Chapter Fifty-Four

Old Wounds

For a long moment, Galbatorix and Thrain simply stared at each other. Man and dragon remained motionless for a few seconds, and then Thrain suddenly roared and made a violent motion toward him, mouth agape. She spat a line of violet flame straight at him, and he narrowly avoided it, diving out of the way as Shruikan fought to subdue the suddenly mad purple dragon. Thrain struggled wildly, screeching and snarling, her claws tearing at Shruikan's black scales. Moments later the others arrived. Aedua and Ymazu landed on the outer walls, and Idün made straight for the roost to help Shruikan. The two dragons managed to subdue Thrain between them, and she finally subsided, breathing harshly, her eyes still fixed on Galbatorix.

Morzan dismounted and went to his friend's side. 'My gods,' he said. 'Is that really…?'

Galbatorix breathed in deeply. 'Yes,' he said. 'She's here. You stay here. I'm going to go and find her.'

Morzan looked troubled. 'Sir, d'you really think that's a good idea?'

'Don't hurt Thrain,' Galbatorix said briefly, and made for the trapdoor that led down into the fort.

The interior of the old building was almost completely deserted. He saw a few guards and servants here and there, all hurrying to get out of his way, but far fewer than a place this size would normally have. The rooms and corridors he passed through all had a run-down look about them – the banners on the walls were tattered and moth-eaten, the torch holders rusty and frequently empty. The floor was bare stone, and dust lay everywhere.

Galbatorix grabbed a fleeing servant. 'Where is the rider?' he demanded.

The woman looked at him with an expression of sheer terror. 'That way,' she whispered, pointing. 'Around the corner. In her bedchamber.'

'Thankyou.' Galbatorix let her go, and went on his way. He realised his heart was pounding, so hard it made him feel ill. Flell. He had almost completely forgotten about her. Over the last few years, whenever he went into battle, he had looked for a purple dragon flying among his enemies, but always in vain. He had been glad of that, but he had never expected this – that he would find Flell again, in a place like this, when so much had changed. He didn't know what he would do when he saw her. What would she do? Would she remember him?

As he strode along the cold, filthy corridor of the old fortress, he suddenly realised he was afraid.

The door to Flell's bedchamber appeared in front of him. He drew White Violence and put his free hand on the doorhandle. For a moment he paused, his stomach churning sickeningly, and then he pushed the door open and stepped into the room beyond.

The bedchamber was simply furnished. A narrow bed sat against one wall, and there was a desk near the door, beside a small wardrobe. The only decorations were a rug on the floor and a large blue-glass lantern hanging from the ceiling, giving off dim light.

A long rider's sword with a blade the colour of twilight hung over the bed, and beneath it was Flell. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her head bowed, brown hair covering her face.

Galbatorix stepped forward. 'Flell,' he said softly.

Flell looked up, and the sight of her face sent ice into his chest. Her impish, once-lively features had become pale and drawn, her eyes big and staring. Her small hands were clasped over her stomach, the fingers twining and untwining in an endless clasping, twisting motion.

At the sight of her face, all of Galbatorix's buried anger and bitterness toward her disappeared. He moved closer to her, holding White Violence low by his side, the tip pointing at the floor. 'Flell,' he said again. 'It's me. It's Galbatorix.'

Flell stared at him. 'Galbatorix?' she whispered.

'Yes, Flell. I came back.'

Flell stood up and came toward him, stretching out a hand to touch his face. 'You're so thin,' she said.

To his surprise, Galbatorix found himself fighting back tears. 'I'm all right,' he said. 'I survived. Flell…'

Flell's big eyes stared into his, full of a terrible entreaty. 'Galbatorix,' she whispered again. 'Where is she, Galbatorix? Where is she?'

Galbatorix took her hand. 'I don't understand. Where's who?'

Flell's hand tightened in his. 'He took her away,' she said. 'Took her from me. Where is she, Galbatorix?'

'Flell, I don't know who you're talking about. Who is she? Who took her away?'

Flell seized hold of his shoulders, gripping them so hard her fingers bruised him. 'Where – is – our – daughter?' she demanded. 'What did he do with her? Where is she? Where – is she?'

'Flell, she's dead,' said Galbatorix. 'She died when she was born.'

'No,' Flell rasped. 'No. Lies. She was alive. I saw her. I held her. She was-,' she started to sob. 'She was like you. Like you. Just like you. I saw her and she was you. You, staring at me. And then I went to sleep, and when I woke up she was gone, and they said Vrael took her, and I tried so hard to get her back, I fought with them, tried to get to him, tried to – fought to get to her. But she was gone and they sent me away. Give her back to me, Galbatorix, give her back, I want my baby, please…!'

Galbatorix's heart clenched. 'Flell, I didn't know. They told me she died. There was nothing I could have done to help you.'

'LIAR!' Flell screamed. 'Liar! It's your fault! Your fault! You lied to me! You lied to everyone! You killed my baby, you killed – you killed-,' her voice broke.

Galbatorix took her in his arms. For a moment she tried to pull away, but then she subsided, sobbing into his robe. He held her tightly, tears wetting his face. 'Flell, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear I didn't. I loved you Flell. I fought so hard for you, but I couldn't help you. I couldn't help anyone. Not even Laela. She's dead, Flell. They killed her. Took her away from me. Took you away. Took everything. They took our daughter from us both.'

'I want her back,' Flell whispered. 'I want her here. Give her back to me, Galbatorix.'

'Flell, I can't.'

'You betrayed me,' said Flell.

'Flell, I-,'

He breathed in sharply. All the breath had suddenly gone out of his lungs, and he gasped for air, feeling as if something had hit him in the chest. Flell pulled away from him, her hand still raised.

Galbatorix took a few slow steps backward. He could feel something hot clinging to his skin. It was his robe. There was a wet patch on the front.

And then, from somewhere outside, he heard a dragon bellow. In his head, he heard Shruikan's voice. 'NO!'

In the same instant, the pain finally hit him. He cried out, and from above Shruikan's howls reached through the solid stone, biting into his ears. Still standing, with White Violence clasped loosely in one hand, he stared blankly at the dagger embedded in his chest.

Then he looked at Flell. 'Flell, how could you?' he whispered.

She said nothing. She had subsided onto the bed, sobbing brokenly, her face turned away from him.

Galbatorix took hold of the dagger's hilt, and pulled hard. It would not come out. More blood bubbled up around the wound, and he bared his teeth and pulled harder. The hilt came away in his hand, and the blade, still inside him, shattered.

And Galbatorix screamed. He dropped White Violence, and with a cry that mingled agony with rage and horror, he hurled himself straight at Flell. She raised her arms in a vain attempt to shield herself, but he knocked her backward, hard against the wall. Flell's head hit the stone with a horrible crack, and she fell limply back onto the bed, her eyes staring at nothing. Her right hand opened, and something fell out onto the blankets. A tiny lock of black hair, bound up with thread.

For a moment Galbatorix stood over her, unmoving. He realised he could hear himself sobbing. Moving in a strange, mechanical way, he put his arms under Flell's body and lifted it off the bed, almost gently. Without pausing to retrieve his sword, he opened the door and carried her out.

The people who were still in the fort saw him pass, and they stopped, bewildered. A tall, black-clad man, walking slowly through the corridors, his head bowed, carrying the body of a woman in his arms. And, where he trod, he left a trail of blood.

Galbatorix did not stop until he had passed out of the fortress and into an open space where soldiers had once trained. He found the others waiting for him there. Thrain's body lay where it had fallen at the base of the dragon roost, and Shruikan, Aedua, Idün and Ymazu had gathered around it with their riders.

Morzan, Tranah and Vander came to meet him. He could hear their voices, asking what had happened and whether he was alright, but they seemed to be coming from a long way away. He walked past them, toward the place where Thrain lay, and put Flell's body beside that of her dragon, laying her gently with her arms folded on her chest. He bent to kiss her forehead, and then stepped away, spreading his right hand over them both.

He heard his own voice, coming to him over a great distance. 'Of earth born and in fire forged, by magic blessed and by cool water soothed, then to be blown away by a breeze in the night to a land of silver and bright flowers. May the gods receive the souls of Flell Surdaborn and Thrain Twilightscales, rider and dragon alike. May they look down from the stars and may their wisdom embrace us. This I ask in… in the names of the lost gods, by the sacred light of the moon. From this day… forth… we shall speak their names only in… in friendship… and let their misdeeds and mistakes… forgotten. Now let… speak… names… Flell.'

He cast the black fire over them, letting it hide the two bodies from view. Everything seemed to be going grey. He squinted at the fire, but it kept going in and out of focus.

He felt something touch his shoulder, and turned. Morzan, looking at him with concern. Galbatorix grabbed hold of the other rider's thick arm. 'Morzan,' he gasped, as his legs folded beneath him.. 'Help… me.'

Morzan caught him as he fell, wrapping one brawny arm around his chest to support him. As he did so, he felt a wetness on his skin, and saw the blood soaking through Galbatorix's robe.

'Oh gods – Vander! Vander, c'mere, quick!'

Vander came running, and Morzan laid Galbatorix down by the fire. He lay still, his face contorted with pain, hands grasping at nothing.

Vander peeled back his robe, and swore when he saw the ugly wound beneath.

'Oh, shit,' said Morzan. 'Shit, shit, shit.'

'Oh no,' said Tranah. 'No!'

Vander probed carefully at the wound. 'Z'aarn nu bein xan! Oh no, oh no, oh no…'

'What is it, Vander?' said Tranah.

'He's been stabbed,' said Vander. 'The blade shattered. It's still in him. Morzan, get me my bag – fast!'

Morzan ran to get it. Vander opened it and brought out a leather pouch. Inside were a number of grim-looking instruments. He selected a pair of what looked like very thin-nosed pliers, and muttered a spell over it to sterilise it.

'Hold him down,' he told Tranah and Morzan. 'I have to get those bits of metal out of him.'

The two riders took hold of Galbatorix's shoulders, pinning him down. He didn't seem to be aware of what was going on; he stared blankly at the sky, evidently dazed from blood-loss. When Vander touched the forceps to the wound, however, he screamed and began to fight to get away from them. Morzan and Tranah had to hold him in place by force, and though he proved surprisingly strong he was unable to break free. Vander managed to get a grip on the first of the shards, and slowly pulled it out. Morzan shuddered when he saw how long it was, its inner edge jagged and coated with gore.

Vander carefully laid it aside, but as he lowered the forceps toward the wound for the second time, a roar came from behind them.

Shruikan. The black dragon rose onto his hind legs, bellowing, his mouth agape. Then, without warning, he charged straight at them. Aedua slammed into him, side-on, knocking him over, and Idün and Ymazu rushed to help her. They managed to pin Shruikan's head and wings, and he fought back ferociously, spitting fire at them, his jaws snapping for their throats. The three dragons were strong enough to overpower him, but even after they had him down he continued to fight back, straining with all his might to get at Galbatorix.

On the ground, Galbatorix's eyes snapped open. He wrenched his arms free and lurched upright with a sudden burst of strength. When Vander tried to stop him, he punched him in the jaw and began to try and get up. Morzan and Tranah grabbed him and hauled him back, and he went down striking out at them wildly, shouting; 'NO! No! Stop it! Stop it! Shruikan!'

Vander got up, wincing. 'Hold him still,' he said, and ran to retrieve his bag. He fumbled inside it for a moment, and hurried back to where Galbatorix lay, still struggling.

'Help me,' said Vander, unscrewing the lid from a small glass bottle. 'We have to make him drink this.'

It was one of the hardest and most unpleasant struggles any of them had ever endured. Working together, in spite of his screams and threats, they held Galbatorix down and forced him to drink the contents of the bottle. He tried to spit it out, but Vander held his mouth shut and pinched his nose until he finally swallowed.

'All right,' he panted afterwards. 'It's done. You can let go of him in a moment.'

He put the bottle back in his bag, and a few moments later Galbatorix suddenly went limp, his eyelids drooping. Tranah and Morzan cautiously let go of him, and this time he didn't move. His hands twitched a little, but his arms stayed by his sides. A few moments later, Shruikan too sagged to the ground, the alertness fading from his golden eyes. Aedua, Ymazu and Idün withdrew cautiously, and Shruikan made a feeble attempt to get up before he slumped onto his side. He raised his head a little, but it fell back onto the ground, and he whined softly, almost like a dog.

On the ground by the fire, Galbatorix's eyelids flickered a little, and he groaned.

'I'm sorry, sir,' said Vander. He picked up the forceps again, and set to work.

It was a long operation, and a bloody one. Galbatorix cried out as each metal shard was extracted from his wound, and made a few feeble attempts to push Vander away, but neither he nor Shruikan had the strength to resist any further.

Vander laid the pieces of the dagger's blade on the ground beside him, one by one, carefully arranging them back into something approaching their old shape, until he had nearly completed the the blade. He finally laid the forceps aside, and sighed.

Morzan looked at him. 'Is it done?'

Vander shook Galbatorix's shoulder. 'Sir,' he said. 'Sir? Can you hear me?'

Galbatorix blinked sleepily. 'Yes…'

'Sir, I did my best,' said Vander. 'I've taken most of the pieces out, but there's one left. The tip of the blade is still in there. It's lodged right next to your heart; if I take it out it'll probably kill you. I have to heal the wound soon before you bleed to death. What do you want me to do, sir?'

Galbatorix took in a deep, shuddering breath. 'Do it,' he said harshly.

'Yes, sir.'

Vander spread his hand over the wound. 'Waíse heill.'

The magic went to work. Galbatorix shuddered as the wound slowly started to close, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

Morzan took his hand. 'It's all right, sir,' he said. 'You're going to be okay.'

Vander sighed. 'It's done,' he said.

The wound had become a deep, puckered scar, the skin around it crusted with dried blood. Vander soaked a scrap of cloth in water and dabbed it clean.

'All right,' he said softly, pulling Galbatorix's robe closed again. 'I've done all I can.'

Galbatorix's hand moved in Morzan's, and his head turned toward him. 'Morzan…'

'What is it, sir?' said Morzan.

Galbatorix's voice was slurred, his eyes unfocused. 'If I die…'

'Stop that,' said Morzan. 'You're not gonna die.'

'If I die, burn me,' said Galbatorix. 'Burn my body. Say… words… the words. "Earth born, fire forged…" you know the… words?'

'Yes, sir, I know them.'

'Say them for me. Take… the ashes. To Teirm. To the vault. Leave them there. Don't… don't make a tomb. Don't put my name there. I don't… don't want people to know… where I am. Will you… Morzan?'

'I will, sir,' said Morzan.

Galbatorix's grip on Morzan's hand slackened, and he closed his eyes and became still.

'We'll let him sleep now,' Vander said softly. 'There's nothing more we can do but wait and see if he survives the night.'

'Someone oughta keep watch on him,' said Morzan.

They heard a scuffling sound behind them, and turned to look.

Shruikan had woken. The black dragon struggled back onto his claws and came toward them, his head drooping and his tail dragging behind him. Morzan, Tranah and Vander moved out of the way, and Shruikan lowered his snout to sniff at Galbatorix. He nudged him gently, and Galbatorix stirred slightly at his touch, but did not wake. Shruikan sighed, sending up a cloud of dust, and quietly lay down by his rider, encircling him with his forelegs and protectively spreading his wings over him. He looked briefly at the three riders, and then laid his head down close to Galbatorix and settled down to rest, his eyes fixed on him.

Vander quietly picked up his bag, and gestured at the others to follow him. They walked out of the courtyard, leaving Shruikan alone beside the remains of the black funeral fire. It had nearly burnt itself out by now, leaving the ashes to blow away in the wind, the flakes swirling in the air in an almost dancelike motion, like a flock of tiny dragons taking flight.

The three riders paused to reassure their dragons, and went inside, leaving them to settle down with their heads on their paws, none moving any closer, but all keeping their eyes on Shruikan. The wait began.

Vander, Tranah and Morzan didn't speak much that evening. They ate together in the dining hall, having been forced to prepare their own food after the last of the servants had fled, each one staring at the tabletop in gloomy silence.

'What do we do if he dies?' Tranah said eventually.

'He won't,' said Morzan.

'Yes… but what if he dies?' said Tranah. 'What do we do then?'

'The only thing we can do,' said Vander. 'We go back to Gil'ead and meet the others there, and we lead the attack on Ilirea.'

'But how?' said Tranah. 'What about Nar Kvarn? He swore loyalty to Galbatorix, not to us. What will he do if we come back to Gil'ead without him?'

Vander paused to think it over. 'We'll have to lie,' he said. 'We'll have to make something up – tell them he's gone ahead or that he'll meet us along the way or something. If people knew he was dead, they'd lose heart. A lot of them might go home.'

'Yes, well, that's the thing, isn't it?' said Tranah. 'It's not just the orders he gives, it's him. People don't follow his ideas, they follow him. It was the same for all of us.'

The others nodded, all knowing exactly what she meant.

'Damn her,' Morzan growled. 'Damn that woman. Wasn't she content to just destroy his life without killing him too? I used to like her myself, y'know. Would've gone after her too, but I knew she wouldn't bite. She only had eyes for him. She was just like that Kaelyn. Liked him for his looks and that was it.'

'And he got her pregnant,' said Tranah.

Morzan nodded. 'Yeah. They was lovers while they were bein' trained, or so I figure. Then when she told him he'd knocked her up, he told her the truth about himself. An' then she went and ratted him out to the elders – made up some lie about him raping her to save her own hide, and they bought it. Sentenced him to death without even giving him a proper trial.'

Tranah nodded grimly. 'The perfect excuse. They gave him the death sentence as fast as they could, for a crime that normally doesn't warrant that punishment, so no-one would find out they'd found a half-breed in their own ranks. As soon as he was dead they could send Flell into exile and pretend it never happened. Of course, they'd forgotten he still had friends, eh, Morzan?'

Morzan smiled slightly. 'That's right. I got him out of there. Me an'…' he fell silent.

'What happened to the child?' said Vander.

'Born dead, from what I heard,' said Morzan.

'Nothing but misery all around,' said Tranah, sighing.

Morzan downed his cup of wine and poured himself another. 'I tellyer, I don't trust women any more. They're nothing but bloody trouble. I had a fling with a girl in Vroengard when I was bein' trained, an' then I walked in on her kissing bloody Brom. Brom, for gods' sakes! Man was built like a bloody scarecrow, I tellyer. Not an ounce of meat on him anywhere. I always used t'…' he broke off suddenly, scowling, and swallowed the second cup of wine in one mouthful.

He reached for the jug again, but Tranah caught his arm. 'I think you've had enough.'

Morzan wrenched his arm free. 'Keep yeh damn nose out of my business, woman,' he snapped, and left the room, taking the jug with him.

Tranah watched him go, and shook her head. 'Honestly, that man's impossible.'

'He's had a rough time,' said Vander. 'We all have.'

'Yes…' said Tranah. 'That was a good job you did out there, by the way. I've never seen a healer with hands as steady as yours.'

Vander laughed softly. 'I'll never be as good as I used to be,' he said, unconsciously clasping his hands together over his chest. 'I've got crooked fingers now. They just don't work as they used to, and they never will again.'

Tranah looked at his hands. 'I heard you,' she said in a low voice. 'I heard you in there, when they did it. What does "Xanthius" mean?'

'It's "Xanathus",' said Vander. 'The chief god of my father's people. The sky god, who rode a plains dragon into battle to defend his tribe. I don't really believe in him. But in there…'

Tranah nodded. 'In there, you hold onto anything you've got.'

'Yes…'

Tranah took his hand. 'You were brave,' she said. 'You coped far better than I did. I thought… I thought about giving up. Giving them what they wanted. And when I saw that I couldn't do that, I thought about killing myself. But you… you're much stronger than you look, Vander.'

Vander stared at their clasped hands. 'I'm not,' he said. 'I'm weak. I've always been weak. I gave my soul to the elders out of cowardice, and I spent fifty-seven years of my life doing their bidding because I did not have the courage to resist. I even went against Ymazu to do it, because I was afraid. And I broke my vows out of fear as well, at least to begin with. When Galbatorix offered to let me join the Forsworn, I thought he would kill me if I said no.'

'He wouldn't have,' said Tranah.

'Would he? I'm not so sure. He couldn't have just let me go, could he? Not when I knew where he was, and would go back to fight for his enemies. But later on I was glad I'd said yes. When I finally stopped being afraid and saw the need to fight back.'

'And that's all of us, isn't it?' said Tranah, letting go of his hand. 'I joined him – Strein and I both did – because we knew we'd die if we didn't. Not because he would kill us, but because something else would. We were already disgraced, and riders like that, who fall out of favour, get sent to dangerous places to do things other riders don't want to risk. Sooner or later we would have been killed. The elders couldn't execute us, but they could still send us to our deaths. And even if that didn't happen, I couldn't bear to be separated from Strein. I probably would have killed myself in the end, if I hadn't finally found a way to escape from them. We went to him on a mad impulse, almost. We didn't know if he'd accept us – as far as we'd heard, he was a lunatic and a murderer, and those don't make good leaders, do they? But then we started to hear about the things he'd done, and how another rider had joined him, and we saw things differently. And then something else happened.'

'What?' said Vander.

'I went to Teirm,' said Tranah. 'Just a short visit, to check up on things. And while I was there I found something. In a cell in the dungeons, the one where he'd been kept prisoner. There was a letter on the floor. I took it and read it. It was from him.'

'What did it say?' said Vander.

'He'd written it to someone he loved,' said Tranah. 'The name was blotted out. He'd written it to say goodbye to her before he was executed. And I read it, and saw…'

'Saw what?'

'In that letter I saw the same kind of love I felt toward Strein, and it was honest and pure, and beautiful,' Tranah said simply. 'I compared it to some other documents in the castle which he'd written, and the handwriting matched. That was when I knew he wasn't mad, and that he understood what it was like to miss someone as deeply as I missed Strein. And right there and then I sent a message to her, telling her to come and meet me somewhere out in the wilderness. We found each other, and I talked to her, and we went to find Galbatorix together. And we found him. Morzan too.'

'You were the first, after him,' said Vander. 'The first to break free. You showed us we didn't have to keep hiding the truth from ourselves. Galbatorix rebelled because he had to, but you chose to do it.'

Tranah shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'We didn't choose. We were chosen.'