Its.Garnet.Time: Aww, I'll see you back when you come from camp, then! Anyway, school's let out here (finally!) and so I have basically nothing to do except the heaps of fine, fun 'summer homework' that my school has decided to give us. Ugh.
Mrs. Pierre Bouvier: Hah! I plan to write at least one more major Murtagh/Salem chapter (maybe two) so there's a lot more squabbling planned…but yes, there will be a romance. It's forming, at least I hope it is. Or will be. Something like that.
Mistress-of-Misery: Well, Chap 28 was a pretty hard chapter for me to write because I had to be so careful to keep them in character. In the first few drafts, Salem seriously seriously SERIOUSLY sounded like Thorn and Murtagh was far too emotional and argued way too much. But I'm glad how it turned out in the end after TEN ZILLION HOURS of editing.
Ridin' Dirty: Hrm, you do have a point. I don't know…what defines a Mary-Sue? Less self-confident, gushy, what? Salem (the current Salem) I like to think right now is downright pissed with Murtagh but also inclined to a hint of sympathy for his predicament. I do need a romance because it will play an important factor later, but yeah, I have to admit it's difficult to write. We'll see. I'm thinking more in the direction of friendship really, but I'll head for romance if possible at all.
Ooh, and about the magicker (correct spelling, it's street slang (my street slang) for a magic-wielding person—I didn't want to call them witches or magicians or anything, that's just way too corny) thing, Salem's not a magicker. See, when I first created her character, I had the vague idea that she would have rudimentary magic of a sort, but after I created Tria and Heii and Ides I felt like there was too magic in the scene already. But the whole idea of her being able to hear strong thoughts stemmed from that alternate plotline, the one where she had magic. You're right, it's out of place, but it's too late to get rid of it now. XO
Gewher: I know, poor Murtagh! I want to give him a big sloppy hug, but then he'd probably just think I was crazy. sigh Oh well, I'll send Salem to do it for me ASAP, as soon as I get this up and floating. ;)
Emerald Tiara: Don't you know it's naughty to go around playing with large sharp swords? You might accidentally cut yourself! Wait...what are you doing? GET AWAY FROM ME! I DIDN'T MEAN IT! NOOOOO--
Ack! Before I forget—I tacked on an extra section onto the end of chapter 28, you can read it if you like. It's not majorly important or anything, but it just didn't fit at the beginning of this chapter. Anyway…go on and read, don't let me stop you…
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4/3/101
Part II, as begun in Chp. 28
Salem half-dragged, half-carried Murtagh to the nearest pub and nearly fainted as she entered the crowded, sleazy, sweat-and-cheap-cigar-smoke-filled air. The thought of pulling Murtagh through the crowd to find a chair was daunting. She nudged him. "Can you stand?"
He didn't respond. If anything, he just sagged even more. Salem growled in annoyance and peered closely at his face. He seemed to have fainted.
"Wonderful!" Salem hissed. She gave a longing glance at the door, wondering whether to make a break for it. He was unconscious, after all; he couldn't stop her.
She knelt slowly, propping him down against a wall. Murtagh would be moderately safe here—at least, she hoped he would. He might wake up a great deal poorer, but he would be alive.
And so would you, Salem!
She took a step towards the door.
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Murtagh let his eyelids flutter open, knowing that he had seconds to act before Salem tried to escape and the magic kicked in again. The setting couldn't be better—it was crowded, it was disgusting, and it stank like hell.
Murtagh carried four throwing knives in addition to his sword; he drew one of them now. Sitting up slightly, he looked around for a target—he didn't want to kill anybody, just start a huge noisy fight that would hopefully draw official attention.
Perfect.
Taking a swift glance for Salem, he saw that her back was to him, one foot out the door. No time to waste. He stood up, aimed, and threw.
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KAAAASSKEEEEEWWWWWWWWW—
Salem jumped and turned around involuntarily at the huge, splintering sound of glass breaking. Instant silence fell over the crowd, all eyes on the broken oil lamp and the throwing knife that was planted firmly in the wooden barstand right behind it.
Then—
The flames roared, streaking right across the wooden barstand. The bartender let loose a mighty oath and jumped back, screeching as he lunged for the back door. Spilled drinks with high alcohol content fed to the flames, and also to panic. The sober patrons screamed and fought to get out the door, while the drunk ones swayed around lurching into people and making escape even worse.
Salem had hesitated too long. Callused fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her deeper into the tavern and the screaming crowd. She found herself squashed against Murtagh, who was not unconscious in the least bit. "Don't move," he muttered into her ear.
She ignored him, plowing her elbow into his stomach. He flinched slightly but otherwise didn't move—his stomach region was layered with muscle, anyway, and rock hard. I'm glad he does his exercises, she thought sourly, and aimed her next blow at a considerably more private region.
It worked, to say the least.
Murtagh swore violently and doubled over, whimpering faintly with pain. One hand let go, but the other tightened its grip on her arm.
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Little—
Murtagh bit back another yelp, and despite the pain between his legs he managed to walk, shoving gamely through the thinning crowd and pulling Salem out the door. The crowd dispersed rapidly enough once outside, but smoke could already be seen rising up from the tavern. In fact, it really couldn't have been better—screaming, fire, and not a single casualty. Perfect for attracting royal attention.
He was in too much pain to enjoy it.
Salem had not given up on trying to escape once they were outside—she was engaging in a serious round of blows, kicks, and scratches, and Murtagh was having a hell of a time trying to defend himself while still keeping his grip on her arm. Using his superior strength, Murtagh ducked, pivoted, and nearly threw her into the wall. She fell to the ground, stunned, held up only by his grip. Using his body, he shoved her against the wall and squashed her there.
"Don't move," he grunted. "Now—"
Oh, hell.
Murtagh carried four knives, one on his hip, another in his leather arm guards, and the other two in his boots. He had thrown one of them at the lamp; the other Salem yanked out now, angry intent in her eyes. Murtagh jumped away barely in time and drew his third knife from his wrist sheath, his mind calculating.
She carried the knife awkwardly, as if she didn't have too much experience in the art of knife-fighting. Which she probably didn't, come to think of it. The two combatants locked eyes, and Murtagh moved.
Instinct and years of training took over, allowing no room for ethics or emotion. He couldn't kill, he understood that full well, but he could do a lot short of that.
He grabbed her left hand, slammed her against the filthy wall, and disarmed her with a quick twist of his right hand. The knife clattered away harmlessly to skid a few feet away. Salem squirmed beneath him; he grabbed her wrists in his left hand and placed the knife against her throat.
"Now," Murtagh said, breathing harshly. "I can't kill you, Salem, but I will cripple you if you move. Do you understand me?" His grip tightened as she didn't answer. "Do you understand me!"
He could feel her heart pounding, her pulse in her wrists. "Yes," she whispered finally.
He waited, adrenaline still pouring through his veins, giving him a rush of energy that he welcomed greatly. Slowly, deliberately, he released her. She backed away against the wall, her eyes watching him as she rubbed her wrists slowly.
Murtagh exhaled, and with that, the sounds seemed to come back. He became fully aware of the screaming mess around him, and the acrid tang of smoke beginning to flood the air. Murtagh took a quick glance around and quickly realized that his little 'diversion' was much more than that—the fire was jumping to another building, taking full advantage of the garbage piles and the wooden frames of the buildings. He grabbed Salem's wrist, eyes scanning the scene.
It was havoc. The fire was blazing around the frames of two buildings, and rapidly spreading to another. He could hear frantic screams all around him as people fought to clear the area, but in the process, only made the mess worse.
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There were shouts, hoarse yells coming from the road four blocks over. Smoke could be seen flowing thickly into the sky, and even from a distance the panic was clear. Connac hesitated, then looked at Galbatorix for permission.
"Oh, go on," Galbatorix said mildly. "I suggest you peel off perhaps a quarter of your troops to deal with this, Captain." He smiled lightly. "No rush, but we are on a bit of a schedule."
Connac nodded, calling out names. "Evyn! Meran!"
The two sergeants stepped forward, awaiting instructions. Connac gave them in a low voice, also asking the company magicker to send messages mentally asking for a fire brigade.
The two sergeants nodded, calling their squads to attention. Galbatorix watched them go, an idle smile on his face, a dreamy look in his eye.
"Your majesty?" Connac asked uncertainly.
"Mmm?" Galbatorix looked at him and seemed to snap out of his daze. "Oh yes. That's taken care of? Very well. Shall we proceed?"
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"QUIET! ALL OF YOU, THIS WAY, DON'T SHOVE, ALL OF YOU WILL GET OUT!"
Salem's head snapped up at the sound of the voice, strong and official. Her heart began to pound frantically. The city patrol! Just what she didn't need...
The crowd quieted down uneasily, looking around, shifting restlessly. Two men were directing the action, their uniforms ranking them as sergeants. Salem felt Murtagh's hand tighten on hers, pulling her forward. She dug her heels in, trying to walk a fine line between the growing wariness-slash-fear she had of him and her burning desire to escape. He didn't look back at her, but she knew what he was thinking.
Or did she? She honestly didn't know anymore. He seemed human at times, but otherwise he was...cold, emotionless. He was tired, to be sure, but there was an icy layer locking that weakness away. And by the gods, the way he was currently yanking her forward, he wasn't tired one single bit.
The crowd was filtering out, quieter and more orderly as the fire brigade arrived. Filthy water (sewer water most likely) exploded from the end of a rusty pipe, attacking the flames with sluggish vigor.
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Murtagh pushed Salem into the wall, standing solidly in front of her. He waited for the crowd to thin, one eye on the sergeants. He would need them.
When he judged the moment was right, he walked slowly up to one of them. The man looked hassled, as he had spent the last half-hour scurrying around trying to keep people from killing each other. When Murtagh approached him, he looked extremely cross and less than pleasant. "What?" he snarled.
"I need your help," Murtagh began, uncertain as what to say now that he was actually here. "I'm--"
"Yeah, so does everyone else. Look, smart-ass, I'm busy." His eyes flicked away, and he yelled, "Elin! Get them around the building!" before turning back to Murtagh. "Please go away."
Murtagh's temper flared up. He fought to keep it under rein, mustering up every ounce of self-control. With gritted teeth, he snapped, "Do you know who I am?"
"No, and I don't--" he paused, eyes narrowed.
"Yes," Murtagh said grimly. "I need your help, do you understand?"
The man's face was cold, but he nodded. "Dyros! Risan! Parson!" he shouted. "Come here!" He drew his sword, a look of anger and surprise on his face. "Both of you are under arrest for treason."
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End of Chapter Twenty-Nine
What!
Wait...
Oh.
Okay then.
So, next chapter will pick up...well, I'm not too sure. Anyway, it'll pick up. Someday. I haven't forgotten Ides and co, they will come in soon and enough and do their act.
The soldiers recognize Murtagh and Salem as the people who break through the gate under a false name and engaged in a huge duel. Remember that? It was ages ago in some chapter or another, but both of them--at least Salem is--has a bounty for capture. The soldiers just don't like Murtagh because...well, because.
Anyway...SUMMER VACATION IS HERE! WHOO HOO! EYAAAH! NAAHAHAHA! does crazy dance And that means that I have more time to work on the computer...but anyway, whoever kidnapped my muses, please give them back. I will pay whatever ransom you want, just don't hurt them! weeps