Pale Hope
By Namine3419
Chapter Three: A Burning Moon
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Eragon people...again...so yeah...
Reviewers: Thank you again for reviewing; it means alot. I shall continue to turn out chapters as fast as I can! This chapter is also shorter than my others, but that's just because I couldn't think of anything else that would fit into it.
The smell of wood burning would be Murtagh's wake up call as he briskly dressed himself (in the new clothes Elaina had been so kind to give him) and rushed out of the hotel room. What he saw made him gasp; three of his men, drunk off their hides, were dancing around the Pale Moon Tavern with torches while throwing on whiskey to intice the flame. Shrieks of pain, fear, and sorrow eminated from all around, however the loudest were coming from inside the building. Without thinking, he ran down the cobble-stone walkway and burst into the burning building, searching for those trapped.
An elderly man was rushing around the floor, his once magestic beard now threatening to be the fuse that would set his whole person ablaze. "Adurna!" He screamed as liquid began to form in his palm. He shot the water as quickly as he could towards the old man, extinguishing the fire only moments before it torched his face. His strength began to wane, but he refused to show weakness to the captive people. He stared sternly at the man, "How many others are there?"
Still in shock, if from the fire or the magic Murtagh couldn't tell, the old man stammered, "T-the few wenches made it out but . . ." An ear-splitting shriek fell from upstairs as a beam crashed through the floor, barely missing the old man. He screamed and ran out of the burning building, not looking back.
Murtagh! Thorn cried. An image of the dragon rushing through two closely built buildings rushed into Murtagh's mind. He sighed in annoyance and guilt due to the damage done to the houses. Thorn emitted embarrassment, sorry, but one of the soldiers said you went mad and rushed into a burning building!
I'm not mad, and . . . The shriek came again, followed by rows of fitful coughs, sorry Thorn, I'll talk to you soon!
Murtagh! But it was to late, for Murtagh was already to busy dodging debris and flames to pay attention to his dragon's warnings.
Upstairs was a horrible site to behold. Antique furniture that took human artisans years to complete were now being devoured by the unforgiving flames, the curtains of an open window becoming gates that seemed to hold back the very pits of hell. The floor was extremely weak beneath his feet as Murtagh shuffled from room to room, looking for the disembodied voice. Thrice did beams double in his size fall through the floor, causing gigantic holes in his path. After searching four more rooms, Murtagh saw the faint outline of a body by the far end of the fifth room. It's limp body lay out of the opened window, as if it were ready to dive into the open air.
He was about to rush towards the form when flames erupted from the floor and surrounding walls, causing a horrible flash of heat to knock him off his feet. Murtagh's head rammed against the wall as he hit the far side. His vision went blurry and for a moment he thought the world became nothing but a dancing picture of reds and oranges. Murtagh's eyes threatened to shut, and once they did he knew they would never open again. Shaking his head, Murtagh pushed himself from the floor, heading back into the room.
The body was dangerously close to being burned. Flames that went far over Murtagh's head pranced around it as if daring him to rush in and snatch away their prize. Reaching for the ancient words, he quickly yelled, "skolir nosu fra brisingr!" Suddenly a path was cleared from his person to the other and he realized with a start that it was Elaina. She'd been hit in the head by a nearby beam, which explained why she wasn't moving, or at least that's what he hoped. Moving quickly, Murtagh rushed over, scooped the unconcious girl into his arms, and rushed down the stairs, aware that every step he took caused the floor to cave in.
Cold air rushed up to meet his face as he stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air. When he was sure that Elaina was no longer in his hands, Murtagh collapsed from exhaustion. . .
Tudosten Lakeside
Thorn paced axiously outside of the med tent, his nose covered in tiny bruises from where he'd stuck it inside when it didn't belong there (his head threatened to topple the tent). He didn't know what to feel; angry, worried, or proud. Idiot Rider! He fumed, he couldn't been killed! Then he smirked, well, at least he saved that girl. She was sitting on the edge of the camp, her feet dangling in the water. She'd told them that, since the pub was now burnt, she had no place to go. Thorn took the initiative of saying that the girl would be put in his and Murtagh's care for the time being. Of course, he had to run this by his Rider, but at the time it was either Thorn save the day or the girl be sold into slavery.
He walked up behind her and started picking at one of his clause. She turned and smiled, "Hello dragon."
Aye, hello, then he caught himself, you don't smell of fear. Am I not frightening to you?
She laughed, "Well, why should I be frightened of one who saved my life? That is," she feined a gasp, "you mean to eat me!"
Please, I'd be better off at eating a rabbit then one as small as you. The ground shook with his rumbling laugh, where will you go from here, she-human?
She was silent for the longest time, then said, "I don't know . . ."
Murtagh awoke to a med staring right at his face. "Ah!" He screamed, popping up out of his cot. The med looked shocked, but then realized that this was a natural response. He bowed politely and left the tent, leaving the Rider alone. Murtagh sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Soot and smoke had stained his clothing, along with his hair and face, but other than that he didn't seem to be harmed . . . The girl! He jumped up, wobbling slightly, then ran outside of the tent . . .
Murtagh! Thorn yelled, gliding to his Rider, are you well?
Well enough, and you?
I'm not the one who ran into a, Thorn paused and eyed him, sarcasm layered in his eyes, did you just ask a dragon if they'd be alright in a fire?
To tired to reply, Murtagh glanced over the beast at Elaina, who just sat there staring over the lake. The sun reflected off the watery surface to cause ripples of white light to dance and twist upon her face, the surrounding sunset causing her to glow. He could feel himself becoming flushed, so instead he looked to Thorn, who was eyeing him with amusement, shut up.
Did I say something?
Murtagh kicked him, gently, and walked to the water's edge, sitting down. As he pulled his knees to his chest, he asked, "Are you alright?"
She pointed to the bandages on her forehead, above her left temple, "It's just a scratch. How about you?"
The concern in her eyes made him feel warm inside, but he quickly put on his mask and said, "I'll be fine, but we need to find out something to do with you."
"Can't I come with you? I could help you, if not in a big way than in a small one!" Despiration now replaced her worry as she continued to give reasons for her usefulness, "I could wash your clothes or cook for you! I could attend to your dragon if you taught me how . . ."
As she continued to go through her list, a jolt of fear lept into Murtagh's heart. This is exactly like . . .! "No!" He said it so quickly and with such a painful air that it caused Elaina to recoil as if she'd be struck.
She quickly regained herself, however, and started to smile, "You're afraid I'll be hurt," she scowled, "I do not fear the king! Please, let me stay by your side!"
He knew what the servants would say; what everyone would say. He refused to be anymore like his father than he already was, let alone cause another woman to relive the horrors that his mother, Selena, had lived. He was about to voice his answer when Thorn said, of course, little one, you may come. The female influence might be what the men need right now.
She bowed respectfully towards the scaly giant, "Thank you! Oh, thank you!" Forgetting herself, she hugged the giant muzzle of Thorn's nose, which only caused the dragon to laugh. She blushed slightly when she released the dragon, "sorry."
As she walked away, Murtagh turned and scowled at his dragon, what do you think you're doing?!
Making sure you don't go insane, he said smugly, and I'm not sorry because if I didn't defy your wishes you would've lost her forever.
It's not that simple Thorn, mental images of his childhood flashed into his mind. He lingered on the one that he remembered most; his mother's mourning face. That, he said slowly, is the fate that I would have her avoid.
But Murtagh, aren't you the one that keeps saying that . . .
. . . I'm not my father? He laughed bitterly, yeah, I know.
"skolir nosu fra brisingr!" - Shield us from fire!
