Chapter 4

For a long moment nothing could be heard except for the fierce northerly wind ripping frail leaves from the ancient oak trees outside. Murtagh's hand automatically closed around the hilt of his sword, and he took a small step forward, as if trying to shield Medea. To shield her from her own father, who was standing in the middle of her bedroom, a half-smile playing on his thin lips. As far as Murtagh could see, Galbatorix came completely unarmed – yet he knew that the King would be dangerous even if he was tied to a pole in the middle of a desert island. Two guards stood behind Galbatorix, their faces blank. Medea let out an almost inaudible gasp, her eyes darting between Murtagh and her father.

'So,' Galbatorix continued casually. 'We finally meet.'

Murtagh said nothing, considering possible routes of escape. There was no way of getting to the door past the King and his soldiers, and they wouldn't be able to climb out of the window fast enough. He threw a quick glance at Medea, hoping that she, at least, would be spared.

'Murtagh,' Galbatorix turned around and walked to the door. One of the guards hurried in front of him to open the door. 'We have much to discuss, you and I.'

Medea quickly moved her head up and down, but Murtagh chose to ignore her. 'I don't think we do.'

Galbatorix didn't look surprised. 'You see, you don't actually have a choice.' He signalled the guards, who walked leisurely towards Murtagh.

'Go,' Medea whispered in his ear. 'Please.'

One of the guards pushed Murtagh in the back roughly, forcing him to move forward. The other blocked Medea's way so she couldn't follow. At that moment Murtagh didn't care what was going to happen to him, a traitor and an enemy of the Empire. All he felt was relief that, at least for the time being, Medea was safe.

'We have been circling for the past ten minutes,' Eragon spoke, peering down into almost complete darkness, his tired eyes barely making out the shapes below. 'How exactly are we going to find Murtagh without letting anyone notice us?'

'I'm doing the flying,' came Saphira's calm reply. 'You do the thinking. I'm no good at multitasking.'

'Helpful,' Eragon snorted. 'So we can't land because we'll get noticed, and we can't attack because we'll get noticed. We have no idea where Murtagh is – or Medea, for that matter…'

'Actually, we do.'

'Wild guesses don't count, Saphira.'

'No, I'm serious. I can see her.'

Eragon squinted, but all he could see were the blurred outline of the buildings beneath them. 'Where?'

The sapphire dragon arched her neck, turning her head slightly. 'Northeast. She's sitting by an open window. If we could get her attention without alarming the guards…'

'We won't be able to talk to her. We can't go any lower, and I doubt that she can go out of the gates at this time.' Eragon frowned, deep in contemplation. 'In theory, it's possible to find Murtagh using magic, but I don't yet know how to do that…'

A loud cry interrupted him.

Startled, Medea jumped down from the windowsill where she had been perched for the past half an hour or so. She peeked through the window, guessing that the yell that she just heard was coming from outside. The guards at the gates left their posts, running around the courtyard chaotically while pointing at something above. A single line of brilliant blue crossed the sky rapidly, dodging the arrows fired at it with easy grace – then a scarlet flame descended upon the shouting soldiers, and Medea instinctively backed away from the window.

'Saphira…'

More people ran out from the castle - Medea recognised Galbatorix in front and Murtagh right behind him. To her surprise, Saphira didn't even attempt to attack the King, instead quickly gaining height and turning around to flee. Galbatorix stood very still in the midst of his soldiers, who gathered around him, trying to shield him in case the dragon returned. She noticed Galbatorix's lips moving quickly and his hands rising and then dropping helplessly, a grimace of fury on his pale face. He turned to Murtagh, and although Medea couldn't hear them from such a distance, she understood that there was some sort of confrontation between them. Then he stalked past Murtagh towards the castle, and after a moment's hesitation the rest of his entourage followed, dragging Murtagh along.

Medea paced up and down her room, biting her lower lip in frustration. Why had Saphira and Eragon decided to endanger themselves in such a way by coming to Uru'baen and then fleeing? If they were following Murtagh to keep him safe, they had done nothing to help him. Why did Galbatorix give up on the dragon and his Rider so easily? What did he want with Murtagh? And why was it taking so long?

The creak of the opening door took her by surprise, and she spun around expecting to see the servants bringing more food. Instead, Murtagh stepped in, carefully closing the door behind him. Medea noted with relief that the guard was gone.

'Finally!' she growled, rushing over to him and forcing him down on the sofa. She sat cross-legged on the bed, facing him. 'What was that about? What did he say?'

For a long moment Murtagh was silent, his face grimly thoughtful. 'I'm going to stay here,' he didn't look up at Medea, and when she stayed silent he added, 'I have to.'

'I don't understand…' she muttered. 'You betrayed him. How are you still alive?'

Murtagh snorted. 'Sorry to disappoint you.'

'Can you ever be serious?'

'I am!' he snapped back, and Medea flinched in surprise. He buried his face in his hands. 'I said that I have to stay, not that I want to. I have no way of leaving. Not now that…'

'Now that what?' She prompted when he didn't continue. A smooth-textured, scarlet oval stone lay on his lap, and she wondered why she didn't notice it before. She had seen it so many times before.

The egg – for that it what it was - seemed to emit a soft cerise glow.
And suddenly she understood why Murtagh had it.

'Admit it. We don't have a plan.'

Eragon glared at Saphira irritably. 'I'm working on it. Just give me time.'

'We don't have time,' she interrupted, a puff of smoke escaping her nostrils. 'Although I don't like the idea of abandoning Murtagh, we must get to the Varden as soon as possible. Now that Galbatorix knows we're nearby, we are an easy target. It's too dangerous to linger here any longer.'

Eragon sat in silence for a while, gnawing the cuticle around his thumb furiously. He didn't remember when he had picked up this habit, but it was strangely comforting. 'What you say is true and sensible, but…'

'But you don't agree.'

'No,' he shook his head helplessly. 'I feel like a traitor. But we can do nothing to help Murtagh now. Our only hope is the Varden.'

'Murtagh,' Medea spoke quietly, her eyes never leaving the ruby-coloured stone. He looked up. 'Do you know what that is?'

'Yes. He told me,' Murtagh answered in the same bleak, lifeless voice. 'I'm keeping it for one night.'

'And if…'

'If the dragon doesn't hatch, I will be put to death. I'll be of no use any more,' he finished, sounding oddly careless. He didn't seem to care that the chance of a dragon hatching for him was one in a million.
He stood up and crossed over to the door, glancing out into the corridor. 'I'd better go. Somehow I don't think your father will be happy to see you associating with a traitor,' the side of his mouth curved up, but the smirk didn't reach his eyes.

And then he was gone.