Chapter 21

A moment of silence followed Murtagh's words. He could almost feel Eragon's glare burning a hole in his skull. Murtagh allowed himself a brief glance at the youger Rider; disappointment was written plainly on his face, raising a mixture of anger and guilt within Murtagh. He took no joy in this. Eragon brought it on himself.

Galbatorix, on the contrary, seemed pleased. 'Why, you anticipate my wishes,' he said, twisting his mouth into the semblance of a smile. 'Yes. If our guest wants to fight so badly, let him fight you. I would like to know, once and for all, which one of you is the better warrior. You will fight without magic or Eldunari, until one of you is unable to continue – and I mean "unable to continue", not "dead"', he added, giving Murtagh a significant glance. 'Besides, I think it will be interesting to watch brother fight brother.'

'Not brothers. Half-brothers,' Eragon interjected quietly. 'Brom was my father, not Morzan.' Then he lifted his gaze and stared directly at Murtagh, as if to see his reaction.

Murtagh struggled to keep his expression impassive - the revelation took him by surprise, but if Eragon wanted to distract him from the impending duel, he'd have to try harder. Murtagh felt neither pleasure nor disappointment, because this information did not truly change anything. He and Eragon still shared the same blood... and they would fight nonetheless.

Galbatorix was just as surprised. 'Of course. I should have seen it,' the king mused. 'This will make the duel all the more fitting. The son of Brom against the son of Morzan! Let us begin, then. Letta,' he said, breaking the spell that held Eragon. 'Ganga aptr,' he added, and Arya, Elva, Saphira and Medea slid backwards, away from the dais. Then he gestured at Murtagh to join Eragon.

Holding Zar'roc in one hand and a light shield in the other, Murtagh descended the dais and stopped opposite Eragon. At Galbatorix's command, they began to move toward each other, neither of them rushing to attack. When Murtagh was close enough to speak without raising his voice, he said, 'What did you think you were doing, you damn fool?'

'Challenging Galbatorix to a duel,' Eragon replied through his teeth. 'Why did you interfere?'

'You had no chance,' Murtagh growled and lunged at Eragon with his sword. The other Rider deflected the attack. 'And your stupidity would get her killed!'

Eragon's eyes flicked to Medea. Murtagh took advantage of his distraction to attempt another attack, but Eragon dodged out of the way and responded with an overhead blow, which Murtagh likewise avoided. 'And if you had waited just one more day, perhaps I could have freed Nasuada.'

'Why should I believe you?' Eragon questioned him warily.

Instead of replying, Murtagh slashed at him angrily, forcing him back. 'Calm yourself. Rage will only lead you to make mistakes,' Thorn's anxious voice filled his mind and Murtagh nodded to himself, acknowledging the wisdom of the advice.

They circled each other. 'He will kill her anyway,' Eragon spoke quickly, keeping his back to Galbatorix so that he wouldn't see his lips moving. 'He knows she isn't loyal to him and he has no further use for her. If you'd heard the way he spoke of her...'

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. 'Why should I believe you?' he quoted Eragon's words back to him mockingly.

'Think about it,' Eragon urged him. 'You know I am right.'

As if to give Murtagh time to ponder his words without having to simultaneously think about how to defend himself, Eragon aimed a series of fairly simple attacks at Murtagh, for show rather than to break the latter's defense. Everything that Murtagh knew of Galbatorix's nature confirmed the truth of Eragon's words, yet surely, if the king had not killed Medea by now, knowing of her betrayal, he wouldn't do so at all? After all, what sense would it make to wait so long? No, Eragon was wrong - or else he was trying to trick Murtagh, to throw him off balance. Even to think of such things was dangerous.

He stabbed at Eragon viciously, his anger rising again. Let that be his answer.

Eragon seemed taken aback but quickly recovered, responding with a blow of his own. Murtagh caught it on his shield and pushed hard against Eragon's shield, trying to force him down. From there, he could put a swift end to this pointless fight. But Eragon pushed back with all his strength.

All the while, suspicion gnawed at Murtagh. Perhaps whatever feelings he still had for Medea - he refused to think of that at length - were clouding his judgement, making him see threats to her where there were none. But if Eragon spoke true, there was nothing Murtagh would be able to do to protect her. And after she was dead, he would have the rest of his life to think about his failure to act while he had the chance. A rather slim chance, but nonetheless.

He hovered on the edge of a decision.

'Murtagh,' Thorn began warningly.

If it didn't work, they could all die right there. If it did... all of them would be saved. Free. Murtagh and Thorn. Medea. Eragon and Saphira. Nasuada.

Murtagh lowered his sword and met Eragon's eyes. 'Ready yourself,' he said in a low voice, so that only Eragon would hear him. Then, turning to face Galbatorix, he shouted the Word.

Medea had no idea what was happening. Having no knowledge of magic or the ancient language, she didn't understand the words that Murtagh was shouting, but their effect soon became visible. The air around Galbatorix changed colour, turning red and black, after which several glowing orbs appeared above him and then darted past the king, vanishing as they passed through the walls. At the same time, Medea felt the spell that bound her dissolving, and nearly fell to her knees. Arya, Saphira and Elva were likewise freed - wasting no time, Arya ran toward Galbatorix, followed by Eragon, while Saphira went to help Thorn, who had lunged at Shruikan. Medea was unarmed, but she, too, started towards the dais, intending to at least get the children away from there. Elva remained still, whispering something under her breath.

But Galbatorix recovered swiftly. He spoke a word in the ancient language, once again restraining everyone in the room.

'I stripped him of his wards!' Murtagh shouted. 'He's-' Before he could finish, Galbatorix quickly said something in the ancient language. Murtagh fell to the floor, unconscious - but not dead. Thorn would know if he was, and his grief would be clear to all.

'I have many wards. You cannot harm me,' Galbatorix growled. He stood up and walked over to Eragon with sword in hand. 'Think you to challenge me, boy?!' Galbatorix continued, growing more and more enraged. 'You think you can steal my throne?' He struck Eragon on the side of his jaw with the pommel of his sword. Medea strained against her bonds uselessly, as if she could do something. 'Fool. You will submit to me! Ganga.'

Eragon gasped as if in pain, then screamed, unable to restrain himself. Galbatorix was not touching him; his body was not harmed. It was his mind that was being assaulted - Medea knew that much. She watched, and tears stung her eyes.

The smile on Galbatorix's face grew wider as he watched Eragon's torment. 'Submit,' he said. 'You have lost. There is nothing more you can do, no chance to defeat me. But submit to me, and all will be forgiven...'

Eragon pressed his lips together.

'SUBMIT!'

Eragon cried out again, and suddenly Galbatorix stumbled away from him. His eyes were wide and uncomprehending. 'What have you done?' he demanded hoarsely, his voice strained with effort.

'Made you understand,' Eragon whispered.

The king grabbed blindly at the wall for support, and in that instant Medea felt his spell release her, as did the others. Eragon fell to the floor with a groan and Medea moved to help him up, while Arya and Saphira ran towards Shruikan, who had already shaken off Thorn and was turning his eye to other targets. Murtagh was still lying before the dais. Once Eragon was on his feet, Medea turned around and ran to Murtagh, and dropped to her knees beside him. Breathing a sigh of relief when she felt his pulse beneath her fingers, she proceeded to shake him unceremoniously. The king was not defeated yet, despite the pain that Eragon's spell seemed to have caused him, and Eragon could have used Murtagh's help. But the Rider's eyes remained closed, and his body still. 'Fine timing, Murtagh, fine timing,' Medea grumbled unreasonably.

She heard Galbatorix's voice behind her. 'I... will not give in...' he said, and Medea looked around to see him raise his sword and stride towards Eragon.

Medea saw that Eragon was hurt - not physically, but nonetheless. Whatever Galbatorix did to him took its toll. And for her, standing around helplessly was no longer an option.

'A sword. Murtagh has a sword,' she thought, but quickly dismissed the idea - Zar'roc was far too heavy for her. She couldn't lift it, let alone swing it. But her gaze fell on a pair of long knives on the back of Murtagh's belt, and she took them, for they were better than nothing. At the very least she could distract Galbatorix.

Galbatorix had already charged at Eragon, his face - ordinarily so composed - now twisted in terror. Medea had never seen him afraid before. Clutching the knives, she rose to her feet and ran toward her father.

Galbatorix wasn't looking at her. Medea was astonished to see tears glistening on his cheeks, and although he attacked Eragon furiously, his blows were uncharacteristically clumsy. Medea halted and aimed a knife at his unprotected neck. Her hand shook treacherously as she threw the knife, and it grazed Galbatorix's shoulder harmlessly. He whirled around to look for his attacker. Impulsively, she shifted her aim to his sword arm and threw the second knife. And this one hit the mark.

Galbatorix bellowed in fury and pain, dropping his sword.

And Eragon buried his own sword in the king's stomach.

Galbatorix grunted and looked down at his wound seemingly without registering its meaning. Then his gaze shifted back to Eragon and he said, 'Make it stop... The voices are unbearable... So much pain! Make it stop!' he was begging now.

'No,' Eragon replied, his voice hollow. Medea's feet carried her forward until she stood next to Eragon, looking down at her father, who now lowered himself onto the floor and pressed his hands against his temples. She promised him she would feel nothing when he died, but that was not entirely true. She felt relief. And a twinge of regret for the father she never truly had, for the man he could have been if madness had not taken him over, and for the way in which he had to die now.

Elva came to stand on the other side of Eragon, and Arya, Saphira and Thorn also approached. Medea saw Shruikan's immense body lying still where they finished him. Galbatorix's entire body was trembling. And suddenly two things happened simultaneously: Elva cried out and crumpled on the floor, and Galbatorix shouted, 'Waise neiat!'

Almost instantly, Medea felt herself being dragged somewhere by an invisible force, and she saw the same happening to the others - including Murtagh and the children. Only Nasuada remained where she was, chained to the block of stone; and Galbatorix was still kneeling on the floor. Medea caught one last glimpse of him before he was enveloped in a blindingly bright light.

Then all went black.

A.N.: I thought that with everything I wanted to write to wrap this story up, this chapter would be a bit too long, so I decided to stop here and finish in the next chapter, which I've already started writing.

Some notes on the chapter. Firstly, sorry that I had to include so much stuff from the book, since you've read all of that already. I tried to cut as much as I could, but ultimately most of it is pretty important.

Secondly, I never thought it made much sense that Murtagh was trying to gain Galbatorix's favour by winning the duel, so he could save Nasuada. And how Murtagh only decided to help Eragon after being stabbed. I changed that part, and I hope it's believable.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I really want to know what everyone thinks about this chapter!