Thea eyes blazed almost with delight at Hal's attack. Hal tackled the empty vessel that was once her sister and they fell to the ground. Having managed enough of a surprise, Hal slammed a fist into Thea's face. Had she also not been a shade, Hal was sure the toughened cheekbones would've broken her hand. Fortunately, that was not the case. And even if it had been, Hal was too lost to her own emotions to have noticed or care. Murtagh had taught her to fight with both hands after all.
But something about landing the physical blow felt better than Hal had expected. She couldn't recall ever actually hitting someone before. Slapping Trianna didn't count. But she flexed her hand, reveling in the feel of such a simple thing. Thea swung her elbow into Hal's jaw, but it wasn't enough to throw her off completely. Thea clutched a fistful of Hal's hair instead and yanked so hard on it that Hal's head jerked to the side and twinged the muscle in her neck.
Although there was a clear difference when they fought with magic, they were more evenly matched in a fight of physical strength. Thea even seemed to be able to keep up with the more skilled means in which Hal fought, as if she herself had been practicing and training as well. They rolled on the ground, each trying to pin the other down, grappling for the upper-hand. There was no sense of order to the punches, scratches, and kicks outside of hoping they landed on their intended target.
Finally, Hal managed to pin Thea down underneath her, landing blow after blow. Each strike felt more and more personal. For Denu. For Celia. For the people of Illium and Ilirea. So much carnage and blood and pain and grief —
Thea reached out and caught Hal's fist in her hand, as if she could have easily done it at any moment. Then she twisted it, Hal yelping as she feared Thea might mean to break it. As she dropped to alleviate the pressure, Thea reared her forehead right into Hal's. A flash of light and dark danced in her eyes as Hal dropped to her back, clutching her head and swearing to the heavens and back.
"I knew you had it in you." Suddenly, Thea rushed forward while Hal was distracted and gripped her chin tightly, pushing her cheeks together like she was a child. "Your unbridled fury. And not just yours. Multiplied by the emotions of every spirit I forced into your body. Centuries of being cut off from our own magic, only to be haunted down like animals. Slaughtered for a cause we wouldn't even understand. You grew up alone, guilt-ridden, only for your flesh and blood to set fire to this perfect life you'd tried to build for yourself —"
"SHUT UP!"
Her voice cracked with emotion, but she was too pissed to cry at the painful reality Thea laid bare. She tried to force her off, but Thea slammed Hal back into the ground, using her body to leverage Hal's weight against her. She couldn't move.
"You're a murderer!" Hal spat. "A murderer and a liar!"
"I am many things yes. Especially a killer. But I am not a liar. And I will not let the likes of you accuse me of being one. Everything I have done, everything I have sacrificed, has been for a purpose greater than you could ever understand."
Hal didn't want to hear any of Thea's excuses. There was nothing she could say to make Hal sympathetic. "GET OFF OF ME!" she screamed, trying to block out Thea's words. "GET OFF ME, GET OFF ME, GET OFF ME! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"
"WELL GUESS WHAT, BIG SISTER?" Thea screamed back, grabbing Hal by the collar of the dress and shaking her. "I FUCKING HATE YOU, TOO!"
However, before their fight could progress any further, footsteps approached in a rush, shouts of alarm echoing off the stone walls as several figures entered the room. It took several men on both Hal and Thea to pull them apart. Hal felt like she was seeing nothing but red, her tunnel vision making it impossible to discern any other feeling except for her irrevocable desire to make Thea suffer and hurt.
Hal heard the grunts of effort from the men trying to suppress the fight, but it was only when saw the wide and glaring eyes of Morro, staring not at Thea, but at Hal herself, did she start to become more clear-headed. She glanced over to where the girl stood, some distance away from the fighting. Hal could only suspect that she had run to get help. Or perhaps they had heard Hal and Thea's screams. Either way, Hal got one good look at those stricken features and felt her body go limp. Something about the child's open dislike made Hal's anger momentarily subside, replaced with shame for letting Thea goad her so easily. But surely, surely, this girl could not really be who Hal thought it was. Thea's insinuation had to be wrong. A mere muse to upset Hal even further.
Even if a small voice was telling her that Thea had not, in fact, ever lied. If anything, she had always been painfully and darkly honest.
Finally, she stopped struggling and peered around the room at the many faces that now occupied it, watching her carefully. Upon realizing none wore the animal masks, Hal could take in their features, their complexion, properly. And what she saw made her grow dizzy with realization. Faces she had long since forgotten, memories worn down by grief and time. But there were flickers of familiarity as they gazed back, their expressions anxious yet…hopeful? Did they recognize her in turn? Had Thea been here all along, telling them that Hal had survived?
"We didn't mean to frighten you, Hal," a voice said, a figure stepping out from the pack, his hands held up to show he meant no harm. It was the same voice who had spoken with her outside, the man Hal presumed to be the leader of the group. His face was immediately familiar. He and his family had dined with Hal's too many times to forget. He was one of her papa's fishing buddies, one of his closest mates.
"Uncle Olwenyo," she whispered.
His smile was as it had once been, bright and disarming. He was pleased that she remembered him. She could see the relief in his face as she said his name. "Aye. It's me, sweet girl. I'm sorry about earlier, but I promise that we're not here to hurt you. You're safe now. You're home."
He reached up and cupped her cheek, memories of how he would tussle her hair as a child filling her head. And the second she registered the warmth of his fingers, the realness of his touch, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she finally collapsed in shock.
…
I smell blood, Thorn warned, his guard going up as he projected into both Murtagh and Ysildea's mind. Something's wrong. And I cannot sense Hal at all.
Murtagh felt his chest tighten, his face and hands beyond numb. They had been gone much longer than expected, desperate for any sort of passable bit of shelter they could occupy and recuperate under. But no matter how far they had gone, there had been nothing of use except miles and miles of frozen wasteland. The cloud coverage was low as night fell, and it wasn't until they landed that Murtagh could see what Thorn meant.
"Hal," he breathed, barely giving himself enough time to untether himself from the saddle before throwing himself off it. "HALEN!"
The site where they had left the group was abandoned, except for Albriech and Irindriel who had risen to their feet as the group approached, their faces mournful. Murtagh stumbled in the thick snow, his legs and feet practically frozen as he ran up on Albriech and grabbed him by the collar. "What happened? Where's Hal?"
Albriech couldn't even meet his gaze. "We don't know."
"What the hell do you mean you don't know?"
"Please, Shur'tugal," Irindriel cut in, a hand on Murtagh's shoulder, "let us explain. We only just returned ourselves —"
"You left her alone?!"
"She was with Baldor, Eldrin, and Ailen," Indriel cut off. But his expression grew tight and he stepped aside so that Murtagh could look past him. "However…"
Ysildea let out a cry off grief, rushing forward at the sight of Ailen's body in the snow, an arrow in the back of her head. Murtagh released Albriech's collar in shock. How could this have happened? They were only gone two hours. And he had not felt anything with Hal's wards…but did that matter considering the state of magic? He had not even thought to consider this until now.
"We did not stray too far in our search, knowing you would likely be back soon," the elf continued, watching as Ysildea quietly removed the arrow, turning her comrade over and cradling the body in her arms.
"Baldor and Eldrin are missing as well," Albriech added, his expression dark. "There were clear signs of a struggle. But there were too many footprints to gauge what happened exactly. We can only assume they were ambushed and taken."
Taken? By who, asked Thorn.
"I do not yet know," Irindriel stated. "But Thorn's theory that we were being watched must've been correct. How else would they have known to strike except for when our group had split up for their convenience?"
Murtagh began pacing in a blind rage. "It has to be Thea. It has to be."
"But then why take Baldor and Eldrin? Not to alarm anyone, but the Shade has made it clear that all she cares about is Miss Halen. Why take them as well?"
"Probably for Hal's cooperation. Hal would be compliant to keep them alive and unharmed."
Murtagh turned back towards Thorn, but Irindriel was quick to decipher his actions and put a strong hand on the rider's shoulder, stopping him. "It would be unwise to separate again. Especially now, when it is dark and you've already been exposed to the cold for hours. You need to rest —"
"Hal may not have hours," he snapped, shaking the elf loose. "If Thea has her, she could already be—"
He refused to say it aloud. Refused to believe it. He dug his nails into his palms, trying not to cry with the frustration building within him. It was Uden all over again. He walked the area, as if there were any additional clues to be had about where Hal had been taken or by who. Instead, all Murtagh found was her comb that he had given her, half-buried in the snow from the scuffle. He picked it up warily, the sight of it almost more unbearable than anything else.
Suddenly, Thorn's head swiveled around and he let out low growl that immediately put everyone on high alert. Murtagh turned in the direction he was facing, the snowy banks where Ailen had fallen and Ysildea currently sat. Pulling Zar'roc from its sheath, he waited, holding his breath. Seconds passed and Irindriel called out, "Come out now, before we are forced to resort to violence!"
Murtagh was already there, but he wasn't expecting the person to actually approach in the manner they did. They were human…at least from what he could guess. There were too many layers of furs on them to distinctly tell, but they at least were too tall to be a dwarf or anything similar. They seemed of average height. Most intriguing was the white fox's head they wore, their features undiscernible, not even their eyes.
That is why I could not pick up a proper scent, Thorn realized, baring his teeth in preparation of an attack.
It was a brilliant tactic. The fur and animal head would confuse even the most primed of noses. And the white allowed them to blend well into the scenery. Assuming they were part of the group that had taken Hal and the others, Murtagh could see how they had been able to sneak up on them. The wind was too loud to hear over, and they easily managed to hide their scent and physical presence. They knew their surroundings well, which meant they had to be native to the area. But Murtagh did not recall seeing such signs of life when he and Thorn were here before. How had they missed people living here?
"WHERE'S HALEN?!" he shouted, taking a step forward. "YOU CAPTURED THREE OF OUR FRIENDS, WHERE ARE THEY?"
The figure didn't respond, which was no surprise. But they just stood there, which was just as unnerving. They did not seem frightened by Thorn's presence, but they did not seem wholly threatening either. They were unarmed and made no attempts to show they had any malicious intent.
That was, until they jumped down from the bank. Ysildea and Murtagh moved, bracing themselves for an attack when Irindriel said, "Wait!"
Sure enough, the figure did not strike. Instead, they slowly walked towards Murtagh with an intentioned gait, like they knew him. He felt his grip on his sword tighten, and Thorn's watchful gaze reassured Murtagh that the dragon would be quick to pounce if necessary.
Up close, Murtagh could now make out brown eyes, but that was it. They stopped about two feet from him. Slowly, the hands reached up and pulled off the fox's head, braids falling around their face. Murtagh got a good look at them and took a step back in confusion and alarm.
"Zara," he whispered, recognizing the woman from the memory he had seen back on Illium when he had been trapped in the cave. But no, this didn't make any sense. Zara was dead. Hal had watched her mother die; they had seen her spirit and Hal had spoken with her. There was no way she could be standing before Murtagh now, thousands of miles from Uden.
"You say that name as if you know it."
"I do know it. I know you. At least…I thought I did."
Her expression was unnervingly void of emotion, hardened. Murtagh had to suppress a shiver, trying not to let it get to him.
"It has been a very long time since I've heard that name," the woman continued. "Zara. Although, I can understand your confusion. Growing up, and even still as adults, Zara and I were often mistaken for each other. We could've been twins, we were often told."
As she said that, Murtagh registered the copious amounts of grey in her hair, the wrinkles around her eyes and in her cheeks. No, this wasn't Zara at all. But then who —
She took a menacingly step forward. "However, I know for a fact that she perished on Uden thirteen years ago, along with much of kin and village. So, you will tell me, Murtagh Morzansson, servant to Galbatorix, how it is that you know the name of my dead sister and why are you a traveling with my presumed-dead niece?"
…
Murtagh sat on the opposite side of the fire Zola had made for them, insisting on it rather than using Thorn. In fact, he had noticed that despite her lack of fear towards the dragon, she made no attempts to get close or even look at him. So, she was still uneasy, just very good about hiding it.
The woman tore into the piece of meat she had hunted for herself, noticeably offering none to Murtagh or the others. He didn't quite care. He was too pressed about Hal to eat anything. She had known his name, so he assumed she, like so many others, did not care for the son of the first and last of the Forsworn.
Thorn and the others waited on the opposite side of the bank where the woman — Zola — had appeared. She had agreed to talk, but only on the condition that it was just Murtagh. Of course, she did not know about his bond with Thorn, and how Thorn could easily relay the details to the others. But that was not information Murtagh felt it necessary to divulge.
"We can't trust her," Albriech had hissed after they had first heard Zola's proposal, glancing back at the woman who stood unnervingly patient and at a distance while their group huddled in quiet discussion.
"Of course, she can't be trusted," Murtagh had responded. "But she might know where Hal and the others were taken. We could use her."
"And you really believe what she says? That she is Miss Halen's aunt? Didn't she say that her whole village was killed?"
"She believed so, but if Thea survived —"
Thorn then shouted a warning in his mind and Murtagh had realized what he'd almost said when Albriech, waiting for him to finish, said, "What about Thea?"
Shit. He had been so caught up in his own confusion that he had nearly exposed Hal's secret. Furious with himself, he'd taken a deep breath and said the only thing he could think of. "Nasuada already knows this, but Hal realized that she and Thea were from the same village. They both survived the massacre. But Hal had no reason to believe anyone but her had made it."
Albriech looked stunned, his eyes widening as he turned to look back at the woman. Zola…presumably. "That couldn't have felt good for Miss Halen to learn," he stated, sympathetic.
"Aye. It's something Hal has struggled with ever since." To put it mildly…
"What do we do now?"
Relieved to move past his accidental slip of the tongue, Murtagh looked over at Zola and said, "I'll agree talk to her. She must know where Hal and the others are."
"We spent the last several hours scouring this entire landscape," Ysildea reminded him. "There is hardly any place to hide this far north."
Irindriel shook his head in disagreement. "We shouldn't underestimate how well they might know the terrain. They did manage to successfully hide from us after all. Not to mention that, while things may have been different if Hal hadn't been injured, we cannot forget that they managed to catch Baldor, Eldrin, and Ailen unawares. We must proceed with caution until we can determine what their intentions are."
"Then what do you propose?" Albriech asked, genuinely curious.
Irindriel had looked to Murtagh and nodded. And now Murtagh found himself staring at a woman that Hal had mourned for thirteen years, the likeness between what he'd seen in the memory of Zara uncanny. All the women, even Thea despite being a true Shade, had the same eyes, down to the shape. Those expressive, sharp eyes that never missed a detail. But Zola's eyes had been hardened to the point of nothing. Murtagh couldn't fathom Hal losing the fire and warmth of hers.
"I admit, I've seen people stare for many reasons," Zola began unexpectedly, briefly meeting his gaze. "Watching me eat is not one of them."
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, not having even realized how long he'd watched this woman. He quickly looked away, trying to appear calm and, most importantly, in control. "You look so much like her. Hal, that is. You have the same eyes."
"You are too careless with your claims. How can you assume that I am the woman I claim to be when just a few moments before you threatened me with violence and assumed me a dead woman walking?"
He flinched, now regretting his words. Even with Hal's life at stake, he did not feel good about threatening a woman who had survived such trauma, even if he hadn't known. "I did not mean what I said."
"Well of course you did. You would have been a damn idiot not to. But what I would like to know is why. Why are you here? And why is my supposed niece with you?"
Murtagh nearly answered when he paused. "How can I trust you when I can't confirm your identity? Prove to me you are Halen's aunt and Zara's sister."
The woman scoffed. "I don't have to prove anything to you, son of a Forsworn and servant to that tyrant. You are the last person who should be making such demands."
Murtagh tightened his jaw. While he could not be upset at the woman's anger, he also did not wish to take the blame for something he had no part of. "Hal trusts me —"
"Trust can be bought or manipulated."
"No, it can't. Servitude can be bought and manipulated. So can obedience, and silence. But never trust. Hal is with me because she trusts me —"
"No. There is no way she could ever love a murderer," the woman hissed, her tone seething with rage. Her words cut him down quickly into nothing, and his face plummeted. "And if she does, then she is not my niece nor is she Sani. And if she is not Sani, then her life is forfeit. As is yours and everyone else's in your little group."
She was breathing heavily through her nose, her denial blazing. Murtagh had to force himself not to snap back in defense. Of course, she did not want to believe it. To have a beloved family member presumed dead suddenly appear, and with him of all people, was a blasphemous as it comes. He could only imagine Hal's reaction if she were to find out. But he needed to calm the woman, not add fuel to the fire and make matters worse. He needed her much more than she needed him.
He needed to prove that Hal was Hal beyond any reasonable doubt. It didn't miss him that she had called Hal her supposed niece. And right now, Hal was missing, which left it to him. He knew everything there was to know about her. He just had to choose accordingly.
Murtagh had infinite memories to choose from. Conversations with Hal where she painted vivid images of life in the Sani village. But his mind settled on one in particular. "She danced at your wedding when she was a little girl. She said she spent weeks practicing the steps, the special dance that you would perform with the other women and girls of your family as a gift to your husband. You would have wedded on a new moon, as a sign of good luck to the new family you were building, at a small, intimate ceremony. Hal said that after the dance was done, everyone was crying. And she was so inspired that she wanted to one day perform it for…" His throat tightened. "…For her husband," he finished quietly.
The woman scratched her nose. "That is all the proof you have to offer?"
Murtagh blanched, not having expected such a curt reaction. "No, not at all."
"And Halen herself is conveniently gone and unable to back-up your claims."
"Only because you took her from me! And they are not claims, they are the truth!"
He hadn't meant to raise his voice. But the slight was there and the woman rose quickly to her feet, brimming with anger. "I would rather watch the rest of the world burn before I trust another servant of that bastard! We let you monsters into our homes. We trusted you with our women and our children! And do you know what I have left to show for it?"
She fumbled for something around her neck, and Murtagh reeled back in surprise when he saw a strange amulet, the skull of rat around the stone inside. She yanked it off and Murtagh watched, stunned, as her features began to shift slowly and carefully. His jaw tightened with shock, then anger as horrific scarring from burns revealed themselves on the left side of her face and both her hands. And that was just what he could see. Her left eye and the corner of her mouth drooped as well. And he forced himself to look, to see the truth that even he had not noticed. Her scars and injuries were lit by the fire in a way that would always haunt him. Evidence of the assault she had been forced to endure. That Hal, even Thea, and all the Sani had been forced to endure. And he was ashamed of his anger.
"I had to pull my son out of the flames that had already taken my husband. He died on the journey north from his injuries anyway. My daughter was just a baby at the time. As she got older, this face, this body, scared her. Do you know how it feels, to watch your own child scream and cry in fear at the sight of you?"
Murtagh felt ill. He shook his head.
"I did not think so." The woman raised her hands again, retying the amulet around her neck. Her features shifted and returned to "normal" but Murtagh could not unsee it now.
Murtagh could only conjure up one other thing to say and it felt wrong to even think it. But hearing the woman talk about what she had tried to do to save her children reminded him of what Zara had done to save Hal. Of the one thing that Hal believed set off a chain of events that led to where they are now. And she had claimed her aunt had been told what happened. Had been there after the fact as someone both Hal and Zara had entrusted with the truth.
"I know a soldier of Galbatorix…I know that Zara was raped protecting Halen." The woman grew stiff and stopped breathing, and Murtagh knew he had been right, even though he felt awful for using such a terrible memory. "I know that Hal conjured magic on accident and killed him. And I know that she was tied to a post and whipped. Hal was only ten. Ten lashes. Ten scars that remain on her back even now. Her father, Daniel, stopped it and killed the soldier responsible, which led to the slaughter. And I know this because Halen survived and she told me. It broke her heart to tell me that she had spent thirteen years bearing the weight of what happened that night. But she did, because she survived. She is strong, so unbelievably strong. And she is smart. She still tracks, just like Daniel taught her to, and she still cooks, just as her mother taught her to. And she loves with a heart so big that it changed even me —"
"Enough." But her command was not sharp or angry. It was soft and pleading, barely audible over the violent winds. "Enough."
Murtagh respectfully fell quiet as the woman sat back down, looking like she may faint. The silence that stretched on was painful, but not because it was uncomfortable. But because, like Hal, he could see how the woman struggled to remember and forget the events of that day. She began to cry, her lower lip trembling as she turned her face away from him.
"I can't imagine what you've been through," he began, his voice quiet. "I hope I never have to. But I love Hal, with all my heart. Right now, I just need to know that she's safe. And if you are feeling confused and defensive and scared, then she will feel that tenfold wherever you have taken her. I understand that you may not trust me enough to take me to her, and I don't have it in me to ask that of you. But please, do not hurt her or those who were taken with her. Please, be gentle with her."
His request and confession clearly shocked the woman, because she looked up at him, brows furrowed. "I watched you with her the last few days. You are noticeably…close. Tell me, Morzansson, who are you to her? Why do you care so much about Halen's wellbeing?"
He swallowed nervously, but stated proudly, "I'm her husband."
"Husband? As in married?"
"Aye."
She stared at him, and he was expecting further verbal assault of how he had tricked her or trapped her. And he braced himself for it. But she didn't speak. Instead, her gaze grew distant. Sad. "How long?"
He blinked. "Just shy a few months."
"Months," she repeated. "Newlyweds."
He blushed. "Yes, ma'am."
She raised a brow at him. Her eyes wandered judgmentally over him and Murtagh had to refrain from sighing loudly. She seemed unimpressed. "Did you at least have a proper wedding?" He knew this wasn't what she wanted to say, but all things considering, he was grateful she had kept whatever actual commentary she was thinking to herself.
"Sadly, we could not have a Sani wedding. Truthfully, we were unable to have any form of a traditional wedding. But Hal was a beautiful bride, and she makes me happy. And even if you don't like it, I know without a doubt that I make her happy. You can rage all you want about what kind of relationship you presume we have, or the kind of man you think I am, but I know the truth. Mainly because Hal beat it into me, metaphorically speaking. She did not give up on me when she had more opportunities than not to do so. At the end of the day, she is still my wife, and she is still my priority. So, family or not, if I think you mean her harm, we will become enemies. But I hope that is not the path we are headed for."
The woman stared at him, then snorted as if indifferent. "Your commentary has been noted."
"Thank you for hearing me."
She clearly wasn't prepared for his ability to retort, although Murtagh was beginning to see that sarcasm was a genetic trait in Halen's family. The thought made him smile.
"Something amusing to you, dragon rider?"
His grin widened. "Hal has your wit. It's nice to know where she gets it from."
That seemed to catch her off guard, and she seemed rather stunned for a moment before quickly recovering. "I supposed I'll find out soon enough."
She rose to her feet and Murtagh followed to do the same, suddenly anxious. She had ultimately revealed nothing and Murtagh was hesitant to let her leave without some sort of information. But she did not immediately walk away. Instead, she took a moment to stare at him, and he could almost imagine her trying to see what Halen did.
Zola looked away. "We have a strict 'no outsiders' policy. We chose to make an exception because we recognized Hal's magic as our own. I'm afraid that if I take you to her now, it would put your life and hers at risk. You would not be welcomed there."
He felt his shoulders deflate. Once again, he had jinxed himself and ruined his legacy, putting Hal in danger.
"However," Zola added unexpectedly, and Murtagh dared to look up at her with hope, "I cannot stop you if you choose to follow me. I cannot guarantee anything, but I will see about letting Halen come to you."
"You would do that?"
"Not for you," she added sourly. But her expression just as quickly shifted to one of deep remorse and grief. Her eyes seemed to look past Murtagh, at something he couldn't see. Hal often wore the same look. "The last memory I have of my niece…is with her back torn open by the soldiers of the king you once served. I had to listen to her screams, my sister's screams as she fought me to release her. I forced Hal to endure that pain, forced my sister to endure it, because I feared if I let her go, it would get them both killed. And look what I have to show for it. I could not save them. Either of them. I lost everything that night, including the right to consider myself any sort of decent human being. I do believe your relationship is as you say. And because of that, and only that…I will not make her cry again. Not after all this time. I will not be responsible for bringing anymore suffering upon that child's head. She's been through enough."
He wanted to tell her that it wasn't his fault. That he had not served Galbatorix of his own free will. To be lumped in with the men whose soldiers had tied a child to a post…had been capable of rape and slaughter…his throat was tight with shame, which burned hot throughout. But he held his tongue. She was giving him this. It was more than he had expected, and he would not take it for granted. More than anything right then, he just wanted Hal to be safe. So, instead, he said, "I understand. Thank you," and prepared to follow the woman through the cold.