Pale Hope

By Namine3419

Chapter Ten: Reunion

Reviewers: Hurray reviewers! Thank you for still reading my story; it means alot to me. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been sick again so it's taken me awhile to get enough strength to get to a computer. Well, enough about that! I hope you have fun reading this chapter and please review at the end of it!

Blah: Um, if you're interested, I've drawn a few pictures of Elaina and soon I'll have some of Murtagh scanned too, so if you want to see them, just tell me and I'll e-mail them to you. This is also the longest chapter I've ever written in my FanFiction history! I'm so proud! It's probably full of mistakes thought...


The taste of bile was thick on his tounge when Murtagh awoke the next morning. The cold stone floor chilled his face as he opened hazy eyes to the new day. The sound of rustling servants and birds outside the windows were amplified as his ear lay pressed against the chilling floor, as if an army of hammers were pounding his head. His arms shaking, he pushed himself from the floor and scanned exactly where he was. It was a tiny halway separate from the main rooms of the castle; a lone door loomed in the darkness of the unlit hallway. Why am I here? His head was fuzzy and he couldn't grasp the memories that he needed. Maybe I'll remember if I walk a little farther, he shrugged and started walking forward, the scar on his back still tingling from his recent episode.

As a child, Murtagh had learned to deal with the pain of his scar; something he was quite proud of. Soon he could completely ignore the minor attacks, and the more major ones would only be detectable by a flinch in his features. That is, until he had to swear all those blasted oaths in the ancient language. As if Morzan knew what would befall his son, the scar was the center of the magic's plague. He felt more sympathetic for Eragon's wound after every attack that befell him, even though it made him laugh that his brother shared the same wound. No, not anymore . . .

The scene of their first actual battle played out before him. Eragon lay on the ground, helpless, as he continued to vomit out the horrible truth that he wasn't the only spawn of Morzan. Murtagh wasn't feeling like himself that day, probably due to a poisoned drink of water, when he faced his little brother. Murtagh gritted his teeth as he remembered Eragon sneer, "I don't have a scar anymore. . ." He didn't know why, but that had hurt Murtagh. It was funny what could be used as a mental knife to drive into a man's heart.

Endless hours seemed to pass by as Murtagh drifted on the hypnotic melody of his boots padding on the hard floor. The column was getting darker; the day was almost over. With a frustrated sigh he was about to turn, then through a catch in the light he saw a staircase only a few feet away. He knew he should turn back, but his curiosity was knawing at him like a rabid dog. Quickening his pace, Murtagh rushed up the stairs; he had to hurry or else all his light would be extinguished.

White Room, Uru'baen Castle

More than a little annoyed, Elaina was lightly banging the back of her head against the door, hoping that whoever was standing watch of her cell was getting as annoyed as she was. Her stomach spoke out in protest at her lack of meals for the day, and she was beginning to get rather thirsty. It scared her slightly that no one had come to give her any provisions, but Murtagh had told her this was a cold place, why should a prisoner get the luxury of food? She stopped banging her head; there was the echo of rushed footsteps beyond the door. . .

Staircase, Uru'baen Castle

What was that? At first Murtagh thought it was the echoes of his own footsteps that was setting the beat to his explorations, but as he lowered his pace two separate beats began to ring in the hallway. As he approached the top of the stairs, he found himself in a plain, white hallway with a single oaken door to his left. The beats had stopped. He cursed himself for not bringing Zar'roc with him, taking cautious steps towards the door. Murtagh leaned an ear up against the door; nothing happened, "Hello?" He bounced back, holding his ear, as the amplified bang on the other side caused his ear to ring. There was a muffled voice calling out, but the door was to thick to make out who it belonged to, "Hang on," he said, putting a hand on the doorknob, "I'll get you out."

Searching for the right words, Murtagh moved the mechanism inside the lock to the open position and gently pushed the door open. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the new room. It was plain white, even the floor, with little to no furniture and a tiny window on the far side. The only disturbance in the repeating color scheme was the gold trim to the canopy of the kingsized bed in the center of the room. He took a step in but tripped over something as he went in. A tiny hand tried to slow his fall, but the armstrength of the person just wasn't enough to hold his weight; he hit the ground face first. Holding his bleeding nose, he turned and saw Elaina sitting next to him, still stunned from his trip. She shook her head, "Are you alright?"

He sat up, shrugging, "What are you doing in here, and," an eyebrow rose, "why are you in different clothes?"

She smiled nervously, "Well, um," the door creeked as wind threatened to clothes it again, "I don't really know."

Murtagh got to his feet, helping Elaina out of the floor. This isn't good, something's wrong here. He didn't want to worry her, but being locked in a hidden room for almost a day can't be good for one's nerves. He smiled, "Well, we won't find any answers here, so let's get out of here." She smiled but seemed to be thinking something else. He followed her eyes to a small vanity in a corner of the room. Curious, he walked slowly to it, Elaina's tiny footsteps tapping behind his own. It was nothing special; just a regular vanity. It was white and gold to match the room, but there was something about it that triggered in Murtagh's mind. He ran a finger across the dusty surface, "I know this," he spun around, looking at the room in a new light, "I know all of this."

Elaina frowned, her face hidden behind her face, "I think this room is. . .used to be your mother's."

Memories from long ago began to rush past his eyes. He saw a brunette woman sitting at the tiny vanity, brushing her hair and singing a soothing song. He was sitting on the bed, his arms wrapped around his favorite toy soldier as he hummed along with his mother's tune. He remembered being frightened of a thunderstorm and rushing up the stairs to his mother's side. He'd tripped on the stairs, giving himself a scar. His father had ran out of the room then. What Murtagh had thought was worry was nothing more than drunken confusion as the man picked him up and carried him to the infirmary, his leg staining the stairs as he walked. Murtagh pulled himself out of this trance and shivered, "How did you know that? I didn't even remember this place."

"Because," she pointed to the mirror, "your mother told me it was."

He looked at the mirror himself, but couldn't see what she saw. All he saw was a reflection of his father with different eyes, and anger made his eyes alight with rage. He scowled, flipping the pane to the other side, "Let's get out of here; you've been alone for to long." He went to grab her hand when she jerked away and shook her head, "What's wrong?" Then he remembered the previous day, "I'm not going to do anything. I wasn't thinking straight that da--"

"You don't see her?" She interupted, frantic, "You really can't see her?!"

Fear blossomed in his breast as he saw her shake and shrill at the mirror, "Elaina?" He gently put both hands on her shoulders, "Elaina, look at me!" Her eyes were glazed as she looked past him, wide-eyed at the mirror. I've got to get her out of here. He gently lifted her from the ground, despite her desparate kicks and punches, and began to carry her out of the room. She clawed her way to his top shoulder, her head next to his looking backwards. Tears were in her eyes, "I'm getting you out of here, now."

"I saw her, I swear!" She cried, "I saw that day, oh, that horrible day . . .!" She began to sob uncontrollably.

Murtagh started to run out of the room, sure that once this horrible place was out of her sight she would return to her normal, warm, smiling self. It seemed as though the room was expanding to keep them inside longer, like some sort of twisted beast trying to eat them up. He quickened his pace, the door seeming to only get farther and farther away. Elaina continued to cry, clawing at his back until his shoulders bled. Finally reaching the hallway, he kicked the door shut and fell to his knees, craddling Elaina as she shook. Stroking his hair, he kept repeating, "It's alright, you're safe now."

"I saw it," she said quietly, he head buried in his chest, "I saw it . . ."

What could she have seen that would cause her so much grief? Then he felt her fingers running from his right shoulder down to his left hip and froze. He pulled her away from himself, "You . . . how did you . . .?" He couldn't finish his sentence because in his mind it made no sense. A chill ran down his spine and felt as though the room was staring holes into his back. Forcing all his questions to the back of his head, he stood from the floor and carried Elaina down the stairs, holding her closer than he'd ever held anyone else before.

Uru'baen Fields

Murtagh . . . A cold chill shook Thorn's scales as the soared over the yellow-green fields of Uru'aen. The surrounding farms had given up any hope of growing vegetables due to poor soil, turning to raising farm animals instead. Cows grazed slowly on the stalky, dry grass as goats stumbled over their own hooves to get away from the two flying dragons. He was tempted to set the whole field on fire, but the last time he'd visited these fields he became riddled with arrows, and that was only because of a cow.

A stray eye glanced over to the shimmering blue dragon to his right, and Thorn lost his train of thought. With a sudden drop in altitude and a yell from Roran, Thorn remembered what he was doing and stared straight. He heard Saphira hum, then she swooped past him, gliding on a zypher. He stared after her until he realized that he should be leading, Wait! I should go first!

Why?

Thorn thought that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard, Do you not remember where we are going? Roran raised a queasy head and looked at Eragon, if you go into that castle head first the only thing that'll meet you is half an army of archers and spearmen. And even if you get past that, there's still Galbatorix and Shruikan.

Well, fly faster, Saphira teased, swooping closer. Eragon eyed her suspiciously, then shook his head and continued to stare ahead.

The city loomed in the hazy distance as the sky began to fade into a clear, starry night. The wind rustled the dry grass below and birds of all kinds flew as fast as the could away from the intruders in their home. Several clouds obscured their path, and upon exiting they were all covered in a dewy wetness that gave them a slight chill. Roran stared at the city longingly, yelling to Eragon, "Is that the place?"

"Yes," even though he was yelling his voice sounded distant, "that's the place."

You're not scared, are you? Thorn teased, dipping low to land on a nearby hill. Eragon remained silent. Look, Thorn said, not unkindly, I know you're scared; I can feel it. I promise you that Galbatorix will not know you're here.

How? Saphira craned her neck behind her and stared at Eragon, my Rider is terrified, she said to Thorn, but he's determined to help you. If you betray us to the king, I won't hesitate to tear you to shreds.

Listen, we're landing here. Thorn began to descend, slowly so as to be easy on Roran's stomach. They were five miles from Uru'baen, the glow of the cities laterns causing it to light up in an eerie, foreboding pulse. A soft crunch of Thorn's talons on the grass gave Roran his que to slide off of his hide. He stumbled to the ground, hugging it almost as tightly as he had Katrina upon her return. He barely lifted his eyes to Eragon as he landed, "I've been over mountains, through vast fields, and even went through a gigantic whirlpool, but I've never experienced anything like that. How do you do it?"

Eragon chuckled, "For your first time that was pretty impressive," he looked slightly abashined, "it took me a few trial runs before Saphira and I were truely one."

Saphira looked up from the two men, resting saphire eyes on Thorn, what now?

Now, he said while he jumped back into the air, I go get the target. Within a few wing beats Thorn was out of their sights.

Murtagh's Room, Uru'baen Castle

He sat up in his bed, the soft silken sheets running off his bare shoulders. Murtagh stared out the window, eyes wide, Thorn?!

There was a long pause, and for a moment Murtagh thought he'd only been dreaming it. Then, rushing through his brain as though a waterfall had somehow cascaded into his ears, he heard Thorn shout, Murtagh!

It is you! Murtagh jumped out of bed, racing to an open window. The cold night chilled his bare chest, so he looked for a bedshirt or something loose to put on. He found a simple white button-up shirt and slipped it on, where have you been?! I mean, he lowered his tone, I'm sorry. I wasn't myself when I said those things.

Forgiveness eminated from the dragon, it's alright; I shouldn't have left you. Is everything alright? You mind feels, Thorn paused as he searched for the word, heavy.

Murtagh rubbed his exhausted eyes, things have, happened. Anyway, his voice brightened, where did you go? And where are you now; I really wish to see you.

I'm landing in the garden right now, outside the tourney yard. Murtagh gave a short goodbye then rushed out the door, making sure to walk lightly past Elaina's room.

The stone floor was cold on his bare feet as Murtagh raced towards the garden. His heart fluttered like a young boy getting ready to ride his first horse. He's alright, he chirpped to himself, he's really alright. Ever since he was a young boy, Murtagh had always had a tremendous fear of loosing things that he held dear. First it was his mother from her illness. Sometimes this caused him to hate Eragon, since he'd figured she'd died of exhaution due to childbirth, then fleeing from god-knows-where and try to see him again. Then there was Tornac, his horse. Murtagh's caretaker often said if he didn't obey Galbatorix then he would kill the tiny pony right infront of him. Regret filled his heart as he wondered what the Varden did to that magnificent horse. Tornac, his servant and probably only true friend besides Thorn, was the last thing he chose to get to close to. Of course, that was taken from him too.

Sneaking past two of the posted guards, Murtagh rushed into the lush, green gardens that surrounded the west-side of the castle. There, in between two willow trees, sat Thorn, his head resting on the ground. Like a small boy Murtagh yelped in happiness as he ran towards the beast, throwing his arms around his gigantic head when finally he reached him. Thorn hummed contently, I missed you too.

Never again, Murtagh repeated, tears streaming down his face, never leave me again. You can hit me, bite me, burn me; anything! Just don't ever listen to me if I tell you to leave.

You might not want to say that yet. His voice was nervous, like a criminal's about to confess to a crime.

Murtagh backed off quickly, what?

Jump on my back. I've got some people I want you to see.

Thorn . . .?

Just get on! Thorn sat as the familiar weight of his rider filled his saddle. He then leaned back on his haunches, looked up into the sky, and took off as fast as he could, humming as he heard Murtagh laugh for the first time in days.

Murtagh scrunched his eyes against the wind, staring straight ahead of them. He could make out a tiny fire, but other than that he still saw no people. "Thorn, I don't see any--" he stopped and stared in slack-jaw amazement. There, only two miles ahead, was camped the unmistakable form of Saphira and her Rider, Eragon. Of course, Eragon was only a tiny dot, but on the otherside was another speck that he didn't recognize. Then again, he really didn't want to, and began to pound on Thorn's sides, you tricky lizard! He roared, turn around right now! I will not go to him! You know what I'll have to do if I'm around him!

Thorn didn't respond, only chuckle slightly and straighten out towards the ground, readying himself to land. They cut through the air like a knife through butter, causing Murtagh to close his eyes completely. When he reopened them, he was in the middle of three different pairs of eyes. Murtagh felt himself turning red, either from embarrassment or rage he couldn't tell yet, but he knew one thing; his words had stopped working. Eragon stared back at him with shielded eyes and the man on the other side just crossed his arms and continued to judge him. Saphira snarled slightly; it was nice to know at least one of them had the dignity to show their true thoughts. Say something! Thorn urges.

His mouth was dry as paper, his throught feeling as though it were full of sand, "Hi . . ."