WANTED: Three muses, two female and one male by the names of Lisle, Osprey, and Deinr. Last seen in Jamaica on the twenty-second of August. PM blizzardstar2000 if you have any information on their whereabouts. Reward!
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4/5/101
His vision was blurred, a murky pane of colors that had no shape. He couldn't hear himself, couldn't feel anything. The voices exploded in his mind, shoving their way into every nook and cranny of his head, blocking out every other sensation.
A single voice rose above the rest, providing an anchor for him. Murtagh turned towards it desperately, struggling for any support in the world of madness. He couldn't gather his thoughts long enough to recognize it, but anything, anything was welcome.
You will learn to control it, with time, it said calmly. You are near the Lake. They will fade with distance, though they will never completely vanish.
Murtagh couldn't reply, nor did he have to. Sleep, the voice commanded. I will take you back to Uru'baen.
His distorted vision warped, then faded. Blessed silence came, then peace.
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Date unknown
If only you knew…
Murtagh screamed, fighting away the ghosts of his nightmares. He couldn't see them, but they were there, lurking in the shadows. Waiting for the opportunity to take them.
He could see them, all of them. Eragon, Hrothgar, Ajihad, Arya, Nasuada—they flitted at the corners of his vision, unable to see or hear him. He cried out, calling their names. They never heard.
The shadows drew nearer, glowing faintly with a sick red light. He was defenseless, lost to their mercy, and they knew it.
He staggered to his feet. So kill me! he thought angrily, fists curled in token defiance. Godsdamn it, do you think I care!
The shadows flickered, cruel malice clear in their movements. There are things worse than death, they seemed to say. You have only scratched the surface…
They moved closer, wrapping themselves around him, their slimy beings forcing themselves into his very skin. Murtagh gasped in disgust and revulsion, fighting to escape their foul hold—
To rebuild, to regrow. Don't you understand?
The scene changed…
He was three again, cowering under Morzan's drunken rage. The Rider ranted, bloodshot eyes bulging as he screamed at his son. His hand moved; a flash of steel lit the air.
And then overwhelming fire raked Murtagh's spine, agony forcing the boy down to his knees. Morzan collapsed in a corner, muttering in a drunken rage. None dared to help Murtagh in the Forsworn's presence; he was forced to crawl to the adjoining hall before anyone came. Blood streaked down the floor, leaving a trail of crimson that would never truly fade.
Alagaesia must be remade, and only we have the ability to enrich her. The elves can offer no more; it is time for the human race to dominate and make new.
A figure stood a few feet away from him; Murtagh recognized her instantly even though her back was turned. He stood perfectly still, unwilling to believe his eyes. "Salem…" he whispered finally, hand outstretched.
She whirled around, hazel eyes wide with horror. "Murtagh!" she cried, pulling away. "What are you doing—this isn't safe for you, get away, go!"
The ground underneath them churned, throwing Murtagh to his knees. Salem stumbled, jerking away from his touch. "Salem!" he shouted, lurching forward. "Salem, don't!"
He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and shuffled around to stare into Marafin's dark, solemn eyes. "You cannot exist here," the once-Rider said softly. "You cannot hope to know us, and you are lost to us. Return to the living; there is nothing for you here."
Marafin stepped away to Salem's side, whispering quietly into Salem's ear. She nodded, fighting tears as she understood.
Both of them walked away, melding seamlessly into the darkness.
Murtagh stumbled to his feet as colors swirled, shifting about in this landscape of madness. The sound around him rose, screaming in intensity and fury, resounding in their passion as they made themselves heard.
There will be a golden age once our foes are gone. Without the elves, without the Varden, we can turn our attention from warfare to peace.
Don't you understand?
The Riders will be reborn, and Alagaesia will unite. Without turmoil, without rebellion, we can pour our efforts into restoring her to her former glory. The elves can care for her no longer; we must do it ourselves.
Don't you understand?
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His fever rose, bringing hallucinations with it. Murtagh no longer slept quietly; he thrashed and raved, delirious and sweating. Next to him, Galbatorix sat calmly, murmuring softly to him and holding his hand.
Thorn paced uneasily, hearing his Rider's faint cries as he fought his nightmares. I can't stand this, he thought angrily, scuffing the ground. Why doesn't he do something!
"Because I do not wish to, young dragon," Galbatorix said quietly. "Patience is a virtue you may wish to attain."
Thorn whirled, vermillion eyes glaring furiously at him. He's going to die! Thorn screamed. You can heal him, you can help him, but you do nothing but sit there like a—
Galbatorix raised an eyebrow. Thorn fell silent, his flanks heaving.
"I don't believe you fully understand," Galbatorix said at length, standing up slowly. "There are forces greater than you at work here. Fate is a wheel; she brings us up as she turns, and also grinds us into the dirt when our time comes. The Riders, under elfin guidance, rose and fell. It is now time for the human race to take over." He touched Thorn's scales gently, almost tenderly. "Don't you agree?"
Thorn trembled under Galbatorix's touch, shaking. The emperor's words were soft and alluring, holding a promise of relief. No— he said weakly, half-lost. You're wrong. You torture, you kill, you destroy—
"Only when I am threatened," Galbatorix said calmly. "You would do the same, to defend your Rider. How can you call me cruel when you would do the same thing yourself?"
I wouldn't—
"Tell me," Galbatorix said softly, cutting him off. "If you were threatened, would you fight back?"
Yes, Thorn whispered, knowing what direction this was going.
"If Murtagh was threatened, would you destroy his attacker?"
Yes, but—
"And so I do too," Galbatorix interrupted quietly. "I will defend myself against threats if need be. But all I wish, all I want, is for an Alagaesia united in peace. The Riders, the old Riders, they were corrupted, Thorn. Corrupted by the elves and centuries of lazing about. I destroyed them, yes, but it was for the overall wellbeing. Change is necessary, and I played my part in this turn of fate."
Thorn's head dropped, lost in Galbatorix's voice. The Rider was calm, persuasive, his voice gentle and melodic. The dragon wavered, shaking, remembering what Galbatorix had done to him. What will you do when the wheel comes down on you? he managed.
Galbatorix laughed. "It won't. Fate is a fickle lady, but she honors those who mean only goodwill towards her people. I will not let Alagaesia be destroyed under the hands of insecurity and riot, Thorn. She will prosper, under my reign."
He patted Thorn's side. "Think about it."
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Murtagh's fever dropped over the course of a week, though his hallucinations stayed. His words were weak, mumbled in a low tone of voice that no one could catch. Once back in the palace, two mutes were assigned to take care of him, their tongues having been cut out to keep secrets. Besides them, only the emperor was allowed into the room. The door was kept locked at all times.
The red dragon was often seen hovering on the roof, too. The guards kept away from it, always watching it for any sign of aggression. For its part, it ignored them, pacing at an edge of the wall.
It seemed to be waiting for something.
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End of Chapter Thirty-Seven
One more chapter until the Burning Plains chapter. Yes, this is an exceptionally short one, but I think it's fairly important.
When I post the next chapter, the date (story date) will pick up a couple months later. I'll also write in the scrying scene with that chapter; I haven't forgotten it!
Review responses…
Silver sliver: Well, you know, this story had a set ending, so it's not exactly a happily-ever-after kind of fairy tale. I hate fairy tales, they suck anyway. Too much stereotypical happiness makes me puke.
But when you started reading, did you think it would end happily? The title of this ff IS Thorn and Misery…
-nods and smiles-
Silver pup: Too much depression can also be rather stereotypical, I guess. I mean, I did promise I wouldn't kill Salem, but that still leaves plenty of room in my morbid imagination to come up with all sorts of nasty fates. And that's what I did. Hahaha, I'm so proud of myself.
Who did Morzan use? Hrrm. –ponders thoughtfully- I think he should've used Oromis, but that old elf had to be alive to teach Eragon to watch ants, so I suppose not. Since Galbatorix's sacrifice was symbolic, Morzan's would be too. I bet the sadistic nutheads would take some pleasure from seeing an enemy sink under the surface.
But who exactly? I don't know. You'll have to use your imagination. Maybe a mentor, maybe a lost friend…
Kana410: The point I tried to make in this chapter that while the whole VoS thing started the bitterness and go-Galbatorix idealogy, it's the fever and (later on) his training that fully ingrain the thought pattern into his mind. I'm a big stupid believer in the subconscious; that is, if you hear a thing and are constantly surrounded by a certain thing, eventually you're going to start thinking that way whether you like it or not. And that's what's happening here.
Ariel32: Hahah, your review made me laugh! Hope you get your windows fixed sometime soon. I had no idea you had such a piercing scream!
I'm cruel and evil, that's why I JUST have to make Murtagh miserable. That and the fact that I need to make Murtagh bitter enough to go beat up Eragon at the Burning Plains.
Aurora: Aaaah! You listen to Jolin too? Ain't she awesome? A Wonder in Madrid is my favorite; you should see the music videos. She is SO good at acting little-kid cute. Plus, I think she just went to Madrid and started filming without any notice to the locals, so you can see all these people staring at the crazy Asian lady as she walks down the streets singing. It's hilarious.
Mistress-of-Misery: Waah, you caught me. Yes, I did take the idea from that. In fact, whatever I read usually manages to come into my writing in one form or the other. I got the imagery for the VoS from this kid's book and expanded on it. I take emotions and crap like that and change them as I feel like. Whatever I read eventually gets spat out as writing.
I'm so dead lazy. I wrote up another chapter to my Shattered Mirror fic; it's been sitting on my computer for days now. Too lazy to update it. Blech.
Mrs Pierre Bouvier: It's so hard to find triumphant evil characters these days. I mean, all of them eventually get kicked down in one form or the other; it's hard to find an evil character that's evil at the top of the ladder. BUT NOT GALBATORIX! AHAHAHA!
Fallonaiya Sedai: They didn't 'make out'! They KISSED! It was a dignified, noble kiss, not some groping-lets-roll-around-in-the-grass kinda kiss. –huffs indignantly-
But hey, in the end they're dead. Or Salem is anyway. Or as good as. GAH, I don't know what I'm talking about…
Alsdssg: In the Vault, in the world of the dead I suppose you could say, there's lots of power just waiting to be tapped. By tying your blood to another person, and then enmiring that person in the Vault, you can access that power. Galbatorix did it, all the Forsworn did it, and now Murtagh has done it. I'll show the results more clearly as we get into Murtagh's training…
Coffee Grounds: Eragon could've used some coffee back at the Burning Plains…well, if not that, he could've had some faelnirv. Isn't it supposed to restore strength or whatever? Give you a nice fizzy feeling? Instead, the stupid git wasted it scrying for Katrina. –kicks Mary-sue and glares-
Wait, wouldn't it be more HP 4? With the second task and all, where you have to dive into the lake? Poor, stupid Harry, so noble and with way too much 'moral fiber'…
Amantine: What! When did I mention Eragon's reaction? I don't recall doing that…
Jeezy, you are SO LUCKY. 15th of September, what a psycho school! I wanna go there. My school starts…next Wednesday…and I have so much summer homework I haven't even started. –sigh-
K.A.T. Hiwatari: Yep, the whole souls-thingy in Eldest is what gave me the idea for the VoS. Really, it multipurposes so well: it turns Murtagh bitter, it gives Murtagh unlimited magic, AND it fits with Eldest! Yay! Point for me! –does happy dance-
-munches cookie- I could do with more of these. I'm SO hungry right now, I swear I could eat a horse. Or a steak. Mmm. Big, thick, juicy steak…
Dark Seroph: Hrrrm. Murtagh's ancient name I took from parts of words…brisingr, knifr, jierda…mash them together, add a few ancient-sounding endings, and poof you have Brikijae Knivarya.
That actually wasn't his original name. Originally, his ancient name was Malticai du Kaiya. But it got scrapped along with the original Chapter twos and threes…
Review! Review! Review! Review! –giggles insanely-