"The king would like to see you now," a soft voice said. Murtagh whirled around, sword drawn to see a blushing maiden standing behind him from where he stood at the top of the tower with Thorn. It was midnight and the air carried a chill in it. The dragon had grown much larger, thanks or otherwise to Galbatorix's attentions.
"Alright, just a moment," Murtagh, muttered distractedly. He turned back to his musings. When he realized the girl was still behind him, he turned on her. "What do you want?" he said sharply.
"Nothing, sir!" she cried. She bowed to both him and Thorn and scurried away murmuring apologies.
Thorn, I am going to lose my temper with these women,Murtagh announced grimly as she watched her walk away with all haste, her slim waist swishing from side to side.
At least she's pretty.
She pales in comparison to Nasuada. Quite literally,he smiled.
I must meet this Nasuada. But first we must meet the king.Murtagh sighed. He'd come to enjoy the mental closeness with Thorn, but sometimes he was too obedient to the king's orders. Though Murtagh was submissive, he was less inclined to be obedient directly.
What do you figure he'll do if we dawdle?he inquired peevishly.
Skin you alive for your lack of punctuality, most likely.
I've been missing old General,he smirked dryly. Let's fly around a bit.
He'll kill Nasuada after he deals with you.
Murtagh's face darkened. "You don't have to remind me." He mounted Thorn. "Let's go then."
Galbatorix didn't seem to notice their presence when they arrived. The king sat upon his throne, facing the pair, yet his eyes stayed fixed upon a point above their heads. "Your Majesty?" Murtagh said quietly. His throat felt like it was ringed with broken glass when he uttered those words, but he'd learned quickly not to break the habit. "Your Majesty, we have come according to your summons."
"Yes," Galbatorix said silkily, still staring at nothing. "I can see that." He lowered his gaze then and crooked his finger. "Come here, boy." Murtagh obeyed, stopping only when Galbatorix dropped his hand. He was just two feet away from him. "I am pleased that you are learning obedience."
"I learned only from the best, Your Highness," Murtagh said his otherwise pleasant voice only tinged lightly with bitter sarcasm. It was almost imperceptible, yet Galbatorix detected it. He lifted his hand threateningly as if about to send Murtagh sailing across the throne room. Murtagh didn't flinch, nor did the king expect him to. Galbatorix smiled tightly, leaned forward suddenly and touched Murtagh's face. It was the only thing liable to fill Murtagh with fear. Not only did he hate most human contact, but he knew that occasionally when Galbatorix touched his face in such a fatherly way, he'd be in a world of pain within the moment. However, Galbatorix did nothing, only stroked Murtagh's face slowly, monotonously and almost lovingly.
"I'm also pleased with your sharp tongue. Use it for me, but not against me or I'll carve it out your pretty little head myself. Do you understand?"
"Yes...my king," Murtagh managed, eyes glazing over unassumingly.
"Good." Galbatorix let his hand rest again on the arm of his throne. "Now. About your task." Murtagh's face twisted with distaste, but he rearranged it quickly. "I want you, once again, to retrieve Saphira and Eragon. Don't disappoint me. You'll wish the midwife had broken your neck the moment you appeared if you fail."
"I don't doubt you," Murtagh said softly staring fixedly at a point just above Galbatorix's ear. "We won't fail you. But what exactly am I to do if the elf and her little woodland friends aid Eragon? What then? Your Majesty..."
"You will have assistance of your own. I showed you the Eldunari already. They have powers. You will receive strength from them. You'll feel their presence once upon the field of battle. It's only been three months since I finished with you and you are still, regrettably rather weak. Weaker than you once were."
"If I am still weak, hadn't we better wait to attack? We might get overtaken. And there's only one egg left. What's the chance that that one will hatch for someone soon once I'm dead or imprisoned?"
"Enough," Galbatorix whispered. Murtagh felt his throat start to constrict with the pressure of a spell. "I'll do as I please. Do you question me?" Murtagh shook his head. "I thought not. Thorn will protect you. You will be back when I call you. Ignore me and you can give up any hope of freedom from that stone for two weeks at the very least." He flicked his finger lazily. Murtagh grunted as a gash materialized on his cheek. "Oh. I apologize," the king smiled. "I meant to tell you to leave. Now go." Murtagh bowed slightly and quit the room, Thorn close behind him. Only when he was outside the throne room did Murtagh grimace and touch his wound lightly.
"That was stupid of me. I should learn to keep my mouth shut."
Lucky that wasn't your throat! I ask you, once again, to do as you're told without comment,Thorn said angrily. And you can't heal yourself. That was part of the oath.
You're remindingme . Let's go. Before he mars more than just my face.
Murtagh stepped lightly on Thorn's foreleg and pulled himself into the saddle. Thorn bounded down the corridors, tongue flicking in and out, tasting the air. It would be his first battle, Murtagh realized. Thorn was eager for this. Despite all Murtagh's grim memories of bloodshed and the horrible grip of that animal lust for Red, Thorn was thrumming with anticipation! All Murtagh could think about was the mechanical possession, the terrified look in his victims' eyes before they died and the rising heap of mangled, blood-painted bodies, their limbs twisted awkwardly in the swirling dust.
Rather them than me, he told himself as he normally did when he at last came around to confronting the darkest part of his soul. Yet this time a small part of him wondered if that were so now. Now that his life meant nothing beside what Galbatorix told him it meant. He was a tool for evil and he should be killed. He knew it and would have sentenced himself duly if not for his oaths binding him so tightly. He hadn't the choice to let a sweet, singing blade wet its palate with the choicest wines his heart could offer. He hadn't the choice to fall, red, metallic liquid wetting his tongue, trickling down the corners of his mouth, spilling the vitality he'd struggled so hard for so long to retain. He had not the choice to lie down and let the chalky dust of the world coat his ruined, yet satisfied, body in its dead white.
Stop it,Thorn snapped. It's scary how dark you can get.
I told you to stop reading my thoughts,Murtagh replied hotly.
Thorn snorted, tucked in his wings and plummeted toward the ground, pulling up at only the last possible moment.
"Easy!" Murtagh shouted over the roar of the wind as he was almost impaled by Thorn's spine. "What are you trying to do?"
I thought if I made you somewhat less of a man, you would listen,Thorn said innocently. Murtagh braced himself carefully on Thorn's back.
No, I'd be too busy killing you!
There's my good little two-legs,Thorn said with wolfish amusement. He lifted his head and trumpeted his anthem to the skies as though he wished to accelerate the rising of the sun.
The battle grounds were dry and lifeless save for the hundreds of men and a sparkling azure hill in their midst. "There's Saphira," Murtagh whispered. "She and Eragon won't be expecting this." They had cast a spell of invisibility over themselves, so not a soul could see the blood red dragon and his Rider.
Good for us, not so much for them, eh?Thorn answered. Murtagh knew he was anxious to test himself on the battle ground.
Are you not at all bothered by fighting against what would be our side if it weren't for Galbatorix?Murtagh grumbled. He was growing more and more agitated the closer they drew to the ground. Thorn snorted.
Of course it bothers me. But we don't necessarily have to kill anyone. We only need to kidnap the Rider and hisdragoness.
Then Murtagh was struck with an idea. Butwhat if we don't?Thorn studied his mind for a long minute and exhaled as they landed beyond a hill.
I was hoping you were joking, but I realize leaving it at a joke is too sensible for you.Murtagh allowed himself a brief, wicked grin in the fading light.
Urgals rushed past Thorn and Murtagh where they stayed stock-still in the darkness. They bared their throats quickly to him as they passed, but Murtagh did not return any form of respect. He could not forget what they did to Ajihad. What they did to him.
The air grew colder as battle cries began to sound. Then the clamor of swords. Murtagh closed his eyes and curled closer to Thorn. After half an hour, when the cries of pain and death were equal to that of the cries of savagery and bloodlust, Murtagh stood with cramped legs.
"We have to go now." He murmured a spell and climbed onto Thorn's back. He grabbed a spine and took a deep, calming breath. Thorn vaulted into the air and roared.
"SURRENDER ERAGON AND HIS SHE-LIZARD," Murtagh said in a voice deeper than his own. His voice magnified throughout the entire Plain, and nearly everyone stopped to behold the fearsome sight. "HOW MUCH LONGER WILL YOU SHELTER THEM, REMAINING YET USELESS TO YOUR WELL-BEING? WE ONLY WANT THEM. YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO CARRY ON THROUGH YOUR UNCERTAIN, FEAR-WROUGHT LIVES AND WE WILL NOT BEGRUDGE THEM! JUST GIVE US THE BOY AND HIS DRAGON!"
There was a deep, throaty bellow as Saphira announced her reassuring presence. There was a sound like a tent rippling in the wind, and a streak of blue shot toward them, glistening fearsomely in the light of the fires below.
Thorn,Murtagh said a slight smile gracing his mouth at knowledge of what he'd just done. If you ever meet a dragoness, never call her a she-lizard. She will kill you and feast on your bones with relish.
Oh,Thorn answered softly as he saw Saphira hurtling toward him. Y ou did that on purpose.
Just trying to prepare you for the wrath of a female.
Why, thank you, brother.Thorn flapped powerfully until he'd reached the clouds. Saphira followed him, snapping her jaws at his tail. Murtagh jumped in his seat and cursed. Thorn managed a laugh just before Saphira collided full-bodied into him. They rolled in the air, both trying to maintain height and power with the strength of their membraneous wings. Quickly, Murtagh stroked his throat to get rid of the spell. "Thorn! She's older and bigger than you! She's too strong. Don't kill yourself trying to beat her!"
Thorn didn't answer as he forced his jaws around her sinewy, armored neck. She growled viciously and he saw Eragon draw his bright, blood-red sword Zar'roc. It flashed by the firelight and the scar on Murtagh's back tingled and burned at the memory of that very blade nearly cutting him in half as a child. Murtagh stared at Eragon for a long few moments. He doesn't see my face just yet, he thought. "Thorn! I'm going to cut off contact with you, because he can read minds. Break free and drop me in front of Nasuada's tent. Then go off and hide. Be discreet. I will call you when you should come back."
Thorn snarled in response and flicked his tail at Saphira's face. She howled and hurtled through thin air. Murtagh thought he could hear Eragon screaming hoarsely. His face twisted bitterly. "Good job, Thorn. Though I believe that was considered a low blow in dragon-fighting."
As is biting tails, Thorn answered, tucking in his wings, and descending over the army, swooping over the tents until he reached a somewhat larger tent at the far end. Four men stood guard outside the tent. They brandished their weapons readily, but Thorn swept them aside with his tail. One was knocked unconscious while two others broke their limbs. One man was caught up in the ropes of another tent. Murtagh dismounted quickly, pulled his hood up and drew his sword ducking inside the tent as Thorn took off. There was a dim, guttering candle at Nasuada's desk. He stepped nearer to it and fingered its flame.
His eyes flashed as he felt a presence behind him. He turned and snatched Nasuada's wrist from the air just as she was about to drive a dagger into his back. She stifled a scream of surprise. She had been silent before, but now she struggled to pull her arm from the mysterious man.
"Greetings, My Lady," Murtagh said softly. She stopped and squinted into the darkness.
"Who are you?" she said just as softly.
"I've always thought you intelligent. Can you not guess?"
"Are you..." her almond eyes widened in shock. "Murtagh, is that you? What happened to you?"
"Now there is your mistake," Murtagh said in the low voice he reserved for people he was about to kill. "I ask the questions, you give the answers. Understood?"
Tears glistened in her eyes. "Murtagh, what-"
"Wrong answer," Murtagh said using the same bland tone Galbatorix had used while playing one of their "games". He grabbed her other arm and held her close to his body. She screamed. He put a hand over her mouth. She bit him, but he didn't let go. He'd suffered worse, he told himself. "Quiet," he growled in her ear.
"Let go of me!" she answered around his hand. He complied and spread his hands.
"All right. You have something sentimental to tell me, I presume?"
She shoved him. "What's happened to you?" she hissed. "We thought you were dead! Eragon spent over a week searching for you withhis injury! He put the Varden at risk looking for you!"
"Well, I apologize for being such an inconvenience," Murtagh said softly, stepping closer to her. "Meanwhile, I was a little preoccupied with being tortured by Ra'zac, a psychotic general and Galbatorix himself!"
"Tortured? I thought they killed you! Arya found your bloody clothes strewn around the tunnels and-"
"I honestly wish I could have confirmed your little hunch, Nasuada, but it didn't turn out that way. He had to punish me for leaving him. In fact, I was reduced to wishing for as simple a punishment as death. Just to have it end. And it wouldn't have been like anyone would be overly concerned about the death of Morzan's son, except for Galbatorix who decided for a birthday present he'd make me a Rider!"
"You're a Rider?" Nasuada said edging away from him, yet trying to smile. "Why, Murtagh, that's wonderful! It really-"
"Not if the life of the dragon was what determined your decision to swear fealty to Galbatorix," Murtagh spat. "Thorn is the worst and the best thing that's ever happened to me, but if I could do it all over again, I'd probably have let Galbatorix continue his tortures!" This was a lie of course. He loved Thorn better than life itself.
His eye caught Nasuada's hand moving for a knife lying on her desk. His mouth curled. "You're trying to kill me, Lady Nasuada?" he asked with amusement.
"Murtagh," Nasuada warned in a low voice. "Don't touch me. I will have to kill you. I don't want to." Her fingers curled around the knife handle. "I swear I will, though. Just don't touch me." Murtagh's smile grew as he pushed back the hood of his cloak. "Go ahead then, princess. Kill me. I've wanted to die for a long time now. Give it a try."
The knife trembled in her hand. His expression darkening in annoyance, Murtagh shoved her against the desk and pressed himself close upon her hands squeezing her shoulders, then her waist. She cried out in surprise and stabbed at his back. It was deflected directly. Murtagh released her, trembling at his sudden change. He'd wanted not to move. To keep her his captive forever, breathing in her sweet scent, eternally feeling her smooth, warm skin against his own. Nasuada straightened quickly and leveled her knife at him furiously, grinding her teeth.
"If you ever do that again, Murtagh, I swear I'll-"
"You'll what?" Murtagh laughed madly. "What would you do? What could you have done? If I weren't such a gentleman, I'd have had my way with you. I should teach you to defend yourself properly, but we don't have the time. But now you see can't kill me. Now come." He grabbed her arm and began dragging her out the tent.
"No! Stop! Murtagh!"
"Enough!" He bellowed, yanking on her arm violently. She slapped him across his face, her nails leaving angry red furrows on his cheek. Murtagh had had enough. He took his sword and struck her temple with it. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped back into his arms. He sheathed his sword and threw her over his shoulder. "Thorn!" he yelled. It wasn't long before he was surrounded by warriors, one of them an elf.
"Traitor! Put down the queen, and we'll kill you quickly," the elf said. It was Arya. The elf he had helped Eragon save from the Empire.
"Really? I find that hard to believe. But that's quite alright, I'm used to pain," Murtagh smiled pleasantly.
"Put. Her. Down," she growled angrily.
Murtagh looked up at the skies. Thorn's red light could be seen gliding swiftly across the Plain. "No. I think not. You'll thank me later. This is far better than the alternative. Ah-ah-ah!" he cautioned as one warrior prepared to run him through with a javelin. "I wouldn't do that. The son of Morzan has protection. Even from himself."
"It didn't save you from Her Highness's attentions," he observed still aiming.
"Well, that was because I wasn't supposed to deal with females tonight. I am truly sorry, so I leave you Eragon and his fearsome beast as compensation. Farewell." He lifted an arm and took hold of one of Thorn's claws. He tightened his hold on Nasuada's unconscious form. The land swept by quickly and grew smaller.
Eragon and Saphira are still down,Thorn said grimly.
We have to go there. I need to see that they are alright.
They'll kill you.
No. I'm the Rider, and you do what I say. Go to them. Besides, we need to put Nasuada in the saddle.Thorn roared deafeningly and veered around. Murtagh squeezed Nasuada's body with his free arm and his legs. When they were close enough to the ground that Murtagh wouldn't break anything, Thorn dropped him and Nasuada none to gently. Murtagh didn't care. He lay Nasuada carefully on the ground, then walked slowly over to the heap of sapphire jewels twinkling like stars in the darkness. Near Saphira lay Eragon curled against her underbelly, her wing extended protectively beneath his small trembling form. She'd saved him from almost certain death. He crouched near Eragon and put a hand on his head. Tears threatened to spill.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "It was her or you. I couldn't take you. Your such a little idiot," he laughed ruefully. His eyes wandered to Zar'roc which was still in Eragon's hand. With trembling fingers, he pulled the sword out of Eragon's grasp, staring at the red blade. He unbelted the sheath from Eragon's waist and put his own sword in his hand. "It should be mine anyway. It's red. Red like blood. My blood. Like my shame. Red like Thorn. It's mine. You hear me little idiot!" he shouted. Tears rolled quickly down his face. His chest hurt as he sheathed the sword and strapped it to his waist. He kicked Eragon savagely and only cried all the harder. He heard a disturbance behind him and turned to see Arya standing a little ways off. Her long dark hair swayed in the wind and her bright green eyes were startlingly luminous in the darkness. She didn't say a word, only stared.
"You cannot kill me," Murtagh said, his hand shaking on the loathed pommel of the sword. "I wish you could. I truly do with all my heart. I would kill myself. Believe me. This is for the better." His voice came out in sobs. "He's going to torture me anyway. And I don't care about that. I only wish with every breath I take that he would tear out my heart and cast it away from him forever. That way maybe I could find a place where no one is chasing me. Where no one wants me dead. A place where no one cares that I'm the son of a traitor, a murderer, a liar, and a cheat!" Arya stood still and stared with great, emerald eyes. " Do you understand!"
"I understand better than anyone. You know that. That is why you speak to me. But there is a difference between us, Murtagh Morzanson. I didn't submit. You have."
"Yes after two months of relentless torturing!" Murtagh answered angrily. "Relentless! Merciless! Not an hour passed after I almost killed his stupid servant did he let up. Not once! If it wasn't burning, whipping, cutting, dissecting, or crushing, it was the Ra'zac, or hallucinations. The ghastliest! The sickest, most horrific images anyone could conjure and leagues further. I saw her die in the most disgusting, horrible ways," he said indicating Nasuada's still form. "I can't even speak of it. And I saw Eragon fed inch by inch to a lake of acid. Galbatorix would make sure every bit disintegrated before moving on! The screaming-" He cursed and was about to kick Eragon again, but changed his mind. He didn't need anymore cause for blame on his hands. He shoved his hands through his hair and sighed. "I at least wish you'd try to understand. I'm not...Galbatorix."
"What made you do it?" Arya said in an even rustling voice. "You are singularly the most stubborn person I know, Murtagh. What made you submit so suddenly?"
"Thorn. He was hurting Thorn through me. I told him I'd be his if he would only stop hurting Thorn. He was innocent. And when he told me I needed to take Nasuada after Eragon and Saphira, I begged him not to make me kill her. He would have made me do it in all the ways he'd shown. To set an example." Tears were coming again when he heard shouting and the clanging of armor. He looked up into Arya's eyes. "Will you tell Eragon that I am sorry. Don't relay this conversation to anyone else. Please. If Galbatorix finds out...well, whenhe does, he'll make me pay for it fully in blood anyway. He'll be even more furious if he discovered that I still am trying to..." He stopped. Arya nodded once.
"I didn't see you. I couldn't find you. Understand?"
"Thank you."
"You saved my life once. It is a debt repaid. But when next we meet... And if you touch her in anyway unbefitting a gentleman, I will know, and feed you to an ant bed."
"I understand." He turned to Nasuada and picked her up in his arms. "I swear I'll try to help her as much as I can. But this is her battle now."
"I am not bound to her so I can let you go. But know I don't approve of your actions." Murtagh bowed slightly.
"I don't either." Thorn padded forward and lowered himself. Murtagh pushed Nasuada's limp body onto the saddle and followed. He nodded to Arya one last time and Thorn took off into the grey light of dawn.
Thorn didn't say anything for a long time. Are you all right?Murtagh asked him, slowly letting their minds merge again. Thorn shied from the contact, but Murtagh persisted and Thorn had to relent. A dragon cannot refuse his Rider.
I indirectly caused you to live like this.
I would have chosen you anyway. We've been over this.
But now you must fight those you care about. Pretend that you are something you aren't.
I care about you,Murtagh answered softly, scratching between one of Thorn's scales. More than anyone in the whole world.
Great, because that makes me feel better.
What do you want me to say? I love you, Thorn. That's all there is to it. I can't love anyone else more or better than I do you.
Sadly, the same can be said from me toyou. Why I chose such a sullen, moody, black-hearted child to link souls with, I shall never know.
Murtagh smiled ruefully and looked down at Nasuada. He'd been avoiding looking at her. She was like a ghost from his dreams. He'd wanted for so long to behold her, but now that she was here, he wasn't entirely certain.
She was so beautiful. Her face was so sweet as she slept.
So this is the lovely Nasuada,Thorn said, arching his neck to look at her. Isn't she a charmer.
Yes, she is. The most wily enchantress that ever lived.
I thought you said she can't work magic.
She can't. But she does all the same.
Anything you say. Hold her tightly, I'm about to fly through the clouds.
Murtagh carefully lifted her from Thorn's neck and somewhat awkwardly positioned her against him so she wouldn't fall. He realized her skin was as cold as ice. She was only in a nightgown. He removed his cloak and wrapped her in it. "All right. Go." Murtagh, truthfully, was glad to have a reason to hold her. He felt it was the least he could do after knocking her out and pretending he would assault her. Her hair was soft and silky against his jaw. He stroked her arm gently from inside the folds of the cloak. It was so smooth and warm now. An animal desire to become part of her took hold of him. His hand brushed her shoulder and he stopped.
"No," he told himself softly. "No, no, no." He wrapped the cloak around her more tightly.
I don't understand exactly what you feel. You want something, but you don't know what it is and you can't take it. Nor do you want to. But you want it all the same.
You'll understand when you live another few months. Didn't you like Saphira?
Not really. She kept telling me she would rip out my throat, so that made friendship less liable.
But she was beautiful to you?
Yes. In a scary, dominating female way.
Well that's it. She intimidates you, yet you want her to be yours. You want her to give herself up to you. So you can control her and make her your own. Likethat?
Thorn was quiet for a long time as he considered. No, I'm not sure I understand you.
Murtagh nodded and squeezed Nasuada in his arms. Her dark skin appeared bluish in the moonlight. He tentatively touched her face, stroked her long, soft curls. He longed to press his mouth into the hollow of her throat, to embrace her fully. The Wanting grew worse. Making up his mind, he strapped her legs to the saddle and secured her wrists. He then edged back, settling between two spines as far from her as he could manage.
Murtagh,a voice that wasn't Thorn's spoke into his mind. Murtagh, do tell me that you have Eragon and Saphira.Murtagh threw up his mental defenses, but they were swept aside. You cannot hide from me, your merciful master who may yet grant you forgiveness. Answer me.
I'll explain everything to you when we arrive. I promise.
I think now would be the better time. I can't touch you.
I took Nasuada instead of Eragon and his dragoness,Murtagh answered in a rush. Simply because...because Thorn can't carry both of them.
Galbatorix was quiet for several moments. Do you think I am an idiot? You have magic. You know how to use it. I expect you to carry out my orders. You had better conjure up a better excuse by the time you arrive. Just wait until I get my hands on you-
No! Please, you don't understand! I couldn't take them! I was going to. I really was. Only-Galbatorix cut him off.
Be at my feet begging for mercy within twenty four hours or I'll kill the girl.
You swore you wouldn't! It isn't her fault. I'm the one who kidnapped her-
You're right. But that doesn't stop me from hurtingyou , does it?Galbatorix withdrew, his mind swirling with amusement. Murtagh opened his eyes.
"Thorn. Fly faster."
Why?
"Do as I say. Please."
Galbatorix?
"Who else?"
The world below ran by quickly. Murtagh hardly noticed. He was watching Nasuada, making sure her lolling head wouldn't strike a spine. Yet he didn't reach out for her. He didn't trust himself.
You treated her roughly earlier,Thorn remarked, still irritated by Murtagh's earlier terseness.
I had to. I can't become overly attached. Nor should she if she would ever dream of stooping to my level.
Do you still believe taking her was the better option?
I told you, I cannot handle Eragon and his earnestness. He is the most earnest, emotional little person I know and I can't see him being tortured as I have been knowing that I brought him to it.
You will have to, eventually. And bringing the woman you love in his stead does not seem like it felt so wonderful either.
But her protection is promised,Murtagh answered defensively.
He won't kill her, but there are worse things. She's a beautiful lady. He may take advantage of her, or ruin her in some other horrible way. And with no one able to protect her-
I will protect her,Murtagh snapped resolutely.
Thorn made no answer.
In the throne room, Galbatorix sat in his throne looking irate. He spoke to Shruikan, his jet-black dragon in a low voice. When the doors opened, Galbatorix looked up at Murtagh and Thorn. Murtagh dismounted and slowly walked over to the king, who watched him expectantly.
"Well?" Murtagh remained silent. "Talk to me, impudent whelp."
"There is nothing to say."
"There is plenty to say." Murtagh said nothing. "No matter. I know a few tricks that will loosen your tongue."
"I said there is nothing to say!" Murtagh answered through clenched teeth. "She has done nothing. I'm the one who kidnapped her. She tried to fight me but you can see how that worked out for her."
"You are rather adamant. Why did you disobey me?"
Looking anywhere but at the king, he took a breath. "I can't do as you've asked. Not directly."
"Directly?"
"Eragon is still injured. His back is severely damaged from Durza's sword. I couldn't take him. He is going to be trained by the elves very soon. They may know how to heal him. He will then come after Nasuada and we will be somewhat more fairly matched."
"Fairly matched!" Galbatorix bellowed, jumping to his feet. He closed the space between he and Murtagh. "In the name of justice, everything is fair!"
"That seems contradictory, if I may be so bold, Your Highness."
"Contradictory?" the king said. His voice was deadly calm now and quiet.
"Yes. Contradictory and insulting to humanity."
The king nodded slowly. "You are very bold."
"I don't want you to hurt her," Murtagh answered. "If you punish anyone, let it be me. It's my crime. I'm the one defying you."
"Are you?" Galbatorix whispered.
"Yes, I think so," he said just as quietly. His eyes were steely daggers daring the world to oppose them. Galbatorix smiled lightly and strode toward Thorn. He reached up for Nasuada and took her down. He cradled her in his arms.
"Oh, my!" he mocked bouncing her up and down. "Isn't she a beauty. And her skin...such a rare shade. Rarity is the essence of beauty, you know." He lifted her higher and pressed his face against her neck. "She's a sweet one. Never had one like her before..." His hand began to wander and squeeze through her thin nightgown. Murtagh ran to them and took her away from the king's arms.
"No. She is not a toy to be played with; she is a Lady unlike any that have ever existed! She has a heart and a mind!" Galbatorix smiled on. "Don't you understand?! You can't have her!"
Nasuada stirred, her curl-riddled head swaying uncertainly, then coming to rest on Murtagh's chest. Her hands moved uncertainly.
"Father..." she murmured. Her hand brushed Murtagh's face and caressed his jaw. "Don't leave...I can't...Murtagh..." Murtagh took her hand and squeezed it gently. The effects of his brutal treatment were fading.
"She adores you it seems," Galbatorix noted.
"She adored her father. I was the last person she saw," Murtagh said with finality.
Galbatorix nodded. "This will be interesting." He snapped his fingers and Nasuada's eyes flipped opened. Murtagh released her hand quickly. She looked around; a red mass loomed over her and a strange man in a crown stood nearby. She was in someone's arms. She looked up and saw Murtagh's hard, troubled face.
"Oh, Murtagh..." she murmured. "You are always so serious... Smile a bit. I remember you had such a sweet smile." She fell asleep again. Galbatorix laughed, a warm, fatherly sound.
"Bring her down to the stone and secure her," he said at last. "Now." He murmured something and Murtagh's legs were moved outside of their will.
Murtagh laid her gently down upon the stone table. She moved again and he froze. Her eyes flickered. "Jörmunder?"
"Shh...Nasuada, it's me. Murtagh."
"Murtagh?" Her eyes wandered to where he was. "What are you doing here?" It dawned on her that maybe what she had dreamed wasn't a dream. Sitting bolt upright, she slipped off the stone. "Why did you do it? Why, Murtagh?!" she screamed. Tears sparkled in her eyes. "The Varden are going to die without me guiding them!"
"They won't! They have Eragon, Arya, all the elves and the dwarves. They have Surda!"
"Why did you do this to me?! First my father, now me! What's next?" She pushed him, but Murtagh stood his ground.
"I didn't kill your father! I defended him! I'm sorry. This was the better option. Better you than Eragon. Galbatorix would have killed him. Ruined him! Can you understand that? I'm sorry, but the only life guaranteed was yours. I made the king swear before I gave in." Staring distrustfully at him, she made an effort to compose herself.
"Very diplomatic, Murtagh. Stealing a lady away in the night."
"I amsorry. Bad blood is an unfortunate trait of mine." There was no humor in this exchange of words where there had once been. Months ago, when they had met they had spoken in riddles and with the dry wit they shared. The dungeon door opened and Galbatorix stepped in.
"Murtagh, I ordered you to secure her to the stone." Murtagh's face darkened as he stared into Nasuada's eyes. She was calculating, he knew. She knew she couldn't escape. And she didn't want to look like a stubborn child while trying. Making her decision, she lay down and stared at the ceiling, much like Murtagh had done before her. He touched her head briefly in understanding of her sacrifice and tied her down. "Very good. Now, Nasuada, understand that this is as much a punishment for you as it is for dear Murtagh, here. I am more inclined to think that it may prove more painful for him. He is going to hurt you."
"I won't," Murtagh said. "You can't make me."
"Of course I can. But I'll leave you the choice. It's either you," Galbatorix said settling in his chair with an air of ease, "or General and the Ra'zac. They would be more brutal, believe me."
"Murtagh," Nasuada whispered.
Murtagh knelt beside her attentively.
"Yes?"
"Do whatever he says. Understand? Don't get hurt on my account."
"But it doeshurt me, Nasuada," he said taking her hand. "Don't make me do this to you. I'll join you. I'll take your place."
"Murtagh, son of Morzan," she said in a strident voice. "Do as I say. You owe me that much."
Murtagh glared at her, but she glowered back with more venom. "Very well," he said at last, defeated. He stood again. Galbatorix smiled coldly.
"I enjoy this too much. Servant!" he called. The door open and the clamp-toothed servant came in rolling a furnace before him. "Now, Murtagh you are familiar with how this goes." Tugging a glowing red iron from the furnace he presented it to Murtagh. "Where shall we kiss her first? Hmm...I know..." He leaned forward and slowly pushed up her nightgown, relishing her discomfort. He stopped just above her thighs. "Such lovely legs. Almost a shame to mar their beauty. No matter, we'll make them good as new after you submit."
"Farewell, legs," Nasuada said grimly. "You've carried me so far."
"I don't tolerate smart tongues here, My Lady," the king said, trailing his fingers from her ankle to her thigh and beneath her dress. Nasuada shuddered and managed to close her legs on his fingers. He tapped his forefinger against her inner thigh. "Right there, if you please, Murtagh." Murtagh stared for a few moments. Nasuada caught his eye and he had to obey. Slowly, he touched the iron to her smooth bare skin. He remembered very well what the first touch always felt like; the screaming was more than he could bear.