The pig in this chapter was originally a wolf, and the way it got past the guards was very different, but I went through and edited it to suit the pig, since wolves are way overused and deserve a rest. The pig does help considerably with the humorous aspects of the story, if I do say so myself.
Galbatorix was sitting in front of his desk in his study. It was a rectangular room two hundred yards long and one hundred seventy yards wide. The enormous desk faced out a window that dominated the whole wall. He had laced the window with protective spells and wards, so he had no fear of attack. Two of the walls had built-in bookshelves filled with thousands of books. The remaining wall was plain, with a large oak wood door. A large coffee table sat in the center of the room, with an even larger black silk cushion next to it. Plush leather armchairs and sofas were scattered all over the place. A white rug so thick that you could almost bounce on it covered the floor. It looked way more modern than a room in a medieval castle ever should.
Shruikan was curled up on the cushion. He and his Rider had not spoken ever since the dragon's rather embarrassing failure two days ago.
I wasn't expecting there to be lightning, he said suddenly, making Galbatorix jump.
That was completely random, yes, but still! If we continue failing, whatever the reason, then our people will think of us as fools, Galbatorix responded sullenly, like a five-year old who had just lost his favorite teddy bear. There have been more rebellions rising up in the last two days than there were in the last decade!
You destroyed Yazuac and Carvahall first, Shruikan argued.
Well, yes, I did, his Rider admitted. But I only did that after they started rebelling. At Shruikan's look, he said quickly, "Yazuac wasn't rebelling, fine, but some of them were helping the Varden! I just told the Urgals to go up there and kill all of their informants. I didn't know they would kill everyone!"
You are meant to consult me before doing anything, you complete moron. It was your own bloody fault those Urgals misinterpreted your orders. And whose genius idea was it to send all those Kull up to Carvahall, demanding Roran Garrowson? Certainly not mine. If it had been me, I would have sent a diplomat or two and maybe around three honest and trustworthy soldiers. They would have said, very politely, that Garrowson had been summoned to the palace, and that he would be compensated for his troubles when he returned, and they wouldn't have gotten the entire village involved. See how much better that is than threatening them with death for the men and slavery for the women and children?
Galbatorix had to admit, that was a much better idea, and Shruikan knew that he knew. But he certainly didn't want to admit it, so he said, At least I wouldn't throw a tantrum if the servants gave me a roasted cow instead of a smoked one.
That's got nothing to do with it, and you're not a dragon, Shruikan snapped. We at least care about what we eat, unlike your race.
"At least my race is still alive," Galbatorix muttered.
Shruikan's tail started twitching, and he knew that was time to stop talking. Whenever the dragon's tail began waving back and forth, it meant he was irritated, and Galbatorix knew better than to be the Rider of an irritated dragon.
Just then, the big mirror that Galbatorix kept on his desk for communications purposes seemed to ripple, then Durza's face appeared in it.
"Your Majesty," he said smoothly. "I have learned the whereabouts of the people of Carvahall."
Tell him we don't have all day, Shruikan told Galbatorix. He couldn't use telepathy to communicate with a person who wasn't actually there.
Galbatorix ignored him. "Where?" he asked.
"With the Varden."
"Alright," Galbatorix said, then swept a hand above the mirror's surface. Durza's face vanished, and it was just a normal mirror again.
The Varden have just had their numbers boosted up by three hundred, Shruikan commented.
"Worrying, isn't it?" the King said. Then he suddenly remembered something that he had told himself to do the day before but which he had completely forgotten about over the course of the night.
I was going to tell you, but you were still mad at me for getting struck by lightning multiple times in a row, which I had no control over, Shruikan said irritably, and it was your wards that allowed them through in the first place.
Galbatorix glared at Shruikan, then turned back and murmured a scrying spell, with a few words of his own mixed in. The mirror flickered again, but this time it showed something completely different.
It was a picture of the winged girl who had gotten away Shruikan. She was riding an invisible horse, judging from the rocking motion. Her surroundings were completely white. She was saying something.
"I'm hungry," she complained.
There was the sound of someone sighing. Both Shruikan and Galbatorix recognized the voice as that of a male elf. "We should gag her," the elf said in the ancient language.
Another elf, also male, responded in the same language, "But she does provide interesting company. I was going to ask you something as well. Who is...je?"
"I shou...about hi..." the other elf answered.
The image became blurred, and the voices distorted.
"Speak Eng...you?" the girl asked. Then the image vanished completely, and the voices with it.
That was not very informative, Shruikan said after a pause. What happened at the end?
"I can get past the elves' anti-scrying spell at the edges of Du Weldenvarden, but not too far in. They are deeper in the woods now than I originally thought," Galbatorix answered. Now that's two new threats to deal with, possibly three.
Oh? And what may be the third one be? Shruikan asked.
One of the elves asked who someone is, Galbatorix said. It may be a threat.
Or he could have just been asking an innocent question about someone he hasn't met before, said Shruikan, rolling his eyes. Stay with being stupid and leave the paranoia and planning to me, alright?
Galbatorix pretended not to hear.
As Galbatorix and Shruikan were talking, another creature was slinking through the black stone castle. An unwanted visitor.
The figure was on four legs and was clothed in darkness, so that it seemed nothing more than a shadow. The creature was obviously trying its best to be stealthy, but if it hadn't had the magic muffling its footsteps, it would have been extremely loud. The many guards and soldiers it came across noticed nothing, just a wisp of smoke. A wisp of smoke that oinked and nuzzled affectionately against them, sure, but still a wisp of smoke. The magicians' minds slid around the thing's consciousness like a river parting around a rock. Only the stronger of the magical beings could have detected it, but of those there were none in the castle right then besides Galbatorix and Shruikan, and both of them were busy right then.
The thing found the stairs and ran down. Galbatorix's castle wasn't all that it was made out to be. The thing wondered how the Varden had not managed to rescue every dragon egg all those months ago. But then, Morzan had still been alive back then. He wasn't now, not anymore. Brom had seen to that. Besides, the dragon eggs weren't what the creature was after.
It found itself in a stone corridor illuminated by torches that were stuffed into brackets on the wall. The place was heavily guarded, with all forms of magic-users as well as soldiers. Nothing was allowed down there besides the King, not even a puff of smoke, for lining the walls were iron bars and tiny unfurnished cells that reeked of nasty, stinky things. These were the prisons of Uru'baen, from which no prisoner had ever escaped. That was subject to change.
There was suddenly a loud clanking noise from behind the creature. It turned and saw an empty suit of armor dancing crazily down the steps. The magicians and soldiers stared at it disbelievingly for a moment, and the creature took advantage of the distraction to go around them. It trotted down the corridor, and none of the guards it passed noticed anything. Finally, it reached the end of the prison and turned to face the cell at the very back. It oinked and tapped the lock on the cell thoughtfully. Then the pig turned and trotted away. It returned a few seconds later, dragging behind it a sword and the unconscious body of a guard. It took the sword in its two front feet and bashed away at the lock with it, and the sound of the shouts and dancing armor covered the sounds of the sword against the lock. Finally, the door swung open.
Slumped against the back wall of the cell was a boy, roughly four feet tall if he had been standing. He was wearing a leather vest and a rabbitskin loincloth. He had a small, pointed chin and wide cheekbones. His eyebrows were slanted upwards and his eyelashes were long and dark. His silky but roughly-cut black hair hung low over his forehead and fell to his shoulders behind him. Two fingers on his left hand were missing. Numerous scars slanted across his dark brown skin.
His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow, but the moment the locks were destroyed, his slanted green eyes flapped open.
The boy stood up shakily, gripping the wall for support. The pig ambled in and allowed the boy, who was around a foot taller than it, to lean on it. The boy swung his leg over the pig's back and lay down on it, his head resting on the its neck.
The pig turned and nudged at the boy's face in a friendly manner, then turned and ran back out of the cell and out onto the first floor, dodging around the armor. The moment it went past, the armor fell to the ground, leaving the guards baffled. It thought Galbatorix needed to improve his security, but it couldn't really blame him. The amount of guards was actually more than enough to kill most people, even a good amount elves, but Galbatorix hadn't guessed that there was another great force in the world, much more powerful than he or anyone else was. The pig happened to be temporarily working for her.
It was supposed to meet with - well, it couldn't pronounce the name - and sneak out of the city with him, but certain complications had arisen, and Unpronounceable had been forced to leave Uru'bean first. That wouldn't complicate things at all.
It did not take very long for the pig to stroll out of the castle and then the city of Uru'baen, Grimrr on its back. All anybody ever saw of it was a wisp of smoke that oinked and nosed at people's hands, looking for treats.