Pale Hope

By Namine3419

Chapter Thirty-four: Ominous Premonition

Reviewers: Soooo sorry it's taken me so long to update; I haven't been in a mood to write. I also appoligize for the shortness of this chapter; I will try to write longer in the next one. Anyway, for those of you who have so graciously kept pacience with me, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Lol, please read and review.

Surrounded in a smothering darkness, the group traveled through the endless pine tree forest, the sound of crunching pine needles below their feet. Murtagh grew anxious in the density of the trees, as if they were all a single unit, a living thing that wanted to devour him whole. The air was thick, stuffy in the closed space, making it hard to hear things in the closed space. Thorn and Garrow had to take flight twice, just to make room for their wings. Arya led the way, her movements confident and proud as she pointed to one direction, then another. It was as if some unspoken force was pulling her towards their destination, and Murtagh was glad for that; he didn't want to get lost in this monster of a forest.

He looked back at Elaina and smiled; she looked worse off than he did. Two days ago she'd gone quiet, a look of fear in her eyes. When he'd asked what was wrong, she just said, "Nothing, just a feeling," and walked off on her own. She'd been quiet ever since. He slowed, Roran and Katrina passing him, and walked to her pace, "Why won't you tell me what's troubling you?"

She snapped out of her daze, trying to hide a worried expression, "Nothing's troubling me; honestly." She tried to hide behind a smile, "I just don't like the forest is all."

"You didn't seem to mind it in the Spine," teased Murtagh, grinning. Then he noticed her hands were shaking, "You're scared."

"I am not!" She snapped, glaring. Then her face softened, "I'm sorry, it's just," she looked away from him, "two nights ago, I felt something. It was like an overwhelming fear, like the feeling I had when my brother left me, but stronger. Then all at once it faded, and I just have this sinking feeling that something is terribly wrong."

As if from nowhere, Lian appeared behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I don't want to scare you, but I've noticed that you do seem to have a connection with the dragons."

"Despite the fact that you were eavesdropping," Murtagh glared, "I'd like to know what you mean."

He smiled, "Nothing is learned that is worth learning unless you listen, and as I was saying, she has some strange link to the dragons. When we raced to Surda to find you, one night her chest exploded in pain. Her tattoo was glowing red, which I can say was quite a strange experience to watch, and then all of the sudden she was fine." His face grew serious, "I didn't think about it at the time, but when we reached you and Thorn in Surda, Eragon told me of what happened to your dragon. His chest was clawed open by Saphira the same night Elaina had her attack."

Murtagh stopped walking and crossed his arms, "She also sent Garrow's egg to me by some means. Normally, you need to know exactly what you're sending an object to before you can send it, and even then it might not arrive where you wish it to. But it appeared right in my hand, not to mention whatever she did surpassed every protection spell Galbatorix cast on the egg."

"But I'm not a Rider. Why is it that I can do all of these things?" She seemed lost in thought, her face hidden behind her hair. Then she looked up, smiling widely, "Well, I guess we'll find out once we reach the elves--"

"What's wrong?" Arya asked, her voice barely audible as the sound struggled to carry. Roran and Katrina stood next to her, worried expressions on their faces.

Lian smiled and waved, "Nothing! I was just asking Murtagh if he'd be so kind as to remind me of the proper way to greet someone." He stomped on Murtagh's foot, and he nodded in response, smiling awkwardly.

Arya sighed, "Well, try to do it while moving. I'm not trying to sound hateful, but there are creatures here that would pose a threat even to Thorn, so try to keep moving."

As the others continued, Murtagh hit Lian in the back of the head, "You could've nudged me or something, you didn't have to break my foot!"

"Where's the fun in that?" He asked innocently, rubbing his head. Lian quickly ran away before another blow could land on his head.

Elaina laughed, "You're really violent sometimes, you know that?"

"You're one to talk," he grinned, "I've got the bruises to prove it."

"I can be violent because it takes me a while to do any harm," she punched him lightly in the arm, "see? That didn't hurt at all."

"I could be bleeding internally, and you'd never know," he laughed and started to walk forward. Elaina hesitated, and he reached out a hand, "Don't worry so much; we'll find out everything--"

She shook her head, sadness in her eyes, "It's not that." Taking his hand in her own, the caught up with the rest of the group, quickly apologizing for falling behind.

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Fan your wings out more and--wait, get higher! Garrow! Thorn swooped down beneath the younger dragon, pushing him upward before his stomach scraped the top of the pine trees. Glaring, he snapped, What are you doing? That could've gotten you killed! Are you a dragon or not?

S-sorry, Garrow said, shame-faced, I'm just still not used to this.

His eyes softened, It's alright. Just try to use the wind, not fight it. Keep your balance, and use your tail more. He laughed, And if you're falling, flap your wings once or twice, for crying out loud! Garrow did as he was told, tucking his hind legs up under himself further and wobbling on the breeze. Thorn couldn't believe how frustrating it was to teach someone how to fly! It had come natural to him, even as a hatchling. His earliest memories were of flying in and out of Murtagh's window, watching his Rider lean out of his balcony to make sure he was alright. Galbatorix had been furious when his scales left deep scratches in the old marble doorway; they scrapped along the side when he became too big to fit through it. For punishment, he had been chained to the ground for three days, even though the old king could repair the damage with only a word.

But Garrow was different; the dragon just didn't seem to want to fly. Of course, as a hatchling he didn't really have much time to practice. Roran would let him fly around the courtyard in the castle, but there wasn't enough space for the young dragon to actually soar freely, and because of it he seemed nervous of the open air. Then it stormed too much before they left on the ship for Saphira and he to instruct him properly and there was no time once they set sail. Thorn looked back at Garrow, feeling strangely protective, Is this how Murtagh feels towards Eragon? He shook his head, then barked another instruction as the green dragon began to loose altitude once more.

Hours passed, and Thorn could feel the sun setting behind him. Garrow glided next to him, proud of the improvement he'd made in only a few hours. Thorn was happy for him, but the other dragon's constant showboating got boring and irritating after a while, and he anxiously waited for Murtagh to say, "We're making camp". The wind shifted, and Thorn stopped, hovering in the air. The smell of blood was in the air, coming from a few miles away. I know this smell, he thought, worry quickening his pulse. He looked at Garrow, who seemed to pick the scent up as well, I'm going to see what it is, stay with the others.

I want to go too! You might need my help--

Thorn growled, smoke billowing from his nose, I need you to protect the others, a much more important task. I'm entrusting you with their lives, Garrow, do you understand?

Yes, he said solemnly. Be careful, please?

Thorn nodded, then took off, following the smell. He contacted Murtagh, slamming into his consciousness a little harder than necessary, Sorry, but I thought I should tell you this.

Tell me what?

I smell Saphira; I'm going to meet her. He hesitated, an anger erupting in his chest, She's hurt.

Hurt? How do you know? Thorn's senses took over his own, oh. There was a brief pause, I've told the others to wait, and Garrow's landing. Be careful, alright?

I will, he promised, then thrusted forward, closing their link. In a matter of seconds he was over the open plain, the savage winds tearing at him mercilessly. They pushed him back, an invisible wall that obscured his way to his goal. Frustrated, Thorn let out a jet of flame, as if to burn the wind alive. In response he was blasted by the air, the smell of blood mixing with rain. Off in the distance, dark thunderheads could be seen, along with a faint silhouette which cast a haunting shadow whenever lightening would crack.

With a growl, Thorn dived recklessly towards the ground, skimming along the surface. Blades of tall grass rubbed against his stomach and dirt flew up behind him as he glided barely above the plain, the rain clearly visible only a few miles away, and coming closer. He could see the shadow faltering, and soon the wings of the hidden beast began to slow, its head dropping. There was something dripping from its neck and torso. When he was close enough, Thorn reached out with his mind, Saphira? He waited for what seemed like hours, until weakly he felt her faint response.

Thorn? Is--? She dropped in altitude at an alarming rate, and at that distance Thorn would never be able to catch her or break her fall. She plummeted for another heart stopping moment, until she frantically flapped her wings, regaining control, I must land; I don't care about the storm anymore.

I'll be there in a moment, he watched as she glided slowly over the grass, turned her wings upward, and slowly landed on her hind legs. Rain was falling all around them now, flattening the grass and chilling his scales. Thorn paid no mind to it, his only concern was Saphira and Eragon. He landed quickly, recklessly folding his wings and dropping from the air. Running, he noticed something terribly wrong; there should be two human shapes on her back, not one. He was panting by the time he reached Saphira, shocked to find that it was only Angela asleep on her back. Where's Eragon?

She responded with a mournful roar, and had it not been raining, tears would have been visible on her face. There were numerous scratches and bite marks all along her body, and Thorn quaked as he recognized the markings. A giant gash bled at the point where her head met her neck, and her chest looked like it had been slashed to ribbons. As comforting as he could, Thorn said, I know you're hurting, but we need to get those wounds healed.

I'm going back for him! I shouldn't have left him in the first place; I'm a horrible dragon! Take Angela back to the others--I'll meet back with you after I rescue Eragon! She snaked her head back and gently lifted Angela, laying her softly on the ground. Saphira slowly turned, crouching as if to take off.

Saphira--!

Don't try to stop me, Thorn! She growled, baring her teeth, I'm not afraid to leave by force.

He eyed her sympathetically, Fine, go. But know this; you'll die before you even reach Gil'ead, much less Uru'baen. Eragon's life depends on whether or not you're alive, and with those wounds open and bleeding, you won't make it a day, which would pretty much eliminate any chances of us rescuing him, since Galbatorix would kill him too. Thorn gently placed Angela in the small hovel between his shoulder blades, Now come on; the others are waiting. You fly before me, and I'll carry the witch.

Saphira's eyes darted from him to what lay behind her, then she sighed, Oh Thorn, how could I have left him to that monster? What use am I as a dragon if I couldn't even protect my Rider?

Thorn nudged her with his nose, humming, Don't worry, we'll get him back; together. But first, let's get back to the others. We'll think of something then. She nodded, then leapt into the air. Thorn watched her warily, making sure she could handle the storm, then took off after her, Angela mumbling on his back.

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Murtagh followed Arya to a small clearing where the dragons could land safely. The small opening was completely shadowed by towering pine trees, their feet crunching on the dry and dead needles. The air had an evil feel to it, and the hair on the back of his neck stood. Crows and other birds who had decided to stay for the winter watched them from their perches, golden eyes piercing into their bodies. He felt as though they all knew something that he did not.

The wind traveled through the many branches down to the two bodies standing in the clearing, gripping at their clothes and chilling them even further. Arya frowned, her eyes looking elsewhere, "There coming closer."

"How do you know?" Murtagh clutched to his cloak, trying his hardest to keep the cold from his body. Then he smelled it; a faint metallic odor drifted on the breeze. He'd been in to many battles to know that it was the choking stench of blood. Fear instantly bubbled in his chest, and images of the worst possibilities danced before his eyes. The only sign of his anxiety were his shaking hands. It took him a full five minutes to regain control of himself, and only then did he realize that someone was trying to contact his mind. The familiar sensation soothed his worries, and he lowered his mental wall, Thorn? Thorn, is that you?

Yes it's me, you idiot! How long were you expecting on blocking me out?! The dragon's rage laced his words, but slowly it came to a calm, I have Saphira with me; she's hurt.

Find me, he sent Thorn a mental image of where they were located, then asked, and how's Eragon? There was no response, Thorn?

I'll see you in a moment. And that was the end of their conversation. Frustrated, Murtagh rammed everything he could against the dragon's defenses, vainly attempting to get all the information out of him at once. There were no weak points; the dragon's mind was as strongly fortified as his own. Cursing loudly, Murtagh stomped around the clearing, still trying his hardest to contact the beast.

Arya watched him curiously, "What's wrong?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you." He snapped, then sighed, "Saphira's hurt, and that's all I know. Nothing about Eragon, or that witch and her cat--"

"Look!"

Above them flew a gigantic silhouette unmistakable as a dragon. It carried its weight awkwardly, and huge amounts of blood dripped from multiple wounds. The beast came closer and closer, and soon Saphira's features were more visible. Murtagh sucked in a breath; Eragon was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he's on Thorn's back. But something told him that this was nowhere near the truth. As Saphira landed Thorn came into view, but Murtagh and Arya had already rushed to the blue dragon's side.

Multiple scratch and bite marks littered her glittering body, and she trembled with both sobs and pain. Rage and pity threatened to cloud his mind; he knew from the size and shape of the wounds where they had come from. He looked into her face, and deep, grieving blue eyes stared back at him, confirming his fears. Trying to occupy his mind, Murtagh began to reach for the magic that would heal her wounds, but then bitter realization hit him. Swallowing his pride, he turned to Arya, who's face had gone pale, "Will you heal her? I haven't," his voice faltered as Saphira groaned; one of her wounds had touched a branch.

Arya nodded, "Go to Thorn; I'll take care of this." A bright green glow instantly light the surrounding area, and her hands gently traced every wound on Saphira's body. Her eyes were unfocused, her thoughts elsewhere.

Murtagh left her to her work, racing to his own dragon. Thorn rested along the edge of the clearing, a small shape sitting on his back. For a small moment he hoped, but as the form sat up the unmistakable curves of a woman destroyed any chance that it could have been his brother. Angela looked down at him, her face appearing much more older than normal, her mouth gaping in a silent sob. He didn't want to hear what she had to say, right now, the only thing he wanted to do was run away. As he held out his hand to help lower her to the ground, Angela began to whisper, "He's gone. I can't believe he's gone." She was quiet for a while, the green light flickering from time to time. Suddenly she fell to her knees and wailed, "HE'S GONE!" Saphira accompanied her anguished cry, her roar echoing through the entire forest.

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The firelight did nothing to help sooth their mood. A deep sadness and fear rested upon the camp, the night seeming to close in around them tighter than ever before. Angela sat next to Lian, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as he tried to get her to eat the meager soup they had prepared. Katrina had her hand tightly in Roran's, as if squeezing the callused fingers would help to ease his worry. Arya and Elaina were unsaddling the dragons while Murtagh paced the campsite, back and forth, until a small path was beaten into the dirt. He cursed suddenly, causing a few to jump, "It's all my fault."

"Murtagh--"

"If I had never agreed to this, to this stupid journey, he'd still be free."

"Murtagh!"

"And now he's probably being tortured, or being forced to torture someone, or worse--!"

"Sit down!" A fist slammed against his cheek, and Murtagh looked up to see Roran standing there. His eyes were afire, "Blaming yourself accomplishes nothing. At least we know he's alive!"

"We have to go after him! Every second he spends with that madman is one second closer to his enslavement, and I won't have that happen to anyone else!" He began to march towards Thorn when two hands grasped him, one around the arm and another around the chest, "Unhand me!"

"What do you think you can achieve in your current state, huh?!" Lian's face was more fierce than he'd ever seen it, "Oh yes, you'll look valiant, marching back to a king who had complete and total power over you, trying to save your kid brother. But then what? You have no magic, no weapon, and you're in such a blind rage you'd be acting like a fool!"

"So what?" He lurched, trying to break free, "We do nothing?!"

Roran nodded, "In the sense you're referring too, yes. Think about it; if the king wanted Eragon dead, Saphira wouldn't be here right now." He felt Murtagh relax, and he released his arms. Stepping away, and saying in a gentler tone, Roran frowned, "He won't kill Eragon; Saphira's to important to his plan. Neither of us are even close to fit for a fight against Galbatorix, and we don't even have a plan of action. The best thing for us to do right now is to continue to the elves, explain our dilemma, and hopefully train quickly enough to save him."

"If it makes you feel any better, he was ready to go." Angela's head popped up, her eyes watery, "The idiot wouldn't have jumped from Saphira's back, waving like an ignorant fool had he not."

"Thanks," Murtagh mocked, "that makes me feel loads better." He sighed deeply, and a pair of small hands rested on his shoulder. He covered them with his own, the skin icy cold, "Roran is right; I can do nothing now."

Elaina smiled sadly, "Eragon is stronger than you think; he'll be fine. For now, the best thing is to do as Roran suggests--"

"And kick Galby's ass afterward!" Lian whooped, smiling menacingly. When no one laughed, he looked to his feet, playing with a lock of his hair, "Sorry, I just wanted to make you guys laugh--"

"'Galby'? Are you serious?" Arya laughed, "You do know you're referring to the most powerful man in all of Alagaesia."

"Not my fault he's a prick."

"Okay, that's enough." Murtagh said, smiling, "I'm going to sleep." Everyone nodded in agreement, turning over and rustlings their sleeping mats from their bags. As he lay there, he noticed Elaina was trembling. He leaned in closer, whispering, "Don't worry; everything will be fine."

She smiled a small smile, gripping his hand, "I know."