Reviews!
DragonMaster1992: PRESSURE! AH! PRESSURE! NOOOOOOO!
Shadeslayer390: Thanks. I may have repeated words once or twice and not have been very careful to keep consistency, though. Shh.
Mistress-of-Misery: Wait till you see the next chapter. That's when it starts to get thick, thick, and thicker until you've drowned in it. Well, not really, but I'm adding a new character…Connac.
Grey Faerie32: Quite all right, and thanks for reviewing!
Gewher: Yeah…I love him to. Please don't kill me for this chapter because Murtagh REALLY IS my favorite character. Where are the pictures of the Urgals?
Emerald Tiara: Really? Well, I hope it smooths out.
Narnia Dreams-Beliver: Wait wait wait! What was your original pen name! I'm so confused…
Randomcat23: Thorn is a totally unknown character in the books, so I got to develop him however I wanted. It is so much fun. I like Salem too…she comes back next chapter.
That's all folks! Here's the story.
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4/2/101-4/3/101
It was very late that night when they finally left the woods. Thorn was the first to break the silence. We don't have to decide now, he said. Wait till morning. I'm exhausted and so are you. You need to heal, too.
Murtagh noticed the unspoken challenge in Thorn's voice and took it up. As far as we know, he said carefully, there is only one left. There may be others, but we do not know who they are.
Thorn made a noncommittal noise. Maybe, he said finally, but as a last resort. There was a disgruntled tone as he added, I still hate her.
We cannot hate our allies, Murtagh said somberly. We can't afford to.
In the morning, Thorn said, a sharp finality to his voice. I'll think it over.
Murtagh let it be as Thorn descended gently in front of the back palace gates. Good night, Thorn, he said softly as he dismounted clumsily, careful to guard his bad leg.
Thorn nuzzled him, then said quietly, Get some rest. Get a healing. Meet up with you tomorrow.
Murtagh nodded. Thorn turned around, taking flight for the woods. Murtagh watched his shadowy figure disappear into the darkness, then lurched painstakingly into the palace.
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It was dark in the hallways that led to his room. Murtagh groped for a torch and found none. He cursed with annoyance and, with a little effort, found a lamp. "Brisingr," he muttered, bringing to life a hesitant flame.
Putting a hand on the doorknob, he swung it open. His room was dark, and a strange odor hung around it. Murtagh paused, his senses carefully searching the room for the source. Finding no danger, he set the lamp down and shut the door.
Light flared. His eyes, unused to the sudden brightness, protested instantly. Murtagh shut them and pressed himself against a wall, every sense sharpened with a terrible clarity. A hand with a grip like iron reached out and grabbed his tunic, pulling him close. "Hello, Murtagh," a coldly amused voice said. "Did you do something you shouldn't have while I was out?"
His eyes flew open, staring straight into Galbatorix. With a sneer, the king threw him onto the ground and sat down onto the bed, his eyes never leaving Murtagh. "So," he said conversationally, leaning forward, "Tell me. What did you do today while I was handling certain events?"
Murtagh struggled to his knees, sick fear coiling inside his stomach. He had been tortured brutally before and had no wish to repeat it under any circumstances. "I—" he swallowed, then faltered. "I—"
"Hmm? So few words?" The king raised a theatric eyebrow, steepling his fingers together thoughtfully. "Well, I'll tell you what I heard, shall I? I heard that you decided to charge my gates with a certain young lady; a lady that I currently cannot find. Who is she, Murtagh? A new sweetheart? Then, your dragon overran the minds of the Twins and took over their actions." He inclined his head, a small smile playing about his lips. "Is this true? I would hate to think the son of my most loyal follower could ever perform such…inelegant actions."
Murtagh couldn't say anything. He was desperately torn between two pathways, neither which boded well. He could not willingly betray Martaila or Neal or even Salem…he would hate himself, and the action would destroy any scrap of anything good that still remained in him. But if he resisted…the thought made him violently afraid of the consequences. Galbatorix, seeing the conflict in his face, slid neatly off the bed and faced Murtagh in a parody of equality. "Indecision," Galbatorix cooed. "Ah, my dear friend…let me ease your path. Shall I?"
Savagely, a probe tore into Murtagh's mind. Murtagh gasped sharply with pain as it clawed viciously past his failing barriers, threatening to split his head open. He doubled over, fighting nausea, screaming as the pain grew worse, traveling in racking waves down his spine and burning, lines of fire streaking throughout his body. Vaguely, he knew Thorn was outside trying to help, but even the dragon's power was ineffectual against the sheer force behind the probe.
Time slowed to a crawl, then finally ceased altogether. All Murtagh knew was that the probe was digging deeply into the crevices of memory, dragging his recollections out one by one and torturously examining them before repeating the process all over again. Murtagh's eyes rolled up into his head, and he was shaking violently as pain struck him via the probe again and again. Galbatorix was purposely making it as painful as possible, the bastard, and it was working. Stop this! he begged inaudibly, fighting to force down his screams. If this went on much longer, he would go mad. He wanted to go mad, so that the agony would finally end.
It was an eternity before the probe finally released its unrelenting hold. It took its time getting out and wasn't gentle about it, either. Murtagh whimpered, a soft animal sound, and collapsed onto the floor. His body didn't bear a single scratch, but echoes of the mental torture remained.
A cool touch brushed his cheek, and he flinched. "Murtagh, Murtagh," Galbatorix's voice whispered, echoing as if from far away. "Why do you resist me? You bring this onto yourself…I have no wish to hurt you, but your disobedience forces me to." Galbatorix's face came into view, smiling sadly. "If only you would listen."
Murtagh swallowed convulsively and shut his eyes, curling into a fetal ball. A hand gripped his jaw and turned his face upwards. Galbatorix leaned forward, breath pounding onto Murtagh's face. "I trust this will not happen again?" he murmured quietly, allowing a shadow of the probe to brush Murtagh's mind. Murtagh shuddered and didn't reply. He couldn't.
"I see," Galbatorix said, releasing his hold. "It will not." His words were calm, final. "Needless to say…you will do as this Martaila wants, shall you not?" He smiled slightly. "In Ricai Menia by the scholar Juno Urukin, he writes that the best way to defeat an opponent is to yield." He forced Murtagh's eyes open with a lazy finger and leaned close. "While this cannot be applied to every case, I believe it works very nicely here, no? You will yield, my sprightly young Rider. This is your charge, Brikijae Knívarya…"
Word by word, Galbatorix spelled out exactly what he wanted Murtagh to do.
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End of Chapter Sixteen
Another short chapter. Whee!
I hope I got Murtagh's reactions okay. I hated to torture him, but I had to because 1) his life w/ Galby is no piece of cake. We've got that down pat. 2) it was the only way I could think of to set things into motion by informing the enemy. It spices up life when there's opposition.
Next chapter contains Salem and what she's been up to. See ya then!