CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Darkness Without Mercy
A/N: WOW! I now have over 250 reviews! I am utterly amazed. I couldn't do it without you guys! So before I go on, a huge thanks to: Restrained Freedom, Lobo de Fuego, Moonstar2015, Mighty Lion, JenGreyRider, deathbat6661, The Last Rider, ShatterTheHeavens, talk-ape, Earth Kid Tree Hugger, ReillyScarecrowRocks, Luli Cullen, EvilBunny101, Taylor, GothGirlLeya, CuttlefishShiz, Sarana Ishtar and Pookadook, AnnabethandPercyAre4Ever and TheNightWhispers.
"Come, break me down
Bury me, bury me
I am finished with you."
- The Kill, 30 Seconds to Mars
Murtagh felt like he was dead inside. How could Ashen have fallen, yet he was still alive? It wasn't possible. How was he supposed to live without her? He had often been derisive when people had talked about love…but now he understood. Now he thought their definition of love would pale in comparison with his.
For a few moments he just sat there with the tears pouring down his face, and he cried out in heartache, cried out for the deaths of all in this war, and for those who were left behind to experience the pain.
Overhead, Thorn reached out to his Rider, unable to land and provide physical comfort but using his mind in an attempt to soothe the young man. As Murtagh succumbed to the grief he felt,
Murtagh…I know you loved her so much…and it pains me to see you like this…but your duty is to Alagaesia now. You know what you must do. You know what Ashen would have wanted.
Now he was shaking as he set down Ashen's body, but it was not with grief. It felt like his heart had been ripped violently from his chest, like every part of him hurt…but the pain of Ashen's death had quickly morphed into an anger so great and terrible that it made him just want to tear apart everything – starting with Zander.
Yes. Yes, I know exactly what I must do.
Murtagh! Thorn sounded shocked. Don't let your anger control you!
With a roar of fury, Murtagh lunged to his feet. He could feel the cold metal of Zar'roc's hilt in his hand as he charged across the empty space between him and Galbatorix's son. Zander whirled around, looking shocked, only to laugh mockingly when he saw that it was Murtagh, a savage rage in his face the likes of which Alagaesia had never witnessed.
Zar'roc screamed through the air towards Zander and would have cleaved him in two had he not whirled aside at the last moment. He was still grinning in that insane way that made Murtagh want to give him the most long-lasting, torturous death imaginable.
"What's the matter, Rider?" Zander sneered at him, and Murtagh noticed that he gripped Sundavar in his hands. Murtagh felt sick to the stomach that Zander had the audacity to steal the sword of a Rider. "Are you upset that I've killed your pretty little Ashen? Such a waste, really…she could have been mine. You know, the spoils of war and all of that. It's a shame."
Murtagh shook his head vigorously, his teeth bared. He looked positively feral.
"Don't you even talk about her like that, you filthy slime. In fact, I think I could accurately call you a bastard, because no one even knows who your mother was…"
Zander nimbly ducked as Zar'roc swung towards his head and he parried the next blow with Sundavar. An insane gleam lit his eyes as he continued to grin at Murtagh in the same deranged manner.
"Oh, you're trying to hurt my feelings using insults, are you? What's next, 'scum of the earth'?"
Murtagh was enraged that Zander was taunting him. He would make the man for everything. For torturing him, for killing Ashen…
"I don't see how everyone thinks me a monster," Murtagh snarled, pushing Zar'roc towards Zander's face with all his might, "When there are people like you around."
Zander just continued to smile infuriatingly. Murtagh was beginning to get suspicious – he was a strong magician, an able fighter, fast and strong…he was almost certain that the young man's mother was an elf.
"Go on, then, Murtagh," Zander jeered, whirling Sundavar and taking a step back. "You are simply devastated because I killed her. Well, what about if I had kept her alive, hmm? I could have broken every bone in her body. I could have…"
Murtagh didn't want to hear the obscene, sick things that Zander might have done had he allowed Ashen to live. He hissed like an angry animal and raised his hand, drawing upon all of his strength.
"JIERDA!"
The word was shouted with such force that red magic slammed Zander backwards. An expression of astonishment was briefly illuminated, before he hit the ground hard, Sundavar flying from his hands. At first Murtagh thought – foolishly hoped – that Zander was dead. He remained immobile…but only for a few moments. He started moving again and Murtagh knew he couldn't waste this chance.
"Sitja," he spat, before he slowly advanced on Zander with Zar'roc clenched in his hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Zander was laughing maniacally, laughing even though he was coughing up blood. Then as he realized he couldn't move because of Murtagh's words, fear shone in his eyes and his defiance crumbled ever so slightly.
"You got everything I was ever entitled to!" Zander screamed, suddenly like a madman as his green eyes blazed. "That dragon egg should have been mine! Galbatorix always saw you as his second-in-command, even over his own son!"
"That's the problem with you and your father," Murtagh snarled as he raised Zar'roc so that it glinted bright red, like the blood that stained these plains. "You could never have enough. I have lost everything I ever loved or cared about. You ripped from me the one thing I had left and for that, words cannot even begin to explain how much I hate you."
Zander spat a globule of blood at Murtagh's feet. "Alright, Morzansson. Torture me into insanity, as I know you would. You want to, don't you? I can feel your blood burning to avenge her. Do it. Embrace what you really are."
Murtagh was conflicted. He started feeling sick for reasons he couldn't understand. He knew that Zander was baiting him and he knew what he would become by giving Galbatorix's son a slow, painful death. Zander wanted him to become a monster. His blood burned to torment Zander, to draw it out for as long as possible…and Murtagh was suddenly terrified, terrified that Ashen's death had turned him into a man like his father.
Fight this, Thorn told him, Murtagh, you are a better person. You don't need blood staining your hands. Avenging Ashen will do nothing.
"Do it," Zander insisted.
"I am not like my father," Murtagh told him coldly, "Because much as I might want to hurt you now, for Ashen's sake…it's not how I feel that matters. It's what I choose to do about it."
Then Zar'roc swung down and stabbed Zander through the heart. Galbatorix's son stared down in horror at the blade protruding from his chest, before a confused look came over his face as he stared back up at Murtagh.
"Hurting you won't bring her back." Murtagh's tone was flat and his eyes were empty. "By giving you an agonizing death that would only make me as bad as the rest of you – Durza, Mordecai, you, your father, my father…but you know what? I am not like any of you."
The roar of a dragon made Murtagh look up as Zander dropped like a stone. Eragon and Saphira were battling Galbatorix and Shruikan…and they were faring very badly indeed. Murtagh wondered where Delia and Aziza had gone.
They are bringing Ashen's body to Tristan, Thorn explained sorrowfully, They shall not be long.
I hope not, Murtagh replied grimly, For Alagaesia's sake.
Delia did not want to do this. She looked down upon Ashen's cold, dead face and stroked her blonde hair back. She had not known Tristan's sister very well – but it was Tristan she worried about now. He had already lost his older brother to the Empire and now he had lost his younger sister as well.
Fafnir looked up from where he was waiting anxiously outside the healers' tent. Clearly, he was distressed about his Rider's injuries…and that was just in the physical sense. What Delia was about to do would rip Tristan open from the inside out and so she felt she couldn't meet Fafnir's eyes as Aziza landed and she slid off the purple dragon's back, hoisting up Ashen's motionless body.
No…Fafnir sounded horrified, No, please don't let that be Ashen.
"I'm sorry," Delia said, surprised by the hoarseness, "But Tristan needs to know."
She slipped past Fafnir and into the healer's tent with Ashen's body and lay the girl on the bed opposite Tristan. Despite the healers' attempts to keep him sitting down, Tristan's eyes widened with horror and he strained against them, trying to see what was wrong with his sister.
"Ashen!" He sounded terrified. "Delia, what's wrong with her? What's…"
"She is dead, Tristan." It was blunt and harsh. Delia's voice was thick with unshed tears. "Zander killed her."
Tristan refused to believe it. He shoved the healers away from him and staggered towards the bed on which his sister lay. Somewhere deep inside, he knew the truth. He touched Ashen's cold cheek and suddenly turned pale. He took a few stumbling steps backwards and looked like he might throw up. Delia waited for him to scream and rage…but what happened was even worse. Tristan sat back on his bed and drew his knees up to his chin, tears streaming down his cheeks as if he couldn't convince himself that it was all too real.
"They've killed Colton," he whispered, more to himself than Delia, "Now they have killed Ashen. Why not me? It was supposed to be me!"
Delia couldn't help but cry now, just seeing him in such a state. She moved over and sat down on the bed next to him, putting her arms around him and holding him tight. She just wanted him to cry and let the grief out…but Tristan was sealing the grief in a place deep inside him. He buried his face in Delia's long coppery hair, but no tears came. Then he drew back and looked at her with such seriousness and sadness that she just wanted to cry her heart out.
Before either of them knew what was happening, Tristan had leaned forward and pressed his lips to Delia's. She didn't fight it, but at the same time, no matter how strongly she felt about him, she didn't want it. This was not the sort of kiss that should have been their first. It was a kiss of sorrow and the grief that Tristan was too broken to express.
"Lady Rider."
Delia and Tristan broke apart as one of the elf healers came towards them, touching fingers to her lips in a sign of respect.
"There…there is a chance for the girl."
"She is dead." Tristan said in a monotone, not even looking at the elf. "How can there be a chance?"
The elf bit her lip and glanced meaningfully at Delia. "There is a place they call…the Rock of Kuthian."
"What about it?" Tristan asked almost disinterestedly.
Delia knew the legends well enough, and her purple eyes started to glimmer with hope.
"Little is known about the Rock of Kuthian, but…it is said that the Vault of Souls lies within and this is only a legend, of course, but…they say you may exchange one soul for another."
Tristan shook his head slowly, disbelieving. "I would give my soul for Ashen's, except I don't want Fafnir to die as well. Is there a way?"
Delia turned to face the elf healer and there was the spark of a conspiracy in her eyes.
"I must rejoin the battle, but…I think there may be a way. First, however, Galbatorix must be killed."
Eragon felt that he was fighting Galbatorix alone until Murtagh and Thorn joined him and Saphira – but by the burning hatred in his older half-brother's eyes and the savage snarl across his face, Eragon knew that something was terribly wrong. This was not simply Murtagh enraged. This was Murtagh on the brink of becoming something terrifying.
"Murtagh?" Eragon queried, wondering who the young man's anger was really directed at. This became obvious when Murtagh barked something and something red streaked across the sky, narrowly missing Galbatorix. The King looked utterly surprised that Murtagh was attacking him and his expression was one of fury and confusion.
"How can you defy me, boy?" he roared at Murtagh, "Your oaths prevent you!"
Murtagh sneered at him. "I said I would serve you, tyrant. I just did not say under what circumstances or for how long. Now you will pay for all the blood you have spilled on Alagaesia's soil with your own life – just as your son did."
Galbatorix looked astonished and Eragon wondered briefly who the mad king's son was and what Murtagh was talking about. The Red Rider looked ready to tear someone to pieces and Eragon wanted to know why.
"You killed Zander?" Galbatorix asked incredulously, before he reassessed the look on Murtagh's face and threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, I see. He killed your beloved, didn't he? Alright then, Murtagh – take my life. See if it will drown the pain of Ashen's death!"
The words slammed into Eragon like a battering ram and he threw Murtagh a horrified glance.
"Ashen is dead?"
Galbatorix had been waiting for the chance to strike and as Eragon turned to stare at his older half-brother with terror deep within his eyes, he raised his hand and muttered something under his breath. Lightning crackled across the sky towards Eragon and Murtagh's grey eyes widened.
"Look out!"
Eragon whipped around and threw up his hand just in time, shouting, "Skolir!"
The lightning glanced off him harmlessly and Murtagh took his opportunity, drawing Zar'roc and dangerously throwing himself onto Shruikan's back. Eragon watched with astonishment. It was as if Murtagh no longer cared whether he lived or died. Galbatorix pulled out his own black sword and managed to block the blow as Zar'roc screamed down towards his head.
"I made you," Galbatorix spat at Murtagh, "You would not be a Rider if it wasn't for me!"
"You made me a monster!" Murtagh retaliated, eyes flashing danger, "I worked so hard to gain the Varden's trust…and then you turned me against them!"
Galbatorix grinned. "You did that yourself."
We must help him! Saphira cried as Murtagh lunged at Galbatorix again and again, and although Eragon was weary and injured, he was inclined to agree with her. Eragon, we can end this war right now. You and Murtagh can take down Galbatorix and free Alagaesia.
But I couldn't defeat the King, Eragon protested, In my first battle, I could barely even hold my own against Durza.
You have grown much since then, Saphira reminded him, reaching out and touching him with a feeling of gentleness in his mind. You have accomplished a lot. We both have. You are no longer that boy. Besides, you are not the only Shadeslayer. I know you are capable of this, Eragon.
So be it, Eragon replied grimly, grabbing Brisingr by its hilt and, steadying his nerves, throwing himself off Saphira's back so that he landed on Shruikan. The great black dragon shrieked in rage at having two extra Riders on his back, but dared not try and throw them off for fear of also throwing off his Rider.
"Idiot boy," Galbatorix jeered at Eragon as he turned to confront the younger Rider, "You have always been a weak fool…and now it will be your undoing!"
He slashed at Eragon and although Eragon managed to block the blow, he didn't count on Galbatorix's speed. The tyrant king reeled back and then lunged forward again at an alarming rate, his sword jabbing into Eragon's shoulder. The Blue Rider howled in pain.
"No!" bellowed Murtagh upon seeing the fate his younger half-brother had suffered. He watched, almost frozen in horror, as Galbatorix grinned down at Eragon. The Blue Rider was watching the crimson rivulets of blood seep through his shaking fingers as he tried in vain to stop it, knowing that healing himself would make him weak and extremely vulnerable.
Murtagh knew that he had one chance while Galbatorix was distracted…and he was not going to waste it. He thought of how this man had imprisoned him, tortured him, forced him into serving him. He thought of freeing Alagaesia. He thought of Ashen…and then Murtagh threw himself forward, plunging his sword through Galbatorix's back so that it protruded out of his chest.
Shruikan screamed in agony as he felt the pain of his Rider's death and Eragon immediately tossed himself back onto Saphira's back. Murtagh stayed a moment longer, his eyes burning as he looked upon the man that had nearly caused his destruction. A nerve twitched in the young man's face, before he too turned and threw himself back onto his dragon's back. Shruikan and Galbatorix spiralled forever downwards, hitting the ground with a definite finality.
The tyrant who had held power over Alagaesia for more than a century was finally dead, all because of the work of two teenage Riders – Selena's sons. They had ended the war, but now they needed to pick up the pieces.