Pale Hope
By Namine3419
Chapter Six: Schemes of a Madman
Reviewers: Hurray! Chapter six is up now, woot! Sorry it's taking me so long to update, but this one took me two days to write (I just hope it doesn't get boring). Yep, I made me a baddie elf, just 'cause I don't like elves. Stupid elves (runs from elf fanboys and girls). Anywho, thank you soooo sooo much for the reviews and I hope you like this chapter. Writing it made me really sad, so I hope it's not to much of a bummer.
Thorn laid his head gently beside his Rider, humming softly to try and soothe the young human. His scales illuminated the ground in the fading twilight, specks of red light reflecting on Murtagh's pale skin. He sighed, puffs of smoke billowing from his nostrils into the air. He knew that after talking with Galbatorix it would be nearly impossible to communicate with his Rider until he had calmed down. Patiently, Thorn counted the blades of grass that billowed in the soft breeze, loosing himself in their endless numbers. There are as many idiots in this world as there are blades of grass, he thought, setting a small patch on fire, and they are all just as easy to wipe out.
What is all that talk?
Murtagh? Thorn, slightly surprised but even more relieved, propped his head up higher so he was eye-level with him. His voice was layered with concern, how are you?
I'll . . ., he paused, looking at his hand. Thorn would have never told anyone, but at that moment he saw, if however faint, a slight mist over his Rider's eyes. Tears is what he'd heard humans call it; something they produce when they are under much emotional stress. Then it disappeared, and Murtagh smiled at him, I'll be alright. But you're wrong, friend.
Oh? He asked playfully. He gently nudged Murtagh's right arm, and how am I in the wrong? Your kind do nothing to eachother but cause pain and more pain. Isn't there anything your race does besides waring and causing suffering?
Lo . . . no, nevermind, I won't say it. It's to corny. He used Thorn's nose to hoist himself from the earth, to drained from both magic and emotion to support himself. Once erected, he looked towards the heavens and watched as the last bit of twilight melted into nightfall. Running a hand through his hair, he began to head towards the dinning halls, then ran back to his dragon and asked, what would you like to eat?
There was a low rumble and a rush of wind tossed Murtagh's hair around when the great beast stood. Yellow eyes glowed like a cat's in the night air as the dragon stared down at him from the height of a two-story building, I will hunt outside the castle gates; maybe I'll take some of the king's cattle. Murtagh was about to protest, but decided better of it. He waved his hands, grunted, and turned back to the castle's main interior.
Dining Hall
He was tired. Exhausted would be a more accurate word. Murtagh could hear the voices, footsteps, and other movements of the other people around him, but other than that he was in a daze. His eyes had dark circles underneath them, giving his already pale face an even more haunted look, his usually bright green eyes taking a dull forest green. He didn't even notice Elaina as she came walking down the hall. She was buried nose deep in a black, leather bound book, so she to was quite oblivious to his arrival. That is, until they ran into eachother with a resounding crash. Both fell to the floor, one on top of the other, Elaina laughing and Murtagh still trying to sort out what had just happened. The girl pushed herself up, still sitting on his legs, and said, "We really need to stop meeting like this."
"E-Elaina!" He felt life flow back into his body, starting with his cheeks, as they were undoubtably turning redder than Thorn's scales. He coughed and asked nervously, "What are you doing here?"
She raised an eyebrow, "Isn't it time to eat?" She then looked outside and gasped, "Oh my! I guess not; it's really dark out." Then she looked down to what her hand was touching and quickly jerked it away from his thigh. Blushing, she frantically began appologizing, saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to sit on you so long! Ah, your legs must be asleep . . ." She froze as she looked into his eyes. He was staring at her with such intensity, but of what emotion she couldn't read, "Murtagh?"
"Elaina," he paused, "what was your family like?"
She just smiled sweetly and said, "I don't remember my real family, but I don't think I need to; I had a great foster-mother."
Good, well, not good but at least she doesn't know. He sighed in relief, then realized she was still sitting on his legs, "Uuhhmm . . ."
"Oh!" She quickly got off, held out her hand and helped pull him up. She raised her head when he was standing over her, staring into his eyes. Then she looked away, afraid that he'd seen her blush, "W-well, are you going to get something to eat too?"
"Y-yeah," he mumbled, for some reason feeling very disappointed in himself.
Throne Room
Galbatorix, rubbing his temples between two ghastly long fingernails, looked up and demanded, "And why, my dear Daemon, have you returned to me without her real name?"
The elf rung his long shirt nervously, stammering every word, "W-well, sire, you see, s-she . . . I couldn't . . . um, read . . ."
Daemon jumped as the king slammed his fist down upon his ebony throne, eyes staring daggers towards the elf, "Can you not even accomplish that which you were born to do?" He threw a chalise that had been sitting near his chair, "Really, no wonder you cannot return to Ellesmera." He then proceeded to tap an annoyed finger against his onxy throne, a perpetual frown upon his brow. Galbatorix opened his mouth to say more, but then his twisted mouth curled into a blood-chilling grin, and he began to giggle hysterically.
The elf had no idea what had caused his master such glee, but he knew that it meant horrible news to whomever was in the king's thoughts. He began to inch away, hoping that the lurking shadows would hide him form his wrath. This attempt failed, however, since he felt invisible shackles wrap around his legs, causing him to loose his balance and go crashing down to the ground. Galbatorix loomed over him, an air of authority in his voice, "Bring her to me; the girl."
"Sire?" He asked the question with a calm voice, but deep inside Daemon was so realived that his master's glee wasn't caused by him.
"I think I know how to keep Murtagh in check." Galbatorix, still smiling with mad eyes, trotted towards the double, stone doors. As he opened them, the cry of stone scrapping across fellow stone pierced the elf's sensitive ears, making Daemon grind his teeth. The king was halfway out of the door when his pale, balding head popped back in, "Oh, and make sure she's dressed nicely; she is a princess."
Castle Yard, Garden
It was late in the morning, a cold wind washed over the forming dew covered grass, preparing them for a light frost. The sky was turning into a pinkish hue, and the whole place had a fresh, new smell that helped Murtagh awaken further. He took in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Thorn had yet to come back. The dragon usually only took a few hours to hunt, become bored, then return to sleep beneath Murtagh's window until the next day. However, his scaly friend was nowhere to be seen, and he seemed to be to far away to contact. That, or someone was blocking their connection. He shivered as another cold blast tossed his hair about, causing his loose bedclothes to dance along with the currents. Something's wrong . . .
Thump. Murtagh looked up, relieved to see the shimmering red scales of his partner. The young dragon landed heavily, and he held his weight acwardly. As soon as his great eyes meet Murtagh's the beast turned his back to him, slumping to the ground. Murtagh ran to his side, placing a hand gently on Thorn's left foreleg. Worry now replaced relief when he saw that his friend was covered in arrow wounds. Who did this to you?!
Thorn laughed, thought the usually hearty rumbles were nothing but a weak quake, I guess I got to close to another farmer's land. You can't really blame him; ouch. . .!
Sorry, Murtagh removed his hand from one of the wounds, warm, bright red blood staining his fingers. He clenched his hand into a fist, why didn't you contact me? Thorn . . .?! He couldn't scorn the dragon; to much had happened in the past few days and Thorn had been his only reprieve. Instead, he began to dig at that tiny place inside his head for that special place that would allow him to use magic. Galbatorix refused to explain more about it, but he knew it had something to do with his own physical strength, the ancient language, and will power, but Murtagh never really needed to voice to many of the words; he pretty much knew what he wanted to happen and it just sort of, did. His palm began to glow a slight red color, and soon he saw most of Thorn's wounds heal instantly.
Dropping to his knees, he asked, how do you feel now?
Better, but you shouldn't have done that; the strain was to much.
I've felt worse. On wobbling legs, Murtagh pushed himself up from the ground and stabled himself on Thorn's side. His breathing was labored, but other than that he wasn't to worried. He laughed as he felt Thorn's eyes burn into him, I'm fine, really.
Alright, whatever. Warm air battered Murtagh's face as the dragon sniffed the air, Elaina's coming. What on earth is she doing up at this hour? Then his eyes popped wide open as a new yet familiar smell assulted his senses, Daemon!
"What?!" Murtagh spun wildly, his eyes showering his sight with spots. He didn't care, however, for he knew that Elaina would be no where near safe around that monster. He ran as fast as he could towards the area Thorn had shown him, merging his mind with the dragon's to highten his own senses. He rounded a corner and found himself staring at the main gate of the castle. There, standing in the shadows of the newly born dawn, stood Daemon, Elaina sleeping in his arms. Murtagh growled, his eyes afire with rage, "Unhand her!"
Murtagh began to run towards him, but before he even took two steps the elf placed a cruel hand around Elaina's neck, "One more," he sneered, "and this girl's breathing ends. You wouldn't want that now, would you?"
"Galbatorix promised!" Murtagh shouted, "He promised not to harm her!" He clutched his fists so hard that they began to bleed.
Daemon laughed, "And he won't, so long as you continue to be a good slave," he laughed mockingly, "Skulblaka Shur'tugal." He lifed his hand from Elaina's neck and began to stroke her cheek, "I've brought orders from his Majesty Galbatorix. You are to go directly and without detour to retrieve Eragon and his dragon. If you fail, or take any sort of side quest, then the girl will be punished," he smirked, showing a hint of white teeth, "punished."
"But I . . .!" Murtagh, defeated, let his head fall to his chest. When it rose again his face was emotionless, his eyes dull and lifeless as stone, "If you harm her, even one hair on her head . . .!"
"You'll do what?" He dropped Elaina onto the stone ground, leaving her to land mercilessly on the could ground. Murtagh howled in rage, beginning to run towards the elf for blood, but stopped instantly as the creature uttered incoherent words in the ancient language. Murtagh fell, the feeling in his legs disappearing. Daemon walked over to him, then kicked him savagely in the stomach, "Do not forget, Rider, that Galbatorix isn't the only one who knows your true name." He ground the heel of his boot into Murtagh's side, kicked him once more, then disappeared into the castle.
"Dammit . . ." Murtagh cursed. He began to crawl towards Elaina, each movement sending agony up his side. Dammit!
Murtagh! Thorn rushed towards him, the air from his folding wings tossing the grass so violently that patches of dirt were now visible. With a loud crash the dragon rushed over to his Rider's side, gently nudging him in the side, now who's the one that's hurt?
Your humor, Murtagh crooned, isn't helping.
You just have no sense of humor, or just refuse to laugh. Thorn eyed him mockingly, if you couldn't even stand up to Daemon, how do you expect to defeat Eragon?
"You're actually excited, aren't you!?" Yelling aloud, Murtagh scowled and swiped out at Thorn's muzzle, "what the hell is wrong with you?!"
What's wrong with you?! Thorn was growling now, his teeth bare, ever since you've been given the order to take down that, boy, you've done nothing but cause yourself, he drew closer to his face, and me endless trouble! Don't you think it would be a lot easier if you just got it over with?! He calmed down, slightly, then said, look, I know who he is to you, but . . .
You don't know! You have no idea! You've been locked inside a stupid shell for who knows how many years, and for some reason, you decided to hatch for me! He didn't look at him any longer, but continued to crawl towards his target, why don't you just leave?! You hold no oath to Galbatorix, and apparently I've caused you nothing but misery, so just go!
Is that really what you want? Murtagh didn't answer. Thorn paused for a long time, then lowered his head, very well; I shall leave.
As the sound of fading winds drifted on the wind, Murtagh felt a strange warmth on his face. Tears where falling, but he didn't notice them. Pain soon consumed his entire body, but it was deeper than just a physical pain. He looked at Elaina with clouded eyes, darkness creeping along the corners of his vision. With a final sigh, he allowed unconciousness to take him; the only comfort he could find.
