A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long, but so much was going on, my charger broke, and my fantastic dad fixed it, then it was my mom's birthday, then I read about 9 new books and school started and it's my birthday next Tuesday and I had writers block!
*phew* That was a long list of problems!
Some of the books I read, I will reccomend to you - The Black Magician Trilogy by Trudi Canavan, the new Skulduggery Pleasant book, and the first Maximum Ride book (I've ordered the next one online)
This is a super long (for me) chapter so enjoy!
Last Chapter:
A figure, unrecognisable because of the dark cloak they were shrouded in, stepped out from the shadows. A long, steel chain trailed from the figure's hand to another person's wrist. As the prisoner was dragged into the light, Murtagh gasped.
His breath came out in a hoarse whisper. "Nasuada?"
Galbatorix's chilling laugh rumbled around the throne room, freezing Murtagh's insides and making him shiver with horror. "Yes, Lady Nasuada, Nightstalker, leader of the resistance scum!" The king cried, wearing a grim, condescending smirk.
He stood and descended from his throne, his resplendent robes fanning out behind him, creating a striking, yet dauntingly formidable figure. Galbatorix looked in his early to mid 30's with jet black hair down to his shoulders. A long fringe was swept carefully out of the way revealing the king's mesmerizing eyes. The irises were completely black except for thin, lightning-shaped streaks of red that represented the Rider's lost dragon. Above his eyes lay thick dark brows that accented the chiselled jaw and the slight stubble scattered over it. Galbatorix's everyday robes consisted of a velvet coat with a loose red sash to tie around the middle and a magnificent cloak made with a material known only to the grey folk. Their secret died with them and no-one else had ever been able to recreate this cloak, as it hardened to titanium if hit by a weapon, and the wearer could not be affected by magic with it on. The cloak fastened at the shoulder with a diamond buckle and as the light caught the material, it gave off an iridescent shimmer, like it was encrusted with jewels. As Galbatorix moved, the front of his robe fell away, revealing his armour – a black breastplate with gold inlay. The king's sword was strapped to his waist, and the black diamond on its pommel seemed to absorb all the light in the surrounding area, converting it into dark energy and channelling it into Galbatorix, for him to use for God knows what in one of his sick experiments thought Murtagh.
Galbatorix strode forward and circled around Nasuada, examining her. "She is a strong one, this one... yes." He stopped in front of the dark skinned woman and caressed her cheek. She flinched, but Murtagh was proud to see that she held her head up high, looking proud and determined, despite the dirt on her face and the ragged dress she wore. "But still, she is a woman, and she is weak compared to man!" The king lifted the hand that was on her face and slapped her, hard enough to make her stumble. Murtagh was about to cry out, but resisted the urge, although rage clouded his vision. It diminished slightly as relief seeped in, when Nasuada pulled herself up, blood dripping from her lip but her head still high as she glared at Galbatorix, her eyes whirling with loathing and revulsion.
"So, Nightstalker, are you ready to tell me all the Varden's plans and secrets? Or will a dosage of pain loosen your tongue?"
"I will never serve you, you traitor! You have killed many good, honest people in this war of yours, including my Father! I spit on your offers of a "new, golden age"! I curse you! May your soul never find peace, in this life or the next! May you wander the realms of the dead for eternity!" Nasuada cried, the words of her curse holding the same kind of deadly power as the Ancient Language, although she spoke in the human tongue.
Galbatorix seemed to have felt it too – his eyes widened and he barely repressed a shudder as he clicked his fingers at the figure in black. "Take her away and do what you want with her, see if you can't make her talk."
As the figure bowed and started to walk away, the sleeve of its robe fell away and was hastily shaken back into place – But not before Murtagh glimpsed a tanned forearm and a bangle in the shape of a snake.
"Guards! Escort our friend Murtagh up to the torture room in the tower." The traitor king turned to Murtagh and said, with a smirk on his face and a hint of amusement in his voice, "I'll deal with you this time."
Dread coursed through Murtagh's veins but he shook off the hands of the guards and walked up the stairs to the torture chamber at his own pace.
The next twelve hours were the longest of his life...
Murtagh? MURTAGH! The red Rider woke with a start, lifting his head up to see what the commotion was, then groaning and lying back down as spikes of pain lanced through his body. Murtagh felt relief flood through his mind, although he did not know where it was coming from until his pillow moved slightly and he realised it was his dragon.
Thorn?
Yes, numbskull! Thorn said sharply. I have been calling you for the last ten minutes! He continued in a softer tone I thought I had lost you. There were times when I could not feel our connection, and just now, you wouldn't wake... Don't you ever scare me like that again, you Blockhead! The dragon's mental voice rose to a shout at the end, causing Murtagh's head to throb.
Ow! Keep it down, would you? My skull feels as if it is being sawed in half! How bad is it?
Very bad... Thorn showed his rider a picture of how he looked from his red tinted eyes. It wasn't pretty. A huge wound (which he knew would scar) ran from his left temple, over his nose, and ended underneath his right earlobe. Murtagh counted himself lucky that the gash wasn't a few inches higher – if it had been, he would have lost an eye, and he couldn't fix that with magic – the severed nerves would have been severed forever. There were hundreds of cuts criss-crossing his body, but only one stood out as noticeably painful – it was a burn in the shape of a dragon's claws that had been inflicted by a flaming iron rod. It glowed red hot with magical energy and twinged in time with the beat of his heart.
Ouch... he said, and chuckled humourlessly.
Ouch. Thorn agreed.
Murtagh looked down at his chest and cried out in agony as his neck locked and sent him into spasms on the ground. No, try not to move! When the guards moved you here, something cracked. I think you've got a slipped disc in your spine! The dragon cried in distress.
Yes, I think you're right, I wish I had a healer – I can fix this for a while, but it's not going to last. I don't know anything about spinal injuries. Murtagh muttered the words that would heal him. "Waise heill!" There was instant relief from the constant pain, but as the Rider struggled to stand, he realised that something must have gone wrong. Murtagh could not straighten his back completely and had to walk slightly hunched over. Come on Thorn, I should really find someone who can fix this.
But Murtagh, who will risk the wrath of the king to heal you?
We will go to Ariana, she has always been a good friend to me and is a skilled healer. She hates the king for keeping her prisoner here almost as much as we do.
Yes, I only hope that the king does not find out and punish her for helping us... You go and get help while I hunt, I'm hungry.
Murtagh hobbled to the door and down the stairs, pausing every few seconds to regain his balance. He descended from the dragonhold, where he had woken up, in this manner until he reached the dungeon corridor where Ariana's tiny chambers were situated. The corridor held seven doors, five of which were torture chambers which hadn't been used in decades. The sixth door was an old storage room, and the last door, at the end of the dark, dank passageway led to Ariana's room. Murtagh was just shuffling past the fourth door when he heard a tiny strangled whimper. Deciding to investigate the noise, he looked up and down the corridor to make sure no-one was watching before turning the handle. It glowed white hot and sent a shock up the Riders arm.
"Ouch!" He cried "Oh, of course! It's a torture chamber, it needs to have some sort of protection!" Murmuring a few words in the language of magic, he twisted the door handle again and it swung open to a bare room. He gave the room a cursory glance – it held only a table with leather straps to hold down a prisoner, a hard lumpy stone bed covered in dried blood and a thin ragged blanket and the skeleton of a long dead victim, secured in place by manacles attached to the wall. Dirty rags covered in blood hung from its arms, hiding the bones from sight. Murtagh was turning to leave, still wondering where the noise had come from, when another muffled sob drew his attention to what he had assumed to be a skeleton.
A wordless cry tumbled from his lips as his legs gave way and he fell to his knees.
It was Nasuada.
She was almost unrecognisable, her skin was sickly and green tinged, and her face was pale and held a tormented expression. Murtagh staggered to his feet and rushed towards Nasuada, his hand out, observing the manacle burns on her wrists. When Murtagh got closer to her, he crouched down and reached out to touch her face, but she flinched away, fear in her eyes.
"Leave me alone, haven't you done enough?" she croaked weakly, tears running down her cheeks leaving tracks in the grime there. He took his hand away, but reached out with his mind to assess her injuries. "What are you doing? Leave me..." Nasuada's voice trailed off as a violent coughing fit overwhelmed her.
"Shhh... Try not to speak, you're bleeding inside, one of your broken ribs punctured your lung. If you keep going like this, you'll start coughing up blood... Please, may I heal you?"
"No... You are... untrustworthy... stay away..." The rest of Nasuada's muttered protests were lost as her voice dwindled to silence.
"Eka weohnata néiat haina ono, vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." The bleeding woman's shoulders slumped and she instinctively relaxed as some part of her brain, in the depths of her subconscious recognised the meaning and truth behind the Rider's words. Murtagh leaned forward to touch her, feeling energy in the blood that flowed through her veins and felt a thrill as he persuaded it to run its usual course around the broken body, healing with its natural energy at a hundred times faster than the usual pace. He rocked back onto his heels with no drain in his energy and gave a wry smile.
"But... how did you do that, you didn't even use words of power!"
"One of Galbatorix's new tricks." Murtagh replied, his smile becoming grim.
"I'm sorry about the things I said before... You really are a good person, Murtagh..." Nasuada saw the young man's eyes light up for a second before his usual mask descended over them.
"I must be going now." Murtagh stood clumsily and a resounding crack echoed through the room. Barzul! He thought before falling into the soft embrace of the darkness.
He woke, in great pain to the sound of Nasuada sobbing and begging him to wake up. Some of the words were unintelligible but he heard snatches of some sentences. "Please wake up, Murtagh... please... just got you back... saved my life... please..." Murtagh stirred and opened his eyes to look up at Nasuada. He was lying on the floor where he had collapsed with the ragged blanket over his body and his head resting in her lap. She was stroking his hair and holding him to her chest as tears ran down her face.
"Murtagh!" Nasuada cried, seeing him awake. "What happened? You collapsed and didn't wake up! I thought you were... were... d..." She couldn't bring herself to say the word. "How did this happen?"
Murtagh gave her a small smile to reassure her before replying. "Just before you arrived, I went to see Eragon, to get help changing my name... The king found out, and let's just say that he wasn't very happy... I don't know how to fix it so I was just on my way to find a healer."
"Let me look." said Nasuada as she unbuttoned his shirt. When all the buttons were undone, she gently helped him shrug out of the shirt then gasped at the sight of the dragon claw scar. "Can't you get rid of this?" she asked tentatively.
"No. It's a magical scar – I'll have it for the rest of my life."
"Oh... Are you ready to be turned over?" He nodded warily. She carefully rolled him over onto his stomach and put the blanket under his chin to be used as a pillow.
Nasuada's hand hovered over his bare back for a minute before lightly tracing a line that went from his right shoulder to his left hip.
"But... Where did your scar go?"
"He healed it. When I first came to Uru'baen. It was part of his plan to convince me to trust him." Murtagh scowled as he answered. "Can you see what's wrong with my back?"
"Yes." Nasuada found a small bump protruding from Murtagh's lower back. "Have you got a knife?" He took a small dagger from his pocket and handed it to the young woman. "This is going to hurt a bit!" Nasuada used the knife to make a small incision where the bulge was and quickly and carefully cut away the slipped disk. By the time her patient had cried out in pain, it was over. "Now heal the edges of the cut I made together."
Murtagh completed his task and felt a sudden relief from pain, although there was still a deep seated ache.
"Is it sore?" Nasuada asked with concern.
"A little."
"Here." She started to massage his back, her soft nimble hands working away all the tension and pain from his body.
"That's better, how did you do that?" Murtagh questioned.
Nasuada smiled. "When I was growing up in Tronjheim, there weren't any kids to play with and my father was always in some meeting or another. I amused myself by reading every book in my father's private library. A lot of those books were medical books. As I grew older, I helped out in the infirmary. We saw lots of dwarves who had over-stretched themselves and slipped a disc."
Murtagh laughed. "Yeah, I can see the dwarves over-stretching themselves!" He stood, feeling fresh and held his hand out to Nasuada. She took it and allowed him to help her up as she laughed, remembering how eager the dwarves were to prove that they were as good as any human.
She turned to see Murtagh looking at her oddly.
"What?"
"You're beautiful when you laugh, you know." He gave a half smile in her direction and the breath caught in her throat. "And you know what? I'm gonna have to make it happen more often!" He grinned and reached out to tickle her.
Nasuada shrieked with laughter and squirmed out of his grip, running round the table to get away. With his enhanced Rider speed, he caught her easily and spun her round before crushing her against his chest. Pressed up against his body, her heartbeat quickening, Nasuada looked up into his deep, soulful, chocolate brown eyes. They gleamed with laughter and happiness in the light of the lantern.
"Thank you." He whispered huskily. His eyes flickered down to Nasuada's lips as he cupped her smooth, dark-skinned cheek and leaned down to press his soft lips to hers. Murtagh's hands moved down to her waist and Nasuada's arms wrapped round his neck. Her warm lips tasted sweet and the moment seemed to last forever, the two of them caught up together in their own little bubble of happiness.
Then they broke apart. Murtagh staggered backwards in shock and stuttered. "I... I have to go..." before turning on his heel and rushing up to his rooms.
He sat down with a huff on his bed and sat with his head in his hands. "Ah, what have I done!" he groaned, flopping backwards on the bed. "When Galbatorix finds out about this, he'll torture her even more, just to spite me... But it just felt so right, when I was holding her, I felt so... free." He sat bolt upright, "Free!" Yes, he could feel it now, the links in his mind that tethered him to Galbatorix had been severed – his name had changed! Now he remembered Eragon's words "Many things can do this, like falling in love..."
What have I missed little one?
Thorn! I'll tell you later – just get here as quickly as you can and meet me in the Dragonhold in ten minutes.
Okay...
Murtagh ran to his wardrobe and got changed into his travelling clothes before running down to the treasury and taking the green egg and as many Eldunari as he could fit into his bag. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he raced back to the room that held Nasuada. He burst into the room and found her still standing where he had left her. He darted to her side and, ignoring her startled look, swept her off her feet, pulling her into a deep kiss. They pulled away, chests heaving and he rested his head on hers. "Nasuada, I love you!" he proclaimed kissing her forehead.
"I love you too, Murtagh." She said shyly.
"Let's go!"
"Where?"
"To Thorn. My name has changed. We're going back to the Varden!" Murtagh replied, radiating pure happiness. Murtagh picked his love up bridal style and carried her up through a short cut to the Dragonhold, dodging out of people's sight. He deposited her on his dragon and swung himself up onto the saddle. Thorn took off at his Rider's command and they flew off towards the Varden camp, looking forward to just basking in each other's company for the journey.
"We're finally going home." Nasuada sighed, content.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I probably won't continue this, but...
*The ancient language meant: I won't hurt you, upon my word as a Rider.
I probabaly won't update in a while because I'm getting used to school again.
Review please!