Chapter 3

Two days later, Thorn's wings were air worthy again, but neither he nor Murtagh wanted to leave.

Murtagh had not seen any sign of another person in the woods since he had found the footprint, meaning that the person had probably moved on, and so he and Thorn had decided to stay until they were either forced to leave, or again felt restless and moved on.

With this in mind, Murtagh had begun to construct a proper shelter for the two of them, so that he wouldn't need to pile himself with dead needles as well as his blankets to keep from freezing at night. Keeping the cave as the main part seemed like a good idea, but it needed some sort of door to keep out the elements. It also seemed like a good idea to set up a place to smoke meat for later, for dragon and Rider both thought it possible that they would spend the winter here, though it was still many months away.

So Murtagh got to work.

He felled trees with Zar'roc, taking care not to cut too many trees in one place or trees too near the cave. Thorn split them into crude planks with his claws and hunted while Murtagh built.

It was hard work, but having something to do helped Murtagh forget his memories for a while, at least until that night's round of terrors played out in his head.

Lacking nails, Murtagh had to bore holes in the wood and lash the planks together with braided grass. It took the best part of three days- because grass is not the best material with which to tie together heavy bits of wood- but eventually Murtagh had built a wall that would cover the whole cave mouth.

The harder part was finding a way to make it swing outwards like an enormous door so that Thorn could enter and leave. Dismissing grass as too weak, Murtagh gave up and used some of his precious store of rope to hinge the door. Fearing that it too would break under the strain of the door, he strengthened it with a quick spell.

Murtagh then dug a short trench, about a foot deep and two wide, in the soft earth about thirty yards from the cave. He fortified the sides with stones, and the next day built the walls of the smokehouse over it.

Murtagh filled the base with green wood that would smoke well, and put in most of his and Thorn's meat to smoke.

Finished, Murtagh went to find Thorn.

Thorn was hunting, so Murtagh climbed a tree and settled down to wait. Half an hour later, Thorn returned, clutching the remains of a huge boar in his claws.

Murtagh showed Thorn the smokehouse, feeling almost pleased with all his work. Thorn sniffed at the meat inside, and pretended to take a bite of the house. Amused, Murtagh shoved him away.

That night, Murtagh had his worst nightmare in weeks.

He was standing in the Hall of the Soothsayer again, with Nasuada chained to the table.

Galbatorix was sitting beside her, and he looked at Murtagh and spoke the command.

And Murtagh was turning to the corner where the brazier sat, full to the brim with red hot coals.

He picked up the glowing iron, hating himself, and turned back to Nasuada.

Her screams filled the air again, but her eyes were fixed upon Murtagh all the while, and he saw in them her hatred, her fear, her terrible pain.

Looking at her, Murtagh felt a rush of tangled, confused thoughts and emotions.

Nasuada had always been kind to him. She hadn't hated him because he was Morzan's son. She had visited him gladly, talked to him without a hint of mistrust. He remembered thinking she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Now he was being forced to torture her. She would never forget, never forgive him. There would always be that pain in her eyes when she looked at him.

He loved her.

He always would.

But because of Galbatorix, she would never love him.

And he was pressing the iron to her beautiful skin again and again, and she was screaming as though her lungs would burst.

Murtagh tried to stop, tried to turn the iron first on Galbatorix, then on himself. Anything to stop her pain. But nothing worked.

Her screams mingled with Galbatorix's sadistic laughter, creating a sound more horrible than any Murtagh had ever heard.

Part of Murtagh knew that this was a dream, it was only his memories being replayed, and he tried to wake. But he could not. The dream held him fast, and he could not stop burning Nasuada. No matter how he tried, he could not wake.

A long time later, or so it felt, a sharp pain shot up Murtagh's leg, dragging him from his tortured mind and into the blessedly quiet morning.

It was a moment before Murtagh realised that Thorn had scratched him on the calf to wake him, and the warm liquid he could feel there was blood.

You were screaming. You had another nightmare, didn't you? I could sense your fear.

Murtagh became conscious that he had bitten his tongue, and spat blood onto the floor before he answered.

"It was worse this time, Thorn. So much worse. It wasn't just little snapshots of events. We left the Empire to heal, but it's not working. I'm scared to go to sleep for fear of what I might dream. His laughing is everywhere... why is he always laughing?!"

Murtagh.

Thorn placed his wing over Murtagh, hugging him close, and shared comfort and sympathy with him. Underneath it, Murtagh could sense Thorn's own pain, his horror at what they had done.

What will become of us, Thorn?

I don't know. We may roam for centuries before we feel we are healed.

And... Thorn?

Aye?

What about Nasuada?

I do not know. I can feel how much you love her. But it may be impossible.

I hurt her, Thorn. She will never forgive me. Every time she looks at me she remembers only her time in Urû'baen. I saw it in her eyes in Narda. She will never look at me and see a man who loves her and would give her the world if he could. She will never see the man she saw in Tronjheim again, never a good person forced unwillingly into foul deeds. All Nasuada will ever see of me ever again is the man in the silver mask who stood over her with a branding iron and watched as she screamed!

Calm yourself Murtagh. Calm. Time heals all wounds.

She is mortal, though. She has only so much time.

Murtagh sighed, and huddled closer to Thorn's side.

At least I have you, friend of my heart.

You will always have me.