Okay, short chapter. Bad chapter. I've had the most incredible, incredible writer's block killing me and I really can't write anything…I am so sorry. But it was either this or wait another week, and I hate to do that because I didn't post anything last week. This chapter is extremely bad, and I swear to all the muses (Lisle, muse of emotion and empathy, Osprey, muse of adventure, action, and gore, and Deinr, muse of mind, spirit, and insanity) that the next one will be better.
Gewher: Gen will kick butt. I've got some really serious plans in for him…
I Elenial I: No, sincerely, I do love it when people review even if it's just to stop by and say that they're still alive on the Internet. So no matter what, just review!
Mistress-of-Misery: Broaden thine mind! Magic can do anything…anyway, it looks a lot worse from the outside.
Luveroffanfic: Oh, glad you dropped by anyhow.
Silver sliver: Hard to type your name…I keep on going silver silver or sliver sliver…ugh. The Twins pop up in this chapter, just a little mention. But as obnoxious as ever. And the true-name thing is through an act of extremely powerful magic. You know how Arya could summon the essence of silver? Well, I made it so that true names are the essence of a person, and if you're powerful and demented enough (Galbatorix…who else?) it's perfectly possible.
Its.Garnet.Time: Aww…so sweet. Nah, I want to find out what Paolini does; it'll be fascinating to see how much of it actually works with the theories and plots put forth in thies story.
Read! AND! REVIEW!
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4/3/101
Murtagh touched the window gingerly, attempting to scrub away a bit of the muck to see what lay underneath. It cleared away to show him murky, thick material that might have been poor-quality glass, he wasn't too sure. He couldn't see anything through it.
He headed to the door and knocked lightly. There was a few minutes' wait, then the door swung open a tiny crack to reveal a dirty-looking woman with a mangy shawl over her head. "What?" she snarled.
He tried to peer past her, but the room was dark. Carefully, he extended his mind to probe hers and touched a hard, firm barrier. Murtagh allowed himself a grim smile. "I am from the emperor," he said quietly. "I demand entrance."
"We ain't got nothin'," she snapped. "Go on ys'ways, you ain't welcome." She began to close the door.
Murtagh stopped it with a hand, gripping the splintery wood. "I am from the emperor," he repeated, his voice harsher. "I want to search your premises."
The woman clutched her shawl closer, eyes watching him beadily. "F'r what?" she snapped.
He gave her a pleasant, meaningless smile and attempted to push past her. He found his hand clenched in a surprisingly strong grip, her face cold. "Don't think cause you got a blade that you're some marker," she snapped. "We ain't got no room for beggars or thieves, blasted things." Her nails dug into his arm. "Get the hell out of here."
Murtagh ignored her, staying stock-still as she tried to shove him away and casting out with his mind to search for presences in the building. There were two others—one was weakly shielded. He hesitated briefly, then dug into the person's mind.
The first barrier crumpled like tissue paper, but an instant later a second shield appeared and layered over it. Whoever making it had also made the barrier on the building, he was sure of it, but it seemed porous somehow. All he needed were a few seconds and he could break it—
A pain on his face brought him back to his senses. "OUT!" the woman roared, slapping him again and kicking him into the street. "And don't come back!"
She slammed the door in his face.
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Inside the house, Liane tore the shawl off her head and turned to Rina and Ides, hidden in the darkness. "What happened?" she demanded.
Rina was trembling. "He—he broke in," she whispered. "I couldn't hold him—"
"So I stepped in," Ides said. He looked pale, leaning heavily against Rina. "I don't know how much he found, or—anything."
Liane looked out the window. The Rider was staring at the door with a very peculiar expression, apparently thinking. "We've bought time," she said quietly. "Ides, you know this whole…operation…better than I. There must be another safe house; somewhere we can hide."
Ides shook his head. "They were all destroyed during the routs…but…" he hesitated, then said very quietly, "There are some people who would take us in, for a price."
"What price?" Liane demanded impatiently. The Rider had drawn his sword now, and was pacing slowly.
"Gold, mostly," Ides said. "No questions asked."
"Great!" Liane snarled. "I'll just magick the gold out, shall I? Take it from my—"
"Liane," Rina said softly, "this isn't helping."
Liane cursed. "We'll have to take our chances with them," she said grimly. "If we stay here much longer, he'll bang in. Where's Gen and Matiel and Salem?"
Ides closed his eyes briefly. "They're not in the building," he said quietly. "I can contact them later, but we've got to get out of here first."
"The Rider's not pouncing out there anymore," Rina pointed out. He had walked off, apparently to circle the building. "We could try to just dash out now."
Ides gave it a distracted look, thinking hard. "Um…well, he might have put some ward or the other on it and—"
Bang.
Splinters flew from the broken back door, and a rush of cool air came into the room. A strong voice called, "Come out! Now!"
"Shit," Liane swore, clenching her hands and bringing up her mental barriers as the Rider touched hers. Ides watched her carefully, then turned to Rina, who was having harder time fending him off. Once again, he shielded her, looking strained from the effort. Rina whimpered, clutching his hand tight.
Liane watched them, then nodded. Ides would hold, and Rina would survive. Grimly, she said, "When I give the signal, run out the door and get out of here."
Rina cast her a fleeting look, her face white. "What are you going to do?"
Liane laughed, a cold bark. The soft pad of footsteps stopped momentarily, then drew closer. "Darken the windows, Ides, would you?" She turned slightly and smiled a bitter smile as Ides closed his eyes and the windows faded. "Just go, Rina," she whispered softly, picking up a knife. "And you, Ides. We can't afford to lose you."
She pulled away from the others and stood near the wall, waiting.
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Murtagh stood in the hall, a knife held loosely at his side—swords would only be unwieldy in this cramped space. He had blown in the door—crude, maybe, but efficient. The spell cast on the door had given way after a few minutes of battering.
The windows had dimmed. Murtagh felt adrenaline pour through his veins, tensing him up for a fight. They had cut out the light for a reason.
Another step. Another.
A figure slammed into him; he had been partially expecting it and turned slightly, shoving with his shoulder. There was a strangled yell, and he heard the door slap open, light pouring into the house. Murtagh turned and whaled his assailant with the butt of his knife, producing another yell.
She—yes, it was female—reeled slightly, glaring at him with poisonous hatred. In her hand flashed a blade, and she threw herself at him with lightning speed, trying to stick it into his heart. Murtagh reacted instantly, crouched, and swung in a tight arc. There was a soft thump as his hand hit flesh, and she fell.
The blade had struck right underneath her heart, blood pumping out in unsteady spurts. Her hands scrabbled at the spot, then fell limp as if it wasn't worth the trouble. Murtagh wiped the blade slowly, feeling oddly empty. He knelt at her side, watching her. "Who are you?"
She coughed, sending blood spraying across the room. "What's it to you?" she choked.
A long shudder ran through her body, and her head tilted slightly in death. Murtagh stayed at her side for a while, thinking.
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Thorn dove at a suicidal speed down towards the trees, veering up at the last second, claws raking the air savagely. Frustration welled up from inside his chest, and he fought to buck it off, cursing Galbatorix again and again. The scum, he thought furiously to himself, reaching out for Murtagh and again blocked by an icy barrier. Damn, damn, damn him!
There were soldiers underneath, picking their way through the greenery, led by the stinking Twins. Thorn watched them, innately furious but helpless to make a sound—he had been forbidden to make any sound of warning or to contact their prey. Thorn hissed, circling the woods, then said snappishly to one of the Twins, If you're going to do this, you better get a move on it.
They laughed, a cold mocking sound. And you have the authority to hurry us, little dragon? Keep your peace.
Little—oh, I'll give you little—Thorn did another mad dive to vent more of his feelings, this time almost making the trees rustle as he passed. He had the perfect view of what was going on in the ground; the soldiers were tromping steadily closer to Martaila and Neal's hiding place.
Run! Thorn yelled, though he knew perfectly well that his thoughts would reach nowhere. Get the hell of out there!
He swept closer, peering in. He couldn't see them; they were in the cave then. Unless—? He frowned. Maybe they left? Martaila was a wary kind; she wouldn't hang around forever, would she? She would leave. Right.
He killed the hope. How could they know to leave? He'd seen them just last night, and it was early in the morning now—they must have left in the dark hours, if they left at all.
He swept over the woods again, feeling thoroughly depressed.
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End of Chapter Twenty-two
Thorn and co. won't find anything because Martaila already left. I should've written that in as part of the story, but like I said, writer's block.
I'll bring Salem back in next time. I'm feeling kind of like Thorn right now…a wee bit depressed. Ugh. Maybe it's because I completely blew my Chinese midterm, earning the first fail grade on a major test that I've ever gotten in my life. I suck at Chinese. I did pass all of the others with decent grades, but still, Chinese was The Big One. Anyway, just the gripings of an annoyed adolescent…
And despite the total crappiness of this chapter, please Read and Review!