Chapter Twenty-two
Helgrind jutted into the night's sky like a twisted black dagger. It rose above the city ahead of Kairin, a dark omen. The mere sight chilled her and sent shivers down her spine.
"How evil is this place."
Kairin closed her eyes and broadened her mind, feeling the faint presence of the city dwellers below her she found Eragon easily, and connected with him.
"Eragon, how are we going to do this?"
"You're going in through some sort of side entrance; a window or a balcony. Roran and I are entering from the top and splitting up. We'll meet up once one of us finds Katrina."
The plan was rough, unprepared, and practically doomed to fail. Kairin felt a twinge of nerves in her stomach. Would she even make it out alive? Would any of them?
"Eragon... Promise me something."
"What?"
"If you find the Ra'zac first... Get yourself out. Don't try and fight them."
"Kairin-"
"Promise me."
"...Fine.''
"Thank you."
Faeria snorted.
"You don't have the right to tell him what to do," she said
"We can't afford to lose him now. I can't be the only Rider for the Varden."
"Is that the only reason, I wonder."
"What does that mean?"
Faeria didn't answer. Kairin found the energy to be annoyed even through her fear.
Suddenly the tower was upon them. The sight of it close up wasn't any less frightening. With her sharp eyes Kairin could make out odd, swirling carvings in the black stone. They were almost beautiful in a dark, demented way.
She heard the sound of invisible wings above her. Eragon, shielded by her magic, was flying to the top of the tower. She closed her eyes. It was time now.
"Find an entrance, Faeria."
"Look, there."
She pointed her nose to a square hole in the side of the tower, and flew close to it. Kairin peered inside. It was a high window; the floor was at least 20 feet down. In the gloom Kairin could make out tables and fearsome looking instruments. It was a laboratory of some kind, perhaps. Metal grating was fixed to it; it was clearly for ventilation purposes only. Kairin slid both her legs onto the same side of Faeria's back and prepared to jump.
"This window is too small, Kairin. I won't fit through!" Faeria told her hurriedly. Kairin knew that she wouldn't let her alone without a fight.
"It'll have to do. I doubt the Ra'zac have put any windows into their tower where they don't need them. This is probably the only one."
"What will you do without me?"
"Keep yourself hidden and try to find Eragon. He must have found a bigger opening somewhere, for Saphira."
"Be careful, Kairin." Faeria's voice was strained with anxiety. Kairin could see it was hard for the dragon to let her go.
"I'll be fine," she whispered aloud, and kissed one of Faeria's silver scales. She turned to the window and gripped the grating.
"Brisignr," she whispered. The edges of the grate glowed red for a moment, and the metal came off clean in her hand. Faeria took it in her mouth, and Kairin slid herself onto the windowsill.
"Good luck."
Kairin jumped. She landed on her feet and collapsed to her knees, pain rising through her legs. It was a jump she never would have attempted as a human. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the impenetrable darkness. She didn't dare light her palm to see her way; she couldn't think about the terrible consequence of being caught.
Kairin crept down the hallways of Helgrind, struggling through the impenetrable, abnormal darkness. The most distressing part of the tower was something Kairin couldn't put her finger on right away. It was the complete lack of noise. Not even a rustle of wind passed through the twisted halls of Helgrind. Even with her sharp hearing, Kairin didn't hear the faintest sound. It sent a cold wave of terror through her.
"Eragon." She called him, surprising herself with the level of panic her mind was emitting.
"What's wrong?" She felt a wave of his concern.
She had only contacting him to save herself from the stifling silence. She raked her thoughts for something to say, and noticed a staircase before her.
"Where should I be heading, up or down?" He hesitated.
"Down. She'd be at the bottom right?"
"Your guess is as good as mine... What does she look like?"
Eragon sent her a mental image. A girl with copper hair burst into her mind, her hands tied up by invisible shackles. Her face was mostly hidden by the fan of her hair, but what did show was caked in grime.
"That's what I see when I scry her. Keep your eyes open, Kairn, and get out of here as soon as you can."
She lost him.
Kairin scurried down the swirling staircase. It seemed endless. Every dozen or so steps she would reach a landing, an open hallway sending out a faint bluish glow. She plowed past them, continuing her descent. As she got lower, the darkness seemed to be more tangible, like a living, breathing force attempting to strangle her.
After an eternity the staircase abruptly came to an end. In the pitch black, Kairin had to grope her way around the damp walls to find a door handle. The black metal blended in seamlessly with the wall. As she had expected, the door did not open when she pulled, so she lay her gedway ignasia on the handle. "Open," she whispered in the ancient language. The door didn't move, but when Kairin pulled with all her strength, the heavy metal swung outward, slowly. It didn't make a sound, not even the droning creak she had expected from it. It made her uneasy.
This time, the darkness was absolute. Her eyes couldn't adjust. Warily, she whispered for light. A spark ignited on her palm, burning her eyes. She quickly clenched her fist as to stifle the light somewhat. Now a faint reddish glow emitted from between her fingers, which was enough for Kairin.
The horrors that she saw in the long room before her told her this was her destination. Gruesome chains and torture devices littered the room in an eerily orderly fashion. There was something almost businesslike about the room that told Kairin that the Ra'zac were masters of torment. Shackles hung from the ceiling, thumbscrews and racks were lined up against one wall, and in the center was a terrible, magnificent black altar. It was made of polished hematite, and bore the bloodstains of thousands of sacrifices. Kairin felt her stomach lurch in disgust. A crude, shining silver knife was protruding from a slit in the center of the altar's surface.
She tried not to look at anything.
Kairin walked slowly through the room, her jaw clenched in revulsion. With every step she hated the Ra'zac more and more. Even the innocent sound of her footsteps bouncing off the walls unnerved her. She drew closer to the end of the hall, and the shape of a door became more defined in the wall. She pulled on it. To her surprise, the thick stone opened easily.
Inside was a girl hanging from the ceiling, her hands shackled above her. Her delicate feet limply brushed the floor, providing little support. Kairin rushed towards the girl and took her face in her hands. She was unconscious, and barely breathing. This had to be Roran's Katrina.
"Katrina."
There was no response. Frantically, Kairin reached up to the shackles bolted into the ceiling and hit them with a blast of magic. They broke, but this time Kairin felt the old feeling of fatigue. Magic hadn't worn her out since she had become an elf. It made her anxious, but she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind.
Katrina had fallen lifelessly onto her, and Kairin adjusted her onto her shoulder. Kairin's eyes gave one last sweep across the room, and this time she noticed something. There was a bundle lying in one of the corners. As she looked at it, she noticed a faint rhythm of movement, up and down. It was alive.
She put Katrina down on the floor and moved towards it cautiously. It was chained by both hands and feet, and obviously asleep. She knelt beside it and gingerly swept a lock of hair aside. It was a boy, about twelve years old. His face was pale, and one of his eyes was blackened. She took his hand, and felt his pulse. Frighteningly weak. Through his ragged sleeve Kairin could see bruises and cuts, the result of horrible mistreatment or torture. Pity welled inside her, and she massaged his small hand in both of hers.
Her finger brushed against something on his palm. Gently, she turned the hand over. Even in the faint light it was clear.
The boy had the Gedwey Ignasia.