Hours lapsed before the bolt on the door scraped open. Two pairs of footsteps began to descend the stairs, and the door thudded shut behind them. There was a pause, then a jingle of metal and the footsteps continued.
From behind a portly man in a grey woollen tunic came into Lorena's field of vision. He carried a silver platter with an assortment of food and beverage. He placed the tray at the base of the far wall, seconds later he was joined by a second man, similarly dressed but younger who placed his own platter next to the first.
The larger man turned back to Lorena, he looked her up and down with an expressionless face. His head was oddly shaped, large at the top and bottom yet skinnier in the middle like an hour glass. He was bald with the exception of short black hair running around the back of his head. His cheeks where ruddy, and lips almost as grey as his tunic. He was altogether unpleasant to look at.
Lorena sucked in her breath as he reached for the side of her head, a quick flick of the wrist and the leather strap came undone. She lifted her head off the slab and watched as the man undid the padded shackles around her wrists. Lorena looked to her right to see the younger man had undone Murtaghs leg shackles. A mistake, Lorena's lips twisted into wry smile. When at last freed of the final manacle Lorena threw herself off the slab and toward Murtaghs.
The young gaoler gasped, and the older one quickly began to make his way between the tables. Her fingers fumbled at the restraints, and she only managed to undo one wrist and the head strap before an arm encircled her waist. Murtagh threw open the last shackle at the same time the young gaoler slapped a leg manacle back on. Lorena was spun, and her upper body pushed onto the stone slab, face down. With a snarl she kicked and pulled her arms as one was pushed behind her back and painfully upwards, a hand grabbed a fistful of hair and held her face firmly against the slab.
She could hear a fight happening behind her, Murtagh growled and there was the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The gaolers grip loosened as he turned to assist his counterpart, and Lorena wrenched her arm free before throwing her full weight back against him. The man stumbled slightly but managed to grab hold of Murtaghs left arm, and with an iron grip pulled it down into the allocated shackle. Murtagh still tried to fight but he had been unable to free his right leg and now with his left arm restrained and the young gaoler attempting to contain the right he had no chance. You fool! thought Lorena as she attempted to kick in the knee cap of the older gaoler, You fool, you had no chance and now you've made things worse. The older gaoler's knee buckled but he dealt a slap to Lorena, sending her sideways into the slab, bashing her floating ribs into the unforgiving stone.
She attempted to strike him again as he approached but he easily caught her wrist, bent her forward over the slab and pushed her arm up behind her back like he had done before. Lorena struggled violently against him but the man simply held her in place, eventually she heard Murtagh stop struggling and growl in frustration, then the only perceivable noise was the varying laboured breathing of the four people in the room. She half stood half laid still, waiting to see what the gaoler would do. She silently fumed with anger, she knew under different circumstances Murtagh and she would have had no problem with these two but she had not taken into consideration their exhaustion. It had been less than a week since the battle of Farthen Dûr and they had not been able to fully recuperate.
After a minute or so the gaoler released Lorena's forearm and took a firm grip of her upper arm. He half dragged her over to a door at the side of the chamber before Lorena managed to find her footing. He opened the door and pushed her in, looking around she realised it was a privy chamber. The door was shut behind her leaving her alone. When finished she knocked on the door and was allowed back out. He grabbed her arm again and led her back to the slab. Lorena resisted the urge to fight, knowing full well that she had no chance in her exhausted state, especially with Murtagh confined and a second gaoler ready to intervene. She was pushed back onto the slab and restrained before they released Murtagh. His knees buckled as he hit the ground but the gaolers' strong grip stopped him from falling. Murtagh attempted to push his arm off of him but other than that he gave no resistance, he disappeared into the privy chamber and returned to his slab without a fuss.
Once he was strapped back in the gaolers retrieved their trays. The sight of the food made Lorena's stomach growl. She had not realised how hungry she was, but now remembered that they had not eaten in three days. The older gaoler placed bite sized pieces of meat, cheese, and bread into her mouth. When finished she was given sips of water soothing her raw throat. She noticed the man's calm exterior. He seemed almost inhuman, no expressions or evidence of outwards thought. Just a simple blank canvas.
When both were finished being fed the gaolers took their trays and left, the door thudding shut behind them followed by the scrap of the bolt. Lorena peered at Murtagh from the corner of her eye, hoping that she could discover what he was thinking. He had remained silent for so long that Lorena had feared that he had fallen asleep. "We need to pick our battles. We cannot fight every time we are physically able to. We won't be able to break out of here, so there is no point in injuring ourselves and angering these people."
"I'm sorry," Lorena licked her lips, "I just... I just saw them make a mistake and decided to take action without thinking it through."
"I don't blame you, but if there is any time where thought before action is required, it is now. One slip up here will get you killed, or capture Galbatorix's attention. Which can be worse than death."
* * *
The pair kept their conversations to a minimum, aware that anything said may be overheard. Lorena spent most of her time staring at the ceiling, and the interweaving coloured veins. At times the feelings of hopelessness, abandonment, and hysterical panic threatened to take over. Her stomach would churn and head would spin and it was all she could do to stop herself from crying. A number of times her tongue was assaulted with a metallic taste, and Lorena found that she had chewed her bottom lip so violently that the skin had torn releasing a watery stream of blood.
Thoughts of escape also crossed her mind, she remembered all the turns they needed to take to get out of the palace into the courtyard. She knew there would be a number of guards outside their cell, and they would have to take out the two gaolers. If we are rested the gaolers will be no match for us. But then they would have to take out the guards, and any other soldiers they may happen to come across in the halls. Lorena thought of the courtyard, they would have to get out through another gate into the rest of the city. Then there was the gate to the city as a whole, and any others that she had not noticed. Plus numerous soldiers, and the chance of tripping wards that would warn Galbatorix of their escape. Maybe if Murtagh sees someone he knows they could help us. But then she remembered that that was what Murtagh had done last time, and that had resulted in Tornacs' death.
No, there was no chance of them simply walking out of Urû'baen. But maybe, just maybe if she thought outside the box, there could be a chance.
* * *
The scrap of the bolt tore Lorena from unconsciousness. The room took a subtly cooler air as the door opened. Three pairs of footsteps began to descend the stairs. The metal gate clattered open, then the footsteps continued. Lorena peered from the corner of her eye over at Murtagh, she could make out a lone figure standing over his right shoulder far enough away that Lorena wasn't quite sure if it was actually there or simply a figment of her imagination.
He set down a carved wooden chair, between Murtagh and the wall and sat. To her left Lorena felt a presence move past at the same time a third figure stood next to the first. The second figure moved to the ends of the slabs, and placed a large copper brazier full of charcoal a meter or so away, resting inside were three long irons. This figure was male, in brown robes, with a bald head. He kept his back to them as he struck a fire within the brazier, so Lorena was unable to see his face. The man spent several minutes tending to the fire. He slowly began to build layers of coal, allowing them to heat and the irons within them. A stream of smoke rose from the brazier into a grate above, artistically hidden within the ceiling by the use of the coloured veins.
The man in the brown robes continued to tend the fire as the dark seated figure began to pull at his fingers. He pulled deliberately, at each individual finger, then pulled off a pair of black gloves, revealing hands the same bronze colour as his face.
Lorena tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly dry. She could feel her heart racing and her head spinning. This was it. Now was the beginning of torture, and most likely death.
"You have hurt me, Murtagh," the man in the chair leaned slightly forward, the light from the fire glinting off his sharp crown, "Your entire life I protected you, kept you secret from those who would have used you. From those who would have hurt you simply to displease your father. And when your father died I continued to house and protect you, to keep you secret and make sure you were taught all the things you would need in life.
"Then when you reached an appropriate age I gave you the honour of becoming one of my high servants. To carry out my bidding in this terrible time of war, to take care of traitors who would harm the innocents within my Empire. Yet you denied my will. I was only able to give you one assignment, before you judged me wrongly and ran away. I admit that what I had asked was harsh, I do not like punishing those within my Empire, but it needed to be done. Not all the tasks you would have received would have been like that. I had thought you old enough, and wise enough to understand that. I see that I was wrong.
"But not only did you leave the protection of my palace, you hunted my other loyal servants. You stole their prize from them, and thereby stole from me. Oh, and what a prize! The dragon and her rider were in their clutches, and with a few arrows you managed to steal them away. Now, I'm not unreasonable, I could have understood if you had wanted to deliver the dragon to me personally and claim the reward yourself. You had such an amazing opportunity. But instead you helped them escape my Empire, you helped send them to the rebels! Those who fight against me, children who have thrown a temper tantrum and revolted against their father. As I am the father of this realm, and love my children. But all good fathers must punish their children when they misbehave. Which is why you are here now. You have misbehaved terribly, Murtagh."
Galbatorix sat back in his chair, and watched the bald man stir the irons around in the coal before staring at Lorena. "Do not think I have forgotten about you, my dear. You're parents worked within the Varden, but even they knew about the dangers. Is that not why they fled when your mother fell pregnant? To try to keep you safe. How do you think they would react if they found out you had gone to the Varden and fought in one of the biggest battles of the past century?
"You are quite an interesting young woman. You've defeated Kull in battle, fought beside a dragon and her rider, beside Murtagh here, and the leader of the Varden. And if what the Twins have told me is true, you've also managed to capture the heart of Murtagh son of Morzan. Very impressive. It's a pity that you are here; that you will be used as a tool in someone else's game. You are here to be used as punishment for Murtagh.
"Now Murtagh here is what is going to happen. You need to be punished, and you will be punished. Then, you will tell me everything that has happened to you since you left Urû'baen. Do not be fooled into thinking that I do not already know everything, if you lie I will know. I simply want you to tell me of your own freewill. I may need to encourage you, but you will tell me, or I will squeeze it out of you. There is no reason for this to be difficult, simply do as I ask and everything will be better." Galbatorix looked back to the bald man labouring over the brazier. "Let us begin."
The man lifted one of the long irons, its tip glowed a bright, pale yellow that quickly darkened into a ruddy orange. He turned, the light of the iron casting a ghastly light onto his face. Lorena squinted at him, then suppressed a snarl seconds later. One of the Twins held the iron, a vicious smile twisted his thin lips. Lorena looked back to Galbatorix, and decided that the man beside him must have been the second Twin. A second later Murtagh let out a coarse yell as the iron tip met trapped flesh.