I considered giving up and dying as I stumbled down the stairs towards my cell, amazed with myself that I could ever associate the word 'cell' with something good. After all, cells are notoriously bad, used to confine many a free-spirited individual such as Emerson and, ever since I fell into this world and my every thought was open to speculation, me.
But I didn't take the time to dwell on my newfound brain; I was dead tired. Riding bareback with Murtagh was much more trying than I originally anticipated it to be, mostly because it was physically awkward. Despite his kindness, I didn't really want to be close with him. Especially if we were going to escape; I barely even wanted to like him. Scratch that, I don't.
I better get all this out of my head before Emerson decides to pop in. Kittens; I've only been thinking of kittens. Emerson, I called out in my head, falling into the door and letting my weight force it open. When I opened my eyes after turning to close the door, though, I was shocked. Emerson, what happened?!
There was a gooey-yellow substance rubbed all over Emerson's cuts, but more disturbingly he was completed chained up. I had to duck and weave through the chains to get to him; they were wrapped around his body, his mouth, and were used to pin his tail to the ground. The chains were thicker than my forearm easily and colored a deep, shimmering black. Most of them were looped through holes in the ground that I hadn't really paid attention to before, but there were a few that weren't – two around his neck that were attached to the base of the wall, one around his midsection that was attached about six feet up the wall, and four attached to his legs anchored a few feet up the wall with only a big of slack to let him move.
Wh… what happened to you? I ducked and jumped over the chains attached to the wall in an attempt to get to his side, wondering what I could do to help. If only I actually knew magic. How did this happen?
When they grabbed your horse to take for you to ride, I nearly killed them for you; I'm surprised that you're back, actually.
But how?! And I thought seeing him attacked by another dragon was the most disturbing thing I would ever see. I don't think I've ever been so dead wrong in my life. It was a step more confining than prison, and he was ten times more free-spirited than I was.
When twenty Urgals rush you and you can fight them off, then you can expect the same of me; until then, understand that twenty of them is a little overwhelming. Fair enough. I just don't like being reminded that Emerson is, in fact, vulnerable and, more importantly, we aren't free to do what we want. Sure, Murtagh happens to be liberal and trusting of us generally, but the same can't be said for his troops.
"Guard," I demanded, turning and stomping. Really, being free-spirited isn't so bad. A guard appeared at the window, "Unlock him. Immediately."
"The release of prisoners requires the approval of the Lord of the castle." Lord of the castle? I thought you guys took orders from… wait, hold on, this is Murtagh's castle. Got it.
"To hell with his approval; undo the chains or I'll use them to beat you until you're raw." That was just a classic threat. I deserve no credit for that.
"She can't very well beat you without any chains. Stand down," Murtagh ordered, and I sighed in relief as his face appeared just across from mine in the bars. The sudden closeness startled me, and I would've stumbled backwards even if Murtagh hadn't thrown the door open into me. I mean, talk about personal space – any closer and he would've shoved his abnormally sized nose in my eyes! Talk about a pathetic way to die. Or go blind.
Murtagh sniffed as he looked over Emerson's condition, looking over his shoulder at the guard and hissing something in their language. The guard hissed back and Murtagh nodded, muttering something under his breath. For a moment he stood there, his eyes turned upwards. Every now and then, his eyebrow shifted or his head nodded, and I didn't realize what he was doing until I looked over at Emerson and realized what I would be doing that would make my facial expressions randomly change.
In that instant, I wanted more than anything to be able to read Murtagh's thoughts; why would he need to be talking to Thorn about any of this? It's not like Thorn can't take Emerson down if he tries to rebel. With a definitive, nearly imperceptible nod, Murtagh turned to me, "I'll release him from his binds when you tell me where you've come from and answer all the other questions I have."
Oh, he's a… a fink. I don't even know what that means, but I heard it in a play once and I think it's, like, 1960's cursing, or whatever. All I know is he's a fink. Don't do it; not on your life. Thanks, Emerson. That's helpful.
Of course, I know things Emerson doesn't know. Like that Murtagh is already fully aware of the fact that Emerson forced his growth. That idea might factor into this a little. The memories flashed through my head of their own accord, and Emerson's response was immediate. He almost tore the chains from the wall, which would have solved our problem altogether, but he didn't, therefore not solving the problem at all. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he made it worse.
At that moment, all the Urgals who had been charged with my 'protection' rushed into the room, throwing themselves onto Emerson and punching him. For a few moments I stood there, shocked as Emerson's powerful roar shook the floor. His painful curses rang through my head, breaking my heart. Like I was stuck in some sick cycle, I watched as Emerson was beaten for those few seconds.
A flash of light caught my attention, and to my horror I realized that one of the Urgals, in their desperate attempt to tame Emerson, had taken out their sword. I ran forward, Murtagh not grabbing me for whatever reason. I jumped onto the Urgal's back, and immediately I was reminded of riding a bucking Bronco. The Urgal screamed, his sword flying harmlessly over my shoulder as he scratched at me in an attempt to get me off. Eventually, he succeeded, and sent me flying backwards in the same general direction of the sword.
I expect to hit the world, or even more ironically the sword, but instead I hit a soft body. Well, not soft, but he was softer than the wall, that's for sure. Before my eyes, a thin red coating of energy, the same as the one that Murtagh had used to protect me when I'd tried to escape, spread over Emerson's entire body. For a moment, it paused, having covered Emerson from head to tail and moving with his frenzied struggles against his chains. And then it exploded, forcing all the Urgals to fly back into the wall.
Murtagh was yelling in the Urgal-tongue at them, but I didn't pay attention to his screamings as I let my eyes wander over a newly-beaten Emerson. Quickly, once he realized the Urgals were gone, all struggle and energy had left him and he fainted. His cuts from Thorn's previous attacks had opened up, but the rest of him just looked swollen. I doubt that dragons actually bruise, but then again that's the only way I could explain what was happening to him. He was slowly developing bruises all over his body. And he looked so… lifeless. Usually he twitches or something when he sleeps, but I don't think he could move, even if he wanted to.
And with a wave of nausea, it hit me. I did this to him; I'd told Murtagh I shouldn't have in a blind moment of trust and girlish fantasy, and now Emerson had been beaten for the second time that night; the second time because of me, no less. With a harsh intake of breath, I turned on tip-toe and buried my head into Murtagh's shoulder. It was instinctual that I hide my crying from the bewildered Urgals, but maybe I should have been more worried about Murtagh seeing me.
Either way, I guess it's hard to see me with my face shoved into his neck and my body literally shaking against his. I nearly lots my balance a few times, sobbing into him almost violently, but I managed to stay on my feet, despite the fact that he obviously wasn't comfortable with this level of closeness and didn't wrap his arms around me. Instead, his voice just quivered a little as he continued to scream and rant at the Urgals. I felt his arms flailing wildly around me, but I just shoved my body closer to his for the balance.
Sleep, Rider, I felt my legs suddenly sweep out from under me, another arm waiting to catch my back as I slipped into his hold. I fought him nearly immediately; it didn't quite make sense, but I blame him for Emerson's near-death experience just as much as I blame myself. They're his Urgals, and it's his dragon. I just can't keep a secret – he can't control anything. He might even want to kill Emerson. Actually, it's very likely he's going to kill Emerson.
But at the same time, the power of suggestion is very… suggestive. The fight left me when I remembered what Emerson had looked like after his fights. Murtagh was murmuring things that had the possibility of being calming, if I would stop screaming to listen. With a start, I felt the cool air of freedom – I was outside. I don't know why I'm outside, but after a few moments I was once again surrounded by the comforting warmth of fire and shelter.
With a strangled gasp, I went limp in Murtagh's arms, and before I could even begin to think about what he was saying, I fell into a deep, pained sleep.
I was staring directly into a green dragon's eyes, but they weren't Emerson. This dragon was… darker. His eyes were narrower, more cat-like. And he was glaring; there was nothing good-natured about him; his strangely-long neck stretched towards me, his mouth open in a breathy-snarl, his lip curling defiantly in aggression. A low growl emitted from his throat, and he reminded more of a wild animal than a dragon.
His back legs tensing, the dragon jumped at me, and I screamed as a lighter-green streak jumped into him from the side. I recognized his coloring immediately, but I couldn't feel him with my mind. Instead, there was more of a solid brick wall built all around, confining me indefinitely. My fists clenched as I watched, knowing that I wasn't allowed to interfere with this; this was Emerson's battle, not mine.
But still, despite the fact that I knew there was a battle going on behind me, I couldn't stop staring at the fight before me, which was nothing short of epic. The darker dragon was smaller, but stronger and his longer neck gave him a definite advantage. Even when Emerson could get him pinned for a few short moments, he could never hold it because of the other dragon's long neck Emerson was still at risk of being attacked.
I screamed as the dark green dragon bit into Emerson's neck, near the base of his head. I could almost feel the teeth sink into my neck, cutting off my air supply as they squished my throat and almost severed my spinal cord. Talk about sympathy pains.
With a pained shake of my head in attempt to simultaneously shake the pain off, I realized that I had just watched Emerson be killed. Dead. Dead.
I woke up to realize that I was literally screaming the words. A woman, just a year or so younger than me, was shaking me, "Miss! Miss! Wake up!"
"De-" The word died in my throat when I realized that I wasn't watching Emerson die. On the contrary, the entire room was cast in a soft, bright light attributed to the transparent curtains that covered the windows. Windows? In a dungeon?
"Oh, thank the lord you stopped that yelling, miss," the girl advised me as she moved away from me and towards the curtains, pulling them back, "I was scared you'd wake up those horrible creatures."
"Who are you," I asked. In all my time I'd never seen a girl. Anywhere. In this entire forsaken stretch of desert. I mean, they have to have some, logically, but still. In the castle? And I've never seen her? Alright, I'm about to have a serious talk with Murtagh about keeping this from me. That boy is ridiculous.
"I'm Kiana; I'm a woman of the desert." Oh, right, that explains absolutely everything. Or it would, if only I knew what the hell she was talking about.
"What? When did you come here?" Why are you here? How do you feel about running away? Do you know how I might be able to? I wonder if you can read minds.
"Oh, just last night. I'm very excited to be here, though," the girl replied, smiling at me as she poured a glass of water from a pitcher.
As she turned to me and sat on the edge of my bed, I flinched. She smiled so… widely. She leaned over, handing me the glass of water before nearly falling on her back to fluff my pillow, "Wh… huh? What are you doing here?"
"I'm your Lady in Waiting. Please, mistress, drink up; you have breakfast in an hour."
"Are you from London," I questioned, my mind working at much to slow a pace for me to actually reason out that… her being from London was impossible.
"What are you saying, Mistress?"
"Nothing, nothing; you said I have… breakfast?" Breakfast… breakfast… I should be more concerned with other things, but my dream has me very… disoriented. My dream! Emerson! "How's my dragon!?"
"Yes, breakfast with Lord Morzanson. And you're dragon is just fine, miss; your gracious Lord healed his wounds last night."
"He is not my Lord!" There were more important things in that sentence. Like the fact that Murtagh healed Emerson. You can do that? I mean, obviously Murtagh can, but when will my power be that… developed? How long has Murtagh even been a Rider, anyway?
"My apologies, Mistress, but you must be ready nonetheless."
"Don't call me Mistress," I ordered, falling back into the recently fluffed pillow and stretching to put the glass of water on a bedside table. Everyone here has a thing about names; I like my name, honestly. Liaden. Very mystical. Very fitting of a world with dragons and… Urgals.
"What then shall I call you," Kiana questioned, leaning over to poke at the fire. Embers jumped up at her before shooting forward onto my rug.
"Liaden; call me by my name."
"Oh, no; thank you for the offer, mistress. The Lord would have a fit."
"The Lord could have a fit of seizures for all I care; my name is Liaden, and that is what I want you to call me."
"Well, then, Mistress Liaden-" Close enough. "-After breakfast, you've got an appointment with the tailor."
"The… tailor?"
"Yes, now please get out of bed; you'll have to be dressed for breakfast."
The TAILOR? "Murtagh," I shouted, ignoring my mistress and jumping out of bed. Enough is enough; where the hell is Emerson and why aren't I in the dungeon?! "Murtagh," I continued to scream as I rushed out of the room, freezing when I ran outside and recognized the hallways.
There were two guards outside my door, and I ducked on instinct when I made eye contact with one of them. Of course, they looked at me oddly, and I felt like the ultimate fool. I looked around, then, trying to orient myself to where I was on the castle. Looking out a nearby window, I realized that I was in completely new territory – the second floor.
I turned to the guard, "Where is Murtagh?" The two guards looked at each other before nodding, as if they'd spoken through the same secret bond that connected me and Emerson. And then they pointed down the hall.
"Second door down, mistress; I'd suggest you knock."
"My name is not MISTRESS!" At that, I turned and followed the direction the Urgal was pointing; I really don't have any other choice. I'm going to have a serious talk with Murtagh about… something.
"You got me a Lady in Waiting," I bellowed at Murtagh as I charged in, shocked at the sight of him nearly half-naked. Apparently, I'd walked in on Murtagh… in the midst of putting on a shirt. I didn't really see a lot, but it's the thought of what I could have seen that is most terrifying. I mean… he could have been naked. No wonder the Urgal suggested I knock; I might have to start listening to the ones in the castle.
Murtagh, though, didn't seem at all fazed; he probably sensed my anger the moment I woke up, "Yes. I thought it fitting, you being permanently moved to the castle."
"Perm…" My voice died for an instant before I came up with a reply, "What happened to staying in the stables?"
"It was becoming increasingly complicated to keep you there," Murtagh explained, his voice completely void of emotion, "It wasn't worth the manpower when I felt you were trustworthy enough to be kept in the castle." He makes it sound like I'm a dog or something, and I've finally been… potty-trained. Now please, Liaden, Murtagh's voice was cool and soft in my head, There's no need to let the entire castle know that you are so angered by being trusted.
"It's not the being trusted that angers me; I want to stay with Emerson," I growled at him, only the fact that he was in my head and could feel my anger keeping me from continuing to scream at him.
Murtagh sighed, "No; I won't allow it."
"Too bad," I responded. Really, does he actually believe a pesky little thing like him not giving me permission will actually stop? I'm from… Philayork. Yes, I can still feel you in my mind, jerkwad. God, I'm… snappy.
"You'll simply have to make do with sleeping in a bed as opposed to under Emerson's wing; most people would consider it a trade up."
"Is Emerson alright," I questioned rudely. Sure, Kiana had assured me of my dragon's safety, but I had to hear it from him. I may not trust Murtagh with a lot of things, or even give him a lot of credit on most days, but I trust that he won't lie to me about Emerson. Thorn just… means too much for him to want to mess with that bond, right? At least I wouldn't want to mess with any Rider/Dragon bond. It's too… powerful. Wild.
"I healed Emerson last night; he is now lofted on the ground level of the stable."
"And why do I need to see a tailor today?" Oh yeah, I actually have a memory; the reason I jumped out of bed and stormed over here was because I have a meeting with a tailor. Such trivial matters.
"So that you can find some clothes that actually fit," Murtagh explained, very nonchalantly making his way passed me towards a bookshelf to my side. I didn't even notice until now that we were in a small library – and Lord knows why Murtagh was in here with his shirt off. This certain library was… dark. All the wood was a dark, supernatural red that glimmered to the extent of almost being bloody, and the only reason I could make out anything happening in the room was because of the fire Murtagh was keeping burning.
Still feigning nonchalant-ness, Murtagh wrapped an arm carefully around my back and directed me back around towards the door, "And why can't I wear my own clothing?" I started to suck at my teeth habitually, though only Lord knows what was making me feel nervous.
"Because all you have is one outfit not fit for any Lady of the court to be wearing; now, if you told me where you lived-"
"No," I cut him off as he turned, closing the door to the study behind him and locking it carefully. His sigh of disappointment didn't catch me so off guard as the striking beauty of him as the sunlight hit his hair and face when he turned to look at me. I'd never really… seen him in the sunlight before. Not since my first day in Alagaësia, when other things were definitely more important. Unsure of what else to do, I followed Murtagh as he brushed passed me, heading towards Lord knows where, "Where did Kiana come from?"
Yeah, my mind works in mysterious ways. "She was captured in a raid of the nomadic peoples in the Hadarac desert three nights ago. I was hoping the King had found a suitable Lady-in-Waiting for you, but she had escaped previously and-"
"Why was she captured?" It may sound stupid – the answer is, well… obvious. But I want to make sure that I know what I'm blowing up at him about before I actually blow up at him about it. Just covering all my bases.
"Because she was who the soldiers got their hands on."
Alright, that's what I thought. "You got me a SLAVE!? NO! Take her back! Release her immediately! Retu-"
Of course Murtagh, being absolutely no fun at all, cut off my line of orders, "What do you mean she's a slave? She's tribute – a tax."
"She's a slave, how barbaric are you? Take her back to her tribe and take her back IMMEDIATELY!" For a second I actually couldn't breathe because of the force with which I'd managed to yell that at him, but I quickly got my breath back and was able to look at Murtagh's reaction.
He seemed… shocked. His jaw literally hung the tiniest bit open as he stood there, trying to decide whether or not I was faking. "I… You want your Lady in Waiting to be taken from her place of honor within the kingdom - being the first Lady in Waiting taken from the savage tribes – and returned to her homeland?"
"Yes," I replied. He makes it sound so… far-fetched. I'm sure she can't be the first woman ever taken that didn't somehow work her way up to Lady in Waiting. "What made you even think I'd want a Lady in Waiting, anyway?" Completely valid question – I don't even think I have the use for a… Lady. What do you do with them? Have them make tea and drink funny looking biscuits?
"Well," Murtagh actually sputtered a little, but he covered it up with nearly flawless logic, "It's customary for all Ladies to have Ladies in Waiting; I thought that her being… not quite the normal Lady might help to make you feel more at home in the Court."
That's actually… sweet.
You and I got something, but it's all and then it's nothing to me
And I got my defenses when it comes to your intentions for me
And we wake up in the breakdown of the things we never thought we could be
I'm not the one who broke you, I'm not the one you should fear
We've got to move you, darling
I thought I lost you somewhere but you were never really ever there
And I want to get free, talk to me, I can feel you falling
And I wanted to be all you need, somehow here is gone
Here is Gone by The Goo Goo Dolls