Reviews!
Mistress-of-Misery: Ahh! You're right, it is a crown. I've corrected it...no, Murtagh didn't fall down with the balcony. He falls down with Thorn :)
Gewher: Do you like Gen? Hmm…well, he's not available, at least not for Salem. He's got another love (who I'm not going to tell you)!
Emerald Tiara: The Silica is basically another name for Peregrine, and Peregrine is a name for both a person and a group. You'll see.
Shadeslayer390: Good! Gen will be important (I THINK!) so I hope I can make his character likeable.
DragonMaster1992: Thanks!
Bananasrokk: No, I take that as an absolute compliment o.O
I Elenial I: Jerry Spinelli is okay, just not the kind you'd want to read after a couple of years because it all starts to seem kind of idiotic. And I try to update about once a week but some things (i.e., midterms and evil writer's block) happen to get in the way. :)
Trinity Anya: Yes, ma'am! Anyway, I'm just glad you could review. You were one of the first to review this story and it's nice to see you're still reading (and reviewing!)
Tarwen Svit-Kona: Symbolic? Eh…no, not really. I'm afraid my mind isn't as, shall we say, deep to think of such things. But it's an interesting connection.
Randomcat23: Yep, this plot is developing in ways I thought it would never go. Even I can't wait to see what my muse will dictate!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
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4/3/101
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
A horrendous shriek rose up from the smashed remains of Murtagh's (and the two floors below his) balcony. "NO! NO! HELP!"
With a sweep of his tail, Thorn tossed Murtagh onto his back. The Rider ended up slung over the dragon like a bag of potatoes, clinging for dear life while trying not to get shredded by the sharp red scales. Then, Thorn accelerated sharply, landing on the ground with a heavy thump. Murtagh! he snapped. Somebody's injured—
The servants were backing up, fearful looks on their faces as they regarded the great red dragon. Whispers spread through the crowd, annoying Murtagh unduly as he picked himself up and tried to regain some dignity. There was a person trapped under the splintered remains, a person whose face was pale with fear and pain as Murtagh approached. He tried to move away from the Rider but was stopped by the length of marble crushing his chest. "Rider," he gasped shallowly. "You—you—"
"Me," Murtagh said shortly. "Don't try to talk."
The servant mutely shook his head, staring wide-eyed up at Murtagh. The Rider ignored him and focused, digging through a varied vocabulary to find the words he needed. Thorn, he added, I—
Like you needed to ask? the dragon said snippily. I suggest 'risa du'…ah…what's the word for 'big, heavy marble block'?
I think the closest match would be 'limia', Murtagh replied absently. Maybe…
Just say it already!
Murtagh took a deep breath and reached for the flow of magic within him. Thorn's greater rush melded with his mild current, and the wave of magic built up, surging for a release. Finally, in barely a whisper, he said, "Risa du limia! Huildr!"
The block wavered, then rose slowly. Even with Thorn's help, it was a strain—he had never tried carrying something this large before. With an effort, he concluded, "Gánga aptr! Letta!"
It fell with a solid thump. Murtagh rested for a moment, then knelt over the man, examining him. There was no blood, but Murtagh knew from experience that there didn't have to be for a wound to be life-threatening—and this was. The man's chest was, quite literally, caved in.
Thorn—he began, then interrupted himself. Never mind.
I knew you'd see sense, Thorn remarked with satisfaction. We can't just leave the poor fellow to die.
Then I will need help, Murtagh said somberly. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on the man's chest, summoning every last ounce of energy he had. Slowly, carefully, he uttered what he needed to say.
It was long and complicated, filled with words that Murtagh knew he was pronouncing correctly (considering that Galbatorix had trounced him in it for three days…he had better be) but otherwise had no idea what it meant. The king had described it as 'a handy all-purpose healing spell'. And now it was working.
White light flowed from his gedway ignasia, pooling and swirling around the man's chest. It spread and looped gracefully throughout his body, sinking deep inside and healing, reinflating lungs, mending organs, repairing ribs and muscles. Murtagh gasped, reaching deeper into Thorn's resources to fuel the magic. His vision began to blur, and a dull headache started.
We can do it. Thorn's voice was firm, a lifeline for Murtagh to tie onto. To heal isn't beyond us, Murtagh. It never will be.
Then, with a jerking suddenness, it ended. The magic cut off abruptly, and the white light faded. Murtagh pulled his hand back slowly, feeling as if he were moving in mud. All he wanted to do was sleep. Just fall right down and collapse. Can you just throw me on again? he muttered wearily to Thorn. I don't think I can climb on.
Thorn's tail prodded him lightly. Murtagh winced (dragon tails are sharp…very sharp…) and looked up to meet Thorn's eyes. Turn around, the dragon told him gently. Say hello. They're all watching you. In a grumpier tone, he added, I am linked to you. If I can handle a smile and a wave after all that, so can you.
I'll play diplomacies with them next time—Murtagh began foul-temperedly.
This has nothing to with diplomacy, Thorn interrupted. This has to do with simple human to human interaction. Just turn around. I think the guy you healed has something to say.
Murtagh sighed deeply. All right, he said finally, composing himself and turning around to face the crowd.
The man he had healed stepped forward hesitantly, watching Murtagh with something akin to awe. He bowed deeply and said in a hushed voice, "I thank you, Rider."
Thorn's chest rumbled softly in a laugh. The crowd didn't seem to recognize it as such, though, backing away in fear and murmuring rapidly as smoke curled from Thorn's nostrils. Murtagh stared at the man before him and finally nodded once. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
It was said in a very low voice, but his words were carried into the crowd. Slowly, they drew nearer again, watching, waiting. "I owe you a debt, Rider," the man continued. "If it's not too presumptuous to say."
Murtagh managed a smile, then swayed. Now will you pull me out of here? he demanded crossly.
Oh, all right. I suppose we can leave the mess to clean up another time…say, is that Galbatorix? Thorn's voice was sharp, suddenly taut.
Murtagh shaded his eyes and looked, then leaned against Thorn with a tired groan. The dark-cloaked figure striding purposefully towards them was the emperor.
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Salem gaped stupidly at Gen, who pinched her mouth shut. "You're catching flies," he teased. "Close your mouth."
Salem pulled away. When her mouth was free again, she said in a hushed voice, "Silíca? Isn't that…"
"Peregrine? Yes." Gen suddenly looked grave, somber. "We are what is left after the routs of two nights ago. What few have managed to assemble…there are only six of us here. Seven, with you."
"Quite a few," a light male voice said to the side. "Considering, Gen, that there were only about two-and-a-half dozen of us to begin with."
Gen turned to face the speaker, a mischievous smile brightening his face. "Salem, this is Ides. He's a clumsy brat, but his magic more than makes up for it."
She stared at Ides. With a feeling of mixed pity and disgust, she realized that his right hand was missing. He followed her gaze and smiled crookedly, his eyes watching her for a reaction.
Salem tore his gaze away and tried to make up for the awkward moment. "Hello," she said lightly.
"Orcane and Siyana bless, you smell worse than a sewer rat," Gen interrupted quickly. "Well, we don't have much here, but we'll try to whip up a good hot bath for one as smelly as you. Let me introduce you to the others and we'll be off, won't we?"
"Yes," Ides said, his eyes still fixed on Salem.
"I'll handle it," Gen said in a mildly annoyed tone, and left.
"But wait!" Salem blurted, a question popping into her mind. "How—how did you know I was Peregrine? I could've been anyone—and my name! How—"
Ides reached out and tugged out the two crystal necklaces Salem wore. He held up one, letting the crystal catch the light. "This crystal focuses and creates an artificial barrier around your mind, but it's never as good as one of your own making. You'll have to learn how to focus your mind. This will keep out an amateur, but a more powerful and learned magicker can tell instantly that it's fake and slip through it." He laughed. "And that's how I found out your name."
Salem jerked away, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Finally, she said grumpily, "How much did you find out?"
Ides's gaze never left her eyes. "A guilt," he said finally. "A love."
Salem swallowed, feeling uneasy and awkward. Despite herself, she kept on staring at his missing right hand, and Ides was well aware of her gaze. There were a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, then the others interrupted. "Hey!" a short dark haired woman said. "Are you three just going to stand there, or shall we be introduced?"
"You're right," Ides murmured, then tore his stare away. "Well, Salem Blackfire, this is Rina Onandatir," he said, gesturing to the dark-haired woman. "And this is Liane Jeryl, Serrion Carpen, and Matiel Ryeson. I am Henrides Miyan, but most people just call me Ides."
The remaining members of Peregrine, two women and two men, greeted Salem with varying degrees of curiosity and good humor. Salem's smile started to feel fake after a while (and she knew she would forget all these names soon), and so when Gen returned from a back room she was more than happy to escape into the safety of a good hot soak.
Salem lay in the hot, clean water, dozing blissfully. She couldn't recall the last time she'd had a decent bath like this…alone…warm…voices occasionally touched her ears, but it was a pleasant murmur and nothing she couldn't cope with. Everything that remotely disturbed her could be left for some other time…slowly, she relaxed, enjoying the feel of calm peace.
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End of Chapter Nineteen
Aaah. Makes me want to go snooze myself…but unfortunately my bathroom is one of those stand-up shower types. No hot baths for me :(
Well, that was a half-cliffhanger, I think. The course of this story is just teeming with cliffhangers (as you may have noticed). I can't help it; as I may have mentioned once or twice, I have no real technical chapter-to-chapter plot. Just ideas and endings.
Most of these names given today are fairly insignificant…Gen is the one you need to focus on. Either him or Ides. It was going to be Gen at first, but as I'm developing Ides…I find I rather like him. Anyway, leave it to fate and the idle tappings of fingers on the keyboard :)
I'm going to be going back and editing chapters—nothing major, just tweaking sentences so they make more sense. I might also tack an interlude onto chapter two; a scene that I was too squeamish to do before—namely, Murtagh's torture when he first enters Uru'baen. Anyway, I might not. We'll see how much spare time I have.
Also, an error I saw in last chapter, concerning the flag. It's thirteen stars, for the thirteen Forsworn. I've gone back and corrected it, but I just thought I'd mention it. And the basis of currency is indeed a crown, so I've gone back and switched that too.
A rough schedule for all of you: I think this story will reach climax in 10-13 chapters, and after that will wind down for about 3-5 chapters until the Burning Plains. And after the Burning Plains…uh…well, I'll think of that when I get to it. So if I keep up at a chapter a week, at most it'll be about 5-6 months until this story is done.
Wow…maybe I'm just feeling exceptionally nostalgic now, but I'm really looking forward to it. Please continue to read and review. I really do value your reviews, and you guys are who I'm writing this story for.
So, next week!
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