Even though my muses ran off to Jamaica, I still managed to pull through and give you this chapter. –pffffbt- Haha, see, you ungrateful muses, I can still write without you!
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4/5/101
Salem's mind was numb with panic. She stared at the hole, her breath coming in quick, animal pants. Gone was any rationality, any logic, any explanations. All that remained was that hole, looming in her sight.
Murtagh's hand touched her cheek lightly. Salem closed her eyes, struggling to focus. "Salem?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah." Salem forced herself to stop trembling. "I'm fine."
She loosened her fingers, wiping them on her dress. Taking a deep breath, she stared at Galbatorix, letting him see her defiance. She would not fall to pieces or beg. She would face whatever the hell he threw at her without breaking down and bawling.
Shoulders squared, Salem approached the hole. She turned partially backwards, holding her face expressionless as she stared at Galbatorix. "A light?"
His eyes crinkled in some insane hidden joke. He nodded. Without any visible command, a light flickered around his fingertips. He offered it to her, an eyebrow raised.
Salem was busy wondering how she was supposed to pick up light when Murtagh stepped in, his callused hands cupping the flame gently. "Go," he whispered to her. "I'll be right beside you."
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They left the safety of sunlight outside, winding deeper into the darkness of the tunnel. The air was thick, filled with the dust of ages. Murtagh held the flame aloft, staring around at the walls. How long had it been since somebody had come here?
Their path took them in a narrowly wound spiral, stretching deeper underground. As they got deeper, Murtagh could see faintly glimmering runes glowing in the walls. They shimmered faintly in the light before fading as the trio passed by.
"Do you know what they say?" Salem murmured softly into his ear.
Murtagh jumped. Did you read my thoughts? he asked her mentally, more startled than offended.
What? No. I was just wondering, Salem replied in the same way. She ran a finger over the wall and pulled it away with a frown.
What is it? Murtagh said, noticing her expression.
No dust. Salem looked around them, letting out a slow breath. There's no dust on these runes. None. The air is getting clearer, too. Colder.
It's magic, Murtagh said slowly, glancing at a patch of glowing runes. Anything can happen.
She laughed softly, a huff of air in the narrow tunnel. I suppose.
They walked on for a while longer, the silence sharp and flat. The walking was repetitive, mindless work, and it was a sharp surprise as his foot suddenly met a raised obsidian threshold and he went sprawling.
Next to him, Salem had managed to catch herself before she fell. Hopping over the threshold, she helped him up, a light grin touching her face. "You okay?" she murmured.
"Just my pride," Murtagh whispered back. He got slowly to his feet, his own smile fading as he examined the chamber around them. "Where the…"
The chamber was huge, the black walls arching up to form a ceiling that melted into darkness. The only source of light besides Murtagh's weirlight was dimly glowing crystals, spaced all around the wide chamber.
Murtagh took a few steps forward. A glassy pond lay a few yards ahead, dark and featureless. Murtagh glanced up with a frown. The surface of the pond was rippling as if hit by raindrops, but as far as he could tell, nothing was falling from above.
Next to him, Salem knelt, her eyes wide with wonder. She brushed the surface of the lake gently. "It's like jelly," she muttered. "Really odd jelly. I can't break the surface." She looked up, staring intently around her. "Where in Orcane's good world are we?"
"Ephicai Vinael, as I said," Galbatorix said unexpectedly from behind them. He paced lightly forward, gazing fondly down at the lake. "In the heart of Kuthian, borne with all and born of none." He smiled down at them. "As written by the sagely elf Silcana Diriae in a scroll that was rotting with mildew. Of course, Diriae was also reputed to be insane, so I suppose that's why his scrolls were treated with such coarseness."
He sighed, looking up with a happy smile on his face. "What memories I have of this place, Murtagh."
Murtagh rose slowly, tension making him rigid. "Why are we here, Galbatorix?" he asked quietly.
Galbatorix looked back at him, smiling coldly. "Why don't you turn up that light, Knivarya? I have something you and your lady love might like to see."
Murtagh felt his cheeks go slightly red, but he said nothing. In his palms, the seed of light grew, expanding to light the chamber. He let go of the magic, panting slightly as he stared at the light, then back to Galbatorix. "Well?"
Galbatorix closed his eyes slightly, kneeling to touch the strange waters of the lake. Without opening his eyes, he spoke.
"I'm going to give you a little theology lesson, my pupil." Galbatorix placed his palms on the waters, pressing down slightly. "Where do people go when they die?"
Murtagh hesitated. "Into the void, into nothingness."
Galbatorix nodded his head a fraction of an inch. "Correct. And yet, there are places where the void may touch our world…the living world, I suppose you could say. This, Ephicai Vinael, is called the Vault of Souls for a reason."
He took a deep breath, and continued speaking. "Nobody knows if this place is natural or made by some terrible magic, but it has been the object of much study. Why do you think the Rider stronghold was here, on Vroengard? Not because they admired the scenery…it's because they discovered the Vault. And, with a little trial and error, learned its secrets one by one."
He stopped speaking for a moment, staring into the glassy depths. Whatever he found there made him laugh, shaking his head as he chuckled. "After all these years, Marafin?" he muttered. "Still drifting…"
Galbatorix stood up, dusting his hands off. "Here, a powerful Rider could call up the dead. Oh, not necessarily make them live again, just…speak to them. Try as they might, the Riders couldn't find how to resurrect somebody. That magic was beyond them. But, they did learn something else. Something that was most likely the best-guarded secret in the whole Rider hierarchy; it was made known only to the most trusted, most elite Riders."
He paused, a glint in his eye. "Come here, you two. I have something to show you."
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Salem and Murtagh exchanged uncertain glances, but padded slowly to Galbatorix's side. The emperor looked at them with a misshapen leer as he cried out a searing word of power that struck off the walls, echoing and building. Black light streamed from Galbatorix's hands to meet the funnel of water that arched up from the lake, twisting together into a single tornado that wavered on the water's edge. Salem found herself reaching instinctively for Murtagh's hand; both of them watched with horrified curiosity as the funnel split, then twisted apart to reveal a human, locked behind a sheath of seething water.
"Oh, gods," Salem whispered.
The boy—whatever, whoever he was—was clearly in terrible pain, his mouth open in a soundless cry. He looked as if he was very young, no older than sixteen years old. His skin was ghastly pale as if he was dead, but he was moving, screaming silently as he thrashed against the prison of water that held him. "Oh, gods," Salem repeated, feeling her stomach thrash. "What the hell—stop, stop, stop—"
Murtagh grabbed her, holding her forcibly back. She turned her head away, burying her face in his shoulder as her stomach struggled to keep yesterday's meal in, her mind spinning with the image of that boy, trapped inside the water. His face was imprinted in her mind—his cry of horror, of pain, and desperation as he struggled to escape.
"Stop it!" she cried, a muffled shriek. "Stop!"
Galbatorix ignored her, watching the trapped boy intently. "Squeamish, Miss Blackfire?" he said, eyes gleaming with malice. "So stalwart. They all fall in the end."
He twisted his hand. The funnel spun one more time, then collapsed, bringing the boy down with it. They vanished beneath the water, showing no sign that they had ever been there.
"That's Marafin," Galbatorix said calmly, turning towards them. "Shruikan's original Rider. His unworthy, filthy little gutter scum Rider. He's still alive, but trapped between two worlds. He's alive in the world of the dead, a travesty that the natural laws cannot allow. Yet this lake, whatever it is, bends the laws just enough to ensure that he survives. However, lady Death is inimical of Life, and will take her fury out on whoever is fool enough to live in her domain." He smirked humorlessly.
"And what was the point of that little demonstration?" Murtagh said, but his voice was also shaking. "Why is that boy tortured like this, trapped?"
Galbatorix looked at him, a cruel smile on his lips. "You don't realize yet, little Murtagh?" he asked softly. "Well, maybe not. Not yet."
He beckoned. "Give me your hand, Brikijae Knivarya."
Murtagh felt his hand leap forward of its own volition, pulled forward by Galbatorix's magical command. He twitched uneasily, unable to pull away. "Miss Blackfire," Galbatorix commanded next. Salem stared at him with glassy, shocked eyes, backing away as she shook her head mutely.
"No," she whispered. "What kind of damn magic are you going to work on—"
Galbatorix sighed and made a gesture. Salem's eyes widened as a magical grip pulled her forward, nearly yanking her arm out as it settled into Galbatorix's hands. The emperor gave her an ironic bow at her horrified expression before gripping both of their hands tightly.
Murtagh gritted his teeth; Salem emitted a soft yelp. Blood began to streak down their wrists as Galbatorix magically opened jagged cuts on their palms, his face taut with concentration. Roughly, he pressed the two hands together, letting their blood mix together.
"Is there a point to this macabre ceremony?" Salem hissed, struggling to pull her hand free. "Or are you just sadistic?"
Galbatorix laughed, not looking up. "I think you could say both, my dear. There."
He touched his fingers to the cuts; they sealed up without a scar. Murtagh found that he could pull his hand away, flexing his fingers slowly as he touched the damp blood. "And now…?" he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.
Galbatorix smiled at the unnerved expression on Murtagh's face. "Don't be afraid. Your father quite loved it; he was positively giddy every step of the way. Like father, like son?" He paused, studying Murtagh's face. "I suppose not."
"Father?" Salem whispered faintly. "What has his father got to do with any of it?"
"Oh!" Galbatorix cried with exaggerated surprise. "Oh, my goodness! You didn't tell her?" He giggled, eyes bright. "Dear, dear, Murtagh…Morzanson…"
Murtagh froze, feeling a chill creep up his spine. He heard nothing from Salem, but that was probably because she was white with shock or something. Like Eragon, he thought bitterly. They all recoil with shock, no matter how much I try to destroy my parentage.
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Salem looked down at her wrist and the red streaks that layered her palm. She took a deep breath, her mind clicking. "So, he's Morzan's son," she said finally, putting as much casualness as she could into her voice. "Anything else?"
Galbatorix's smile wilted a little. "No, I'm afraid not. Unless you want to see the dashing scar he's got…"
"I'll pass," she said coolly.
Galbatorix was definitely looking sour now, but he nodded grudgingly. "Fine." Almost pouty, he added, "Are you sure?"
Salem gave him her coldest glare. Galbatorix sighed, then nodded, looking a little contrite. "Oh, all right, you horrible woman. To business."
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As Galbatorix turned away, Murtagh hesitated before turning to Salem. She stood a few yards away, her arms wrapped about herself, a distant expression on her face.
"Salem?" he said hesitantly, his fingertips brushing her face.
Her eyes flicked to him, then away.
Murtagh waited patiently, a seed of pain rising in his heart. She wasn't going to act like Eragon, was she? She was so like his brother in every respect; would she react in the same way? "Salem?" he repeated after a moment.
"I'm going to die here," she said, very calm. "If not dead, then something equivalent to it. Did you see Marafin…or whatever his name was…" she shivered, fear lacing her expression. "To be trapped like that, in the realm of the dead?"
"Then you don't…" Murtagh began, before realizing she was talking about something else. "Then you don't care?"
Salem smiled, shaking her head as she took his hand in hers. "Murtagh…I don't care. Your father could be Galbatorix for all it matters, though I have to admit that would be kind of creepy." She sighed, looking off into the distance.
"Oh," he said softly.
She nodded, but her face was distracted, seeing something that was beyond him. Abruptly, she changed the subject. "Have you ever loved another?"
Murtagh hesitated, taken aback. "Why do you ask?"
Salem sighed. "Because I naturally want to know all about your past loves so I can mock them in whatever hell I'm in…no, you idiot. I just…I…I think I know why Galbatorix brought me here. Why he took all these trouble to send you after me. I think it's just another plot of his, to keep you under his control."
No…
Vividly, Murtagh recalled the image of Marafin, imprisoned in that whirling vortex of water, screaming silently as he struggled to break free. Murtagh swallowed, feeling nausea rise up in him. "He wouldn't."
"He would," she said softly, seeing the realization in his eyes. "Murtagh…"
He didn't want to realize it, yet some part of him had long known this was coming. "And what do you want of me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"To kill me, if you can," Salem said. Her voice was laced with fear, but also a deepening desperation. "I don't know what odd rituals he'll need, but I'd much prefer death to…" she bit her lip, not finishing the sentence. "Please."
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Galbatorix laughed.
The sound came out louder than he expected, echoing off the empty walls. He could taste their surprise bubbling through their mind; they had forgotten he was there.
"Dear, dear, Brikijae," he said, letting his amusement seep into his voice. "You've gotten so meek. I wouldn't have thought you'd fall for anyone."
He turned partially, savoring the expressions on their faces. They looked like deer caught in the hunter's arrowsight, or a thief caught by the guard. "One pleading word, one cow-eyed look, and there you are fumbling like a newborn."
He circled them slowly, enjoying their shock immensely. It gave him a grotesque thrill, knowing that he was able to control them as he liked, to jerk them around in whatever way he chose to make them dance. He stepped up close to Murtagh, breathing harshly into his face. "She's quite intuitive, isn't she? I see why you like her; you're both perfectly matched in stupidity. You don't have the nerve, do you? You can kill a hundred men if you so please, which you do quite often, but you don't have the nerve to save your sweetheart from what she knows perfectly well she's going to have." Galbatorix laughed. "How charming."
"Don't," Murtagh said, his voice a plea, a whisper.
"Get away from me, Brikijae Knivarya," Galbatorix said quietly, turning away from him in cold contempt. "You disgust me."
He was aware that Murtagh pulled away and discarded the fact. He turned to Salem, noting with approval that she wasn't crying or screaming or pleading for her life. "And you. Salem Blackfire. Would Connac Blackfire happen to be related to you?" he asked, leaning forward.
Galbatorix could feel her confirmation in her mind, then sharp panic. He took a deep breath, intoxicated with it, letting her fear roll into his mind. "Yes. I see."
"Don't you touch him," she whispered venomously. "He's loyal to you, for some incomprehensible reason, don't you dare, don't you kill him!"
The last words were screamed into his face, and Galbatorix could see that she was on the brink of panic. So much the better.
He turned away, looking out over the bleak length of the lake. The voices, heightened by the power here, were a raging inferno as they called out lost fragments of who they were, seeking to taste a living mind. Raising Marafin from the depths had only served to add to the voices until they became almost intolerable.
Galbatorix let them scream. They were lost and dead, the memories of those who had been in the past. Completely irrelevant to the matter at hand. He'd lived nearly a century with these voices raging in his head, and had learned to ignore them.
Your father shared these with me, Galbatorix said, touching Murtagh's mind, letting him feel what he felt. He, too, came here. He was the first to embrace them, to enjoy the power they gave him. They are a blessing and a curse, your path to magic and power…
No, Murtagh said, faltering. Not like that!
Yes, Galbatorix said viciously. Would you care to try defiance?
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Murtagh gasped as an intolerable pain tore at his stomach, streaking up into his chest. He dropped heavily to the ground, struggling for air as the grip tightened, the pain blazing like an oiled flame.
He coiled up into a ball, refusing to scream as the fire streaked into his spine, crushing down onto him. Closing his eyes, he forced his breaths out slowly, fighting the pain, waiting as each second trickled by slowly. Waiting, though it would never come, for the end.
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A scream cracked the air, shuddering as it rose and fell. There was a heavy crack, then the acid scent of aging stone filled the air.
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Murtagh threw his head up, panting heavily. The pain bled away, leaving nothing but whispers in his muscle and veins. He could taste blood in his mouth, where he had bitten his lip so deeply as to draw blood.
He sat up gingerly, leaning on the wall for support. His vision was hazy, clearing slowly. When he dared to, he stood up slowly, wavering as he held onto the wall.
What happened?
Galbatorix stood a few feet away from him, a crumpled heap lying by his feet. The emperor looked up, his eyes blazing with anger and shock. A scratch arced down one flawless cheek, blood beading lightly at the edges.
"Salem…" Murtagh said softly, recognizing the body at Galbatorix's feet.
"Yes," Galbatorix said grimly. He nudged her with his foot, a look of anger and admiration in his face. "She attacked me. I didn't expect it, too busy focusing on you. It was my own mistake. Honestly, though, I didn't think she cared that much…"
He looked up at Murtagh, letting out a slow huff. "She's not dead. Pick her up. No more use in delaying."
Murtagh stood where he was, his mind spinning. "She attacked you?" he whispered, unable to believe it.
"Yes, isn't that what I just said?" Frowning, Galbatorix brushed a finger across his cheek lightly; the cut healed instantly. "Pick her up, let's get this over with."
Murtagh knelt by her side, brushing back her hair. She was alive, just unconscious. He looked up at Galbatorix, who was tapping a foot waiting for him. Dropping his head, he looked back at Salem.
She wanted to die, he thought suddenly. Rather than live as Marafin does. I…
It was a decision that took a fraction of a second to make. Before Galbatorix could stop him, Murtagh pulled out his belt knife, plunging it towards her neck.
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Galbatorix twitched his fingers. It was a minimal movement, but one that was accompanied by a command of power. The knife halted bare millimeters away, the point shaking as Murtagh struggled to complete the action, complete the blow.
"Dear, dear," Galbatorix said sardonically. "Having a little trouble, are you?"
He pulled the knife away, throwing it contemptuously onto the ground. "Let me rephrase my command, shall I?" he hissed, bending in close. "When I say pick her up, I bloody well mean, pick…her…up!"
These words were reinforced with Murtagh's ancient name, forcing the young man to do his will. Helplessly, struggling against the chains of magic, Murtagh did as ordered.
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Salem awoke slowly, shifting restlessly. There was a throbbing pain in her head, probably from when she…when she…well, when she did whatever got her unconscious in the first place.
What…where…
Somebody was carrying her. For a moment, she was a child again, cradled in Eian's arms as he carried her home.
Eian's dead.
The thought was startling. Eian's dead? Then…who's carrying me…?
She forced her eyes open, searching. The face that looked down at her was familiar, in a hazy way. Salem smiled in tired recognition. Murtagh…
His expression was stark, filled with bleak pain. Salem reached up slightly, wondering why. The words took a while to get out; for some reason her head wasn't working very well. "What's wrong?" she managed finally.
He turned away as if he had been struck. Salem was aware that he was setting her down; she was sinking through some thick, jelly-like substance. What…what in the world…
She shifted, trying to break free. What is this stuff? What are those…
Sudden, shocking agony shot through her. From all around, tendrils of a ghastly light came to streak around her, screaming angrily at her very existence. You're not wanted here! they cried, eating at her skin and bone. What do you want of us, you're not allowed—
Salem fought, struggling to reach the surface. But there wasn't any light, none but the distorted glow emitted from the streaks as they tore into her. Where—what—no!
And all she could do was to fight, thrashing against their cold grip and wondering why.
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Murtagh fell to his knees, paralyzed as thousands of voices rushed through his head. They pounded viciously at his temples, screaming for a release, threatening to split his head open.
A baby's cry, a lover's whisper, the last creak of a dying grandfather, the whistle of a working mother, the hue and cry as countless men fought and died, all of these streaked through his head, passing by without form or order. All of them, they all wanted to live through him, to be heard once more before they vanished back into the void.
Maybe he was screaming. He didn't know.
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End of Chapter Thirty-Six
Nine pages! –does happy dance- Anyway, did you like the chapter? Seriously, show of hands: how many of you were expecting this?
If you weren't expecting it (and even if you were) I hope you liked this chapter…or not, because of its absolute depressingness. Anyway, I wrote this chapter to Jolin rap (Jolin is this Asian rap star, she's been on the Taiwan top twenty for ages now because her music is awesome), which really isn't the best morbid-chapter-writing-music. So if it's not depressing enough, pardon moi. If it is…well…um…cheers for me?
-blinks stupidly and stares at readers- Um…
Yeah, whatever. In case you're wondering WHY Galbatorix did all this, well, I did say in the chapter. Perhaps not straight out, but the reasons should be clear. By a living sacrifice, a Rider (or any powerful magicker) can harness the power of the void, the dead. This is how Galbatorix gets his powers, his unlimited magic. Oromis knows this, but regards it as a secret Eragon should never know simply because it requires the living death of another being. And of course, by sacrificing Salem, this is how Murtagh gets his magic.
Toodles. I'm skipping onto reviewer responses now…
Silver sliver: Yeah, I heard that they'll release the Eragon movie trailer in October or something like that. I'm wondering, though, do you know where they get pictures? I mean, I've seen pictures of the movie, but when I surf the net I can never find anything besides that ugly big picture at the Eragon movie site.
School! BLECH! EWWW! I'm really not looking forward to school next week…-sigh-
Kana410: The conversation between M/S will play a pivotal role in the Burning Plains. You'll see in…um…three updates. Yeah. Chapter 37 is next, then 38 (no longer a maybe chapter), and then the Burning Plains.
Emerald Tiara: Well, you know, with the completion of this chapter there's not really much to say. I'll finish up Murtagh's training, do the scrying scene, then off we skip to the Burning Plains. What fun. Yee.
Ariel32: Hah! You will not believe how much romance research I did for chapter 35. I flipped through my collection of Tamora Pierces (lots of romance in that, believe me), some Harry Potter (Cho/Harry, Ron/Hermione), and a few other books that would be very tedious to outline. I kept on wondering how you fall in love…but hey, the bet paid off. Last chapter received a lot of positive feedback, which makes me happy.
Mistress-of-Misery: -glares at genre- Didn't I change you? Why are you still tragedy! I must go and change that as soon as I finish up these responses. If I remember, anyhow.
Yeah, I read Atwater-Rhodes. Hahaa, if you're in the mood for more weirdness-slash-morbid-insanity I have a fic centering around Shattered Mirror, about Sarah's father…it's a oneshot, it's seriously…weird, and…yeah. –trails off lamely-
Mrs Pierre Bouvier: Aww, thanks! –coos happily- Salem/Murtagh fluff is…excuse me, has always been my hardest thing to write. I'm glad you like that chapter. Actually, that was probably the easiest S/M fluff chapter of them all. But that's not saying much.
Fallonaiya Sedai: So, do you think I can round it up appropriately now? –points at depressing scene- I did feel a little regretful about writing it (I do like Salem very much), but it's all for the good of the story.
Gewher: Oh man! Please don't be sad all day now; I mean, if I even managed to get the effect. I worked out this chapter over the course of two or three hours after a couple days off and decided to post immediately, so there's very little editing in here.
You're a K/D fan? Huh. Wait, are you a Neal/Yuki fan too, then? Seriously, though, how much older than Kel is Dom? I mean, he's a sergeant to her squire. Say he's about 22, while she's 14. An eight year difference is a little too much…
Alsdssg: Haha, I read a lot of fics, I just never bother to review. When I do, they're nearly always anonymous reviews. I think I did drop one by yours, though, I don't remember what username I used. It was anonymous, though…hey, whatever.
You like Nawat! I don't think the whole Nawat/Aly thing is very convincing. I mean, they're separated for oh-so-long and the romance…the fizzy feeling…ISN'T THERE. But hey, whatever TP says…
But yes, I do like Numair very much. Numair/Daine is the best relationship in the whole Tortall series, I think.
Coffee Grounds: Yippee! –launches celebration balloons- No more French Roast, whee whee whee!
Do they even have coffee in Alagaesia? I mean, they have ale and wine and faelnirv and lots of other tickly things. Coffee would be the perfect addition to the whole drink-thing. Or else, if you ever manage to go to Alagaesia, you could set up a chain of Starbucks there and become a bazillionaire. Just a thought.
Its.Garnet.Time: Yep, I couldn't resist adding the extra angst-y section with Salem defending Murtagh. I think it adds to the effect….
You're forgetting to email again! –sobs brokenheartedly-
Amantine: One month. You have ONE ENTIRE MONTH BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS! OHMYGOD! What kind of freaky school do you go to? ONE MONTH? I want to go there! Man, you are so derangedly lucky!
K.A.T. Hiwatari: YESSSSSSSSS! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! This is perfect. The scrying scenes…well, that means I still get to make a credible scrying scene for Murtagh! I can just explain the first one away as Galbatorix, while the second is Murtagh. Have a cookie, you are awesome! –tosses cookies-
Aurora: Nah, the sword in under the Menoa tree. Or something like that. Nasty werecats. But your guesses were fifty percent correct; Galbatorix did use Salem. In a very disgusting way, may I add. –rereads chapter and sighs- Sorry, Salem, but I HAD to…
I love all you reviewers! Thankees so much!
Now review!