CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: I Will Tear Her Apart

A/N: Okay, well…there's something about Zander. I'm not sure if you clever ones have figured it out yet, but he has a…connection to someone. Let's see if you can work it out!

"Till everything burns, while everyone screams

Burning their lies, burning my dreams

All of this hate, and all of this pain

Burn it all down, as my anger reigns."

- Everything Burns, Ben Moody

Murtagh knew something was horribly wrong the moment his eyes flickered open. They were now camped on the outskirts of Uru'baen, although the king was not aware of the Varden's presence yet. They attacked as soon as possible – for if they didn't, Galbatorix would surely assault them first. Over the days, Murtagh's ribs had healed completely and although he was still a little stiff, he would be no less formidable in battle.

Something was happening outside his tent. There was a harsh sound, like a slap. A woman snapped something, and a man laughed. Murtagh sat up straight, wondering what was going on.

MURTAGH! It was Thorn and he sounded shocked.

The young Rider stumbled from his tent, pulling his shirt over his head and grabbing Zar'roc on the way out. Thorn was standing nearby, tense. His teeth were bared and he was hissing angrily. For in front of him, a man with silver-blonde hair had a dagger pressed to the throat of a struggling girl.

It was Ashen. Her hair was messed up and there was blood on her face. She was sniffing and Murtagh realised she was trying to hold back tears. He ground his teeth and took a step towards Zander, who wound a hand through Ashen's hair and pressed her closer to him, a human shield. A line of blood started to well where the dagger pricked Ashen's throat.

"What do you want?" Murtagh spat, reluctantly lowering Zar'roc.

Zander's eyes flicked towards the blood-red sword. "Drop your toy and kick it over to me."

Murtagh hesitated, but Zander tugged on Ashen's hair and he threw the sword angrily into the dirt, kicking it over towards Zander. The magician used magic to make the sword rise – clearly, he was paranoid that Ashen would break free – and slid it into his belt.

"Now," Zander sounded satisfied, "We can actually talk like grown-ups. You did not really think Galbatorix would let you go, Murtagh?"

Murtagh did not speak as Zander laughed nastily. He was thinking hard.

Thorn, what can I do? I don't even know what he wants, but he's using Ashen as a hostage for something. What happened?

I do not know, Murtagh. I just saw him dragging her from her tent. I would have woken the other dragons, but I feared he would kill her.

"It's very simple. The king only wishes to speak to you. I knew you would not comply, so I decided to…convince you a little."

Murtagh was concerned. Why would the king want to talk to him? How had Zander managed to infiltrate the camp and take Ashen without someone noticing? How did he even know where they were? Ashen's eyes were fierce, but Murtagh bowed his head, knowing that there was no real choice.

"Alright."

Murtagh's face was twisted with hatred as he observed the king. Galbatorix was pacing, clearly pleased with himself. Zander stood over to the side, watching Ashen closely in case she tried something. Murtagh had come to Uru'baen on Thorn and by the time he confronted the king, he knew it was already over.

"You will always be bound to me," Galbatorix told him, "After the Varden is destroyed, you will suffer for defying me…"

"Never," spat Murtagh, "My true name has changed. You can't force me to serve you."

Yet there was a sick feeling in his stomach, because he was beginning to understand why Ashen had been brought with them. He swallowed hard and glowered at Galbatorix, who turned and offered Zander a knowing smile.

"I think Murtagh requires a bit more persuasion."

Zander gripped Ashen by the arms, turning so that his back was to the others. Murtagh could not see what was happening, but there was a sudden cry of pain and he clenched his hands in fists. Galbatorix knew as well as Murtagh did that it was only a matter of time before he gave in. He could not stand by and watch the young woman he loved being tortured. There was another cry of pain, this one sharper than the first. It hit Murtagh like an arrow through the heart.

"Stop!" he exclaimed, so that both Zander and Galbatorix looked at him. His grey eyes were full of loathing as he glared across at the tyrant king. "I will do whatever you ask of me. Just…let her go."

A cruel smile crossed Galbatorix's face. Ashen moved forward and Murtagh could see the cuts on her arms, most likely inflicted by Zander's dagger. She was shaking her head, dark blue eyes full of horror.

"No, Murtagh, don't."

"Swear it in the ancient language," Galbatorix ordered, ignoring Ashen, "Swear that you will serve me as you did before."

Ashen ran towards Murtagh, but Zander caught her by the arms and started dragging her backwards, out of the throne room. She struggled desperately against his grasp, but he dug his nails into her biceps.

"Murtagh, please!"

The young Rider bowed his head. He would not let Ashen be harmed because of him. Slowly, he started to repeat his words in the ancient language, swearing that he would serve Galbatorix – he and Thorn.

Ashen was sobbing now, straining against Zander's grip. Murtagh forced himself not to listen to her cries of anguish. It sounded like her heart was breaking and he knew that was all his fault. No matter what he did, it would never be good enough.

"Now let her go," Murtagh demanded, looking up at Galbatorix through his dark hair.

The king laughed manically. "But how do I know you will keep your word, boy? You may have sworn in the ancient language, but there are always loopholes. No, Zander will take responsibility for Ashen."

Murtagh wanted to protest, yet somehow he couldn't find it in him. It felt like he was dead inside. It felt just like the first time he had been forced into serving Galbatorix. Changing his true name was one thing – but he could not change the love he felt for Ashen.

Galbatorix handed him Zar'roc, which had been passed to him by Zander when they had first arrived. Murtagh solemnly examined the sword, knowing that with it, he would be asked to take the lives of his old friends. Tristan and Eragon were right about him after all.

"You're a good person, Murtagh!" Ashen cried desperately, still attempting to fight against Zander, "Don't do this."

Murtagh couldn't even look at her. "I won't let him kill you, Ashen."

The battle for Uru'baen was due to begin – yet there was one Rider still missing. The army had been assembled and they were only waiting on one person. Everyone started to mutter amongst themselves, growing restless.

Delia planted her hands on her hips and scowled as she glanced around. Murtagh had not yet turned up, and there was no sign of Thorn either. Eragon was sitting down on an outcropping of rocks, looking increasingly worried. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Tristan sprinted up to them with concern shining deep within his blue eyes.

"Ashen's missing."

Eragon's lips twisted into a bitter smile as he knew what must have happened. His vows to Galbatorix still remained – and his older half-brother had returned to serve the tyrant king, probably dragging Ashen with him to make Tristan falter in his attempts to attack. Fafnir nudged his Rider with his nose.

Don't fret, young one. It may not be as bad as you think.

Tristan whirled around to face the dragon, eyes blazing. Well then where is he, Fafnir? If he's so changed and so loyal to the Varden now, where is he and what has he done with my sister? I knew we were wrong to trust him.

Fafnir couldn't say anything that would change his Rider's mind. Instead he allowed Tristan to simmer in his anger. The young Rider gritted his teeth and kicked at the dirt with a shout of rage.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Eragon asked, glancing across at Delia. "We've come so far. We can't give up now."

This unexpected development might be their undoing, but Delia knew that Eragon was right. If Murtagh had returned to Galbatorix, then the king would know they were waiting to strike Uru'baen. They couldn't back down now. It was three Riders against two. Could they survive Galbatorix and Murtagh?

"We do what we must." Delia's tone was grim. "We fight, because we have to."

The distant roar of a dragon made them all whip around. From the blackness that made up Uru'baen rose a dragon, its scales glinting red as blood. Below…below marched an army of massive proportions, spilling out from the gates of Uru'baen and across the plain towards the Varden and the elves.

We may not survive this, Aziza admitted to her Rider.

Murtagh felt like he was breaking apart inside and he knew that Thorn felt the same. He didn't want to kill his friends…but he'd already lost so much. He was not going to let Ashen die because of him. He swore that he'd serve Galbatorix…he had to find a way out. A way to let his friends live and save Ashen at the same time.

"Traitor! To think we trusted you!"

It was Delia, her violet eyes burning with fury as Aziza streaked across the sky towards Murtagh and Thorn. She wasn't alone – Saphira and Fafnir came with her. If anything, Tristan and Eragon looked even madder than the elf Rider. Murtagh felt sick to his stomach.

"You don't understand!" he shouted across to them, gritting his teeth. "You never tried to understand. I don't want to hurt you."

"Liar," spat Tristan. Murtagh took one look at the young man's face and didn't think he'd ever someone who wanted to kill him more. "What have you done with my sister, you bastard?"

"She is why I'm here," Murtagh retorted, "Zander took her and Galbatorix threatened me. Don't you understand? He's going to kill her if I don't do this!"

The other Riders looked at him, stunned. Tristan's teeth were bared and he seemed to think Murtagh was lying, but Eragon and Delia…somehow, they knew he was telling the truth. Perhaps it was because of the desperation that shone from his eyes.

"I've had a miserable life," Murtagh admitted, determined to make them understand his position, "All I've ever known is hate. Then I found Ashen and I found love. Aside from Thorn, she's the only good thing I have in my life. Why can't you see that? Wouldn't you do the same for someone you love?"

Tristan almost automatically glanced across at Delia, who seemed not to notice. Murtagh waited for them to see, to realize that this was all he could take. He didn't want to harm anyone – apart from Galbatorix and Zander, of course.

"You could help me." Murtagh turned to look at Delia. "You're powerful. Surely you could break the bonds that Galbatorix has used to hold me?"

Delia shook her head, her expression now one of deepest sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Murtagh. The only one who can break those bonds is you."

He shook his head slowly. "I can't do that…and I'm sorry. But I'm not going to lose Ashen. I'm sick of losing."

The whispers had circulated through the Varden that the Shade Mordecai wished to speak with their leader. Nasuada, terrified though she was at confronting a Shade, was determined not to let her fear show – so she agreed to speak with Mordecai. As he approached the Varden, many of the soldiers gasped and shrank back.

"Lady Nasuada." The Shade inclined his head in a formal manner. "I'm here to offer you one last chance. Surrender to Galbatorix, and perhaps he will be merciful. Otherwise, the Black Rider himself will appear in battle and you will all be doomed."

Nasuada's heart was thumping a fast tempo in her chest, but she lifted her chin and met the Shade's crimson eyes. He looked young, hardly older than her…but he was probably many years older. She only hoped that Eragon could prove himself as a Shadeslayer a third time.

"I refuse to meet these conditions. I would rather die than surrender to your tyrant king. I fight for a free land, a free Alagaesia, and nothing Galbatorix could offer me will make a difference. I will still fight today."

Mordecai laughed delightedly, his red eyes blazing. "Then you will die. Every last one of you."