CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Fight Inside

"And it finds me, the fight inside is coursing through my veins

And it's raging, the fight inside is breaking me again."

- Fight Inside, Red

Galbatorix called Murtagh to him. The Varden – those rebel scum – were planning to take Belatona. While there was no doubting Lord Daemyn's loyalty, Lucian could prove to be a loose cannon. The Shade Mordecai had pledged his support and if Murtagh and Thorn went to Belatona as well, Galbatorix did not doubt that they could crush the Varden.

"You are to go to Belatona," instructed Galbatorix, pacing in front of the young Rider, "You are to destroy the Varden and if Eragon is there, you are to capture him and his dragon."

Murtagh felt the mix of emotions within him. He knew the consequences if he refused to comply with the king's demands…yet he'd had enough. He had sworn to bring Tristan to Galbatorix in order to keep Ashen safe – although he would never admit that to her. She would surely hate him.

He was sick of being an unwilling servant, someone shackled to others. He knew what defying the king would mean, though what was worse. What it would cost for defiance, or what it would cost for obeying?

Something changed inside Murtagh. He didn't know what it was, but it liberated him. It made him feel that he could make the decision for himself. He couldn't believe what he was saying when a single word emitted from his mouth: "No."

Galbatorix's eyes widened. He clearly hadn't expected this either. His eyes narrowed and his voice became dangerously low. "Do not be difficult, boy. You will do as you have been instructed. Swear it to me in the ancient language."

Murtagh realised what had happened and a relieved smile crossed his face as he started to laugh, doubling over until his stomach hurt. Galbatorix watched the young Rider wearing a look of cold fury. Murtagh knew immediately what danger he was in if he didn't act normally. He stopped laughing and allowed a somber look to come over his face as he swore in the ancient language. He twisted his words subtly, hoping Galbatorix wouldn't notice. He swore that he would do as instructed. He just didn't mention who was doing the instructing.

As he exited the throne room, pretending to be burdened by what he had to do, he was instead filled with triumph. He grinned to himself, but at the same time he was overcome by anxiety as he knew his task.

Thorn. You know what's happened, don't you?

Yes! We can be free!

Murtagh's true name had changed. He did not know what it was now, all he knew was that he was not forced to comply with Galbatorix's demands any longer. He felt…free. Murtagh had suspected that his love for Ashen would change him and therefore his name and for once, things had gone the way he had wanted them. He did not understand how it had happened, except that falling in love had made Murtagh a different man. For that, he would be eternally grateful…unless Galbatorix managed to find out the truth and discover his new name. Love really had set him free.

We need to get out of Uru'baen.

"Ashen. Get up."

She found herself being roughly shaken awake and saw Murtagh standing over here. There was a mixture of emotions in his grey eyes. Excitement, trepidation…she sat up. Something must have happened.

"What's happening?"

"We're escaping Uru'baen." Murtagh's tone was matter-of-fact and he folded his arms across his chest, "Quickly. Get up and get changed."

Ashen couldn't believe what she was hearing. Had Murtagh taken leave of his senses? He was sworn to Galbatorix. The look on his face was impatient and she sighed heavily, hoping he would explain everything. Right now, she was not objecting to getting out of Uru'baen.

"Are you going to leave while I change?" Ashen demanded.

Murtagh ground his teeth. He obviously wanted to get out of Uru'baen straight away. Ashen felt herself growing cold, wondering what he'd done now. She glared at him, but he simply shrugged.

"I'll turn around and I won't look."

I know you want to, Murtagh, but do not look at her getting changed. She may decide to kill you.

Ashen's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Murtagh turned his back and she hastily changed into some clothes. By the time Murtagh turned back, she was already gathering her things. He silently handed her a sword and she gave him a slightly alarmed glance. He was giving her a weapon? Were they expecting trouble?

"Murtagh, what is going on?"

"I'll tell you everything once we're safe," Murtagh insisted, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards the door, "Right now, we need to get on Thorn and get out of here. Alright?"

He raised his eyebrows and Ashen took a deep breath and nodded. She didn't like it when Murtagh kept things from her, but it didn't look like she had much of a say in the matter at the moment.

"I need to get the Eldunari," Murtagh said as they moved into the corridor, "I need you to go to Thorn's roost and stay there until I come."

Ashen nodded, knowing that she had to trust Murtagh in whatever madcap scheme he was embarking on this time. She felt nervous because she wasn't sure what he was doing, but as he turned and marched in the opposite direction, she sighed heavily and made her way to Thorn's roost.

"You know what he's planning, don't you?" she demanded of Thorn, planting her hands on her hips.

I know that Murtagh's true name has changed because of his love for you, yes. Thorn paused for a moment. Oh dear. I am not sure if he wanted me to tell you that.

"What?" Ashen was confused. She knew about true names and the power they held, but…changing? Then there was the fact that Murtagh was in love with her. Of course, she had known that – yet hearing it from Thorn made it definite. "So…he does not have to listen to Galbatorix any longer?"

Precisely. Which is why we must leave Uru'baen before the king discovers this for himself.

The doors opened and Murtagh strode in with a bag over each shoulder. Ashen's eyes widened with horror as she realised just how many Eldunari the king must have had. Murtagh quickly saddled Thorn and tied each bag to the saddle, knotting it as tightly as he could. He then turned to face Ashen.

"I know. I know why we're leaving, Murtagh."

Murtagh turned to glower at Thorn.

How much did you tell her?

Enough, Thorn replied enigmatically.

Murtagh shook his head slowly and clambered up onto Thorn's back, reaching down and offering his hand to help Ashen on. She raised her eyebrows and Murtagh didn't know whether to be pleased or not that her attitude was starting to kick back in. Ashen accepted Murtagh's hand and he hoisted her up onto Thorn's saddle behind him.

"Hold on tight."

Thorn flexed his powerful legs and pushed upwards, launching himself up and out of the roost. Ashen had never flown on a dragon before and she wasn't prepared for the sudden speed. With a surprised exclamation, she wrapped her arms tightly around Murtagh's waist.

Don't be too pleased with yourself. Thorn chastised him.

Ashen was not surprised that the archers of Uru'baen did not bring Murtagh and Thorn down. They most likely believed him to be on a mission for Galbatorix. She shuddered to think of what the king would do when he realised his prized Rider had escaped him.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Ashen called over the breeze that whipped her hair into her face.

"The one place the king won't follow," Murtagh replied.

A shiver ran down the back of Ashen's neck. The Spine.

Tristan was happier than he had been in a long time – and it wasn't solely to do with the fact that he had been permitted to attend the Midsummer Festival in Ellesmera. It wasn't because he'd drunk more mead than he should have, either. Delia had complimented him and Fafnir on their progress earlier, a radiant smile adorning her face as she stated that their training was nearly complete. Now that Tristan knew this, he was even more obliged to celebrate.

It had soon become clear that the elves' celebrations were much more entrancing than human ones. Tristan found himself drawn in despite everything – he had even started to forget his concern about Ashen in Uru'baen, although he was not sure that this was a good thing. The Midsummer Festival was a huge annual celebration for the elves and Tristan had been ensnared by it.

Over the other side of the congregation, Delia sighed heavily as she took another sip of her own mead. Watching Tristan, she didn't think she had ever seen him look so…free. Aziza had expressed an interest in teaching Fafnir how to hunt, so Delia was left alone in her thoughts as she observed her student.

"You seem very interested in the human boy." The voice was mocking, yet there was something almost jealous there.

Delia sighed and closed her eyes, before opening them and turning to face Vanir. He had been humbled by Eragon, yet there was still arrogance surrounding him. Her violet eyes narrowed as she faced him.

"Do not be a fool, Vanir. He is my student and I am merely worried about him. You know that our celebrations have a more severe impact on humans."

Vanir shrugged and Delia noticed how his eyes hardened as he watched Tristan. Delia was aware of Vanir's feelings for her – yet her duty came first…and that duty was being a Rider and teaching Tristan. Besides, Delia was young by elf standards, the equivalent of a human in their late teen years. Confusion about her feelings still ran deep within her.

"He finds you attractive," Vanir sounded amused, "It is quite pathetic. It reminds me of Eragon pining for Arya Drottningu."

Delia shot Vanir a sharp glance. "You should not mock them. It is not kind."

Vanir's eyebrows contracted into a V as he frowned. Delia was far more concerned for the young humans than she had a right to be. It was true that she may just be defending her fellow Riders, but Vanir needed to know that it was only that. He grabbed Delia's wrist and drew her to him.

"Vanir, what are you doing?" Her gaze was almost accusing.

"You have no duties as a Rider right at this moment, Delia," Vanir's voice was low and he was smirking, "No excuses. So it seems as though I have a chance to persuade you after all…"

Delia scowled. "This is ridiculous. Let go of me."

Ignoring her words, Vanir leaned in and kissed her. Delia tore her wrist free of his grasp and kneed him in the groin. The elf stumbled, his face twisting as he doubled over in pain. Delia was infuriated.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, "You are acting like a young human! You forget, Vanir, that I am a Rider. Therefore, my position extends above yours."

Vanir immediately averted his eyes. "I apologise, Delia Svit-kona. It was ill thought out by me. I would never intentionally offend you."

Delia did not like to be angry at Vanir. He was a good friend to her, despite his romantic feelings for her. That was the problem – Delia knew that Tristan and Vanir were both attracted to her, yet she was lost. She did not know whether she felt about either of them that way. One day she might have to make a decision. She knew about Arya's dilemma with Eragon. Delia's conflict was entirely different.

"Vanir…I just need to think. I do not have time for romance in my life at this current point in time."

Delia did not know if he would be angry with her, so she walked away before he had the chance. She just needed to breathe, away from the celebrations where the mead and the magic made people do things they normally would not.

"Delia!"

Fortunately, the male voice calling her name did not belong to Vanir. She turned, only to see that it was Tristan following her. Her spirits sank, yet she didn't have the heart to tell him to leave her alone. He had not irritated her…yet.

There was a huge smile spread across the boy's features as he approached her and Delia realised how affected he was, even as a Rider. His blue eyes were glittering as he came up to her and she stiffened, somehow sensing that something was wrong.

"I don't think I have ever seen you in a dress before." Tristan indicated the deep purple dress that matched Delia's eyes and Aziza's scales. Delia smiled at his praise, feeling her tension easing. Perhaps the incident with Vanir had just made her too alert. "You look radiant, Delia Svit-kona."

Delia swallowed. "Thank you, Tristan."

There was something in his eyes and then he sounded almost fierce. "I'm in love with you, Delia. I wish I knew why because I know you would not want my love – it's just that you are so different from any of the others."

Delia should have seen this coming. She doubted Tristan would have confessed his feelings if he had not been influenced by alcohol and the pure power in the air tonight. She felt a bit sorry for him.

"Tristan, this is…you should back to the celebrations."

The young Rider's eyes widened. "You don't love me?"

Delia threw her hands up in the air. She was sick of this. Sick of the Midsummer Festival and sick of romance.

"Listen to yourself!" she cried, "You are not thinking straight. What about your training? What about the fact that your sister is held captive in Uru'baen? Have you taken leave of your senses? Some things are more important than others, Tristan. I don't think you are prioritizing."

Delia steeled herself. If she did not say it now, then Tristan would only continue to pursue her. She knew how ruthless she must sound, and even she didn't know if the words she spoke were the truth or not.

"I do not love you."

Hurt flashed through Tristan's eyes, but Delia forced herself to harden her heart. The young Rider nodded slowly and stalked away, returning to the celebrations. There he dealt with his rejection in the form of mead. This was not strange – when Tristan had lost Colton, he had just about drowned himself in alcohol. Ashen had been worried and infuriated.

It seemed to him like the more he gained, the more he lost. First Colton, now he might lose his little sister as well. If Ashen died…well, Tristan might not be capable of destroying Galbatorix, but he would certainly try. Then there was the matter of Murtagh. If that traitor had so much as touched Ashen…

Tristan just shook his head and downed another goblet of mead. Tomorrow didn't matter. He did not care for the hangover he'd suffer in the morning. Tristan was living for the present.