Chapter 19

The deafening chorus of shouts, the sound of weapons clashing against each other and the crash of missiles hitting their targets followed Medea to the throne room. It was quiet inside, yet the noise rang in her ears for a time after the door shut behind her. A guard had ushered her there at the king's command, but not before she had the chance to see what was happening in the city.

She sprang out of bed after hearing the sound of alarm and ran to the window; another building was partially blocking her view of the city wall, forcing her to push the window open and lean out as far as she dared.

Uru'baen was in chaos. Men ran around the battlements in a panic, trying to organise the defence of the city, while a shower of arrows and spears rained down on them. Large chunks of stone crashed into the streets and buildings beyond the wall, sending broken shards flying in all directions. Medea shut the window hastily, a few moments before a guard burst into the chamber with instructions to bring her to the throne room. He waited impatiently outside while she dressed; before she went out of the room she lingered by the window to see if the Varden's soldiers – for she had no doubt that they were the attackers – had reached the streets, but something else caught her eye. The battlements were engulfed by flame, and Medea caught a glimpse of a long blue tail slithering along the wall before it disappeared out of view. 'Saphira!' she realised; and another, more troubling thought entered her mind - where were Murtagh and Thorn, and what would happen when they faced Eragon and Saphira?

In all this she forgot to think of her own safety, and she felt no fear for herself as she followed the guard to the throne room. But a sense of dread took hold of her as she walked towards the dais, where her father sat, still as a statue. As she approached she saw that he was not alone – two children, a boy and a girl, cowered by the throne. Medea looked at Galbatorix questioningly. 'What is this? Who are these children?'

'A way of ensuring the good behaviour of our guests,' the king replied. 'As are you.'

'I don't understand,' Medea said tensely; but comprehension was beginning to dawn on her. She only needed to hear Galbatorix confirm her suspicions.

He studied her with distaste. 'Don't you? Eragon and Saphira will be here soon enough, I expect. You - and the children - will make sure that they do not attempt to attack me.'

'Then you are using children as your shield? And your daughter? You, who claim to be the most powerful man in the land?'

'It never hurts to take precautions,' Galbatorix replied dismissively. 'And I would prefer to avoid harming Eragon, unless it is necessary. As for you – you wonder why I would risk your life like this? Your whore of a mother told anyone who would listen whose child you were before she abandoned you, and so I had to accept you as mine.' Medea felt an odd, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach at the mention of her mother, though Galbatorix didn't seem to have noticed the change in her expression. 'It would not be… seemly for the king to leave his child in the streets to die. I had expected to make you useful to me through a marriage alliance, at least, but you brought me more trouble than you are worth. When I sent you to capture Eragon and Saphira, did you really think that I expected you to succeed? I was simply testing your loyalty… I was curious to see if you would obey. And you took the first opportunity you got to betray me. I suppose you found the idea of a heroic rebel trying to overthrow his rightful king rather appealing, so you decided to join the cause,' he added derisively, and Medea wanted to kick herself for being such a fool. She had persuaded herself that Galbatorix didn't know where her allegiance lay, for surely he would have punished her if he did; but as always, he had fooled her so easily.

'…and let us not forget Murtagh, who so conveniently stole your heart. Tell me, have you ever considered the possibility that Murtagh simply saw a use in you? That both of them - the noble Eragon included – only meant to use you against me? They didn't foresee the fact that you would only cause trouble for them, of course, but one can't help but admire their initiative.'

'Is there a point to this outburst, father?' Medea inquired coldly, though she was seething with anger.

'Have you learned insolence from Murtagh, too? You asked how I could stand to use you as a shield. I am answering your question – I may have sired you, but you mean nothing to me,' he said in a flat, dead tone. 'Does this surprise you?'

'I harboured no illusions on this. You misunderstood my question,' Medea answered him. She was surprised at the steadiness of her own voice. Galbatorix had merely confirmed what had been so obvious, yet there was something final in the way that he said it out loud at last. The link which, in Medea's mind, connected her to her father had rusted a long time ago, but only now she felt like it had broken.

A mad daring took hold of her then. 'But since you have been so honest with me today, I'll return the favour,' she said. 'When Eragon kills you – yes, when – I will feel nothing, too.'

She expected Galbatorix to burn her right into the ground in anger as soon as the words left her mouth, but he merely chuckled, an expression of mild interest appearing on his face for the first time. 'Well, would you look at that. Perhaps you are more like me than both of us thought.'

Time passed at a torturously slow pace. Nobody spoke; only the little girl sniffled quietly, half-hidden behind the throne. Medea had moved away from the dais and stood with her back to Galbatorix to prevent him from seeing her face. She had spoken boldly to him, but in truth she did not feel at all confident that Eragon could defeat the king. She caught herself wishing that the Rider would just leave, and save himself.

Finally, she heard Galbatorix stir behind her. A few minutes later, the door opened slowly, and several figures emerged from the darkness. Medea started forward to see who had come – Galbatorix only mentioned Eragon and Saphira, yet there were two other people with them. But Medea's feet appeared rooted to the ground, preventing her from taking a single step. She glared at Galbatorix over her shoulder, but his attention was directed at the intruders.

'Ah, I have been expecting you,' he said. Medea barely heard him. It had suddenly occurred to her that Eragon was here, but Murtagh was not. 'Does that mean…? But Eragon wouldn't…' flashed instantly through her mind, and her heart leapt into her throat as she looked back at the doors hopefully. 'He would if he had to,' her voice of reason answered her. And Murtagh didn't come.

Meanwhile, Eragon and his companions approached warily. Medea recalled Galbatorix identifying the tall, raven-haired Elvish woman as Arya, daughter of Islanzadi, and the grave-looking child as Elva. The two gave Medea a bemused glance when they glimpsed her, clearly not knowing who she was or what she was doing there; but Eragon, though also surprised to see her, mouthed: 'Are you all right?' Medea nodded, wishing she could ask him about Murtagh. 'Surely Galbatorix would mention it if he was dead? Unless he doesn't know…'

'So, you have come to kill me,' Galbatorix spoke again, spreading his arms in a mocking invitation. 'Well then, shall we begin?'

A.N.: This chapter was originally longer but I thought the rest might work better in a separate chapter. Anyway, I hope this one turned out all right because I re-wrote it like five times, trying to get the conversation between Galbatorix and Medea right. I hope you guys like it.