupor. 'Idün?'

A weak, broken laugh sounded in his head. 'Yes, Morzan. It's me. It's Idün.'

Morzan sat up, heart pounding. He was still in the cave, by the fire, and she was there with him, standing over him, her great eyes looking into his own, shining with tears. 'Morzan,' she said again. 'Thank gods. Thank gods.'

Morzan reached out to touch her snout. 'But you're dead,' he whispered.

'I thought you were dead,' said Idün. 'I thought I'd lost you. I couldn't find you in my mind. I'm so sorry, Morzan.'

Morzan got to his feet. 'But… but how…? How did…?'

'They blocked our minds,' said Idün. 'Stopped our magic, stopped us from feeling each other. They did it before I woke up, and I didn't know. I woke up and couldn't feel you, and I thought… I thought…'

As she raised her head, Morzan saw the deep scars that Saphira's claws had left in her neck. That was when he was sure. He threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her scales, and held onto her as if he would never let go. 'Idün! Oh gods, Idün! Idün!'

Idün spread her wing around him, enveloping him in the soft red canopy of her wing membrane. 'Yes, Morzan,' she said. 'It's all right now. It's over. We're alive. We're safe.'

Morzan finally let go of her. 'We can't stay here, Idün,' he said. 'We've got to get out of here and help the others. Galbatorix has gone after Vrael.'

'I know,' said Idün. 'But we can't interfere; it's his fight.'

'But Vroengard's our fight, Idün,' said Morzan. 'We're gonna waste that place. Throw it into the sea an' kill every one of those sons of whores.'

Idün growled. 'Yes. We'll make them pay, Morzan. They'll pay with their lives.'

Morzan found Zar'roc, lying on the floor where he'd left it, and picked it up. He pointed it at Vander and Tranah. 'We're going,' he told them. 'Vroengard's ours.'

'Sir? Sir? Sir!'

Galbatorix groaned and opened his eyes. 'What…?' he mumbled.

'He's awake!' a voice yelled. 'He's all right!

A ragged cheer arose, and eager hands helped him into a sitting position. Galbatorix rose, coughing. His robe was soaked, and his hair stuck to his face, sticky with salt. His head hurt, and his throat felt like it was on fire. He reached out mentally for Shruikan. 'Shruikan, where are you?'

'I am here,' Shruikan replied. 'Are you hurt?'

'I think I'm all right…' Galbatorix blinked. His eyes stung, but he saw the faces of Tranah, Vander, Morzan, Kaelyn, Elric and Gern, all smiling at him.

'Thank gods, sir, you had us worried for a moment or two there,' said Vander. 'How d'you feel?'

Galbatorix coughed. 'Sore. What the hell happened?'

'You fell off the dragon roost,' said Tranah. 'Luckily, you landed in the sea. Shruikan dived in and fished you out.'

Memory flooded back. Galbatorix got up sharply, staggering a little when his head spun. 'Where's my sword?'

Kaelyn held it out for him. 'I found it in one of the courtyards, Master.'

Galbatorix took it. 'Where's Vrael?' he demanded.

'He ran away,' said Vander. 'Nöst carried him off toward the shore.'

'How long ago?'

'At least an hour, sir.'

'Dduwiau chyfrgolla 'i acha bric!' Galbatorix swore. 'What about the rest of them?'

'It's over, sir,' said Tranah. 'Vroengard's fallen. We killed two of the other riders – the rest of them fled. The others have gone after them.'

Galbatorix put White Violence back into its sheath. Shruikan was crouched a short distance away, and he ran to him and climbed onto his back. 'I'm going after Vrael,' he said. 'Morzan, Tranah, Vander – come with me.'

'But sir-!' Tranah began.

Galbatorix did not wait to reply. 'Let's go, Shruikan.'

Shruikan tensed, and launched himself into the air with a nearly violent blow of his wings. He flew straight up into the now bright blue sky, and headed away from Vroengard and toward the mainland as fast as he could go. Galbatorix did up the legstraps in the air, and held on tightly. He could feel Shruikan's mind thrumming, its own exhaustion overridden by rage as the black dragon's fighting spirit rose up inside him, filling Galbatorix with its white-hot energy.

Galbatorix's eyes became blank, his face set into a mad, animal snarl. He said nothing to Shruikan. The two of them very rarely spoke anyway, and when their connection deepened, as it did now, both of them shed their thinking minds and let themselves become something else, something dark and primal and savage, something that did not understand fear, or tiredness, or mercy, something that only knew one thing: killing.

Galbatorix's mind filled with an image of Vrael, the white-haired elf's pale eyes staring at him, his cold, imperious voice in his ears. Shruikan sent back an image of Nöst, and the two melded together, becoming one being, something white and formless and hateful. Man and dragon let their minds become one, weaving their consciousness together and pointing it at the only goal they now had, which made them forget all else – to find their enemy and kill him.

Shruikan flew on, his golden eyes staring ahead, ignoring the strain in his wings. Below them the sea stretched out into the distance, the deep blue of it broken up by patches of white surf. The rain had stopped and the sky was clear, but they could see no sign of another pair of wings on the horizon, and they were still a long way from land.

Eventually, tiredness forced Shruikan to slow down. He settled into a steady glide, beating his wings from time to time to keep going, and his rage gradually simmered down.

Galbatorix felt the madness leave him, and sighed as the tension went out of his muscles. But he didn't consider going back for even a moment. Vrael was not going to get away from him. He would catch up with him before he had the chance to go to ground, and fight him again. And this time he would kill him.

'I'll find you,' he whispered, the wind snatching his words. 'I'll find you. I'll find you no matter where you go.'

There were shouts from behind him, and Aedua, Ymazu and Idün caught up with him, quickly falling into place behind Shruikan. He felt Tranah probing at his mind, trying to make contact with him. 'Hurry up,' he told her briefly, and shut her out.

Shruikan flew on, and the others had no choice but to follow. Galbatorix blocked them out of his mind. There was nothing they could say that would change his mind, and all they needed to know now was to keep on flying.

After more than two hours in the air, the mainland came in sight. By now all four dragons were flying low, their wings beating erratically. Galbatorix could sense Shruikan's own exhaustion, and reluctantly allowed the others to speak to him. 'We'll stop when we get to land,' he told them. 'The dragons can rest awhile, and we'll ask someone if they saw where Vrael went.'

'Yes, sir,' said Tranah.

Shruikan finally alighted on a rocky crag overlooking the sea, and almost instantly slumped onto his belly. Galbatorix got out of the saddle, nearly falling over when he landed on the ground, and Shruikan laid his head on his foreclaws and promptly went to sleep. Aedua, Ymazu and Idün landed around him, and their riders dismounted and walked stiffly toward their leader.

Galbatorix stretched his legs to limber them up again. 'Let's go,' he said, and strode away inland. The cliff where they had landed merged into a stand of stunted trees, and he walked through these and followed a track down onto lower ground. A tiny fishing village had been built there – scarcely more than a cluster of wooden huts built in the shelter of a small bay. Its occupants had already fled indoors. Galbatorix went to the nearest hut and kicked the door open.

Inside, a family of four people huddled in a corner, staring at him in sheer terror.

Galbatorix pointed at them. 'Calm down,' he said curtly. 'Have any of you seen a dragon fly over? A white one, very large?'

The mother nodded mutely, her wide eyes fixed on him.

'Which way did it go?' said Galbatorix.

She didn't answer, but one of her children pointed Eastwards. 'That way, sir,' he said.

'Over the mountains?'

'Yes, sir.'

Galbatorix rummaged in his pocket and found a coin. He flicked it toward them. 'For your help,' he said, and left.

Outside, Tranah, Morzan and Vander were waiting. 'Any luck, sir?' said Morzan.

'He's gone East,' said Galbatorix. 'Over the Spine. He'll be heading for Ilirea. Come on, let's get going.'

He strode off without waiting for an answer, so fast they had to jog to keep up.

'Sir, we really need to rest,' said Tranah. 'Please, calm down. Vrael won't be travelling too fast; he's wounded, he would have had to stop and heal himself.'

'Then I'll catch him before he's done,' said Galbatorix, not slowing down. He found the beginning of the track leading up onto the cliffs, and started up it.

Halfway along, he glanced over his shoulder at the others. They were well behind him, and he sighed impatiently and carried on without waiting for them to catch up. He reached the edge of the copse, and peered down the track, muttering to himself when he failed to see them at all. He reached out mentally for them, and managed to contact Tranah. 'Tranah, what the hell's keeping you? Are you even on the damn track yet?'

'Yes, sir. We're just a little slow right now…'

'Well hurry up! We haven't got all bloody day!'

'Sir,' said Tranah, her voice taking on a hint of irritation. 'May I remind you that we're very tired right now? We've just fought a battle, for gods' sakes, and that was after being imprisoned for weeks. We're not all invincible like you are, all right?'

Galbatorix started. In his mad rush to leave, he'd completely forgotten about the wellbeing of his friends. But when he thought of Vrael again, and the possibility that he could escape while he was standing there waiting for them, his heart hardened. 'Just keep going, Tranah,' he said. 'If you're not here very soon, I'm going to leave without you.'

'Really, sir?' Tranah said evenly.

'Yes.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' said Tranah.

Seconds later, Galbatorix suddenly went rigid. He stood still for a moment, his eyes widening in shock, and then he crumpled.

When Tranah and the others finally reached the edge of the copse, they found him lying on his back, eyes closed, not moving at all.

Morzan ran to him. 'Sir! Sir!'

Galbatorix didn't move.

'Calm… down… Morzan,' Tranah gasped, leaning against a tree. 'He's fine.'

'What's wrong with him?' said Morzan.

'Well, he's a reckless idiot who was trying to get himself killed, for one thing,' said Tranah. 'And he's going to be very angry when he wakes up. Other than that, he's fine.'

'What d'you mean?' said Morzan.

Tranah came over and lifted Galbatorix by the shoulders. 'Here, will you carry him for me? He's not too heavy.'

Morzan slung Galbatorix over his shoulder and followed Tranah through the copse toward the cliff's edge, where the dragons waited. 'What've you done to him, Tran?'

'He let me into his mind,' said Tranah. 'I took advantage of it and put him to sleep. He won't wake up for a few hours, and that should give us some time to rest. And don't even think about telling me off. It's for his own good. Ours too.'

Morzan trudged along in silence for a while. 'Thanks, Tranah,' he said at length.

Vander caught up with them. 'Ooh, he's not going to be happy,' he said, chuckling. 'He's not going to be happy at all.'

'Well, that's too bad,' said Tranah. 'He needs to learn when to hold back. And I need to sleep. We'll set out again in the morning.'

They reached the dragons, and Morzan put Galbatorix down beside the still-sleeping Shruikan. He stirred a little at this, but didn't wake up. He rolled onto his side and slept on, curled up against Shruikan's flank.

Tranah lay down beside Aedua, not seeming to notice the rough rock beneath her. 'Too damn tired to look for blankets,' she mumbled. 'Good night. Day. Morning. Whatever.'

Morzan smiled and went to Idün. She was still awake, but she said nothing, only smiled with her eyes and gently guided him to the spot between her forelegs. He huddled down there against her chest, and she laid her head across his lap, crooning deep in her throat. 'Sleep now, Morzan,' she murmured.

Morzan held onto her horn, feeling the roughness of it against his skin and the warmth of her scales on his chest, where the burns had caused him so much pain. 'I love you, Idün.'

'I know.'