Chapter 1: Treasures
Chapter Text
For as long as she could remember, Rose had explored the old forgotten rooms that were encased within the walls of the castle. She would wonder at the unused passageways and quarters, tucked away behind forgotten doors, inventing their histories within her mind. Each room held its own treasure and with each discovery, she tucked away a small charm from each conquest, hidden away from prying eyes. In her youth, she had believed herself to be a treasure hunter. The greatest explorer of her generation, discovering and collecting lost riches of a begone era.
It was during that time, in the peak of her youthful nativity, when she had found the Shining Room. That day Rose was had been ordered to remain in her room by her nursemaid and to study some subject she had quickly growing bored of and slipped away from watching eyes. She had wondered away down long halls to a rounded collider with shifting shadows and locked doors, only one of which she was able to unlock and step inside.
In the blindness of her youth, when Rose had walked into that hidden room, she had been disappointed by the lack of an obvious prize but as she explored, she began to see that the greatest treasures were hidden in plain sight. The Shining Room was lined from floor to ceiling with row upon row of books, their spines gleamed with golden letters in the spilling sunlight and among the books were curious figurines of alabaster and opalstone, and even a model of a ship made from wood so pale it seemed silver. Rose walked along slowly, her fingers tracing the runes on the hubs, whispering the titles to herself as she read them. Many of them she had never heard of before nor had she after, and there were a number written in a language she did not know. Everywhere there were parchments, scrolls, and ancient papers piled on the floor, desk, and tables, and she had to step over or around them so that she didn't trip.
Rose found in the corner of the room, near a window that overlooked an overgrown private garden, a huge harp carved intricately out of polished wood and next to it, sat on a small table was a natural crystal of adamant which alone of all things had been unshaped by human hands. A ripple of sunlight passed through it throwing dapples of rainbows across the room.
That afternoon, she sat in a lone chair, her fingers strumming the tarnished metal strings of the harp, until the rainbows faded and the room grew dark and she was forced to leave. She imagined that in the days of the room's use it had been private study, a place of quiet and contemplation. A man would stand near the fireplace; a solitary figure looking out over the garden below before striding to a chair and sitting down heavily as if the weight the world sat upon his shoulders alone. There he would sit for ages, reading tales and even writing ballads.
It is in this room, years after discovering it that Rose sat, looking around forlornly. The loveliness of the room was now gone, replaced with an emptiness that she had no words for. The shelves had been torn down, and their books and parchments and lovely figurines, models, and the instrument were missing. It was very likely that they were taken to a place where they were likely to never be seen again- hidden in a far-off corner, locked away to gather dust, or simply destroyed. In the place of the crystal, that she had once been memorized by, was large round table on which was placed goblets of gold and a golden ewer, large plates laden with fruits and sweetened nuts, and at its center as a silver vase filled with colorful blossoms. The floor that once been suited in carpet, drab and nearly colorless from the passage of time, was now was dyed a rich blue. It was a dark, wonderful, and expensive color befitting of a queen. There was no royalty in the room however, perhaps once long ago, when the world was younger and more naïve they've roamed the grand room in calm tranquility. That silence had been replaced, as well, with the bumble of chatter from young girls and women in grand gowns.
Rose didn't know what they talked about for she remained hiding in a dark shadow of an alcove which secreted her away completely. She would glance around the curtain occasionally, straining her neck, to see if any of the women of the court were making their way toward her. Should that happen, and she had to unveil herself, she needed to know so she might plan her excuse for being there. None came her way, however, and she wondered for a spare moment at the idea of just swallowing her pride and running towards her rooms. This was only the barest of a moment's thought, and as quickly as it came into her mind, it left again.
A lady of the Urû'baen Court did not run through the vestibules: such a sight would be scandalous and call for ruin. Any little act that was not prime and entirely proper was merely a call for talk behind lace fans and gloved hands, and Rose heard enough about her own doings.
She was perfectly content to stay where she was until she was forced elsewhere. As a young lady of the Court herself, this behavior was unwarranted, but she would not be involved in the small, petty talk of these women. Rose had far more important activities to preoccupy herself with, and her being here was wasting what precious little time she had left to do them. It was an unfortunate happening that she had been corned by the Lady of the Hour, Robena, that morning. Blast her own folly!
Rose backed against the wall until the rough stone prickled the bare skin of her neck. She whispered a silent prayer to Seigfrida, the goddess of protection, and let out the barest of breathes as Gwenda the Lady of Fairdi, her daughter Tristana, and Lady Eleri Siriol passed her alcove.
The trio were chatting about the latest fashions. As they pasted, Tristana looked her way, her golden wine-colored eyes studied the shadows as if she knew that Rose was hidden there. Tristana did not, of course, if she had something would have been said. Something horrible that would cause Rose great embarrassment in front of Tristana's mother and Lady Eleri Siriol.
When there was only a chirp about a new-found fondness of lace headdresses, Rose knew that she was safe, and yet she waited until the women had taken a seat and were well out of earshot. She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding, and after a quick peek around the room, she slipped into the light having decided it was no longer safe to hide away. Rose quietly made her way to a small gathering of women and stood quietly beside a girl with a soft, round face and watery blue eyes that gleamed at the sight of sweets.
Idelle was talking with a group of young women, her face downcast, and her hands folded neatly in front of her. She was, like the other girls in the room, a lustrous glass; appealing it was to look at their gleaming surfaces, with cheery masks and hidden desires. For the longest time, they talked about flowers and gardens and the latest fashions of laces and ribbon. It was monotonous chatter, that was meant only to convince the older women nearby that she was indeed as mindless as the conversation, and after an immeasurably long time it worked.
The three noble ladies seemed to grow jaded by the talk and excused themselves. Once they were out of earshot, Idelle turned and the trained mask she wore melted away.
"It is good to see you, Muirgheal," Idelle said, smiling wobbly at Rose. Her golden hair was held back by a band of pearls. "There has been strange tales about you as of late, and I haven't been certain what to make of them."
"It wasn't my plan for this day yet it is not all horrible, I suppose that there are some advantages. It is good to see you at the very least." Rose frowned, and shifted her footing. "Are these rumors anything I should concern myself with or are they but wearisome blathering from nattering geese?"
"I know not," Idelle said, pushing her hair over her shoulder and met her eyes briefly before looking down. She leaned closer to Rose and said in very soft voice, "It's said that you shall be missing your season in court yet again however you're not to wed as the King has other plans in place for you. Tristana said that you're to be training with the King himself, and Lady Robena heard that you're to be sent away from Court entirely. A bunch of riddles, they seem to me. But, oh! You must tell me that they're false!"
Rose looked away for a time, lost in thought, and then said in a low voice, "I have yet to know what is true myself, Idelle, yet I know that neither of us will be attend our season. A pity really for I have been enjoying the chief's new fond fondness for garlic very much!"
"Oh, yes, I suppose he does love…" Idelle said, her voice fading. She fixed her eyes on Rose and gave her a humored smile before it faded back into a polite mask. "I, however, pray to never have a meal with garlic again! When you know, do tell me though I suppose you are not obliged to do so. I do consider you a friend, as you're aware, and would like to know that you are doing well."
There was a heavy silence as both girls found a set of empty chairs near the side of the room and sat down. Both were lost in their own thoughts of their own troubles.
"You're betrothed is not a cruel man," Rose said after a time.
Idelle leaned back into the chair, dismayed. "Yet older than my own father!"
Her engagement had been a shock to Rose when she heard of it the week before. She still thought of Idelle as the young child playing in the gardens and picking flowers to hide away in pages of books, and how often times, when it was permitted, she would pull Rose into her merrymaking.
"And he will die all the sooner and his estate shall be bequeathed onto you until a time comes that his heir is old enough. That is assuming you will provide him an heir before the old croon writhers away," Rose whispered with a slight grin. "There are worse matches that could have been agreed upon. If you would think of Lakan for instance, that brute has yet to maintain a wife who lives long enough to have produced him an heir. Marrying him is a sentence of death, and less of a marriage proposal."
"I suppose you are right but you really shouldn't say such things. Of course, I shall begin my husband an heir as is my duty. It would be preposterous not to! Yet if the excitement were too much due to his age, well, I suppose…" Idelle's voice faded and she fought back a smile. "And our dear Lord Lakan has yet to return to court since Lady Theralle passed. Do you believe him to be ill? I dearly hope he's not yet I pray he doesn't not return anytime soon. His is not a face I shall ever miss."
Rose agreed, she too prayed that he would never set foot in the capital again or at the very least; that she would never have to see the displeasure that he brought to the halls or the air about it- the vile old man that he was.
The topic then moved on to less important matters, such as those they had likely learned listening at the doors, as a girl with scarlet colored hair joined the pair. After some time, silence fell over them as a pair of women in matching gowns joined them and conversation shifted to fabrics and jewels once more.
Rose shifted her focus towards the walls, her mind wondering over Idelle's words and the rumors that cycled through the courts. Much of what Idelle heard was true, she would be doing many things these coming months, and perhaps it was both fortunate and tragic that she would not be joining these girls in their merry-making and leaden natters. She would be elsewhere, doing and learning skills that, to her, seemed inadequate and very ill timed. Once more she wondered at the King's decisions. What exactly was he trying to do? And why now, of all times?
As she pondered over her thoughts, a woman, a servant if truth were to be told, walked into the room and stopped silently behind her. A folded paper was placed in Rose's lap and the woman walked out without a sound.
Rose peered at the thick parchment, taking it into her hands and quickly reading over it. She smiled and excused herself, though she doubted that the women heard her over their debate about what type of fabric is best for a ball-gown in springtime. She tried not to rush too quickly out of the room or slam the door but she had a feeling she failed at doing both. It didn't matter, truly, in a few months' time these events would be trivial.
Once out of room, Rose turned to the woman who stood waiting for her, and smiled widely. "I thank you, and all the gods and saints, for your daring rescue!" she said.
The servant smiled lightly at her and shook her head. "Surely it was not that bad."
Rose disagreed but kept her disagreement unsaid, instead she gave the woman a doubtful look.
"Then I am honored to be your savior if only for the briefest of moments," Ailis laughed, stepping away from the door, "do not give me all your thanks, my lady, for that you will have to go to Tornac."
Rose ran her fingers over the folded parchment. The excitement that had begun to bubble inside her, quickly became overwhelming. The smile on her face widened. "He is truly back then?"
"He is," she said.
Ailis was a woman somewhere in her middle years, though she did not always seem to be. She often seemed younger. Th woman had a lovely face; kind and merry and wise, and yet sad all at once. The woman would often look on with a forlorn expression, and Rose wondered what caused it. Now however Ailis smiled, and she did, a piece of her silken brown hair fell between her eyes.
"Where is he?"
Ailis began to walk as a group of men turned the corner and came into sight. "In his usual hideaway," she said softly when Rose fell into step just ahead of her. "He had asked after you."
Rose began to wring her hands. "And what did you tell him exactly?" she asked.
"The truth," Ailis told her. "Oh, please, stop with giving me that face. You look as if you bit into sour fruit."
Rose turned away and set her face to express no emotion. A mask. "I would rather you hadn't told him anything of the matter," she said softly. "I am perfectly fine."
"I may work here under the King's housing but Tornac is my employer," Ailis whispered as the men came closer. "I cannot simply lie to him nor should you. It'll only make it worse when he finds out the truth."
With a huff, Rose fell into silence. Her gratitude towards Ailis for saving her fell away into annoyance. She didn't need this, not today of all days. Her emotions were already running high and her thoughts, oh, her thoughts were very tangled indeed! It was like unraveling a pile of knotted yarn, trying to think of what she was feeling and thinking, and with each day the tangle only got bigger and bigger until there was no hope of finding which end was which. In short, it was horrible and truly terrible mess.
"You should clean yourself up before you go and see him," Ailis continued when the men were out of earshot. "I mean no affront but you look a bit off-color."
Rose narrowed her eyes. "I seem to look off-color often as of late. It's a statement of fashion," she muttered. "I know not what I could do to make myself look otherwise in a few moments. Thank you, though, for the suggestion."
"You could sleep tonight instead of spending the night reading," Ailis reasoned. "You might find that you feel much better come morn."
"You know that it likely that I shan't not sleep a wink."
Ailis sighed. "Try," she said. "Just for tonight."
"I will," she lied. Just how many times had she repeated that lie now? She couldn't recall.
"You best do so," said Ailis sternly, her hands resting on her hips. "I shan't be around tonight to check in on you."
Rose briefly wondered where and what Ailis would be doing. It was none of her business. She turned around and looked at the woman. "I shall see you in the morning, then, yes?"
"Yes," said Ailis, and then she disappeared into a doorway. "I shall see you then."
Stopping, Rose fingered the stout doorway Ailis disappeared through before turning away. She had always wondered at the winding hallways and staircases the servants took to but has always felt that if she went through that door, she would never make her way out. She preferred the halls of the main castle. They were enough of a maze for her.
Rose walked away eager to see Tornac. It did not take her long to find the room that he had holed himself into as she had been there many times. She opened the thick door without knocking and shut it with hardly a sound. The only person in the room was Tornac. He stood facing a crackling fire with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, looking at a painting of the sea. Rose did not remember it ever being there and for a moment she studied it.
She hadn't been in this room since Tornac left to make a journey many months prior, but the high-ceilinged chamber looked the same. The dreary earthen walls were painted with a soft brown, and from the ceiling hung an oil lamp shaped that defused a gentle golden light. Comfortable high-legged chairs were arranged how they always have been, in a half circle around the fireplace. An elegant bookcase filled with leather-bound books lined the wall opposite. Rose saw that a few of the titles she remembered were missing and she wondered where they had gone to.
Taking a step into the room, she smiled widely and rushed to embrace him, tossing her arms around him from behind. He took a sharp intake of breath as he rocked forth on his feet, and then twisted himself around so that they properly embraced. They remained this way for a long time.
"You said you would not return before winter," she said they broke away. "What has brought you back so early?"
His eyebrows wiggled, fighting each other across the bridge of his nose. "Unexpected events," he said, cupping her face in his hands. Tornac studied her for a long moment, and she took the chance to study him as well.
He was a stern-looking man with a scar across his cheek to his sharp nose which drew the skin tightly under his left eye which made his face unusually expressionless. His hair was longer than she remembered and was held back with a thin strap of worn leather. There were new creases near his eyes and his cheekbones seemed much sharper. His heavily hooded eyes where the same bright blue, like the color of a robin's egg, and just as sharp as they had always been.
For as long as Rose could remember, this man had been a part of her life. He had been many roles in her life; a protector, a father-figure, a guardian, and friend. None of these were the reason that he was introduced into her life, however, Tornac was hired when she was a small child after an assassin broke into her nursey but had failed in killing her. He was meant to be in charge of her protection and nothing more.
Tornac had, however, found that the small, quiet child who was more than a little terrified of him to be the biggest challenge of his life. Watching from the side lines and charging others with her protection would not do, not when he could hardly keep an eye on the girl himself- how was he supposed to charge others with her care? And so, his role changed, though he often said he was merely leading his men by example.
Rose didn't know the truth herself but she suspected that it had more to do with who Tornac was rather than who she was. The mere thought of the man charging others to her care was, to her, laughable. Tornac was a rare man. He was the person she trusted most in this world and he had always there, always reliable, she could tell him anything without the fear of judgment. He was steadiness when nothing else was. No one could compare to that. Well, he had been until a year or so ago, that it when everything seemed to change in her life.
Tornac's dry lips thinned and he shook his head. Slowly, he drew her towards the sofa, before releasing and sitting himself on a chair across from her. "You look unwell, my girl. Is there something you wish to talk about?"
Rose shook her head. She knew perfectly well how she looked: tired. At least that's how she felt. So very tired. With a weariness that settled heavily into her bones.
Over the last months she had found that sleep was a hard thing to come by, and would instead stay up with a book late into the night. The only time she fell asleep was in the wee hours of the morning when her eyes burned and salty tears fell down her cheeks, and she could keep them open no more. Even when she did sleep, she got very few hours of it, and this left her skin a deathly pale and dark half circles under her eyes.
In the morning, without fail, Ailis would tut over her state and caution her to get some rest. She would agree to try, as she had earlier but it would be a lie to please the woman and nothing more. Despite her slow mind, she found her less than pleasing state to be a sound excuse, a very good reason to excuse herself from a number of unpleasant gatherings like the one today. She had been truly unlucky to get trapped into it.
"I am here whenever you feel the need to talk," Tornac said.
"I thought that Ailis already told you." Rose looked down at her fingers, picking at her nails.
Tornac covered her hands with his before drawing away. "She had, but all the same, I would prefer to hear it from you," he told her.
Rose nodded, folding her hands in her lap but didn't look up and remained quiet.
For a long time neither of them spoken, and then Tornac stood up and walked towards a small table in the back of the room. He poured himself a glass of golden wine from a crystalline pitcher. "I understand that the King had made up his mind, that much is clear, and there is little the that either of us can do about that. I know how this troubles you, Rose, to know that once more you're being considered as something you are not," he said after sipping from his goblet.
Rose huffed and squeezed her eyes shut. "Not yet," she retorted bitterly. "The King grows impatient and I can only delay him for so long. He will demand an answer soon enough and he will get what he wants. He always does!"
Tornac stared into the fire for a long moment, completely lost in thought, which was fine by her. Her excitement at seeing him was now gone, a part of her suddenly wished he had taken a little longer to return.
Finally, Tornac stirred and returned to his seat. "Do you still have that necklace I gave you?" he asked.
She started, her eyes shot to Tornac's and she hastily opened her mouth "I- Oh, yes, of course," she stammered.
"I would be delighted to see you wear it," he said, sipping from his goblet. "I gifted it to you to be worn, and not to be hidden in a box with all your other knickknacks."
Rose bit her lip. "I've worn it a few times," she noted. "It's a lovely, Tornac, and very dear gift however I've struggled to find an outfit to compliment it."
"I'd like to see it worn regardless of what it's worn with. Do wear it for the next days as a favor to me, won't you?"
Rose nodded, and said, "Oh! I nearly forgot to ask; what happened while you were away?"
Tornac gave her a hard, unyielding look and her shoulders dropped with disappointment. "Very little worth noting, it is best if no more is said." His face softened and he said, "Now why don't you grace my ears with your playing, it is something I have long missed and I could use a distraction."
Rose raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question. Tornac knew as well as she that she had not an instrument to play and that her singing voice was that akin to the screeching of a great horned owl. However, before she could resort, he bent down and pulled out a large cloth covered package. In a smooth motion he handed it to her, she took it carefully, not use to such gifts from the old swordsman. The package sat across her lap hanging little more than two feet off and it was as not as wide as her waist. Rose carefully undid the rough strings and unfolded the thick cloth, and took a sharp breath. Inside sat a viol.
The viol was a bowed musical instrument of dark golden wood that sat on the lap or in between the legs when played, it was a rectangle that curved in halfway into its frame, a long polished neck ended in a fine curve that held seven strings that when struck with a bow made a pleasing sound, it had a flat back, and an integrant carved pattern that sat under the strings. It was truly a beautiful instrument.
"I happened to come across it in a small village, the poor merchant who owned it had the bad luck of ignorance as to what treasure he held," Tornac said. "I pray you still have your old bow else I'll have search for one which would be a long and pitiless."
Rose frowned, her hand hovering over the seven strings. "I do. Tornac, this is grand gift. I cannot thank you enough."
"However?" Tornac said, his eyes remaining on her face.
"I'm afraid I have never played a voil with seven strings."
Tornac nodded, understanding the problem, "Come to me when you learn and I'll listen then."
Rose smiled and nodded happily.
It was because of Tornac's insentience that she had acquired such a taste for musical instruments. He was the one to introduce her to the bard Brage, who took the hardy task of teaching her to play the stringed instrument. Playing had not come naturally to her and she began to loathe the time she spent with the bard, until one winter day when she found she took pleasure in the challenge, and his tales. Since then, she spent much of her leisure time playing songs in her chambers when her mind became too conflicting to do anything save for music. That is until several months ago, when her beloved viol fell from her bed and cracked. It was completely unplayable and she was forced to set it aside.
"I'll come to you then," Rose said, happy to have such a test to face. Perhaps if she wondered in the music room there'd be a soul willing to teach her.
"I will wait eagerly until such a time passes," Tornac said grimly, as he stood. His old bones cracking like the fire. "Now, I'm afraid that I must excuse myself, I am quite weary."
Rose stood as well. "Rest well, Tornac."
"And you, my girl, best get more than a wink of sleep tonight," he said gravely, clasping his large hand on her shoulder.
"I shall try."
He nodded. "You best do more than try."
They walked out of the room and went their separate ways, and she saw with a shock that it was almost nightfall. She hadn't eaten anything that day, there had been no time break her fast that morning nor that afternoon.
Hungry, Rose made her way to kitchens, hugging the viol close to her chest. After reaching the large kitchens and charming a meal out of the cooks, she ate hastily as she made her way back to her chambers.
While traversing the curving halls, Rose came across the sound of voices in one of the many stone walled rooms that were rarely used. Curious, she ignored all the manners that had been ingrained into her and stopped at the door to listen.
"I've had enough of this talk," a man said, impatience seeping from his voice. "There is much to be done and I precious little time to do it. I've everything you've asked of me and more." A beat of silence. "Take this, it is yours."
There was the sound of rustling leather and footsteps, and then an exclaim of surprise It sounded feminine. "It's heavier than they claimed it would be."
Someone snorted, as if they were humored. "You should have seen my surprise when I was given it by that misfit of yours."
Rose, entranced, stepped closer to the closed door and pressed herself to its cool surface. For a moment she wondered what was the people talking about? Then she realized why the voices were familiar, and who it what that was talking, and went still with shock.
"Hush you!" the woman hissed. "Humans aren't the only things that have ears around here, and if we get caught in the storm everything up until now best be forgotten."
Squeezing the instrument closer to her chest, Rose slowly walked backwards to the nearest corner, careful to make no sound. She didn't wish for them to hear her. Should they hear and catch her snooping, she would have to explain herself, and at the moment she was certain she wouldn't be able to come up a convincing lie.
"I know," it was Tornac's voice that replied. "Though I must ask while we are risking our necks: when the storm will land?"
"Two days time," the woman said lowly. "It is not too late to with draw to higher land."
With the corner only a few feet away, Rose picked up her pace, tossing all former precaution away.
"I'll see to it that I'm well prepared."
The creaking sound of the door opening startling Rose and she turned on her heel and ran around the corner, her loud footsteps echoing behind her. With a deep breath she peeked over the corner.
"Do you believe someone heard us?" Tornac asked his shaggy white hair falling into his eyes.
The woman, Ailis, looked up at him, her face twisted in a way that Rose had never witnessed. "Aye, someone heard us. Tread carefully, Tornac," she said. "It'll be some time before we're out of these dark waters." With her warning said, she stormed away, her dark skirts billowed behind her like dark clouds.
Rose didn't wait for anything more to happen, instead she turned and hurried to her rooms, her heart pounding uncontrollably in her chest. Had anyone seen her she would no doubt be the subject of gossip for the next week for running about the halls like a savage boar, fueling the rumors that she was already subjected to.
She felt like cursing and crying but as soon as she turned the corner she slowed to a steady walk until she reached her rooms and locked the door to her bedchamber. Her gaze swept across the room; it was a neat disarray of books and scrolls, many of which belonged to the castle's library, though it quite unlikely they would return to their proper home any time soon. A fire flickered in the grate and through an arched window the bubbling voices of a fountain could be heard. A bed draped with a brocaded cover stood in the corner and near it, a lush arm chair burdened with heavy books faced the heavy oak door. Colored perfume bottles of all shapes and sizes sat across a long, thin table with a wood framed mirror and a hard stool was tucked underneath the table. An intricately carved wooden chest for clothing was pushed to the far wall.
She thought of the Shining Room once more, a shell of what it had once been, and a resolve began burning into her being. She would not allow the hunter who raze that treasured room, destroy her as well, if only she could find an answer as to how.
Rose picked up a thick book which was decorated cover of mother-of-pearl and gold leaf edging. It was the very same book she had discarded the night before. She flipped through the thick, ivory pages until she came across the place where she had stopped, and pushed the conversation she had heard into the back of her mind. Not bothering to move to a chair, she sunk down onto the floor, her gown bellowing around her form. The viol sat beside her, forgotten in her sudden need for answers.
That night she finished the book and the small pile of notes that she had been taking over the last weeks, grew beside her. The runes she wrote said precious little, forcing her move on to another tome. She muttered a prayer to the gods, hoping for a resolution, anything truly, but nothing came.
Chapter 2: The Caged Bird
Summary:
Rose is given a choice that will alter the course of her life forever
Chapter Text
Rose flipped through a tome, scanning the runes for anything that might be of use. Like many of the other books she had read over the last moon cycle: its pages didn't hold what she was looking for. It was hardly worth the effort of finding a ladder to retrieve it from the highest shelf. She cast the book aside with a sigh and rubbed her burning eyes.
Her search was hopeless, she thought as she cast a disdainful look about the lifeless library. It was rare that there were many people about the shelves and this day was no different. The library was gloomy and completely silent, and without another soul about. It was forgotten in its own way, that library, replaced with a newer, less dusty room a few years before. Over the recent years the rumors were that this room would be remodeled into something more updated and when this never happened, she kept returning, allowing herself to enjoy to solitude in forgotten hallways of books.
It was so very easy to forget her troubles whenever she hid herself away. Rose had spent more than one night in this place hunkered beneath a table learning; of the tales that the night sky told; the histories of the Alagaësia; the methods of industrialists and marketers; and stories that were meant for nothing more than scare children into minding their elders. Inside this sanctuary she could hide from the difficulties that lay outside its walls.
Well, at least, she could once but now that time was no more. Those times were when books had been a thing of leisure, and not desolation as they were now. It had been a mere moon cycle ago, when this change happened and yet Rose felt as that age of freedom had been ages ago, in another lifetime for completely different person. This new age was a time she wished had never come, an era when the troubles of her world could no longer be hidden away.
She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking her chair to the ground, and walked over to a shelf crammed with books. Her fingers skimmed the titles before she grabbed one, and wedged her hand between two tomes into a too tight spot, pulling out a scroll she had hidden there days before. After replacing the book, she slipped the scroll into her waist band and turned away, deciding that she would read it at a later time.
Her search was pointless. Rose wasn't certain what she would find here, nor did she know exactly what she was looking for. All this researching, sleepless nights, and hours she spent with a sore neck were for nothing! What exactly did she except to find? Little would help her now, and perhaps this was meant to be her role from the start. And who could escape fate?
This is what a caged bird feels like, she thought as she stared out over the courtyard below where a group of careless children played. They see the world through tinted glass, watching, waiting, searching for a chance to escape and when they do; they soar. But from here, in this gilded place, there would no escape and I am no bird.
Rose had been raised with the knowledge of the security of the castle and knew almost every route in and out of its walls. She has seen depictions of it on a roughly drawn map time and time again when she had been a child with Tornac. He had gone through the routes that she could take if something would happen so many times, she could transverse the castle in the dark.
Rose knew where to go should there be danger and what rarely used passage lead to where, what hallways were the most secured and which ones had weaknesses, where she might find a guard stationed and where there might be a weapon used as display. These were meant to help her feel safe during a time when the securities had meant to keep her safe, now they merely seemed to be there to keep her caged. A part of her wondered if perhaps it has always been that way and she had been too naïve to know it.
I am no bird, she thought once more, sitting down at the table she had abandoned. If I were I could fly away from here. I could go anywhere and see everything.
Her hand trailed over the leather case for her voil which until now had sat forgotten in her disappointment. She had ventured into the music room that morning, seeking to knowledge about the instrument's unplayable string but was quickly turned away and instead ventured to the library. The night before she had spent hour upon hour, tuning and listening to the instrument, testing its strings and listening to its tone.
It was a lovingly made piece, and she was excited to have the new string as a challenge, if she could find someone to teach her. Oh, how she wished Brage was still alive! He had been the man who gruelingly sat beside her for years, teaching her how to master the voil. Surely, were he alive he would teach her how to play it!
Rose wondered then, if he had ever mentioned how to play different strings when he had revealed their existence to her. It seemed just as likely he had but at the time, she had far more interested in the tale he had promised to tell after their lesson. How many songs had she forgotten how to play because his stories? How many of his stories had she once played in her songs?
She did not know.
A wave of sadness swept through her. Rose often missed Brage the bard at times, like now, when she wanted to know information about an instrument or a tale that the souls inside this castle had long forgotten. Brage had always been full of knowledge and life, always eager to share what he knew to whoever may bend an ear. To him it didn't matter who the person was as long they would value that information, and Rose supposed that this was why she had taken to him; he didn't care about who her parents were, and perhaps that is what she missed most of all.
With a sigh, she turned away from the voil, wishing that she was being able to forget who her parents were; that every person could. She could not, fate did not deem it so. It was fate that seemed to laugh at her when it came to her parentage and their role in her destiny.
It was around the time Rose believed her nameday to be -she did not truly know the date of her birth and no person ever bothered to tell her- when she had been summoned to the see the King. At the time, Rose wondered why exactly he had chosen to summon her after all the years she had spent so close within his walls ignored and unwanted. She thought that perhaps he only cared to see her because of her father and wished to know of her plans of the season and of who she might wed.
Before that moment the King had always kept his distance, uninvolved in her upbringing. Once by mere chance Rose had meet him in passing, however they exchanged no words and it was a brief occasion. The King acted as if she were an invisible thing, nothing more than an object to look at in passing, a thing to admire but not touch. That despite the role her father had played that the King had forgotten her or did not truly want her, and perhaps she was a presence that reminded him of the comrade he had lost making her existence too painful to involve himself in.
Her father was a man who had once been King Galbatorix's most faithful and dedicated liegeman. He was the first to declare his loyalty to Galbatorix well before he was the King, before the war that changed everything. After her father joined so did others, forming what was called the Thirteen Forsworn. A group of fierce Riders along with their beast-like dragons wrought terror- that still scarred the land and people- but this did not last. Unlike the King, his Forsworn slowly died away before vanishing completely.
Rose's father was last to do so, leaving her behind as an orphan in the King's care. The king of Alagaësia had provided for her up upbringing not long after her parents had left for the Beyond, and even then, he left her to the mercy of his courts and did not involve himself at all.
It was within the courts of Urû'baen that Rose was raised, growing from a child to a young woman. During her childhood, it was as if a tide were pulling at her, shifting and changing within moments, demanding her its attention with its ebb and flow. As she came of an age where she was given more freedom to choose, Rose began to avoid the intrigues the courts lay before her, having grown wary of the noblemen who sought to use her. It was only after her visit with the King that Rose began to realize that he was the one she should have taken care to protect herself against.
The ruthless King of Alagaësia… he had not always been so.
Once, history told her, long, long ago, the King had merely been a boy Rider from a forgotten region, who after a great suffering declared war on an ancient immoral government. History said that the war had been long and blood and full of unimaginable loss and grief but Galbatorix along and those faithful to him were crowned victorious. Galbatorix took the throne naming himself all powerful King of Alagaësia, where he had reigned ever since and would ever more.
The King always got what he wanted, history said, so what exactly was it that he wanted with her?
In comparison to her colorful heritage, Rose was pail and unnoteworthy. Her father had been ruthless and handsome and cunning, and her mother was said to have been as beautiful, brilliant, and deadly as an angelic wrath. The woman was a legend within the castle walls known more commonly as the Black Hand. The coldblooded assassin had once paraded on dread filled missions of death and torture until one mission ended in her own demise.
Since then Galbatorix has been trying in vain to recreate usefulness of The Black Hand until he had created a group of rag-tag assassins and though they were skilled, the King's collection did not match the Black Hand of Morzan, not in skill nor tact nor efficiency. After years of failure after failure, the King turned his attentions to the daughter of the assassin he so longed for, in hopes that the young woman could live up to her heritage.
Yet, Rose was not talented as her mother and father had been nor were her steps quiet enough to allow her to sneak. The tutors she had seen within the last month have been kind enough to tell her that she was a hopeless case; an dragon stomping on eggshells was more promising than she. With this in mind, she was concerned in the task the King had lain before her, convinced that she was useless to him and would surely die a horrible death due to his insane request.
There was only so long that she could delay his training and what time she bought herself, she was determined to find an answer to her freedom. The path her parents paved were not ones she wished to walk, and she most certainly did not wish to die.
.
Rose was still deep in thought when she heard the door to the library bang open and then a came a sound like that of a choking horse as a book clattered to the ground. She jumped from her chair and peered out of the cove that she holed herself into, watching with widening eyes as Ailis righted herself.
The older woman was panting, as if she had run through the entire castle, her hair falling lose from the low bun it had been in that morning. Her grey uniform was replaced with a long, dark tunic covered by a long and black wool cloak fell from her shoulders, which nearly hid that blackened short sword tied at her waist by a thick leather belt. Three buckskin travel-bags were slung across her back and in her hands was larger bag.
Rose's eyes narrowed and fixed on the sword, and she felt herself tense. As the conversation that she overheard days before whispered in her mind, she cursed herself for allowing a friendship to blossom with the woman. She glanced at the doors that were behind Ailis, wondering if she could make it past the woman before she was attacked.
"Peace, Rose," the woman called out, as she came closer. "I mean no harm to you!"
Rose huffed in disbelief. "You've been a fraud," she accused. "Is this the latest plan? Are you going to kill me now and bring the news that so many have been waiting for, for so long?"
"If I wanted you died, I'd have done it long ago!" Ailis hissed, and without another word she tossed the bag in her hands at her feet. Rose started, jumping away and knocking into the chair she'd been sitting in. "The bag won't bite nor will the boots that are inside. Put them on and follow me unless you wish to remain here and become the King's latest puppet."
Rose edged toward the leather bag, her mind racing. "I overheard you and Tornac the other day," she admitted cautiously. "It sounded as if the two of you were planning something; is this what the whispering was about? Leaving the Capital?"
"Thank the gods, it was you that we heard," Ailis breathed, her eyes closing briefly. "Yes, that's what we were talking about. Tornac is waiting by the gate with horses but we must hurry! Quickly! We don't have much time!"
For a short moment, Rose studied the woman and then took a deep breath. A blistering madness to leave the city took hold of her. The madness ran through her veins like fire, driving her to leave behind all she ever knew behind, demanding at she put forth blind faith and pray that she held no regret later. The worse that could happen is that the woman was lying and she'd likely be tortured or killed, and at best Ailis was being truthful.
She kicked the flap of the bag open, and bent down to pull out a pair of richly made leather boots. As she pulled off her slip-shoes, she asked, "Where are we going?"
"Far from this black place."
"Sounds like some place I might know," Rose muttered under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She found that the boots fit well and were long enough that they nearly reached her knees. It was her untrained guess that they would likely last a good few months of travel before wearing down. Wiggling her toes, she pulled her viol case to her chest and said, "Won't I merely slow you down? The King shall send his men to search for me."
"If it comes to that and I don't think that it will, mind you, I'll able to handle the King's men," said Ailis, examining the bookshelf. She picked up a book at random and tucked it into her cloak before casting one last look about the library and adding, "However I'd rather not have to deal with them so let's make haste."
With a deep breath, Rose grabbed her voil and place a few books inside the bag before pulling it over her shoulder. It wasn't as heavy as she feared but after a time Rose was certain she be thinking otherwise. She glanced up at Ailis' face and said, "Lead the way."
Ailis grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room to a burgundy woven tapestry in the hallway. When the woven tapestry was pulled aside, Rose found that hidden beneath it was a small, stout oaken door she hadn't known about.
As she was pulled through the doorway, she wondered about what other passageways might exist within these walls. The sound of the door closing, pulled her from this thought. Suddenly the air inside was unpleasantly cool, and Ailis' hands began to feel like ice.
They stood on a stout platform, and both women had to bend down to fit inside, with a set of narrow stone stairs leading both up and down on each side of them. Purloined silver stone which seemed to make up the older, original parts of the castle, were stained with dust and old footprints. The hallways were cold and undecorated, tiny wooden doors stood in the middle of each platform.
Rose shivered as the wind blew through the small uncovered slits for windows, turning the air around them to ice.
"These are the Servant's Halls. They're not often used unless ones wanted to get from one end of the castle without being disturbed," Ailis said, releasing her hand to adjust the bags on her back. "Stay close, Rose. It would be ill fate to lose you now."
As they hurried down the stairway Rose found that she would much rather crawl her way down then walk. There were moments she nearly did, crawl that is, having to bend down and place her hand down flat to get past shorter areas. She wondered how anyone used the passageways without falling or ruining their clothing, and instantly she was glad for the tough boots she now wore.
Rose found that keeping up with Ailis but that task was near impossible. The woman nearly jogged ahead, bounding down the stairs with a delight that should have been impossible, and stopping only when Rose had fallen so far behind that they could hardly see each other. They continued down countless stairways and passageways, through door after door, until Rose lost all sense of direction. Their footsteps echoed eerily around them in the emptiness.
"Won't the guards be patrolling the walls?" asked Rose as they entered a narrow hallway.
"We needn't worry about them," Ailis stated ahead of her. "They are currently preoccupied."
Rose frowned. "How so?" she said before adding, "Please don't mind my asking. I've never seen a guard off duty."
Ailis shrugged and said, "I don't mind in the least," but did not say more. Instead she bounding down the hallway with new found speed and Rose struggled to keep up.
"And the King? Is he preoccupied as well?" she asked breathlessly.
"Quite occupied, I'd say. He shan't be focused on much else for a time." The woman came to a sudden stop and Rose nearly ran into her. Her legs shook beneath her and she stood gasping as Ailis said, "When we go through this door, we'll be outside. Stay close and be ready to run."
The woman glances at Rose for a moment, seemingly searching for something and finding it. She pushed open the door and disappeared into harsh light of the sun.
Blinkingly, Rose followed after, her hand flying to her brow to shade her eyes. The women rushed past the courtyards and gardens of the castle to the gate keep of the entrance of the capital of Urû'baen. There was not a soul guarding the palace's entry, and this was something that Rose had never witnessed.
As they walked under the shadowing arch, a sole figure appeared on the other side. The man, Rose couldn't make out his face, was dressed for travel; a wool shirt and a jerkin and thick leggings covered by a long, dark cloak.
"You took your time," the figure, Tornac, called out. A sword flashed at his hip. "For a moment, I feared that you changed your mind."
"No chance of that," laughed Ailis. "Not if all the gold in all the world would I would change my mind about leaving this accursed place!"
"Rightly so," mussed Tornac. He turned and winked at Rose. "The coast is clear. If all goes well, we should have a nice bed of pine needles under a roof of stars when the King hears of our flight."
"That would be at the best," Ailis stated. "If we are lucky, which I rarely am, we should be far enough away if fate decides to change its mind."
Tornac scowled at her, his scar seeming to stretch deeper into his skin. "Do not say such," he said, "unless you are prepared to face that it may very well come to be."
Silence fell over them, a sudden sense of urgency creeping around them. None of them said anything but began almost at once to walk down the cobbled path under a wide shadowing stone gate arch, its chilling shadows grabbing at their clothing. Before them, stretched a wide thoroughfare shaded by towering stone and glass buildings of every kind. The sun was only beginning to ascend down the sky, its light beamed off of the crystal and polished stone.
The city of Urû'baen was divided what the locals called The Three Circles. Each circle was divided to segregate the wealth of the citizens of the capital and each Circle was guarded. The castle was at the center of the inner most Circle, called the Inner Circle and it was for the wealthiest; the Middle Circle consisted of the middleclass and the market; the Outer Circle, was the largest, it was reserved for the lowest and dirtiest public of Urû'baen.
At this moment they stood just outside the center of the Inner Circle, overlooking the teeming street beyond. Tornac took a sharp right and lead them to a picket where horses could be tied for rest or their riders convince. There were three horses tied to this post.
"Rose, it's gladdens my heart that you came," Tornac said, "but time is of the essence and now we must make haste and leave. Here, hand me your packs."
"Oh, Starshine!" exclaimed Rose looking from the horses to Tornac. She grinned and hurried over the silver dapple and ran her fingers lovingly over his coat. The stallion knickered at her in greeting, his ears flying forward.
"He'll stand out. The showy fellow that he is," Tornac said, pulling the bag from her hands, "but you've raised that horse and know him and his antics just as well as you know the back of your hand. You'll need a familiar steed out there."
Rose smiled and handed him the viol case which he took and attached to the saddle of the stallion. There two other horses picketed, both loaded with heavy packs. Rose recognized as Tornac's solid black stallion, Shadowless, instantly but found herself frowning at a fine-looking roan with a white blaze on its face.
She went back to running her fingers over Starshine's coat until Tornac called out her and tossed something her way. Rose caught it on pure reflex, and unraveled a long, dark green cloak made of thick fleece.
Flinging the cloak over her shoulder, she pulled the cloak close to her, relishing in the relief it brought from the cool air. After securing it, she began untying Starshine from the post when a hand touched her shoulder. She started and nearly dropped the reins.
"Look at me." Rose obeyed, turning to look at the woman behind her. Ailis pulled the hood tightly around Rose's head hiding her face in shadow. "Tornac told me that you are an excellent rider, so keep close. When we get out of the city kept your eyes on us and don't stray. If anything goes wrong and the King's men pursue us, I want you to ride as fast as you can south. There's a map that I've marked as well as directions to a safe town. You have enough gold in your bags to keep you safe for a time. Ride to that town and don't stray. If we can, we will find you."
Rose nodded her understanding.
"Keep your hood up at all times and look at no one," added Tornac as he mounted Shadowless. "Shall we?"
Ailis stepped away to the roan as Rose climbed onto the silver steed and looked at her companions. Tornac beckoned them into the city beyond the gates with one final reminder to keep close together.
The city stretched dizzyingly high above them. Rose had to crane her neck back to look up, feeling as if the whole thing would topple down on her, crushing her with a vast weight of stone and glass. The roads lead to low ached gates of the Middle circle and the market beyond it. They passed through the gates unchallenged and disappeared into the crowds.
Sunlight spilled over the market's twisting alleys, picking out the sparkling domes of the glass and stone towers. The alleys were teeming with people laden with wares; bakers walking trays of fresh loaves; pack mules loaded down with huge panniers or sacks; women in unadorned dresses of greens, reds, or greys; dirty faced children were squabbling and playing; and hawkers marching up and down the paths loudly calling the virtues of their wares.
Rose watched the people, as they rode drinking in the sights and smell and sounds briefly before she focused on remaining close to her companions. This was a task that became challenging the deeper they traveled into the market as more and more crowded the streets. Tornac kept a brisk pace and soon they reached the gates of the Outer Circle, where they passing by the beggars and the destitute without a glance until they reached the dark gates of Urû'baen.
"Now comes the real test. I pray that you enjoy a good race as we are about to partake in the one for our lives," said the old swordsman, forcing his stallion into a reckless gallop, his white hair rippled in the wind behind him like waves from the sea.
Rose grinned, and bent down on Starshine, cuing him to follow closely behind. She let out a brief laugh when the stallion knickered and jumped into a gallop. Behind her she could hear, Ailis calling out to her steed and risked a look back to see the woman leaning low on the roan.
They kept riding this way until Urû'baen was but a spot in the distance. Only then did they slow their tiring pace and Tornac took them off the road. The silver stallion, who Rose knew was bred for speed and endurance, was lathered with sweat and was beginning to tremble. She patted his flanked and whispered sweetly to him, encouraging him to carry on.
They paused only briefly, going down to the river and allowing the horse to drink as they stretched their legs and hastily eat a meager dinner of hard bread and cheese before continuing. The landscape stretched out before them on a slight decline. The Ramr River ran to their right, so broad and rapid that Rose could not see the other side to the capital they had left behind.
It was the furthest she had been from the castle in waking memory, and she knew that they had further to go still.
.
They kept at a slow trot though the night was in almost total darkness. The heavy clouds meant that little moonlight aided their way. All Rose could see the dark shape of Tornac and Ailis, the darker shapes of sparse trees on either side, and the faint glint of the grass ahead of them. The horses, though exhausted from their mad dash, were sure-footed and never stumbled. Rose leaned against the Starshine's neck completely spent, her eyes partially closed.
When the skies began to lighten, Ailis led them into a small forest of ash and oak. The shadows were lengthened, and immediately a chill fell around them. The woman was looking around as she rode, leading them away from the loose track they were following to a small dingle.
The coarse grass within the clearing shelved down to a spring that bubbled out of a ledge of coarse rock on top of which grew briars and woodbines. Half hidden by this growth was a small smooth cave with a sandy floor, where travelers had clearly made camp many times before. It even had a rough hearth of jagged stone.
"This place is enchanted to give all who visit it shelter. For today and tonight it will grant us protection from those who seek us," Ailis said, dismounting her roan mare.
"I'll go and find us firewood," said Tornac groggily. He swung his leg off of Shadowless and sauntered off into woods, leaving the women in peace to wash if they pleased.
Rose was numb with cold and tiredness and was quite glad to slide off of her horse. Numbly and slowly, she began to unsaddle the silver dapple, her whole body aching for sleep. She brushed Starshine free of sweat and mud with a rough bristled comb. Her hand shook the whole time. Once she was sure that he was able to graze and drank as much as he needed, Rose stumbling tiredly into the cave.
Ailis was sitting down, her back facing Rose with her head in her hands. Rose heavily sat down beside her. She lifted her head and eyed her with an emotion Rose could not distinguish. "I'm glad you came," The woman said suddenly and turned away, busying herself with a bedroll.
Rose blinked at her and yawned, and too tired to search for bedding she lay down in the cold dirt. Her hands clutching the cloak close to her body for warmth. A shiver ran over her and she wished instead for the soft, feathered mattress back in Urû'baen.
As her eyes began to close, sleep quickly took over.
Chapter 3: Of Weapons and Woes
Summary:
Having escaped the confines of Urû'baen, Rose begins to learn what the impact of her choices, as well as the groups destination
Chapter Text
When Rose awoke it was a slow process. Her head seemed to be humming, dumb and heavy with sleep. It took her a few moments before she could open her eyes and see where she was; the first thing she noticed was that someone had moved her. She was now laying on a lightly padded mantle made for traveling, and a thick wooly blanket was spread over her, and for a long while she relaxed in the warmth. It was hungry pangs that finally made her sit up and look around with heavy eyes.
Rose glanced to the mouth of the cave with a yawn. The sun was low in the sky, she could see its pale glowing light through the trees. A fire was lit in the savagely made hearth, throwing dancing light across the rough walls of the cavern. Tornac was sitting with his back to her, in front of the fire, rubbing a fine-looking sword with a velvety cloth.
"Good evening," said Tornac without turning to glace at her. "I believe we need to talk about many things but they can wait for a time. First," he continued, tossing her a meatpie, "eat!"
Rose turned over the meatpie in her hands, picking at its edge. She was starving but had never cared much for meatpie. "Where's Ailis?" she asked, glancing through the trees in the distance for her. The woman was nowhere within sight.
Tornac held the sword up the light to examine it a patch of sunlight. "She went off to scout the area. I'm not certain what she excepts to find but she seemed eager to get moving," he told her, and then balanced the blade on his knee before turning his bright eyes on her. He watched as she stood and made her way over to him, sitting herself on the sandy ground. "How do you fare with Ailis?"
"I fare with Ailis well. She is good company," Rose said, touching the hilt of the sword before meeting his eyes. "She's not a servant, is she? I know that you've sent her to be around whilst you were gone but I wish that you had told me what she is capable of, and that she was an ally."
"Nay," said Tornac. "Whether you choose to trust her or not should be a choice made by following your own knowing. I will not be around forever to guide you." He picked up the sword and sheathed it, before setting it aside. "To answer your question, Ailis served others certainly but not in the way you're thinking. And no, dear girl, I could not leave you undefended."
She frowned at him. "She is a hired-sword, then?"
"I would not advise calling her such if you value all your limbs."
"I wish you would have told me your intentions!" Rose grumbled. "Do you know how many nights I've spent looking over my shoulder for a threat? Your men do you credit, Tornac, don't misunderstand but I remember a time when someone slipped past their trained eyes and I had to find my own way out of danger." She sighed, and looked away, finding that she was not angry at him but rather that she was annoyed and, despite the hours of sleep, she was still quite tired. "How many women did you have to interview to find her?"
Tornac's face showed no emotion, and she could not read it. It unnerved her. "Ailis found me," he said with a shake of his head.
"What else are you not telling me-"
"That's enough, Rose. Later," he interrupted, his tone harsh, and she knew without a doubt that they'd likely not speak of it again. "We shall talk about it later. Now is the time to eat. Then, should you feel up to it there is a pool to wash in." He pointed to the back of the cave. "Your traveling bags are over there where you'll find yourself suitable clothing for travel. But for now, eat!"
Rose sent him a withering look and then took a small bite out the meatpie. It was flavored with an herb she could not identify yet was still it was rather bland. Oh how, she was going to miss the rich food of the castle!
Thinking of the creams and sweet wines and flavorful, seedy breads left behind, she ate the bland meatpie in silence. When she was finished her stomach felt oddly empty but she was certain couldn't eat another bite of any sort of food, and so to distract herself she moved, hunched over in the low cramped cave, to where a pile of bags lay. She sat beside the bags and looked them over, listening the crackling of the fire and the sounds of the horses grazing and the whisperings of the eerily evening.
The saddlebags were made of unmarked thick black, durable leather with broad thread weaved the pieces together and a simple tie kept the flap closed. She went through the first two bags, inside was clothing, folded complexly so that they took up little room; a spare pair of boots much like the ones she wore now; a few beloved objects from her old chamber in Urû'baen; two small books; a travel kit for her horse; and a small ration of nuts and berries; and as Ailis had promised hidden in one of the pockets along with her clothing was a small amount of gold and a marked map. The other pack contained her voil, which she concluded that Tornac had placed the instrument inside before they left.
She wondered who had packed for her, and looked over the items once more, some of them where dear to her. Whomever had packed, knew her better than she believed they did. Even so, there were quite a few items she wished she could have brought along and now they were likely lost to her forever.
Rose set the thought aside and took out a set of clothing, the thickest and warmest looking clothing in the bags before asking if there was a place to wash. Tornac pointed her to small spring at the edge of the thicket. When she walked out of the cave, Moonshine and Shadowless whinnied at her in greeting, and she made her way to them, petting their flanks before looking towards the very small pool beyond.
She walked to the still water slowly, her body sore and aching. It had been far too long since she last rode a horse, and never before she ridden for such a long stretch of time or so hard. Her whole body felt as if it had been beaten with willow sticks!
When Rose reached the spring, she knelt at the edge and dipped her fingers into the water. She gasped, jerking her hand away and cradling it to her chest. The water was so cold that her fingers were instantly numb. A chill ran up her spine. How would she be able to bathe in this? The water was colder than ice!
Deciding that she would only wash her face, she looked into the water. Its surface was so still that she could see her reflection. In Urû'baen Rose had avoided peering into mirrors for such a long time that she almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her.
As she looked now, she thought back to that horrible day she had met with the King, and how he said that she looked very much like her father. The King as likely meant it as a complaint but it struck her then as an insult. Churning in her belly like a great poisonous snake.
That night when she had returned to her room, she pulled out an old, dusty portrait hidden in the depths of a large wardrobe and for an unmeasurable time she had studied the painting. Every so often her eyes would flicker to the mirror across her room as she compared and measured the similarities and differences between her and the picture.
When she returned the painting hours later, she promised to burn it the first chance she got but never did. She told herself that the deed would be done another time and this wasn't the correct moment but, in her heart, she knew that she could never do such an act.
Since that time, she avoided looking into her reflection, and would often ignore small mirror in her room. Now, she allowed herself to glance down. Her dark hair had fallen from the twisting plaits, around a pale face. Her cheeks were sunken, almost as if she were sickened, from the many meals she had skipped. Her eyes remained as she remembered them being months before; fierce and grey, like a coming storm in the darkening evening. They were lined with kohl that had smudged around her face like a mask. She wiped at it with her dripping fingers only smearing it further. It would take an age to clean the mess from her skin.
With a huff, she pulled her hair away from her shoulders and stared at the collar of her gown. She could see a twisting scar at the top of her shoulder, more pronounced than she remembered it ever being. Rose looked away and with a quick glance back at the cave, she began to undress. The dirtied dress fell into the grass as she slipped into the water with a hiss.
As quickly as she could, she rinsed her body in the icy water and avoided getting her hair wet at all. She was certain that she would catch her death if she got it wet.
Once every part of her was numb from being nipped from the cold air and water Rose jumped out of the spring and quickly dressed in a pair dry legging and a long, thick tunic over a dark woven shirt. The dry, razor-like grass cut into her feet as she hopped from foot to foot, trying to put on thick wooly socks, and then her boots which were gratefully warm. She looked herself over then, staring at the knee-length tunic. Her cheeks began to burn.
Embarrassment washed over her like a warm bath, and she tried pulling the tunic down, stretching it out but it remained the same length. Her face flamed and she was forced to give up. Perhaps she would be fortunate and no one would recognize her in passing or perhaps she be even more fortunate and they would pass no person at all.
Shivering, and anxious to be by the warm fire, Rose pulled back on her cloak and grabbed the filthy dress before she hurried back to the cave. Alas, basking in the savory warmth of the fire was not to be; Tornac stood up as she came in and directed her back out into the cool evening air. She followed him, silently mourning the lost chance of warmth and comfort.
Tornac led her into the small vale at the mouth of cavern and took the sword he had been polishing out for her to see. "This is now yours," he said, passing the blade to her. "Wield it wisely."
Rose clumsily took ahold of the hilt. It was the lightest sword she had ever held. She had never used a blade despite having held quite a few throughout her lifetime, and she measured it with her fingers as the old mentor had taught her to years ago. The hilt was long enough to use with both of her hands if she was willing to allow half her palm to grasp nothing beyond the hilt, or to be a one-handed weapon. The blade was straight and made of a beautiful silver with a pale blue hilt shaped like a leaf and cunningly enameled with gold that marked it as Tornac's work. The man rarely forged blades, however when he did, they were always a rare and deadly beauty.
She looked up at him, wordlessly and then said, as she nearly dropped the sword, "You've given me many gifts these last days. I cannot help but thank you, Tornac."
Tornac took out his own sword- a light piercing blade made of the strongest material mankind could find, with a hilt fastened with a twisting crest. "Don't thank me, yet," he said pointing the weapon at her- and startled, she jumped back. "Draw your sword, my girl, it is useless hanging at your side."
"Tornac, I-" she sputtered. "You cannot expect me to be efficient using a blade! I'm useless! Swords are for warriors, and knights, and heroes, and villains. I am none of those!"
Tornac made an exasperated sound. "I expect you to learn," he said. "You need to know how to defend yourself, even the daftest among us can learn that much. You are no idiot and so you will learn."
Rose looked uneasily down at the sharp blade. "There's a chance of one of us hurting each other. Should we not use a wooden substitute as the swordsmaster did?"
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, pointing the blade at her face. "You shan't learn to defend yourself properly quick enough to be of use. Now, draw out your blade, Rose, and let us begin."
Forlornly she did as she was told and took the blade from its scabbard for him to see. Tornac then demonstrated basic swordcraft and had Rose copy his movements, though most of this time was spent dropping and picking back up her sword than actual swordplay. She did learn, however, how to hold the sword with both with one- and two-handed, and that she felt completely inadequate with it in her hands. When Tornac announced that they were done, she instantly sat on the ground where moments before she had stood, and unexpectedly, Tornac sat across from her grinning, his crystalline blue eyes bright.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't fancy the prospects of what will happen should someone attack us," she said breathlessly.
"You shall likely not be one to walk away," said Tornac cheerfully.
Rose shot him a dark look, and grimly smiled. "I thank you, oh wise swordmaster, for your humbling words of confidence."
Flashing a wide grin at her, Tornac began to laugh and after a moment, Rose found herself joining him. She did not know why, however, though it felt lightening. It had been such a very long time since she and Tornac had laughed at anything or perhaps in this case; at nothing at all.
As they sobered, Ailis returned, seated atop her chestnut flanked horse. She had three limp rabbits tied together with a thin rope at her belt and a yellow wooded bow in her hand. The woman raised a puzzled eyebrow the pair. "I can see that your plan of defense is to giggle at your opponents. I've heard that it's effective though I would gamble that if trouble arises your best bet is to hide behind Tornac when trouble occurs," said the woman with a smile.
Tornac let out a booming laugh, surprising a few songbirds causing then to squawk at him before flying away. "Rose would likely have done so regardless," he chuckled, before suddenly stopping and standing up. Without a trance of his former humor he gave Ailis a piercing look and took the rabbit from her after she untied them. "You will now have to excuse me," he said, returning to the cave. "I'm not too fond of rabbit however you have provided them, Ailis, and it is only kind that I take the beasties inside for you until it's time to prepare them."
Rose watched as Tornac as he walked back into the cave and sorted through one of the bags, the rabbits laying forgotten behind him. Looking away, she apprehensively watched at Ailis dismounted her mare and motioned her over. She stood and walked over to the woman, as she stood beside her Ailis slipped her hand into Rose's and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting it go.
"I would like to teach you to hunt someday. My brother taught me and its useful," Ailis said and then with a hint of pride in her movements she gestured to the mare. "This is Arvid. She has traveled with me many a mile and would likely give your gem there a run for his coin. Tornac told me you raised him."
Rose slid her hands behind her back and grasped her sword tightly. "That's only half the truth," she said with a humorless laugh. "Tornac brought him from his family's home some summers ago to be raised as his steed. I ruined that by taking a liking to him and spending nearly every waking minute with him as was possible. He gets ornery and can be difficult but is more patient with me. I think it's because I spoil him. Starshine and Shadowless came from the same dam, so Tornac choose to take Shadowless on and allowed me my Starshine."
"It's likely that it's just who he is," said Ailis with a nod. "Some horses become connected with a certain person, and they simply prefer them over others. It speaks highly of how well you've cared for him."
"Thank you." Rose inclined her head.
"Well, I'd like to see this blade Tornac forged," Ailis said, and Rose brought it out from behind her back and offered it to the woman. Ailis took it from her and studied it for a long moment, before moving away and slashing it gracefully through the air. It was a performance of agile and precise movements that left Rose feeling worse about her own lack of skill then she had before. Once Ailis was satisfied with the balance, she returned to Rose. "A fine blade. Light and apt. Meant to defend its owner quickly and strike at a moment notice. Tornac has out done himself." She shook her head in an amused manner.
"He has," Rose briskly agreed.
Many years ago, Tornac had told her of his interest in objects of the Elven culture; how they seem to create an art out of the simplest objects. There was little to go off of and it allowed his imagine to reign free. When he was younger, he spent much of his time driving on the verge of madness trying create a way sculpt the metals and not just how to pound them with a mallet. He had told Rose of how he preserves swordcraft as a fine art, just not a way to hack down one's foes. Looking at the sword he molded, she knew that his creations were a testament to that and that she would forever treasure this blade.
"He is a rare man," said Ailis, "that Tornac. And he had done you proud, you should be honored."
The woman patted the mare and led him to the others so she could rest and graze, allowing Rose to ponder over her words. As Rose thought about it, she found that she did feel honored. Tornac spent little of his time teaching and those rare few he did were skilled and deadly warriors. Rose has often wondered how King Galbatorix had convinced him take the task of watching over her instead of following his own passions. She had puzzled over it many times for quite a few years and, yet, never has she had the answer nor has she asked, perhaps one day, she would.
Rose silently mussed over her thoughts as she waited for Ailis, before returning with her to the low-ceilinged cave. Inside the woman began to show Rose how to skin and gut one of the plumper rabbits before talking her into cutting its meat into fine squelchy cubes. The task left her with black dots dancing across her vision and feeling extremely nauseous. Rose was more than happy to be done with it and quickly as she dared stepped away and made her way to Tornac who was preparing vegetables for their meal.
Rose talked with him for a time as Ailis added spices to stew. When preparations for the food was complete, Tornac showed Rose how to properly fasten the scabbard of her sword to a belt. Ailis called Tornac over with a wave from the wooden spoon. He shook his head and stood, leaving Rose to fumble and drop the scabbard and sword.
As he sat down by the fire and began to stir the stew, he said, "Rose? Be careful not to drop your blade every time you touch it, else your dog meat."
Rose let out a deep breath. "Yes, Tornac," she said forlornly, bending down to pick up the sword.
Ailis smirked grimly and beckoned Rose outside. "Fancy a brief walk?" Ailis asked. "I saw some herbs that I'd like to collect before night falls."
Rose nodded and placed the sword near her bags. It would feel erroneous to carry such a weapon on something as simple as a stroll more so because she could not wield it properly. She followed Ailis out of the cavern, with a quick glance at the swordmaster behind her. Tornac's eyes focused unseeingly at the sandy floor, and she knew without a doubt that something vast was troubling him.
Rose pulled her cloak over her shoulders, drawing it closely around her and looked away. She looked towards into the darkening forest. Away from the fire the evening had a cold edge but this early it was mild and clear, and though she couldn't see much of the sky but she knew it to be a bright ginger, paling the world of its former color. A walk, now of all times of the day, would be lovely. And in Rose's option dusk was loveliest of all.
As she walked beside Ailis, she wondered about her. Who was this woman truly? Rose had accepted the woman with as much good grace as she muster after the woman who helped raise her left the capital forever. Cordelia had been a hard, thespian, and often an unforgiving woman but she had been in Rose's life longer than anyone else she knew. The woman had once been her nursemaid hired by her father to assist with raising her when she was a babe, and when both her parents died that had not changed.
Cordelia had gone with Rose to the capital and stayed there for nearly fifteen years. Until one day when she left without hardly a word. Shortly after Cordelia left to live with her sister and her sister's sons, Ailis came at Tornac's insistence, and at first Rose did not take to Ailis. She supposed that the woman was nice enough but if anything she ignored her as much as she could politely do so. It was after weeks of the woman's unrelenting kindly attitude that Rose found herself turning more and more towards her, aching for human contact. Now it occurred to her that despite the many hours they spent talking together she knew painfully little about Ailis and her past.
As they walked together Rose studied the thin underbrush and creeping ivy. Their footsteps fell loudly against the fragile leaves, cracking and crumbling them. As they passed a fallen tree, Ailis stopped abruptly and bent down to harvest foliage with a small knife.
Rose glanced down at Ailis before seating herself besides her. "When you left your home to come to Urû'baen did you leave your family behind?" she asked after careful consideration of her words.
"No," said Ailis, the tips of her fingers digging into the spring moss. "I had one once, a long time ago but I lost them." For a time, she was silent and Rose said nothing as she looked over the woodland and listened to the birdsong in her silent request for more information. After a long moment, the woman continued: "I had gone away for a time to visit family in the village where I grew up and when I returned months later, I found that my husband and child had been killed. I don't know by whom, all I know is that I will never be able to have that again."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Rose glanced at Ailis but the woman was looking into the distance as if she were seeing a different sight than the forest before them.
"Don't apologize," she said. "It was some years ago and I have long come to terms with it. I do wish that fate had been different but, alas, there is nothing one can do about that. We're merely given what we're destined and we have to make the best of it."
Rose was silent completely unsure of what to say. She wrung her hands and placed them her lap, looking wordlessly at the darkening woodland. "Where are we to go, now?" she asked after some time. "Surely we are headed somewhere."
"We are," said the woman. "I have made plans to travel towards Kausta, and later to the Varden. It is the only safe place for the likes of us at this point of time."
Rose let out a curse and shoot to her feet, swirling around to pin the woman with a glare. "The Varden?" she exclaimed, fear and anger coursing through her. "Your plan is to travel to the Varden! Do you seek my death? Is this what going there is about? They have sent countless assassins to murder me when I was nothing more than a child, and you plainly expect for me to unquestioningly follow you there. That's madness!"
A peculiar expression crossed the woman's face: a mix between anger and hurt. "Nay, Rose, I could never wish for your death," she said. "Should this be about your parentage than I would cast aside your worry. I will vow for you though it shan't be needed. The people will welcome you because they will know not of who you are, nor who your parents are. Ajihad shall have to know but other than him; it is your secret to tell as you please."
Rose huffed and turned away, thoroughly annoyed. "I refuse to go," she said plainly.
"Do you have another place you can stay?" asked Ailis with a sigh. "One that is completely safe and far from the King's rule? You may always return to him if it pleases you."
Looking at the woman, Rose's eyes widened before narrowing even further. "I will not go back there," she muttered and then turned and sat back down. She began to kick the log under her with the back of her feet, and tightened her cloak around her body, thankful not for the first time, for its warmth. The warmth of the sun had now completely disappeared, leaving long skeletal shadows intertwining across the littered ground. "There is more to our leaving and fleeing to the Varden," she said staring at the shadows. "A reason as to why you planned to leave to begin with, one that you have not told me about, is there not?"
There was a minutely pause and then; "Yes. There is."
"What would the reason be?"
"I stole something rather valuable of that was Galbatorix's procession."
Rose blinked, and then nodded. "Surely, the King shall notice if it was valuable."
Ailis laughed lightly, the sound drifted through the forest until it was lost in its depths. "I think not," she said. "Not for some time at least. When he does notice his wrath will be feared throughout the lands and written in legends as a dark time indeed."
Startled, Rose looked at Ailis. Was this woman mad or simply asking for an untimely death? "What did you do, Ailis?"
There was a pause as the woman considered her words. "Swear to me in the Ancient Language that you won't tell a soul and I will show you."
"I know naught of the Ancient Language," Rose admitted, looking away. "To be honest I would rather not learn of it but I would like to know why we've fled."
Ailis nodded, and explained the words she wished Rose to say and their meaning. Once she had sworn not to tell anyone what Ailis was about to show her, the woman readily led Rose to the encampment to show her the goods.
During their walk Ailis spoke only a few words, commenting on the chill in the wind that meant that frost and perhaps the first of winter's snow fall within a week's time and that she planned on them leaving at first light the next morning.
As they walked Rose's mind kept straying back to the Varden. Ailis was convinced that this Ajihad would accept her however Rose remained skeptical. Morzan and his wife had done far too much damage on this land, killed far too many people and done far too many unspeakable things for someone to believe that their daughter was not capable of doing the same. S
he would be branded as she was in the capital as someone who should be feared and cast out or locked away or used as a weapon because of her parentage. If there was a chance that this Ajihad- Rose came to realize that he had to be some sort of leader for the Varden- was different than the many countless others she had met, she prayed it was so. She has had enough being compared and considered to be nothing more than her heritage deemed her to be…
But… The Varden!
The Wanders.
She was headed to the same Varden who were made of rebels and outlaws, thieves and killers all banded together to ensure the downfall of Alagaësia's king. The Varden who have been a thorn in Galbatorix's crown for numerous years causing tribulation and riots.
And Ailis was a part of them.
Rose began to wonder what nameless peril she had agreed to and for the first time a seed of doubt began to form in her mind…perhaps her freedom from the King was worth less than she originally believed.
Chapter 4: Winter's Breath
Summary:
Rose learns what Ailis had taken and the group begins travel but goes south when snowstorm hits
Chapter Text
Rose was not quite certain that the objects resting in front of her were in fact real, tangible things. She had heard stories, of course, but never before had seen dragon eggs, nonetheless dreamed of touching one of them. Even as a she pressed her fingers to the smooth surface she had difficulty believing that the eggs were in fact genuine and not imitations. Her fingers lightly glided down the dancing spiderweb of thin pearly veins- she was afraid that if she pressed too hard than the emerald green egg would shatter beneath her fingertips. There was another dragon egg seated before her resting within the depths of a plush bag, completely safe from any harm. She had left it untouched.
She looked up from the egg and passed it carefully into Ailis’ waiting hands. “How is this possible?”
The woman took the egg and looked pointedly at Tornac before busying herself on rising the fire. “Many things are possible. What is achieved depends wholly on how hard you work for them,” said Ailis avoiding her question. “What’s wrong, Rose? You’ve gone dreadfully pale just now.”
Rose narrowed her eyes, giving the woman beside her a hard look, as she breathlessly stumbled to her feet. “I’m in need of fresh air, if you will excuse me,” she said as she stepped around the woman, without waiting to be excused. She walked out of the fire-warmed shelter and into the night, gasping at the bitter air. Her boots crunched on the frost covered ground as she stepped further away cave. She took one last quick look inside, cursing the things under her breath.
Dragon eggs! she thought sourly, the woman could not have stolen something sensible like gold and gems, or a book that told of the King’s weaknesses, or an enchanted sword that fought for its wielder but instead took the blasted dragon eggs. To merely attempt to steal these eggs from the King was a fool’s mission that would likely end in a punishment worse than death. But to have succeeded… Well, Rose simply wondered how that was possible. She wondered who exactly she had placed her trust in, for in truth if all went wrong there would so very much to answer for.
If Rose were truly loyal to the King, she would take the eggs and lay them at his feet and pray for his forgiveness… but she could not. She would not. And perhaps because of this she was the greatest fool of all.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she sunk onto the ground and covered her head with her hands. She was not a fool as much as a coward, for it was dread that kept her from returning to the castle. Rose should go back but there was no going back to Urû'baen, now. The only place she had to go to now was with Ailis and Tornac, wherever their path may lead, to the Varden or not, she was now without a home. This thought settling over her, darkening her mind. She knew this when she set out with Ailis, however, the severity of her decision only now took its full effect.
Rose shivered and looked up the sky. My chances out here are better than becoming the King’s servant, she thought grimly, trying to comfort herself, I may be without a home and a warm bed but I am free, for now. However long this bitter version of it will last.
She could remember, even after the years that faded her memories or perhaps it was the tales she had been told as a child, either way, she recalled a massive beast with smooth iridescent, burgundy scales that gleamed like bloody opals in the bright afternoon sunlight, and the long, deadly silver spikes that ran down the length of it long neck and covered the tip of its bulky tail. That savage beast only answered to her father, and would snap its massive teeth and growl out a sound like thunder each time she had to misfortune to come across it. It was her father’s terror of a dragon and even after its death its memory haunted her throughout her childhood. The King’s dragon, Shruikan was not much different. Being a creature who strived only for madness and death, it was something that Rose took joy in avoiding though she had only seen it a handful of time from a far distance. And for the life her, Rose could not envisage how the unhatched dragons would be any different than the beasts she had met but surely, the eggs were safer away from the king who readily set to send children to their death.
Rose stood up and hunched her cloak around her shoulders, glancing suspiciously at the shadows in the night. Ever since she seen the dragon eggs she felt like someone was contently spying in on her. A violent shiver rocked her body on its own accord and she walked back inside, seeking warmth.
Ailis, who had been talking quietly to Tornac, looked up as Rose walked in. “It looks cold out there,” she said.
“It is,” Rose said not looking at her. She cast her eyes around the cave looking for the dragon eggs and not seeing them, she sat down. She didn’t want to know where they were hidden- the less she knew the better. “The ground has already begun to frost over.”
Tornac looked between them and then frowned. “That’s never a good sign. It might begin to snow soon. My body aches at the mere thought of it.”
“Just you wait until the weather turns completely,” Ailis hummed. “You’ll be wishing for a fast trek south then.”
Tornac turned to glare witheringly at the woman, and Rose quite glad she was not on its receiving end, wrapped her cloak closer around her. “If you’re tired, Rose, go to bed,” Tornac said not turning to look at her. “No one will hold it against you. The last couple of weeks have been trying.”
She looked at him and nearly laughed- that was an understatement if there ever was one and she knew that the coming weeks would be even more tiresome. Rose turned to her bedroll and blanket, shaking them out, and then curled up under the blanket. There she listened quietly to the soft murmur of Tornac and Ailis’ voices as they continued their conversation and surprisingly quickly fell asleep. She was woken by Tornac gently shaking her. It was still dark outside but the cave was lit by the warm glow of embers. She hadn’t slept well that night, her head was swimming with thoughts that demanded her attention, her dreams twisting around her thoughts, commending her to a light, fitful sleep.
“Good, you’re awake,” said Tornac.
Rose rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.
“Get up and pack. Ailis is eager to leave, not that I disagree with her, we have dwelled here far too long. Once you’re ready, come out. You can eat on the trail.” Tornac sighed, and she heard his footsteps as he left the cave.
The small cavern was empty, expect for the empty pack that held Rose’s blankets. Yawning, she crawled out of her warm covers and into the freezing air. She quickly slipped on her boots and shoved the bedroll in the bag, leaving the blanket out draping over her shoulders as an extra layer of protection against the chilled air.
That day they continued through the woods. In late afternoon Rose thought she detected a thinning in the trees and wondered if they neared the edges. Ailis confirmed this. “By sundown tonight we will be nearing northern regions of Leona Lake. From there we should head northwest to the road that goes through the Spine to Teirm. Our destination is not Teirm, mind you. I would dearly like some news but we cannot risk someone noticing either of you, I think.”
“Aye,” said Tornac, “going unnoticed by the Empire is most desired.”
As the day wore on Rose began to notice a sort of sorrow that seemed to envelop Ailis. Her shoulders were hunched and her face was grim. Ailis spoke seldom and when she did it was but a few words.
As the sun set Ailis was proven correct by her reckoning, in the far distance shone a cerulean lake like a massive beacon in the setting sun. Ailis took them farther back in the woods until she came to a suitable clearing of tough grass. There they made camp and ate a cold meal of bread and cheese. Tornac made Rose face him once more with her sword while Ailis silently watched. As soon as the last light faded from the shadowy heavens, the travelers fled to their bedrolls and thick blankets to escape the chill. A bitter frost came again that night.
The steely overcast held fast, turning their world into a monotonous shadowy replica of the colors it once held. Their days where tedious and it wasn’t long before they assumed a repeating pattern. Each morning they awoke, their minds numb and slow from the shock of the frosty air and more than once with frost in their hair and cold stiffening their clothing. Cold and still fighting off the remnants of sleep they would pack up their camp and break their fast. When their bellies were satisfied with an insipid breakfast of stale bread and dried meat, they would began their tedious journey through the bleak rolling valleys of arid grass that surrounded the northern regions of Leona Lake. Much of this time was passed by challenging riddles and puzzling mind games in a futile attempt to keep their minds off the merciless chill. Rose would often stare unseeingly ahead during these games at the infinite vale before her, dreaming of the crackling of a fire and the soft cushioned winged chair that sat in Urû'baen. She soon found that it hard to think of anything but the previous heat of the summer and began to wonder if her earlier life of warmth and comfort was nothing but a fantasy her mind had concocted to torture her.
At midday they would stop for a quick meal and allowed the horses to drink from an occasional stream. After resting they resumed to their aimless trek. In the afternoon they ceased their chatter, their throats raw and their lips chapped and bloodied from the chilled air. Tornac was able to lessen their pain by tying rags around their faces, which covered their mouths and nose. This solution left their faces moist from their breath so when the wind blew, it bit deeper than before and they soon tossed the rags away. On the fifth day of their traveling, Rose began to consider that they were lost as the distant shine of Leona Lake was far behind and neither road nor Toark River were in sight. Despite her warm gloves and thick boots, Rose had chilblains, and she was certain her nose was bright red from being pinched by the cold. She didn’t voice her troubles and endured the punishing cold in silence.
Each night they were forced to camp in the barren plains as they have found no signs of either road or humans. Though their minds were tired and their bodies stiff from the infinite cold, they unburdening their steeds and set up a rough camp. Before resting they collected a small mound of grass and bits of wood from a stray tree for the fire that promised little warmth for their skin and heat for their food. Once their bellies were satisfied, though never full, Tornac made Rose practice her swordcraft. He was a tough teacher, who accepted nothing less than perfection, and he would push Rose well past her limit, though the nagging cold often distracted her greatly causing her to fumble and forget much of his advice the moment it spilled from his mouth. Despite her blunders, he enforced that her practice was demanding enough so that within a week’s time she no longer dropped her sword every time he struck. Meanwhile, Ailis poured over the map, occasionally muttering under her breath, her face glowing bright in the firelight. Once Tornac announced that they were done for the night, Ailis would fold up the map and check on the dragon eggs. When the sun had set and the warm fire baked the ground, the travelers protected themselves as best they could against the punishing cold by swaddling in their blankets and cloaks.
On the day that marked their nineteenth, remarkably little had passed and so it was a welcoming sight when the sky cleared. The sky was a crystal colored blue and soon cleared of any clouds, the blazing sun was cruel as it brought no warmth to the land below. Yet, despite the cold, Rose was cheered and pulled off her hood grateful for the sunshine.
At midday the air shifted and a bank of swirling dark gray clouds replaced the sun sending the world back into its grey slumber. At the same moment Ailis turned her head alertly and sniffed the air, as if she were a deer sensing danger as a sudden strong wind came up, blowing the grass flat to the ground, and died away into to steady current of air. None of them remarked the change but traveled on with new determination.
Late that afternoon the wind picked up further, and it began to snow heavily. Soon the ground was covered in a frigid blanket of feathery white. Worriedly, Ailis sped up their pace. The horses trudged along with their tails miserably between their legs and their ears flat against their skulls. As the day grew on the light grew worse and worse until visibly ceased to exist.
It was the most miserable day yet, and Rose almost cried with relief when Tornac pointed out a shadow of a roofed building on the horizon. They hastened their gait, keen to reach shelter from the storm. At one point Ailis turned around shouting but her words were lost to the raging howl of the wind.
At last they reached the building and were able to identify it to be a barn. The old barn stood tall and worn from eras of use with weathered pale wood riddled with cracks and holes. The clay tiled roof was crumbling and tattered, in some places it ceased to exist, offering painfully little protection. The front half of the barn was nonexistent, looking as if it was torn entirely off by the jaws of a great fiend.
Apprehensive Tornac dismounted Shadowless and was first to step over the crumbing wood and check the inside. He was gone only moments, leaving the women to shiver in the cold, when he came back out shaking his head but he beckoned them inside. Rose and Ailis both dismounted and guided their horses through the splintered wood.
"It shan’t offer us much shelter but at least we are safe from the worse of the storm,” said Tornac once they were inside.
The inside was in the same sad state as the rest of the barn; frayed and worn. A pair of twin bronze briers climbed up the high walls of the barn. The ground was littered with droppings and trampled from the years of use from both humankind and animals alike. Few possessions from the prior resents remained; a rusted horseshoe, leaky wooden pails, and a shattered glass vial.
Once the horses were unsaddled, the travelers went to work on removing the dung and broken glass. Soon after a large section of the earth was free of waste, Tornac collected wood for a small fire. They gathered around the flame exultant to warm their stiff and frozen bones. Rose took off her tightly woven gloves and stretched out her naked hands towards the warmth.
That night Ailis made a hot dinner, a mildly seasoned stew of dried meat. They sat and ate in silence listening to the wind rattle their feeble shelter.
The barn was hardly cozy, since it was little more than sheltered half walls of patched wood. Shrieking blasts of wind threw handfuls of sleet and snow onto the floor, where it melted and ran sizzling into the fire. But it sheltered them from increasing gale of the storm that was steadily growing worse. Rose sat hutched with her blanket and cloak both wrapped tightly around her body, as close to fire as she could without catching fire herself.
“I pray this storm blows itself out tonight,” said Tornac, “else we could be holed up here for days.”
Rose hoped they would not be trapped in that barn for days, it was gloomy enough in the blackness of night. With a sigh she leaned back, and closed her eyes. The intense heat from the fire was beginning to burn her face, and, by the gods, was she tired. Exhausted seeped into every bone of her body, twisting and coiling there as if it were a snake.
“That would be the least of our worries.” Ailis said in a high voice. The woman had gotten up minutes after she had finished her serving to look over the dragon eggs as she did every evening. In slow movements she stood up cradling the bag that held the dragon eggs with both hands and walked over to them. She slowly sunk down to the ground where she wrapped her head in her hands. “Of all the horrible events that could happen! It is as if our good fortune had run out the moment we left Urû'baen! If it were not for this wretched storm, I’d be riding out of here at this very moment,” she moaned dejectedly.
“What are you going on about?” Tornac asked.
“The bag-! I can’t say it! Look in the bag and you’ll know!”
Ailis offered the pack to him without looking up. Tornac leaned around the fire so to pick up the large buckskin sack and looked inside. A peculiar expression crossed over his face and he sighed deeply and closed his eyes.
“How could this have happened?”
Rose glanced between Ailis and Tornac, pondering what could have happened to cause such behavior from both of them. Perhaps an egg and broken and they had discovered there was no dragon inside.
“That’s what I’m wondering,” said Ailis. “The bag has been heavily charmed to hinder such problems from occurring. I was there myself when the bag was spelled and I could see no omissions. You asked how this could have happened, Tornac, but I do not know.”
Tornac turned away from them and set the bag aside before looking at Rose and placing it on her lap. “You are a part of this, as well,” he said simply before looking back into the fire.
The bag was made of soft yet durable light brown leather on the outside. On the inside there were two twin pouches big enough for the large dragon eggs to dwell side-by-side. These pouches were made of a foreign spongy leaf-green fabric. The stretching that held the bag together was like nothing Rose had ever seen before, small and barely notable. Inside one of the pouches was a large oval emerald green dragon egg lined with pearly veins. The other pouch was empty and a sizeable tear spread across the seaming at the bottom. Rose reached in and pushed her arm through the hole wriggling her fingers as they came out the other end.
Rose looked up at Ailis, who still sat with her head in her hands.
Rose swallowed. “Ailis?”
“Yes?”
“What protections did this bag have?” Rose asked, running her fingers over the dragon egg.
Ailis rubbed her face and looked up at Rose. Her eyes were red and swollen though they held no tears. “Still have, Rose, the spells hold strong. There are enchantments to protect against thief; to prevent any unwelcome eyes from peeking; to protect the eggs from ill; to prevent the bag from tearing or ripping and a many, many more countless spells. All these spells are fueled by a diamond sewn within, do not look for it, it is hard to find.
“These spells were performed by a powerful elf who made the bag itself. The elves played a colossal part in this flight of ours, as they used much of their learning to insure the eggs salvation. And so, I am puzzled as to why the spells still hold and yet the bag is torn, and the egg is missing.” With that she fell silent and looked down at her hands.
Rose nodded and looked over the bag with a new respect. This bag was created for one purpose: to insure the eggs safe delivery to The Varden and in return to the Elves yet somehow it had failed. How many or how little protections do we truly travel with? Rose wondered. And how many of those still hold strong?
“What shall we do now,” Rose asked, staring at the shining green surface, “Do we look for the egg?”
“What other choice do have?” Ailis began. “We cannot leave one of the last dragon eggs to fend for itself and pray that Galbatorix or one of his servants do not happen across it. I think we shall have to begin a search when this tempest slows. Until then we will have to wait.”
Tornac agreed, too tired to tutor Rose in her swordcraft, he bid them good night. He then turned away and swiftly fell asleep. Rose wondered how he found sleep so easily as she would not be able to find the soft folds of sleep in this deafening storm. As if prove her point, the barn shuddered from the wind and a shrill whistle filled their ears. Rose sat silently beside Ailis, cradling the single egg in her lap and running her fingers over the smooth surface. She stared out weary into in night and whispered a silent prayer, that was lost to the wind, that the other egg was safe and that they would find it soon else it be lost forever in the dull plains.
Chapter 5: The Search
Summary:
The hopeless search for the lost dragon egg begins
Chapter Text
In a moment of silent wonderment she found herself standing before a world of frost and glass beneath the cold and lifeless brilliance of the moon. The round, fat orb glowed eerily high above the world setting the layers of sparking snow ablaze with a silvery-gold light. The light daintily reflected everywhere, highlighting the silhouettes of trees boldly lining horizon, each shadowy crown so proud and tall and strong. A veil of clouds besieged the sky hiding the moon once more, and the beauty was lost. The tattered ruins of the barn scattered before her feet, much of its torn wood half buried beneath the snow fell again into the haze of blackness.
It was a bitter bliss that the storm had let up and its wrath vanished from the night skies. Rose had been so eager to see the stars after having traveled so far and so long under the heaven’s steel-grey obscurity however she found that much of its beauty was embittered by a piercing cold and ravenous wind. She shivered, her teeth chattering together, as she swept her gaze over the sparkling white-blanketed hills around her.
Rose thought the cold would never leave her; it seemed to have entered the very marrow of her bones, and now clung to a place that unreachable by even an inferno’s passion.
An estranged gargling snore broke the amity of the night and she turned away with a tired sigh. She hadn’t been able to sleep much, the whistling of the wind and the rumbling displeasure of the heavens kept her well awake. She had spent some the time talking to Ailis but it wasn’t long before the woman took to sleep and her snoring began to rupture even the smallest moments of peace. Rose looked over her now as she slept on her side, her mouth opened wide, her body entangled in her blanket and cloak.
Rose picked up an armful of wood and refueled the dying fire, the flame fluttered happily as it ate up the marked wood. There wasn’t much she wished to think about, and so she sat fighting off the drags of tiredness, watching the fire as it imprinted its radiance into her mind. Her eyelids were as heavy as stone, and eyeballs felt as they had rolled in hot sand. Tears filled her eyes and a grief grew inside her, a home sickness for a life she hadn’t had even before she left the capital.
Rose curled in on herself allowing her body to fall to the side and blew at the tendrils of hair that fell onto her face. Her grief was ephemeral with her impatience and she shot to her feet, picking up a flagon and took a long swig from it. After she had her fill she sat back down, her energy short lived, as her eyelids grew heavy again. She sat absolutely still, in an agony of listening, and as she did sleep kept sweeping through her body like an irresistible wave. She had grown use to this tiredness, as she had often kept watch after long and exhausting days. Yet she was struggling to keep eyes open and at last she roused Tornac, who grumbled at her unhappily, before she lay for down to light slumber.
That morning came far too soon, well before the night seemed to have begun, and Rose was shaken awake. She blinked rapidly, the daylight eager to assault her eyes, and sat up very, very slowly. Her hands felt cold and tight and stiff, and she excitedly wrapped them around the earthen mug of watery tea that had been left in front of her. It was too hot to hold for more than a few moments, and after her hands were considerably warmer, she returned the mug to its place on the ground. Beside the mug was a bowl of kasha, left there as the tea had been. She picked up the bowl and set it on her knee, looking at it with disinterest.
“You should eat. We have quite a lot to get done today,” said Ailis, setting her own bowl on the ground. It was empty.
Rose wondered how the woman could eat the stuff as if it were the finest of meals. She already felt jaded by the boiled buckwheat, and though Ailis had added nuts and dried fruit to add flavor, she wished to toss the gruel into the snow and never look at it again.
“We are going to look for the dragon egg, yes?” she said, bringing the bowl to her lips.
Tornac set aside his own bowl and scooted far from his reach. “If that is to say that we are about to dig through the snow until our fingers are numb, then yes.”
“Oh,” Rose said smartly. “That sounds lovely.”
“It’s better than leaving the egg out there as if it were a load of rubbish,” Ailis snapped. “You two do not have to help me but I cannot leave it behind without putting some effort into finding it!”
There was a moment of silence where the crackling of the fire was only thing that was heard, and then Tornac stood. “We shan’t allow you to look alone, Ailis,” he said. “We wouldn’t dare leave one to that task alone. Now, let’s clean up after ourselves and begin.”
Ailis nodded, though only slightly, and walked out of the barn muttering that she would meet them out there.
As soon as Rose ate the cheerless breakfast, she and Tornac headed out of the broken barn and into the icy plains. The plains were unrecognizably filled with great drifts of shining snow, like various miniature cliffs of soft white stone. The small crags were continuous for miles around, broken only by the barn and a small forest in the distance, that she had seen the night before, in the east. If it were not for the chill and hours of work that lay ahead of her, Rose would dare to call the sight that lay before her stunning.
It did not take long for her change her mind. After a few short hours, she felt like cursing the snow and the cold. The freezing air had not depart with the blizzard the day before, no, if anything the cold had become more potent. Even the sun was cold- high above it cruelly glared down bringing forth no warmth. The harsh light glared off countless reflexive mounds of snow causing Rose’s eyes burn.
Their task was hopeless. They had traveled past a countless leagues the day before and they could not dwell long enough to dig through miles of snow. The cold was getting worse as the day went on, and it would not be long until it forced them to seek shelter. It seemed, to Rose, as if Alagaësia itself were laughing at their predicament and took pleasure from making them feel worse. It was a tedious chore, digging through the snow, and Rose was quite sure she preferred an agonizing day’s travel in the icy plains. She hoped that she would not be the one to find the egg, if she were she did quite know what she would do with it- likely toss it.
“I cannot take this,” said Tornac, echoing her thoughts, “my hands feel as if they have been turned to stone and my back aches me. A hot midday meal would be most welcome and, I say, we merit at least that luxury.”
Ailis looked up, her face dripping with sweat despite the cold, looking rather irate. She had been curved over and staring intently at the snow covered ground as if she were making a fatal choice. She straightened herself, her bones cracking, and stretched her hands to the sky. “If it would please you so,” said Ailis tiredly. “I cannot see why you’re not making us such a meal as I speak.”
Tornac sighed and took off his gloves. “I will go then,” he said briskly and turned away to leave.
There was no invitation to join him, Rose realized with dread. Rose took off her snow-caked gloves and rubbed her hands together, her fingers were tinted a sickly white, and tingled painfully. Every part of her felt like it was freezing over. She cursed quietly and pulled back on her damp gloves, any warmth she had gained was lost to cold and dampened wool inside. Taking a pained breathe, after giving the snow a withering look she began to dig once more.
“I had thought that you would take that as you chance to warm your hands,” said Ailis after a moment. “Go now ahead, Rose. I’ll follow after a time. All of us deserve a break, I think.”
Rose nodded and pulled her hands from the snow. She hurried inside the tattered barn, dodging between the crests of blinding now and massive scraps of wood. The snow crunched beneath her with each step. She pulled off her gloves as she walked, and once inside, her boots followed. Both were discarded next to the roasting fire.
After she sat down, she studied Tornac. He was bent over the iron cooking potting, stirring the broth, his nose and cheeks were rosy and chapped, and his face was flushed. His scar sunken deep into him, from the interminable chill, giving him a rather grisly look. After a moment he looked at her, but did not smile. He had not for a time, not since the bitter cold set in days ago when his joints began to ache him.
“That smells rather nice,” commented Rose.
Tornac grunted and leaned forward onto the heels of his feet. “Glad you think so,” he said sourly. “Though you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what was in it.”
Rose frowned at him and looked into the pot. Inside was muddy brown water with floating dried green and lumps of what appeared to be meat, though Rose was hesitant to call the tough substance such.
Her nose scrunched up. “I beg of you, then, do not tell me. I’m famished.” Tornac chuckled dourly and continued stirring the runny stew, and for a time Rose simply sat watching his movements. As the moments stretched on her mind became thick and tired and leaned forward on her knees. “Mind if ask a question?” she said.
Tornac waved his hand in the air briefly, and then said, “Ask away.”
“What is your reasoning for being here?” she asked. “Forgive my bluntness but I cannot seem to conclude a reason for your following Ailis into this wildness. I had thought that you preferred mulled wine and a warm hearth.”
“I do,” he said, not looking up at her. “I prefer a meal I do not need to hunt either, but there are times we have put aside the things we prefer and do what must be done.” Now he looked up at her, his artic blue eyes piercing. “What are your reasons for coming?”
Rose simply stared at him, resisting the urge to flinch under his gaze. He only ever looked at that way when she was in trouble. Suddenly, she felt as if she were a child. “You know perfectly well why I am out here,” she said, turning away. “You come of your freewill and not because you work for the Varden, but why?”
“For many reasons, my girl,” Tornac said. “Many of which I cannot yet tell you.”
"And those reason are involved with your long length of absence, yes?”
Tornac’s silence was answer enough. “Leave it well enough alone, Rose,” he said after a time.
“And your family,” she continued, disregarding his request. Her hands clenched into fists. “Have you not put thought into what they might suffer because of you desertion? You could have stayed and pretended to know nothing, for their sake, if nothing else.
For a long moment he studied her critically before turning away. He stirred the thin stew for a short time before rocking back onto his heels and groaning as his back revolted with a painful cracking. “I have not deserted anything,” he said lowly. “My job as always been to protect you, and here I am. I have known you far too long to leave you unshielded. My sister can, and will, get by without me. She’s as capable as any man, if not more, and her children are grown. Besides them I have no one expect for you, and they are not in need of me. Now, enough of this. Stop worrying yourself about my choices, I’m old enough of a man to know what may very well ensue. So now leave it, Rose, I refuse to talk of this with you.”
She turned away, choosing that it was best to say nothing, and closed her eyes. Her sudden anger faded and a heavy exhaustion quickly took its place. She stood up and went to bedroll where she curled into the thick wool blanket and quickly fell asleep.
Rose was not asleep for long, the sounds of voices and the smell of tart stew awoke her. The heat under her wooly blankets was bliss and she was not ready to open her eyes and join their company in the cold world they were currently living in. She shifted and pulled her legs closer to her body taking pleasure in her nap. Her contentment did not last as she soon felt icy fingers comb through her tangled hair. A cold shiver dripped down her spine.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” murmured a soft voice. “If you sleep the day away, you’ll find it impossible to rest tonight.”
Rose shivered and rubbed her face. She moaned, wanting to smack the woman for ruining her moment of peace, and sat up. Tornac silently offered her a bowl of the stew, his own held in his other hand. After a short delay, she took it and sipped it cautiously. The thin stew succulent as it appeared- the venison was tough and hard to swallow.
“There’s a house less than three miles from here,” Ailis announced as they ate. She had her legs stretched out towards the fire. Her feet were bare, and her toes wiggled freely. “The walls are whole and the roofing has no holes. It looks abandoned. It would make a better camp than this barn that’s for certain.”
Tornac looked up from his bowl and swallowed roughly. “Aye, it most certainly would. Though I must say that bear’s den would be better shelter than this barn.”
Ailis gave Tornac a long, rather measured, look. “It’s good to know how high your standards are, old man,” she said, and then glanced between him and Rose. “I think that it would be best for us to go there after we eat. I don’t plan on staying, however, the two of you may but I believe that it is best if I took a side trip to retrace our steps. I’ll be gone but a few days.”
“It may very well storm again.” Tornac sighed from across the fire and rubbed his face.
“I have managed to survive through worse,” Ailis said. “Do not worry for me.”
Rose frowned. “It is reckless for us to separate,” she said.
“At this time we have little choice,” Ailis said turning to stare at her. “I do not like it but a little recklessness is but a small price to pay if it means finding that egg.”
They said nothing further until they finished their meal, and after they ate and cleaned the bowls and pot, the three of them packed away their belongings and burdened their steeds once more. They walked quickly, leading their horses, as the snow was deep and they wished to find the shelter while it was still light. They moved along the swallows of the snowy cliffs down a slight downhill with the sun at their backs. The sun was at its decline and the shadows where beginning to lengthen. In the distance Rose could see a stray silvery fox digging into the snow, and she hoped the fox had more fortune discovering what it was searching for then they have.
They walked for little over two mile before a small cabin and even smaller barn came into view. The land around the dwelling was piled high with snow and a small half frozen creek ran alongside it. Past the stream, a dark tangle of woodland of fir and oak rose into sky.
Tornac and Rose followed Ailis’ footsteps to the small barn where they unburdened the horses. It was shallowly built with sturdy oak and grey stones and the roofing was lightly patched but whole and, in much better shape than they could home. The ground was trampled so it had a slight dip in the middle where stagnant water had collected over time. The doors were missing leaving the lodging open to predators, but it was apt enough shelter for the horses for a few nights.
When they finished brushing the horses they left the barn and made their way to the house which was made of the same wood and stone as the barn. It was bare of any life it had once held, the flooring was made of trampled earth and an inglenook lingered beside a small hearth.
“I already checked the hearth, it is clear of soot.” Ailis said.
“That is a blessing,” Tornac said. “Perhaps we’ll build a small fire for the night, eh, Rose?”
Rose said nothing, looking around silently before her eyes settled on Ailis. The woman turned back to her bags shuffling through them, finally she pulled out a long curved bow and her quiver of arrows. She swung these onto her back and picked up a single small bag. Ailis turned to Tornac. “I will be back in three days’ time,” she said abruptly. “If I am not back take the remaining egg to Kausta and ask for Gien. Tell him that I have sent you in my place but do not show him the egg. He will lead you to The Varden. Beyond that I have spoken to you before about what you should do in my absence, and I ask that you proceed in that manner.” Ailis leaned back on her heels in a way that allowed no dispute.
Rose stood silently looking rather perplexed, not far behind Ailis, fiddling with the hilt of her sword. Ailis whirled around to Rose and embraced her tightly before letting her go hastily and without a word she strode out of the cabin. The door slamming shut behind her.
Chapter 6: The Forgotten Cabin
Summary:
Whist staying at the abandoned cabin something unexpected happens
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Rose did not look up from her book when a loud ‘twack!’ echoed throughout the hollow cabin. She jolted, her heart beating suddenly very fast, but settled onto the blankets she had piled up moments before. If she could not have a chair than a cushion of blankets would have to do.
After a moment of silence, she sighed and looked up. Tornac was kneeling in from of the hearth, his back to her, as he coaxed a fire. He had been doing this for some time, and after the tinderbox broke, Rose decided that it was best that she took to reading instead of trying to help. When she did not assist him, he usually seemed to have more luck.
Tornac coughed loudly and struck the stones thrice more, and on the third time instead of striking again the man leaned forth and blew on the tinder until the tiny licks of fire grew higher. Rose looked up as a soft warm glow, as Tornac sat back on his heels for a short moment before standing and putting on more kindling. Rose then watched him silently as he made his way to his bags and dug through them, he pulled out the cooking ware and disappearing outside. He was gone for only a moment before returning with a pot filled with snow. He placed it next to the flames and then turned to her, his pale eyes were unreadable.
“I cannot say that I am pleased with Ailis’ choice to leave,” Tornac said. “It seems to me it was made with haste and only misfortune will come from it.”
Rose nodded but said nothing.
“I think that it would do us well to rest a few days. There is a chill in my bones I have never felt before,” said Tornac and then he was silent a time, and when she glanced at him, Rose found that he was studying her. “What is a matter, my girl?”
Rose narrowed her eyes at the old swordmaster. “Should any tribulation happen to you and Ailis, what would be become of me? It is wished that I meander across the wilderness until the end of my days and idly pray that some mysterious force shall guide me and the remaining dragon egg to safety? Whether that be back to Galbatorix or the Varden. Surely both would be less than pleased to discover Morzan’s daughter with their precious dragon egg. Ought I not know what is to be done should this happen as you do?”
“Ailis is precautious.” Tornac scratched his forehead. “You are referring to the fact that if Ailis were to disappear and, gods forbid, myself, of course,” he said calmly. “Well, if Ailis were to pass into the Void or vanish, I would tell you much of what she has told me. I would guide you to the road instead of wondering this wildland as Ailis has taken to. I would teach you whatever I might before the Void took me as well and if this were to happen, and I pray it shall not, I would not depart from you unprepared. Nay, Rose, I could not do such.”
Rose twisted her fingers together and glowered at the ground. Tornac’s answer covered little of her qualms. “If both you and Ailis were to leave at once,” she began, however Tornac interpreted.
“If is a futile word, created only to trouble the minds both young and old. Cast the word from your wits. I understand your concern, yet is hopeless to ponder over it, and will leave you with endless worry. I will ask that Ailis tells you as she told me,” said Tornac. He was silent for a short time, then as is deciding on something he stood up and slid his sword from its scabbard. “Come now, we must not misuse this time we have been granted with.”
Rose was given scarcely enough time to stand and rise her blade in defense before Tornac’s assault. His swings were more firm and dexterous that night, leaving her with trembling limbs and struggling, as she had weeks ago, to keep a grip on the hilt of her sword. For well over an hour Rose braced herself as best she could against his beset. Both Tornac and Rose were frequently blinded by the shining blades flashing gaily in the glow of the fire light for brief moments before they collided together with a vibrating cling!
Only when the sun met the earth so that its amiable rays of light could glitter about the snow, much like fine diamonds, did Tornac call for them to halt. Rose sheathed her sword clumsily as her hands were shaking turbulently and pressed her palms against her knees to steady them.
“Better,” Tornac commented between deep breathes. “You’ve improved significantly however you lack vigor and balance.”
Rose breathlessly looked up at him, annoyance evident in her features. A droplet of brackish sweat stung her eyes and thick strings of hair stuck to her damp face. She tucked behind her ears and sat down promptly, becoming vaguely lightheaded in her haste. “That’s splendid,” she growled crossly, “perhaps now I’m capable of guarding myself against a rat.”
Tornac unhurriedly wiped his blade clean with a rag before placing it in back in his scabbard. “Perhaps,” he said.
Rose scowled at him before turning away. She leaned over to her bags and dug through them before taking to her book once more, heeding little mind to Tornac’s doings. After a time, she couldn’t help but hear the loud thumps his boots hitting the ground as he walked back and forth across the cabin clicking and clinging of metal against metal; the crackling of fire as it was fueled and the shutting of a rickety door and his retreating thumps that faded into silence. Rose focused again on the pages until she heard Tornac return and cross the earthen floor of the cabin with the sloshing sound of water in a bucket before setting up the cooking ware.
Not long after the cook ware was set up Tornac took a seat not far from where Rose sat. He then began to dig through his bags, pulling out varies objects and placed them in front of him. He counted his belongings in hissing whispers before repacking them. When a bubbling of a rolling boil could be heard Tornac got up to care the dark grey pot.
Rose continued in her reading until she saw a pair of dirtied black boots in front of her. As she glanced up, Tornac bent down and placed a wooden cup filled with sweet smelling tea next to her leg. She murmured her thanks and looked back down at the pages of her book.
“When was the last time you played?” Tornac asked unexpectedly, when the steam had ceased billowing from the cups. “If I’m correct in my memory you pledged a ballad to me.”
“I don’t recall promising to sing to you, Tornac,” Rose said without looking up.
“I should pray not. I don’t believe my ears could cope with such a noise,” Tornac said in jest. “Yet you promised me a song.”
Rose looked up and set her book aside, this was a trick which she knew all too well. Tornac would continually request her make music with her viol back in Urû'baen knowing that she would quickly forget her troubles in her work. It had worked for years until she understood his intentions but even then she indulged him.
“You are a relentless old man,” Rose grumbled marking her page with a length of cord as she stood up. She walked over to where a small pile of her bags were and unwrapped the smooth wooden instrument from the soft cloths of the case. Then she made way her over to Tornac, her footsteps loud on the hard ground, and sat down beside him. With her bowed viol across her lap she spent a long minute plucking at and tuning five of the seven fine, crisp strings until content with the tone. Rose then strum a simple tune, before moving on to a more complex song.
While playing, Rose thought back to her time in the capital city, Urû'baen, and how she had once spent many nights doing precisely what she was doing at that moment. With Tornac sitting not far from her, much as he did now, listening mutely to whichever melody she pursued to practice, although now her playing was clipped from unpractice, and the roasting fire that flickered livingly in the hearth. She was content in that moment, with that sense of familiarly, and much of her annoyance that was created by the jealous secrets were dulled until they were but a forgotten injury.
The rest of that night was peaceful and soon dawn came gracing the world with its golden radiance. Gleaming rays of light streamed through a single small framed window, waking both Tornac and Rose early in the morning hours. Teary eyed and yawning Rose awoke reluctantly and unfolded herself from the thick layers of blankets and wraps. After the two of them had gotten around and bathed theirselves, privately, of course, with warm dampened rags and a meager breakfast was consumed, Tornac employed most of the day tutoring Rose on her swordmanship. After sparing both inside the cabin and out, near the small forest that bordered the small sables and the icy stream, Tornac lead Rose into the forest to demonstrate the advantages that might be taken in the woodland. The information enthralled Rose and she paid keen attention to what Tornac had to say. When Tornac pulled a supple limb of a yew back before releasing it, allowing it glide through the air like a sideways arrow with its flat, dark green needles rustling flatly, Rose asked; “This trickery is considered disreputable, correct?”
Tornac snorted. “Some would say.”
“Then why bother with it? Isn’t there a code of honor swordmen abide by?” she inquired wiping the snow off her cloak that fell from the towering trees above.
“Admirable combat means naught in your grave,” he objected before continuing with his lecture.
By the end of that day Rose’s mind was bustling with the knowledge Tornac had bestowed on her, yet, her body ached from the activity she had been put through, and so when the sun set she willingly lay onto her bedroll and swiftly fell asleep. Her sleep was deep and dreamless until she awoke abruptly in a frantic state.
Her breathing was labored and shallow, and her face was covered with sticky sweat. She gasped loudly noting with great shock that there was a sharp burning feeling between her shoulder and chest. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt before, it felt almost as if it were sapping her liveliness from her. When Rose reached up and touched her shoulder she both cringed and gasped loudly when she came in contact with scorching metal. Wondering at what could heat the amulet so, Rose pulled at golden necklace away from her skin and studied it closely. Seeing nothing amiss she arranged the chain atop her thickly woven tunic, and she sat up taking in her surroundings thinking that perhaps she had fall asleep too close to the hearth.
She had been woken in the cold hours, not long, before sunup when an intense mist still clung thickly to the snow, which blanketed the hardened ground, drifting swirlingly when a gentle breeze blew. Pale silver moon beams gleamed luminously onto the cold earthen flooring of the cabin, bright as a gloomy day in shades of grey and pale indigo. The long lump that was Tornac was resting on his back fast asleep, his quiet even breaths could be heard and, Rose saw amusingly that he was drooling lightly.
Fingering the oval pendant with chariness Rose found that it was no longer hot to the touch. She frowned, thinking that she had imagined the ordeal, and shook her head to clear it before she stood up. Suddenly lucid from the brusque air she dressed warmly and she slipped out into the night eager to move about and warm her body.
The snow, crushed crisply beneath her feet with each step, reflected the full moon mutedly. Rose exhaled and watched as her white breathe vapor whirl simultaneously with the haze in the night. Yawning, she staggered to the iced over rivulet at the edge of a snow covered woodland, her skin wincing at the icy air. She hunched her thick cloak around her shoulders and scarcely glanced at the vaguely lit trees. The woodland was hardly gloomy as it was well lit by the rounded moon. The fog was diluted where the trees loomed high above and the ground was blanketed with brittle snow. There were no birds singing about high in their nest of trees, it was likely they were still slumbering. Rose sneezed and turned away drawing her hood over her head, her hair caught in the thick fabric and pulled lightly at her scalp. In the corner of her sight she saw a strange light in the distance, a fey blue wisp that simmered and vanished. Rose turned and stared past the trees for a second time, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her for the second time that night.
The light tauntingly appeared a short distance from where it had disappeared and began to glide away. Rose watched as the light stopped and flickered as if beckoning her forth. As she took a wary step forth, the bizarre wisp shot away at an unbelievable speed. The light stopped yards ahead and flickered twice. Enchanted by the strange light, Rose continued into the woods slowly. The wisp stayed just out of her reach, hovering a few feet over the ground before it gradually began to increase its pace until Rose was at a fast jog.
Rose did not know how long she spent chasing after the light scuttling around countless trees of yew, birch and oak but somewhere deep within the forest the light flickered and vanished. She came to a stop, panting desperately for air. Rose placed her hands on her abdomen pressing hard against a side-stitch and crouched close the ground. Her chest was coldly burning for air and her legs ached terribly from the strain of the run.
During the time of the unusual light’s pursuit, the sun had risen in the east and was now climbing high into the heart of the sky. It seemed that the endless cold had finally broken as the day no longer brought only numbness but instead new warmth extended down from the heavens. Only an intense bitter wind remained from the previous chill, bowing the trees and scattering about crystalline flakes of snow.
From the lofty trees, thick warped cords of wild grapevines clung limply to skeletal branches swinging lightly from the airstream. Below the swaying grapevines, a thin waning trail of a diminutive herd of deer imprints voyaged amiably down a precipitous hill and onwards to the icy banks of a mire where they faded from sight. The cliff-like incline was banked with escaping spiked undergrowth and linked vines of brier. Rose noticed also that there was a rotting pail at the roots of a maple tree, forgotten years before.
The wildlife was now alert and many squirrels scattered atop branches discarding clusters of snow in their wake and the birds sang harmoniously from a hidden location. Rose listened to the bird’s twittering composition until her panting regulated into soft even breaths, she then stood hunched and eyed the winter forest about her warily.
She could not identify what had taken possessed her when she had pursued after the light. It was an eccentric thrill, a summoning maybe. The only way she could think to describe it was that, it was a weird and wonderful energy that had drawn her onward, one that she could not battle against, one that she did not wish to. The sensation that had inebriated Rose had parted with the wisp, replacing it was an unpleasant twinge.
Rose ignored her aching side and straightened further. She looked behind her, and to her relief, saw a path of prints impressed into the layer of snow from her boots. Later, she would have a way to return to the cabin when she wished to do so. It would be a long walk to the cabin, she knew, and the walk would seem longer as her stomach fiercely ached with hunger pangs. Rose shuttered and looked about for something to distract her mind. The only idea that pursued her mind was a faint memory from her childhood and so she looked to the thickly coiled grapevines with interest. A small smile played at her lips, and she stepped forward and ran her hand over a swooping rough surface of one of the thinner vines.
She recalled that as a child she would ride horseback beside Tornac and occasionally her nursemaid, Cordelia, under the emerald tree limbs of a small woodland. The woods lined the back of the capital’s walls, and in the sweltering temperature of the summer months it teemed contently with life. There was more than one occasion when Rose would see a cluster of grubby children scaling high in the foliage eating the grapevine’s plump fruit before swinging down from the careless vines. At a time she voiced her desire to join the children in their games but her request continuously fell on deaf ears and soon Rose stopped inquiring the matter until it was forgotten altogether.
Fingering the bark-like vine, Rose curiously yanked downwards on the vine before leaning back, her head facing the sky, testing her weight. She stayed like this for a long moment swinging lightly on the tips of her toes, allowing the shafts of sunlight to warm her face and the breeze sweep through her knotted hair. The ropey vine held firm, and so she released it stepping backwards a little over a yard away. Rose tested her ground, much like she would before sparing with Tornac, and took a running leap at the browned vine. When the vine was close to her, Rose reached out and clasped onto it firmly.
The vine lurched forth violently, creaking and groaning in effort, before it buckled and retorted. Rose grip slackened with shock as the vine pitched backwards and crackled. She cried out as her hands tore down the jagged vine, feeling as if a hundred blazing knives were slicing her skin to tatters.
Rose involuntarily let go of the grapevine, crashing forward to the frozen terrain below. The snow offered little cushion when she painfully clashed with the inclined earth there she promptly began to roll towards the marsh below.
Through Rose hardly see as white earth and brown lined sky blended together, she glaringly grabbed at the first branch she came in contact with, merely to yowl as it bit into the raw blistered skin of her hands. Despite the pain, she reached out to each branch or bedded rock within arm’s reach, tearing the injured skin of her hands. Her body jerked limply against small stones and bushes riddled with sharp thorns and she felt her hair tear from her head until it throb with an astute stabbing pain. A strange feeling of warmth swathed her head though she could find no cause for it.
The curt fetters of gravity, grasped ahold of her body and held fast despite her ongoing struggle. Rose could no longer form a thought as agonizing clutches ailed her mind, so that soon only pain forbid her from acting. A foreign notion crossed her mind that she might continue in this way endlessly, and not a moment after Rose thought this she crashed into a body of water.
Rose soon came to a stop and she came to realize that she was at the bottom of the prominence and in the swamp below. The marsh was shallow but despite this she breathed in the muddy water. Her body acted on its own accord and she breathed in the water once more before she was racked with violent coughs. Rose slowly sat up and placed her head between her knees letting the water work its way out. After a long moment the coughing ceased and she began to rasp painfully. Tears trekked down her face adding further moister for the blustery wind to freeze and her tangled hair froze to her cheeks and clung to the inside of her mouth and nose. After an unbearable time, the gasping came to an end and she was able to breathe without great rush.
Rose bought her hands away from her face, which she was cradling without knowing of her own actions, and stared at the maimed skin. Her palms were torn, and red sticky blood run down and around her fingers. The cold air stung, and she took in a sharp breath.
She shifted her weight onto her knees and as she did she heard the sound of boots crunching on frozen pebbles. Her head whipped around in the direction of the noise. The person, whoever they might be, was of tall stature concealed heavily by a thick fur-lined cape. The individual walked with a slight hobble that was aided by a long wooden staff. Beside the knobbed rod was a regal sturdy-bodied hound bounded near the figure joyfully, its ears flapping as it walked.
“Fine weather for a swim, eh?” called out the man, for it was a man, in a deeply humored voice.
Rose slowly stood up and called in a raspy voice, “Who are you?”
The dog barked stridently at a bush and bounced off towards it.
“I be who I be,” he answered loudly. “Name yerself, mistress of the march.”
She sniffed and rubbed her hands together, nearly crying out as shards of hot pain shot up her arms. “I’d rather not,” Rose said stiffly.
“Fair enough,” the man said with a shrug. He came to a halt a distance from her and studied her from underneath his furred hood. Rose stiffened and held his unseen gaze. “By gods,” he exclaimed. “Yer quivering like a leaf. I know yeh don’t know me but my camp is but a short walk. I promise yeh warmth and a hot meal, maybe even something for that cut on yer head. Sound good?”
Rose glared at him with evident distrust but said nothing. She could see little of his face as it was concealed by shadow, but she imaged him to be smirked at her in a witty manner as he said, “Then enjoy catching yer death.” The man then called to his dog, which galloped toward him with a pile of debris in its mouth and together they strode away.
Rose knew she had very little choice, she was hurt, cold, hungry and injured, and though she trusted this man not, he offered her warmth and a chance to heal a little before returning back to Tornac. She dreaded this thought because she knew Tornac would give her an ear full and Rose was not ready to face his wrath as of yet, and beyond that, she doubted that she would make it up the hummock and back to the cabin, not with the injuries she currently had. She sighed and slowly stood, suddenly aware of the aches throughout her body, and cautiously followed the stranger down the stoney path.
Notes:
Tales my mother told me about her child inspired much of this chapter.
Chapter Text
Rose sat with her legs tucked underneath her in front of the stranger, her left hand resting in his large palms. She flinched each time his fingers traced over the mutilated skin. His hands were rough and callused, rubbing against the raw skin painfully. The man let out a low whistle, and his dog looked up at the sound and watched them with dark curious eyes.
“Don’t know where to begin,” he admitted. “Yeh took a great stumble.”
Rose swallowed and withdrew her hands, setting them on her lap, her palms facing up towards the sky. “If you cannot help me, I should not have followed you.”
The stranger chuckled bleakly and, stood up and walked around the flickering campfire, picking up a discarded pot. The man strolled near his dog, which arose and began to trot behind its master, to the edge of the campsite where he began to heap handfuls of supple snow into the metal pot.
The stranger’s acrimonious encampment was a small paddock covered with trampled snow where a small faded caravan rested facing the riverbed. The caravan’s overhang was strung with a thick colored twine and hung from the cords were colored glass bottles that swayed in the breeze. A heated fire spat and sputtered not far from the caravan. Nearby, at the edge of the glade, two mismatched horses grazed on crisp turf.
Rose shivered in her damp clothes and hugged her arms around her chest.
The man strode back to the fire and placed the pot on top a small iron grill over the flame. He then unfastened his cloak and draped the thick fabric over her shoulders. Rose muttered her thanks and curled into the cloak, huffing at the bitter stink of alcohol that burned her nose.
The man nodded and rushed to the caravan swinging the squeaking door open, shooing the dog away. He lifted himself inside. The caravan rocked fiercely and dipped with his weight. For a long period of time he could be heard banging objects together and rummaging inside the small shelter.
Shortly after the man shut himself inside the caravan, his dog walked toward Rose and lay down an arm’s length away. Rose leaned forward and reached out with her right hand to the dog. The dog looked down at her palm and made a sound similar to a grunt as it sniffed her fingers with its brown nose before licking its chops. When the dog laid down and crossed its paws, Rose scoot closer to it and rubbed its velvety ears with her fingers. The hound closed its small black eyes as she scratched it behind its ears, fingering its soft feathered coat until it got up and bound toward the caravan. Rose followed the dog’s movement with her eyes and saw that the stranger had exited the caravan and was making his way toward them, a brown half-full bottle in one hand and bandages, a misshapen russet potato, along with a small grey clay jar in the other.
The man kneeled in front of her and lifted the pot off the grill and set in between them, on the dirt ground. “Soak yer hands in there,” he said pointing to the pot.
Rose leaned forward and peered into the rough pot. Inside most of the snow had melted but large portions of slush drifted formlessly on the surface.
Loosening her hold on the cloak, Rose dipped her hand into the tepid water, wincing as the coarse snow-slush grazed her sores and cuts. Rose looked up and watched the man as he worked.
His face was arresting; still in its youth however lost was the childish plumpness, the countenance of a man of perhaps twenty-five years. He was high-cheekboned, with a firm mouth and large, deep-set eyes.
He looked up and caught her gaze unsympathetically.
“Dunion,” he said, laying the potato on a flat rock.
Rose faltered. “Pardon?”
He pulled a long hunting knife from his belt.
“My name,” he sighed drastically, “You should know it so that you can thank me properly. I get pleasure from many things, but I prefer wealth so don’t be hesitant to send yer father’s gold my way.”
Rose blinked and stared at him in astonishment, taken back by his boldness. Never has she been spoken to in such a way, and she felt her temper rise.
She took a deep breath to compose herself and sat back. “My father has no gold,” Rose said, watching him slice the potato into long slices.
Dunion smiled cheerfully at her. His smirk only grew wider as Rose glowered back at him. “He must,” said he in confidence.
He placed the lengthy blade back on his belt and leaned forward, drawing one of her hands out of the water. The man picked up and placed the acrid white potato flesh onto her hands. She gasped and pulled her hand against his grip in shock when the contact burned and stung, but the man’s grip held fast and she could not break free. He looked up at her warningly and then looked back down at her hands before continuing his work.
“You do not know me, stranger, therefore do not say what my father does and does not take ownership in.”
“You know,” Dunion said as he began to wrap the potato and her hand in the bandages, “you noble ladies can rub as much dirt and grime on yeh as you want but yeh can’t ever hide what you are. Yer kind act too mighty and always speak in twisted tongues. It’s sickening. So when will I get my gold, lady?”
“Gold for what?” Rose scoffed.
“My services, lady!” He cried, pulling at her hand. Rose cried out as his thumbs pressed onto a deep cut. “I just saved yer life, yer obliged to pay me!”
“You didn’t revive me and even if you did I have nothing to give you as imbursement,” Rose stated.
Dunion cursed briskly and tied the potato padded dressings securely. He then abrasively grabbed her left wrist out of the pot and positioned the raw white flesh of the potato onto her palm. He looked up from his work twice to glance at Rose in displeasure but he did not speak again until he was close to complete with wrapping her hand, in a less than gentle fashion. “No gold?” He asked finally.
Rose winced as he pulled the dressings taut.
“No,” she said in a high voice, “I have no gold.”
Dunion swore again and he was not as swift in holding his tongue as before. At the sound of its master’s aggravation the bronze and white spattered dog stood up and sprung toward them. It placed its paws on Dunion’s lap and whined. “Go away, Wolf,” he said, pushing the dog down.
The dog, Wolf, whimpered but obeyed and laid down, its backside pressing against Dunion’s thigh. Almost absent mindedly, Dunion began to scratch Wolf’s furry head.
“His name is Wolf?” Rose asked while watching the dog’s stubbed tail wag avidly.
Dunion looked up at her scowling, “Her name is Wolf.”
“That’s a fitting name,” said she looking at the dog’s petite body.
Dunion grunted.
“I’ve set out some dry clothes for you, Lady,” he said taking a long draft from his bottle. “I set ‘em on the cot. You should get dressed and cleaned up before I take ‘em spuds off you. You can eat lunch with me and Wolf. Then if you like I’ll lead you back to yer path.”
Rose stood up slowly. Her legs still ached from her morning run.
“Will you not require your clothing back?” She asked.
Dunion pulled his top lip up in a snarl and took another gulp of his liquor.
“Nay,” he said, “You can have ‘em, they an’t mine, lady.” He said with a tone of twisted humor.
Rose looked away and cautiously walked past him to the grimy caravan. She placed her hand on the peeling door and turned to look at Dunion, she watched him take another long draft from his bottle, which was likely filled with liquor, and she turned away.
When Rose pushed open the door it groaned in protest and she lifted herself up into the inside of the caravan. A bitter stench was the first thing she noticed about the caravan, it burned her nose and assaulted her senses. She cringed and tried to considerate on breathing through her mouth. The caravan was small and cramped. Utensils and belongings were thrown everywhere, and bottles of oil and grains and pickles were stacked at the far end near narrow bunks. There were bright cloths thrown onto the floor and on top of cabinets and hand-carved ornaments and wooden toys. Rose picked up a little man made of white wood and held it on her padded palm of her hand.
There was no sign of children outside, or any other person other than Dunion for that matter. She took a deep breath and shuddered. The quicker she left the campsite and Dunion behind her, the better. Dropping the figurine back onto the floor, Rose slowly made her way to the back of the cramped caravan, careful so that she did not step on anything. Placed on the bed was a pan filled with clear liquid and a cloth, and as Dunion promised some clothes: a long dark green shirt under a thin wool belt and a pair of trousers and a jerkin knitted of raw goat’s wool and a stoutly woven cloak with significantly stitched animals embroidering the hood and sleeves, along with a sizable cloth rucksack. Carefully, Rose undressed and set her soiled clothing within the rucksack. She cleaned off the mud on her body, wary of her tender sores. Then she slipped on the square-necked shirt and tied the belt slackly around her waist before slipping on the trousers and jerkin and lastly the cloak. Getting dressed took a longer time than she would have liked, being slowed by her hands and she often dropped the article of clothing she was putting on.
While dressing Rose had unthinkingly kicked her boots under the ledge of the bed and when she went to proceed to put them on she could not find them. After a moment of glancing around the caravan, she leaned down on her hands and looked under the bed. The nook was too swathed in shadow to see into and so Rose blindly reached her hands inside the alcove and felt around. It did not take long for her pull out a single boot, this she set aside and dug in deeper. Her hand came across something wet and she cringed but kept searching, the next object she touched was cool and smooth like hardened silk and it rolled away noisily as soon as she reached for it. Rose gasped and blinked before reaching in deeper. Feeling for the object with the tips of her fingers, she ducked her head underneath the eave and searched until she felt it and grabbed at it. It rolled away again and she tucked herself in deeper. After a short moment she felt it again but before it had the chance to roll away she grabbed ahold of it with both hands. Rose pulled herself out and stared at the oval object for a long moment in disbelief. She shook herself and reached in for her other boot, which she found at the very back of nook. Rose dragged her boot out with difficulty, almost hitting her head on the base of the bed, and stood up and pulled the pack off the bed and drew out her damp clothing. She leaned over and studied the object from under the bed in dumb shock.
How had the lost dragon egg end up here for all places? It was so far from where Ailis had lead Tornac and herself. For Rose to come across it, here in this unlikely place, was impossible. Unfeasible was the fact that she would see a fey wisp, fall down a massive gradient and then proceed to be aided by a strange, the very person who just happened to have the one object that she and her party were hopelessly searching the wilds for. Rose shook her head. This day did not make sense!
There was something amiss and she could not distinguish what it might be but it put a disturbing knot in her gut. If she could get some answers perhaps she make a logical conclusion about what was happening, however she could not. She could not ask Dunion how he had come across the egg but as Rose did not want him to know she found it and planning on returning to her company with it.
Rose scowled up at the ceiling, would Dunion chase after her when he discovered her theft?
Straightening her back Rose carefully wrapped the egg in her soiled clothing ensuring that every inch of its ruby surface was veiled before placing it within the sack. With the egg wrapped it was too big for the rucksack, and she fastened it as much as she could but the corner of her cloak hung out from the opening.
Rose slung the rucksack onto her back, under the cloak, and slipped her arms through the rope straps and weaved her way to the entrance of the caravan cursing herself for leaving her sword behind at the cabin. Halfway to the wobbly wood door, Rose looked around and dug randomly through a number of chests until she came across a hunting-knife with a blade as long as her hand, which she tucked underneath her jerkin.
Outside, Rose saw Dunion roast a slab of red meat on a wooden stake and that Wolf was off in the trees. Rose walked over to the fire but did not sit down. Dunion looked up at her with an irritated expression.
“Lunch,” he said waving his hand at the meat.
Rose swallowed the salvia that had gathered in her mouth at the smell of the roasting food.
“I can see that,” Rose said with a frown. She fingered the cord of the bag with uncertainly and she asked, “Was the bag meant for me?”
Dunion scowled and looked at her across the fire. “If it weren’t for you, lady, I wouldn’t of set it out.”
Rose narrowed her eyes and looked at the ground.
“Thank you,” she said mordantly, handing Dunion the fur-lined cloak he let her borrow earlier, which he took and immediately wrapped himself in.
“Yer very welcome, Lady Marsh,” he said, matching her tone. “Now come here, so I can deal with yer hands.”
Rose made her way over to him and sat as far from him as could be within arm’s length. Dunion unwrapped her hands quickly and without word. He slowly pulled off the potato meat tossing it into the air at Wolf, who hurried over not long after Rose sat down. Wolf caught each slice of potato and gulped it down. When each of her hands were free of the potato slices, and to her amazement the slivers, Dunion massaged a creamy, foul smelling salve from the grey jar he brought out earlier onto her palms and rebound with them same fabric as before.
As soon as Dunion announced he was complete with his task, Rose moved away. Dunion took her skittishness as cue to pull the meat from the fire. He cut the meat on the same flattened stone as the potatoes, into three pieces. The first hunk of meat he tossed to Wolf and the second he handed Rose a piece with his fingers. Rose took it and toyed with the charred veal until she saw Dunion take a bite, only then did she bite into the tough meat herself. The meat was dry and difficult to chew but flavorful and satisfying.
Neither of them talked while they ate, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. When Dunion had finished with his share he licked his fingers, and belched loudly, she only stared at him. He stretched himself out, bowing his back and whistled loudly to Wolf. He then strode to the caravan and around to the back, coming back moments later with a long hunting knife, a bow slung across his back and a quiver of arrows. The man looked to Rose, who was watching his movements anxiously, and beckoned her forth.
She took a last mouthful of the meat and stood as well.
“Listen, lady,” he said, “I have some hunting to do and you need to get back to yer father and his pretty estate. So here’s the deal, I guide you to a trail and then yeh go home and if yer father decides he does in fact have some crowns lying about after all, you’ll send ‘em my way, yeah?”
Rose nodded, her eyes narrowing. She was not going to argue with this man any longer.
Dunion grinned at her happily and walked to a well worn trail that the edge of the camp. He was quiet throughout the hike though clearly impatient. Wolf, was the opposite of its master, bounding through the woods with her tail wagging and nose pressed to the ground snorting at trees and bushes. Rose followed close behind in matching silence, grasping the handle of her knife.
After a period of time, Dunion came to a stop at the top of an incline.
“If you stay along the river,” he said, pointing to the steep hill where not far below a stream flowed steadily without signs of ice, “you will find yer trail from before. Keep the hill to yer right and you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you,” she nodded.
Dunion looked behind him and turned away. “Take care, Lady Marsh,” he said.
“Farewell,” Rose said.
Dunion called for Wolf once more and went back the way they had come. Rose watched him in silence, until she saw him fade from view and then she set down the diminutive trail the dragon egg swaying from inside the sack.
Notes:
Old farmers trick: use potatoes to get out slivers- this does not work great with deeply imbedded glass but wood or anything else seems to work just fine.
Chapter 8: The Little Menace
Chapter Text
Rose kept the steep incline to her right, following the vague directions Dunion had given her. She weaved around yews and birches, under draping grapevines and past ancient oaks and their undergrowth that dotted beneath the mighty tree’s countless branches. Watching for when the winding river morphed into marshland, she continued on.
From between the skeletal branches she could see that the sky was a very pale blue, though it held precious little warmth to it. A chilling breeze continued to blow steadily cutting through her thick wool cloak and jerkin straight into her bones, freezing her from the inside as well as the out. Her breath came out in puffs of white and she could not seem to rid herself of the shivers.
Rose strode on, thinking of the warm fire she had left behind as birds squabbled form the brushwood seen, and the crunching of her footfalls echoed in the trees. Once she heard the baying howl of a dog in the far distance, and thought of Wolf, the stranger’s small hunting partner. There was little other sound: for the first time in her life, Rose was completely alone, with no other human being in call. It was a strange feeling, both liberating and unsettling.
She walked until nightfall, when she thought that she should have come across her trail from earlier that day. There was no evidence of her footprints or earlier struggle with the grapevine and the slim river still ran strong.
Rose looked at the river and then sat abruptly onto the ground, placing her head in her hands. It could not be true, but she knew it was, that she was lost in wilds with a dragon egg. The irony her situation was not lost to her, and she laughed grimly; had she not said only days before that she did not wish to be trekking through the wilds alone and without any true direction. Yet, now, here she was doing exactly that.
She sat for a long time while the night grew colder. Her lips were parched and cracked and her body was aching with hunger. But she had no water to drink and no food to eat…
She sat unmoving, sinking slowly into hopelessness, and it was only when she shifted to ease the aches in her body that she realized that she had to get the dragon egg to Ailis, no matter what it might cost her. In a sudden haste she fumbled the pack off her shoulders and opened it, her fingers were numb from the chilling air and kept slipping off the fastening. Eventually she got the pack open and pulled out the dragon egg. She hugged it close to her chest, knowing it would be no use to wander in the woods with only the dim light of the moon to guide her.
Eventually Rose remembered the river and she stood placing the egg back into the pack. She walked over to the steep hill and picked her way, slowly and painfully down the slope, holding onto branches of trees for balance. Every time she slipped on the snow or a loose rock tilted from her weight, Rose thought she would go crashing down again. She pushed these notions aside with an effort of will and concentrated her mind solely of the present: this step and the next step. After a lengthy effort she reached the bottom. She looked up at the sheer mound, thinking that it give the impression of a large white cliff.
Rose turned away and stepped towards the flowing river. She stared at the water for a short moment watching the distorted reflection of the spherical white moon. Making up her mind, she unwrapped the bandages of her left hand, knowing that it wasn’t as torn as her right hand. She braced herself for the icy water, but still she cringed violently when she made contact. Icy cold pain shot up her arm, pickling her skin like tiny, bitter needles. Letting the water rinse away the salve, she soaked her hand for a short time. When she could no longer stand the burning cold, Rose cupped her hand and brought it out. She sipped the water, marveling at its freshness before dipping her hand in again. She drank five handfuls before she could no longer stand the stinging of her palm. She patted her hand dry with the cloak and walked over to the base of a tree, where she sunk down into the snow.
She shivered and watched the sky. Small bands of clouds glided across the heavens momentary covering the pinpoints of stars and a pale ample moon. She blinked in tiredness.
Rose removed her rucksack from her back and tugged out her dampened cloak, she shook it out and, pushing the snow away until she sat on ground only dusted with white, then placed her cloak under her. Pulling out the egg she cradled it to her chest with one hand and grasped her knife in the other, she used the sack as a makeshift pillow. For a long time, she lay awake listening to the rustling in the chilled night, shifting on the hard ground. She hardly slept that night, but lay awake blankly staring out, looking for the predators that lurk about. She heard nor saw nothing but found that she could not relax enough to sleep.
Not long before sunrise the next morning Rose was so stiff from cold she could hardly move. The early day was dim and the dreary overcast had returned. When she saw the glow of the sun at the edge of the forest, she packed her belongings away and walked back to the river where she drank once more, before facing the sheer hill. She had decided somewhere within the night to keep to the riverbank and head to the east, as the stranger, whoever he was, had advised and though following his advice so far had gotten her nowhere rather quickly she had no better idea.
She turned over with a groan and sat up, trying to rub some life back into her arms and legs but it was to no avail. She still felt like icy prickles had crystalized within her and for a long moment she did not want to move from her spot. Eventually she remembered that it probably best to warm her blood and move, and so she packed up and began a swift pace along the sloping borders of canal.
She continually had stop to swallow down handfuls of the running water in hopes to trick her belly that it was satisfied, this worked for a short time before her stomach ached worse than before. She also had to break continuously to relieve her bursting bladder.
By midmorning, Rose noted with relief that river’s torrent began to weaken and she sat at its edge to rest. She felt weak and lightheaded from her lack of food and her hands were trembling and stiff with cold. She looked at her palms; one concealed by dyed fabric and the other hardened and cracked with blood. As she had walked, she had attempted to rewrap her left hand while walking but she found that it was more trouble than it was worth, and in the end, she chose to hold the bandages in her palm.
Rose removed her cloth rucksack and placed it in her lap. She rested there watching the water swirl away.
Ailis would be back today, Rose reflected in ravenous silence, but what will she find? Tornac unaccompanied and unknowing as where Rose had disappeared to, fading footprints in the forest, and then what- a trail that lead them to Dunion’s camp or perhaps nothing? They would probably search for her for a while, but after a time they would have to halt their search, perhaps afterwards the two of them would turn their shadows her direction and start towards Kausta and later to The Varden as intended. That way, at the very least, the green dragon egg would find safety.
Rose sighed and licked her lips.
Overwhelmed by sudden weariness, Rose closed her eyes and drew her knees out from underneath her. Oh, how she wished for a bed swollen with downy and above all a hot meal! Roast beef and fried mushrooms and roots: carrots and beets and anything else she pleased. Her mouth watered. She would have them baked, roasted, poached and sugared. And she would sit on a large couch in a room adorned in cloth of all colors, and there would be a warm fire flicking in a grate, and she eat until her stomach was full and ready to burst. She swallowed, almost smelling the sweet meats and candied fruit-
And then a sudden screech broke the silence, tearing her away from her fantasy. She jumped up onto her feet and looked around the forest, clutching the woven the bag to her chest. Another shriek filled the air and she startled. She yanked the knife from her belt and turned around, craning her head to the peak of the hill. Instantly, she cursed herself, if there was an enemy she was at a disadvantage. She should have stayed above and trailed down to get water when needed, instead of trapping herself below.
Another screech rang in her ears and this time she felt a vibration through her bag. She yelped in alarm and dropped it. The bag wobbled on the ground and Rose kneeled down, opening the flap with the blade of her knife. It quivered as soon as she flipped open the flap, and she jumped back. The bag shuddered and she carefully inched toward it and peered inside. It trembled again and this time Rose was able to identify that the wobbling was coming from the egg.
Suddenly the egg groaned and a crack appeared. Rose’s eyes widened and she dropped the knife. She grasped ahold of the egg and pressed her hands against the surface, in attempt to cease the cracking. Panic rushed through her and she gasped. If she ever made it out this forest and saw Ailis again, Ailis would likely kill Rose for breaking the dragon egg.
The egg wobbled underneath her pressure and another creak appeared. Rose’s hands fluttered to cover this one as well. The egg creaked again and Rose moaned hopelessly and pulled her hands out. At the top of the egg where all the creaks met up, the sizable piece wobbled and levitated shaky before it fell back down. Then when it rose again a series of squeaks were heard. She knelt in silent horror as a small gleaming head poked out of the hole. The head squawked at her, and then a curiously angled body pulled itself out. Soon the creature was all the way out of the egg. It stayed in place for a moment on top of her bag, before it wobbled and tumbled gracelessly into the snow.
Rose recoiled in alarm.
The creature, the dragon, poked its head out of the snow and wiggled its way upright. It shook itself and began to lick away the oily membrane that sheathed it.
Rose shifted away and the dragon’s triangular head snapped around and it looked at her, its barbed tongue flickering out of its mouth. The dragon swished its tail across the snow, scattering it about as it considered her. Then it looked around with wide eyes, before moving away from her, examining its surroundings with curiosity. With a flutter of its wings it jumped onto a fallen, hollowed out log and crawled away to the edge where it craned its head downwards. It peered into the log with interest and leapt off the edge and crawled its way inside, vanishing from sight.
Rose, who had been watching the dragon in a frozen state, stirred when the dragon disappeared into the rutted log. She crawled over to it and peered inside the opening of the hollow. The dragon turned around and blinked its slanted eye at her. Its cherry-colored eyes gleamed with amusement.
Rose frowned.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said reaching her hand in after it. “We’re not having that.”
Her fingers brushed air and she gazed back into the log.
The dragon, which was just out of her reach, flickered its long thin tongue at her.
Rose huffed at it in annoyance and turned away. “You’ll have to come out eventually,” she told it.
Standing up, Rose grabbed her knife off of the ground, where she had discarded it earlier. She cursed violently and forcefully threw the knife at a nearby birch. It nicked the hard, papery bark and bounced off, landing into the snow. She swore again and went to retrieve it.
When she turned around she saw that the pesky dragon was peaking its head out of the log and was watching her with a single eye. Rose cursed at it and dove at the log, but it was too late, the dragon snaked its long neck back inside the log. She got up and turned away. Sitting down facing the log, she waited for the dragon to show its nasty little scaly face.
She hadn’t broken the egg as she originally thought and hoped, no, it was much worse, the dragon had hatched into the world. It had hatched for her, this she was positive of. Rose grumbled angrily at the log. It had hatched for her like her father’s beast of a dragon had hatched for him.
Rose cursed loudly at the grim choices that lay before her. Perhaps she could stuff it back into the egg and fasten the egg shut with cloth, she discarded this thought as soon as it came, the dragon would only find a way out. She could not leave the hatchling to fend for itself and, hopefully, return to Ailis and Tornac with an emptied and shattered egg. Ailis would scold her and proceed to search desperately in the forest for the dragon. She could not undergo killing the thing, which would be worse than leaving it in the wild. Killing it would solve much of her problems, but it would mark her as Morzan’s daughter as well as keeping it would and then she would have to live with the dragon’s death on her mind. No, she could not do such a black deed.
Rose gulped.
She liked the last option the least but it was the only one that she could find reasoning in. Rose would have to accept the dragon’s appearance and continue to try to find her way back to the cabin. She would have to accept her parent’s heritage, this was something she did not wish to do as it was the reason why she had absconded from Urû'baen. Rose closed her eyes and rubbed them with her hands. Her luck had run out the moment she left the capital.
Rose stood up and walked to log, she glanced inside, the dragon was tightly coiled with its tail wrapped around its body. Even in its curved state, the dragon was a foot longer then her forearm; it had stocky and compact body and thick legs. Its scales gleamed in the dimmed lighting like crimson embers, the same color as the egg. The dragon flicked its long tail and fanned out its wings as best it could in the tight space. The wings were the color of the finest speckling raspberry-wine in Urû'baen, the very kind that she and Tornac would sit down with in the evenings. A procession of small spikes ran down the creature’s spine from the base of its head to the very tip of its bulky tail. The spikes were the same color as the freshly fallen snow on the ground. The dragon’s triangular head had two white spines prodding out from its cheeks and wide crescent shaped horns. Two diminutive white fangs jutted down from its upper jaw, they shone like daggers and Rose thought them to be very sharp.
Rose knelt down and stretched her hand out to the dragon willing it come out. The dragon twisted its head toward her and sniffed her hand. It blinked at her. Tentatively, she stretched her left arm out and touched the dragon’s wrinkled snout with the tips of her fingers. A flare of icy energy surged into her hand and raced heatedly up her arm like flickering flames. She lost her balance and fell to the ground with a piercing cry. A loud ringing filled her ears, and every part of her body scorched with pain. She tried to draw her hand back, but was unable to do so. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest and she listened motionless to the pounding, waiting for whatever had processed her to release her from its grip.
After what seemed like hours, warmth slowly returned into her limbs and she was able to slowly sit on her knees. Her body tingled and ached, and her lift hand was numb. She blinked and looked back into the log, trying to understand what had occurred.
Inside the dragon was crouching, its tail rapping against the wooden interior. The dragon squealed at her and she felt something brush lightly against her consciousness. The dragon looked up at her and blinked. She blinked back. She felt it again, but this time the feeling was stronger, more solidified. A tendril of thought she identified as interest, but she did not know if the thought belonged to was her or the dragon.
Rose knew little about Dragon Riders but having grown up a castle where one was present, she knew that when a dragon and its Rider were bonded it was a union that enforced them to mend their minds, bonding them for life. She knew that the King could use magic because of him being a Dragon Rider and she wondered if she could now as well.
Rose shook the thought away. She did not want this and the moment she found Ailis she would give up the dragon and demand that their bond be revoked. Afterwards she could get on with her life as if the dragon had never hatched.
The dragon stood up on trembling legs and wobbled out the log through the other end, furthest from her. Suspicious, Rose stood up as well and followed it with her eyes. The creature walked around the log toward her attentively. It stood before her, its head craned high in a dignified manner. Rose leaned down and looked it in the eye.
“You’re a little menace, you know that?” she said to the creature.
Luckily, the dragon did not answer her back instead it blinked at her and she felt another tendril touch her mind. It was an overpowering, ravenous hunger, which somehow made her own hunger even more evident, and Rose groaned at her rumbling stomach.
“If I had food, do you not think I would be eating it?” she told it. Then she smiled slightly. “I could eat you.”
She laughed grimly and reached for the dragon but it jumped back. It eyed her warily.
“Peace, little nuisance, I shan’t dine on you,” said Rose shaking her head, suddenly feeling rather foolish for talking to the dragon.
She walked over to her pack and slung it across her back. Then she turned back to the dragon, who was idly watching her with bright eyes. She walked pass it and begun down the trail without looking back. The dragon could come with her if it pleased, Rose had decided, if not, then that was that. Problem solved.
The dragon trailed after her in slow movements causing Rose to sigh and slow her pace, to match the tiny dragon’s. Every few moments she looked down at the creature as it shuffled beside her, its wings spread wide for balance. The dragon’s wings, she noticed, were several times longer than its body and ribbed with thin white fingers of bone that extended from the wing’s front edge, forming a row of widely spaced talons. Rose looked away.
In the distance, she could see small animals scattering about the broad trunks of trees. After a time she saw the little dragon scuttle ahead of her after a small squirrel and Rose watched as the dragon crouched down, much like a cat would to pounce, in the crunching snow. The squirrel ear’s wagged and it scurried up the base of the tree and it whirled around at the dragon to chatter unhappily with it before scampering high into the branches. The dragon huffed at the tree, smoke plumed wispily out of its nasals, before scuffling back to Rose its head held high.
Rose laughed softly and shook her head.
“Nice try, little nuisance,” she told it, before walking on.
The dragon, Rose soon found out, helped to keep her mind off of the worst of her hunger. It would dart ahead and jump onto a rock or log, its wings flapping wildly and at times it would squeal comically at the swirling water. At one point the dragon repeated its attempt at hunting, only this time the dragon caught the small woodland animal and gobbled it down whole. Rose scrunched up her face in disgust at the dragon when it returned licking its maw. It looked at her innocently. She scoffed at it.
For some time she and the dragon walked side-by-side along the river banks. The rays of sun, that occasionally escaped the cloud cover to warm their faces and later their back. Soon their path fell into long winding shadow and Rose’s sweat chilled her skin. Now the river was truly beginning to weaken until it was but a stuttering icy stream and Rose no long dared to drink from it though her mouth was dry and chapped. Their process was reduced to a sluggish stroll and Rose had to stop when she felt too dizzy to continue. She had decided that she couldn’t take another step when she looked around and saw with a great relief that the stream ended completely and the land turned muddy and filled with brown reeds.
She knew this place.
Notes:
...a thorn in a log
Chapter 9: Of Sweetbriars and Thorns
Chapter Text
At that moment, she looked over the crisp, brown sedges and dried mosses and broken reeds. Rose took a deep breath smelling the strange blend of moldering clay and freshening snow. She looked down at the dragon and said cheerfully, “We’re almost there, little nuisance, just over the ridge and through the forest. After that, I shall feast on bread and berries, and perhaps you can swallow another squirrel, if it fits your fancy.”
The dragon looked up at the sound of her voice and flicked its tail across the fine snow. She felt a notion of voracious hunger from the dragon and her stomach complained greedily. Rose cast the dragon a look of dislike; believing that perhaps the dragon was taking some strange pleasure in her discomfort, but another thought from the dragon told her otherwise. The dragon was as hungry as she and it did not understand her resentment. Puzzled, Rose frowned, turning away from the dragon and hastened her step, scrutinizing the incline for any signs of her earlier mishap. The dragon tumbled behind her but kept close to her heels.
Rose and the dragon continued until evening when, at last, she saw trodden brushwood lazing flatly against the gradient. The hill was spotted with twisting tanned stones that jutted from the snow blanketed earth, and tufts of wrinkled lofty grass which heaped deadly against trucks of white-barked trees. She rubbed her wrists and stared at the spiked sweetbriars, noticing small pieces of shredded cloth sticking to barbed undergrowth.
The delight she acquired from finding her trail was dampened by the realization of how treacherous the terrain that she had fallen was. It was a rare and lucky chance that Rose had not walked away from the tumble in a worse state than what she had, and that she had walked away at all.
Rose took a deep breath and looked about for another way up the hillside. Perhaps, she could lead the dragon back a ways, and take their chances on a different part of the precipice. Rose shook her head knowing that would take far too long for her liking; they had passed a long mile that was little but a cliffy overhang.
In the end the dragon made up Rose’s mind for her, it strode over to the hill and began to cautiously scramble its way up. The dragon jumped onto a large rock, at the base of the ridge, and proceeded to climb into the heart of the tousled sweetbriars. Rose paused, daunted by the sharp thorns and bristles, and realizing that she had little choice hurried after the dragon up the hill.
The thorns prickled at her skin and tore at her trousers and snow slipped under the soles of her boots, more than once she slipped and grabbed at the briars or occasional tree to steady herself. Meanwhile, the dragon scampered ahead effortlessly evading the worst of the knotted undergrowth.
When the dragon was at the peak, it crawled onto a stump of a tree and rested there inspecting her struggle, its claret tail thumping. It watched her for a long moment before it lay down its head and closed its eyes. A short moment later, a puff of dark smoke coiled out of its nostrils.
Not long after the dragon reached the top, the snow under Rose’s boots gave way and she slipped down the hill, unthinkingly she clawed and grabbed at the briars to slow her fall. Thorns tore into the skin of her hands and arms and she cried out. She threw herself at the broad branch grasping it both her arms. Rose clung there for a moment allowing her breathing to slow, when the dragon sent her a tendril of eagerness.
She huffed at the dragon and scurried around the base of the tree, not quite willing to release her grip on the branch. “I pray you can comprehend what I have to say, dragon,” Rose told it in exasperation, “if not than I shall say nonetheless; you have four legs whilst I only have two. So, please, almighty lord of the skies; be patient!”
After that the dragon bothered Rose little more and instead it lay on the stump watching her battle the brushwood with keen interest.
When the sun touched the earth and the long shadows lengthened until the woodland was dim as mist began to creep in, Rose stopped climbing having at last reached the peak. The dragon blinked at her lazily in greeting. She sighed tiredly and, ignoring the beast, walked over to the stump and sunk down onto the ground leaning heavily against the wood. The dragon stood and stretched, its back arching. It circled the serrated base twice before leaping down into a pile of snow, fluttering its wings, shaking off the snow and then crawled to her earlier footpath. It turned and squeaked at her sending her a wary thought of impatience. Rose wiped her bloodied hands on the snow, leaving behind long red smears, and looked up at dragon when it squeaked at her once more.
She huffed at it and stood up mde her way to the dragon, and placed the tips of her finger on its head marveling at the smoothness of its scales. When a light tingling ran up her arm Rose abruptly turned away, breaking their contact, and started down the trail.
Numbly, she walked down the path, wishing that there was light to see by, with the dragon just ahead of her. They were both stumbling over loose stones and roots hidden by both night and snow. Rose did not know how long they walked, only that the dragon took a slight lead and that it never strayed from the footpath.
Since discovering her earlier trail and the lightened joy it gave her, Rose felt her mood toward the dragon slightly shift and she began to pass time by telling various tales of her past and legends she heard as a child. It was a demanding task as the dragon would offend interrupt her in its own primal way to press for details, like how silk felt or the taste of candied chestnuts. There were many things Rose could not find the words to describe and so she resorted to their mind-touch to express the feelings, tastes and smells. Sometimes she felt that the dragon was amused at her attempts but it remained interested all the same.
At last she could take it no more and she called for a rest. Rose dropped heavily onto the ground where she stood and tucked her knees under her chin. The dragon did not protest and it too lowered itself onto the snow. It no longer whisked its tail or fluttered its wings about playfully, no, the dragon was far too tired to exert its energy in this way, and lay completely still in the snow.
Rose sat, staring unseeingly ahead for a long moment and when she decided that perhaps it was time to continue she heard a clatter in the distance and felt something warm brush against her leg. Shocked she looked down at the dragon and saw that it was standing rigidly looking ahead, it was producing a strange gurgling sound. Rose hushed it and crawled off the path and into the brushwood behind a tree, the dragon grudgingly following after her.
It seemed a long time before Rose saw a figure that the soft padding of footsteps belonged to. The figure steadily worked its way up the broken path toward them, a lit lantern swinging low to the ground.
Bending down Rose placed her hands on the bare earth, cringing as her cuts stung from the pressure, on either side of the dragon so that she was hovering over it. With determination, she sent the dragon a message to stay in place, it took her a long moment to come across the correct sensation to do so, and even longer for her to convince herself that the dragon understood her. Rose untied the knife from the cloth belt at her waist with one hand and she stood almost embracing the tree, watching the figure closely.
As it drew closer, she thought that it wasn’t a man after all but most certainly a woman. Her first thought was that the figure was Ailis, they were of the same height and stature, but Rose was not going to take any further risks, not with a newly hatched dragon about. The closer the figure got the more certain Rose was that she was pursuing Rose’s footprints. The figure slipped and Rose heard her curse under her breath before straightening herself, hoisting the lantern above her head. Rose at last saw her face. It was Ailis. Rose tiredly warned the dragon to remain behind the tree once more and then she lousily staggered out onto the path.
Ailis’ head snapped up in her direction and her hand went to the hilt of her shortsword. She stepped forward and the muffled glow from the lantern reached Rose’s face, blinding her. Rose shadowed her eyes with her hand and squinted in Ailis’ direction.
She heard the woman gasp audibility and sprint towards her, dropping her lantern into the snow but she did not seem to notice. Without warning Ailis threw her arms around Rose embracing her passionately so that the breath was driven out of her, after a short moment Ailis kissed the top of her head. Rose remained still, puzzled over Ailis’ passion, and then she hesitantly returned her embrace, wrapping her arms around Ailis’ back. After a lengthy time, the woman stood back and held her at arm’s length. She looked over Rose struggling for words.
"I don’t know whether I ought to strangle you or not!” Ailis growled at last.
Rose swallowed loudly, her throat was scratchy and dry.
“Not, I think,” she said.
“You do think, then?” Ailis demanded heatedly, “I thought that, perhaps, you lost your ability to do so.”
Rose glared at Ailis, her ill mood from earlier that day returning. “I’m truly sorry-”
“Apologizing does not change what has transpired,” Ailis retorted in a low voice.
“Neither does reprimanding me as if I were some child!” Rose said, matching her tone.
Ailis started to say more but she stopped and looked away toward the cloud streaked sky, she took in a deep breath calming herself and looked back at Rose studying her. Ailis smiled tenderly though her eyes still flashed with anger and then calmly said, “You look as if you’ve been dragged through a mountain of briars.”
“I have,” Rose said snappishly, still irritated with the woman.
“At the very least, we shall have plenty brushwood for the fire tonight,” she said quietly, eying Rose’s snarled hair.
Rose inwardly groaned. She had thought little of the sad state her hair was certain to be in and the thought of Ailis having pick out and untangle the briars and barbs within, was tormenting. Rose shuddered; knowing sleep would remain far from her this night.
Ailis released Rose from her grip and picked up the lantern she had dropped before. Turning back to Rose, she raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you coming or do you wish to remain here?”
“I’ll come,” Rose said diffidently, she felt out to the dragon and found that it still remained beneath the tree, “but I must tell you of something beforehand.”
Ailis turned her head to the side and shifted. “Go on, then,” she said.
Rose bit her lip, straining to find words to explain what had occurred, and not finding the correct words to do so, she slung the rucksack from her back. She unfastened the rope hatch and looked down at the bag. Simply handing the sack to Ailis, she said, “I found the lost dragon egg.”
Ailis looked at her in shock, her eyes shadowed brutishly in the flickering glow of the lantern. Wordlessly she took the bag from Rose and peered inside. Ailis quickly dug through the bag and her look of mere shock turned into disbelief and then uncertainty. Silently, she pulled out a large fragment of the dragon egg and turned it over, examining it from all sides in the light. Ailis glanced up at Rose and back to the egg fragment where a large crack splintered down in the middle intermitting light from the lamp. Dropping the fragment back into the bag, she grabbed Rose’s unwrapped hand and turned it over in the light. She hissed out a breathy curse.
Rose watched Ailis’ reaction mutely chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“What happened?” Ailis asked.
“Which are you referring to, the egg or my hand?”
Ailis looked up at her met her eyes urgently. “Both.”
Rose yawned and pulled her hand away from Ailis, rubbing her eyes.
“The egg hatched, Ailis,” she said with another yawn. “Can we talk about this elsewhere?”
“Yes,” Ailis said after studying her for a moment as if seeing her for the first time, “yes, of course.”
Rose nodded tiredly and called the dragon through her mind. The dragon answered back after a short pause and Rose’s stomach rumbled in response. Once she assured the dragon that there would, in fact, be food soon the dragon clawed out from the underbrush and it tottered to her, eying Ailis warily.
Ailis watched the dragon mutely, her face blank and expressionless except for her eyes which were wide in either bewilderment or anger or perhaps both, Rose did not know. When the dragon came to a halt in front of Rose, Ailis walked forward and stooped down in front of it so that they were level and to Rose’s shock she addressed the dragon.
“Well met, little one,” she said, a hint of irony in her voice. Ailis then stood up and looked Rose in the eye. “I suppose, you have not fed him, have you?”
Rose looked at her in exasperation. “I have no food to feed it!”
Ailis lips twitched and she pulled a shoulder bag in front of her, swinging Rose’s rucksack over her shoulder, and she prodded through it. Silently she handed Rose a cloth bag filled with berries and she looked down at the dragon. “I apologize, little dragon, but I carry no meat,” she told it.
The dragon blinked and swished its tail in response.
They then started down the trail, the dragon swaying next to Rose.
“Where’s Tornac?” Rose asked, between mouthfuls of the waxy berries.
Ailis looked at her out of the corner of her eyes. “He stayed behind for fear that you may, by some rare chance, find your way back there on your own. In which case, he did not wish for you to arrive at a vacant hovel. He’s in quite a dire state.”
Rose looked away into the silhouetted forest. “It was not my intention,” she said softly.
Ailis exhaled noisily through her nose but said nothing more. The woman pushed the pace as they walked in suborn silence, wrapped in their own thoughts. The next few hours passed in a blur of tiredness. Rose was too weary to notice much of anything in the night only that it was a dark and punishingly cold night and she would be quite glad to sit beside a fire soon enough. Her feet and back ached her but the rest of her body was numb. The dragon was beginning to lag behind and more than once they had to slow their pace to allow it to keep pace, its head dripping close to the ground and its tail dragging limply behind it.
“You’ll become ill if you keep consuming those berries,” Ailis said. Rose started, not recognizing that she was still eating the dried fruit and handed the almost empty bag to Ailis.
At last they reached the edge of the woodland.
Walking slowly and tiredly they stepped through the snow into the darkened cabin and padded softly to the dimly lit grate. Ailis extinguished her lantern and set it on the earthen flooring next to her bags while Rose walked to the fire and added tinder so that they could warm their chilled bones. The dragon curled up beside her, its tail to its nose, and swiftly fell asleep when she sat down, its hunger forgotten.
“Do we wake him?” Rose whispered in the silence, looking at Tornac who was quietly sleeping close to the door.
Ailis shook her head. “He will wake soon enough.”
Rose nodded and blinked tiredly.
Rose watched as Ailis walked over to the heap of bags and picked one up swinging it over her shoulder. Ailis then proceeded to walk past Rose to place to a pot filled with readily water which she set over the fire. Sitting down she turned and faced Rose.
“Let me see your hands,” Ailis said.
Wordlessly, Rose set her left hand in Ailis’ and waited. Instead of bandaging her hands as Rose thought she would, Ailis merely frowned and held her hand in both of her own. She searched her wounds on both her hands, as those were Rose’s worse injuries and called for instant attention, with expert, gentle fingers and Rose struggled not to flinch.
“You are not going to bandage them?” Rose asked after a moment.
“There’s no use,” said Ailis, “I’m afraid that if I did so they would not heal well.”
Puzzled, Rose frowned but said nothing more. When Ailis was inspecting Rose’s hands, she pressed her hands hard over Rose’s palms. She took a deep breath and then spoke in a soft voice, “Waise heill!”
Rose gasped as the felt the skin tickling as it mend back together renewing itself and the dulling pain vanished completely. She pulled her hands backing looking over them entranced, they appeared as if the thorns from the sweetbriars never scored them, save for a distorted oval blotch which shone a faint silver in the firelight on her left palm. Rose stared at the deformity intently wondering absently of its origin before she looked up at Ailis with both concern and distrust. “That was magic,” Rose breathed.
Ailis’ lips twitched and she said, “It was.”
“You have not told me you wielded magic.”
The sleeping dragon, beside Rose, stirred and puffed out smoke.
“With good reason,” said Ailis, releasing her hands. Rose flinched away from Ailis’ touch as the woman raised herself onto her knees to look over the shallow wound on her forehead. “Do not mistrust me because I have withheld information about myself from you, Rose,” Ailis said seeing Rose’s reaction. Then Ailis rubbed the wound with a sweet-smelling balm from a tiny jar she drew from her pack. She turned then to the boiling water and made a strong tea. Ailis poured the scorching water into two mugs and handed one to Rose, which she set down on the ground next to her.
“Are your abilities the reason why you were sent to Urû'baen to retrieve the dragon eggs?” Rose asked after a long silence.
“That was part of the reason,” said Ailis pulling out a wide-toothed comb from her bag.
Rose yawned feeling thoroughly exhausted, however desperate to stay in the waking world, she asked, “And the other part?”
Ailis stood behind Rose, combing patiently through her hair. “I was rather adamant about the endeavor,” she said guardedly, “and I was one of the few who knew about its existence.”
For a long moment she sat contently while Ailis vigorously tackled her hair with a comb, the slumbering dragon on one side her and an increasing pile of sweetbriars and thorns on the other. Rose yawned, despite her tiredness she could not fall asleep. The sharp tugging of the comb kept her on the verge of wakefulness, and after a time she took to the tea. The herbal tea was both sweet and bitter, and it warmed her down to her toes allowing some of the chill to leave her bones.
Chapter 10: A New Direction
Notes:
Muirgheal is pronounced Mur-elle
Chapter Text
It was late afternoon the following day when Rose awoke. She was so warm and comfortable that at first she didn’t want to open her eyes. She stretched luxuriously under her blanket, her hand brushing something warm and scaly. Running her fingers curiously over it, she remembered where she was and the events that had occurred and sat up, tousled and still half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. The late sunlight shifted through the open doorway, touching objects around the room with a still, golden light, and she could hear the swallow breathing of the dragon behind her and crackling of the fire behind it.
“Good afternoon,” said Tornac. “I trust you slept well?”
Rose jumped and turned around. Tornac was sitting on the bare earthen floor, his legs stretched out before him, a big, leather-bound book open on his lap. He closed it carefully and placed it on the ground next to him. He was pale and the scar on his face stood out as it always did when he was anxious.
“I…” Rose faltered, taking a deep breath. “I did, thank you.”
Tornac studied Rose in silence. Suddenly feeling very much like a small child, Rose turned her eyes away and studied her hands.
“What happened?” Tornac asked at last.
“I chased after a wisp,” she said. “It led me deep into the forest and disappeared.”
Tornac’s eyes turned black in anger. “And then?”
“I fell down a hill into a marsh and a stranger came by and offered help.” Rose rubbed her hands. “I had injured myself when I fell and could not get back up the hill, so I went with him.”
There was a short, ominous silence where the only thing that was heard was the dragon chewing lazily on a strip of pink meat, its tail rapping contentedly against the ground and the crackling laugh of the fire.
When Tornac did speak, it was in the hard, even voice that he signaled total fury. “Do you mean to tell me that, after years of avoiding even the smallest advances of friendship even from those dearest to you, you suddenly decide on a whim, with no warning at all, to not only hunt after a fairylight in middle of the night but wholly trust a stranger? I thought you had learned something over the past years.”
“It was foolish, I know-”
"Foolish? That’s the least of it. Perilous, reckless, stupid. By the gods, Muirgheal, I’d expect such a thing from a child, but you at least ought to know better than anyone else the perils.”
Rose stood up, nearly toppling over the dragon, stung by Tornac’s anger.
“If I am not a child, then why do you insist on treating me as if I am?” Tornac leaned back onto a small heap of bags behind him but did not answer. Rose took a deep ragged breath. “I’m sorry, Tornac” she said bitterly, “I truly am.”
When Tornac said nothing Rose walked over to the iron pot that they used for stew and boiling water. She crouched down and peered inside, granules of dried meat and barley floated on the surface of the thin grain-colored stew. Sighing with discontent, she poured herself a bowl and hungrily drank from it. The soup was mild and the meat stringy but Rose hardly tasted it as she ate hurriedly, eager to fill her grumbling belly. When the wooden bowl was emptied, she poured herself another and sat back on her heels enjoying the taste and warmth.
When she finished she setting the bowl on the earthen flooring ,and stood, stretching her arms. She turned around and saw that Tornac’s anger was subsiding, and that the dragon had now finished its meal and was licking its claws joyously, is pink tongue flicking in and out of its maw.
“I forgive you,” Tornac said at last. But please do not repeat these actions and if you do, at least warn me. All the same, Rose, you know as well as I that that was a reckless act and we cannot afford such recklessness if we are to survive this.”
Rose did not need to be told what ‘this’ was, she knew he referred both their lives and their flight and now the dragon. “I promise,” she said, then added as an afterthought, “Where is Ailis?”
“She is setting out snares since your dragon appears to be depleting us of our supply of meat. Be warned! She has taken your welfare somewhat to heart, and she is rather cross at the moment.”
“I know. She liberated some of that anger on my hair.” She ran her hands over the plait she had slept in.
“She mentioned that to me when I awoke,” said Tornac. He gave her a sudden, brilliant smile. “Seems to me that the tumble is a more than you’re letting on.”
Rose grumbled in response and picked her way over to her bags. Pulling out a spare set of clothing and her waterskin, she requested that Tornac leave so she may bathe and dress in private. When Tornac stepped outside, she peeled off her torn clothes, washed herself all over minding her cuts and sores, and changed into the clean clothes from in her pack. She did not know what to do with the soiled clothing and so she dropped them onto the rucksack.
As she was pulling on her boots, she noticed that the dragon was watching her intently, its ruby eyes luminous in the firelight. She stood up and approached it apprehensively, its eyes never strayed from her movements. Leaning down she met its gaze and the dragon blinked and her and thumped its tail loudly against the earth.
“What am I going to do with you, little menace?” she asked it.
The dragon cocked its head to the side and sent her a reflection of their endless walking the day before through their strange mind-touch.
Rose shook her head. “No,” she said, “no more of that, I think.”
Closing its eyes in response, the dragon rested its head between its paws and puffed out curls of smoke. Rose observed the dragon until it began to make a vibrating noise, between a hum and a purr, then she stood up straight. Walking over to her saddlebags, she pulled out her sword from the top of the small pile and belted it then walked over to the door.
A bitter wind pierced her exposed skin cruelly, instantly leaving her numb, the moment when she opened the door. She blinked and squinted her eyes narrowly at the blinding snow-coated plains, closing to wooden door firmly behind her.
Ailis and Tornac stood near the barn deep in conversation, neither of them looked up as Rose made her approach.
“-tried every method I could think of, and yet, I could not contact him,” Rose heard Ailis say sharply. Rose saw Tornac look over in her direction and Ailis followed his gaze, and the woman hurriedly said, “I tried to scry him.”
“And nothing?” asked Tornac.
Ailis shook her head. “Nothing. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to be reached,” she said and looked away, her eyes downcast.
“Are you speaking about someone within the Varden?” asked Rose when she reached them. She felt the dragon’s consciousness in her mind as it stirred in response to her agitation and interest and she pushed it away, shutting her mind off to the creature.
Ailis frowned at Rose and shook her head. “No,” she said distractedly, “a friend of mine.”
“Did you find anything by doing so?” Tornac asked quietly.
Ailis met his eyes. “Less than I desired.”
“I see. Well, let us not stand here like mislaid sheep. We ought to get indoors, there is a chill in this air that I like not,” said Tornac puckering his brow. He stepped over and clasped Rose’s shoulder and began to usher her around the drifts of shining snow and towards the cabin, Ailis following not far behind. “Don’t you concern yourself with Ailis’ troubles and secrets,” he whispered quietly to Rose, “she has quite a bit on her mind at this moment and a remarkable little of it she wishes to burden you with. It would be unwise ask else she may never say,” he advised and leaned away.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rose whispered.
Looking behind her shoulder at Ailis’ glum figure, she frowned and bit the inside her cheek. Shaking her head, she looked away and hurried ahead into the hut, she had had enough of nature as of late and dearly yearned to be inside.
When inside the cabin, the travelers sat wound the hearth in silence. It was only when the dragon stood and lousily scuttled its way to Rose did someone speak. “What do you make of him?” asked Ailis, studying the dragon with a look of great concern.
Rose looked at her, momentarily puzzled. Rose thought about for a moment, and though she was still maddened by the mere idea of the creature, she looked at Tornac out the corner of her eyes and muttered, “I’m not certain. I haven’t quite had the opportunity to comprehend what has occurred.”
Ailis frown deepened and with a deep sigh she placed her hands in her hands. “What do you wish to take place?” she muffled.
Rose frowned, unsure where Ailis was going with this conversation. “Only for it to crawl back into its egg and remain there,” Rose said in truth.
Ailis snorted a breathy laugh. She looked up and smiled wobbly at Rose, then she turned towards the fire and stretched out her bare hands, the flickering glow from the flame gleamed off of the teeming crisscross scars that scored her hands. Rose watched as Ailis rubbed her hands together and leaned closer to the fire, a piece of rich brown hair tumbled into her face and she wiped it away, tucking it behind her ear. She sighed and leaned away whispering softly, but whatever she had said was lost to the loud thumping of the dragon’s tail.
Rose looked over at Tornac, who remained silent throughout the exchange and met his gaze, he shook his head and continued to poke at the fire with a stick. “I believe now would be a suitable time for you to tell us of your adventure, yes, Rose?” he said as the golden cinders raced into the air.
Looking at the flames, Rose slowly began to tell them of what had occurred, she was only interrupted once by Ailis who requested to know what had awoken her to begin with. After she told them of the necklace, feeling rather imprudent all the while, Ailis leaned forward and listened with zealous, her hands folded tightly in her lap. When Rose finished her account, she fell silent, not meeting their eyes. Tornac leaned back on his hands absently studying the ceiling and sighed halfheartedly, while, Ailis remanded unemotional, her face masklike.
“The necklace is charmed,” the woman said after a time. “It keeps anyone from scrying you, looking for you by magical means. Someone must have been searching for you the other night, that’s why you were awoken.”
Rose blinked and leaned back on her hands in disbelief. “It was the King,” she muttered after a moment. “He’s a sorcerer, and I know he’s upset over my disappearance. If the necklace is charmed, does that mean that he saw nothing?”
Ailis nodded but it was Tornac who said, “It seems to me that he has likely sent his people to look for you and they couldn’t find you; he began to look by other means. It’s best to keep that necklace on, my girl, and not take it off.”
Rose nodded, fingering the long chain, and a long silence overtook them. Finally, Ailis stood up and beckoned to Rose. “Let go for a walk, yes?”
Tornac threw another branch in the fire and poked it, a trail of sparks flew up into the chute, as Rose got to her feet. She draped herself in the mud-spattered cloak she had worn the previous day, before following Ailis into the fleeting daylight. The dragon watching her movements with its eyes, before it stood and followed after.
Ailis silently led Rose outside and into the forest down a broken path. A coolness fell over them; the sunlight fell in dapples and Rose saw squirrels vanishing up the trunks of tree as they passed, and a rabbit propped in a small glade, its white tail bobbing into the trees as they drew closer. Beside her the dragon sauntered, conveying to her its displeasure at their return to the woodlands, Rose irritably sent it her own abhorrence for the towering trees and the brambles that grew below their high crowns, and the dragon bothered her no more.
They walked in silence for a long moment, as they had the night before, and soon Rose began to feel as if she had never left the sheltering of the trees and that her afternoon in the cabin was little but a distant dream.
Finally, Ailis came to a halt and turned around to Rose. They were at the edge of a dell still underneath the limbs of bare trees, the glade circled before them in a tedious mounding of shining snow.
“There is much you need to know and much I cannot teach you,” Ailis said. “I am not a teacher, and so what knowledge I can pass to you may not be at its best. I had planned to hold off until we’ve reached the Varden but I now believe that you must know.”
Rose scowled, soured by Ailis’ tone and riddles, at the trees in the distance. How many lifetimes these trees must have witnessed, Rose thought, how many sorrows and furies and pleadings have been heard?
When she looked back at Ailis, the woman summoned her forth and kneeled down in the snow by a wide trunked tree, and swept the powdery substance away from the roots, revealing a simple roped snare. Ailis then proceeded to describe how it worked and had Rose both take the trap down and set it back up. Afterwards Ailis showed Rose the numerous tracks on the ground and instructed her on how to track the animals and judge where they might be nesting, during this time neither of them paid any mind to the dragon, which was at a time near their heels, and so they did not notice with it traveled far from them and deep into the forest.
Rose was the first to notice the dragon’s absence, quickly sending out her mind to it but the dragon was too far away and she felt nothing. Panicked Rose told Ailis and the two of them wandered the woodlands until they tracked down the little beast. It was clawing mercilessly into a burrow near a fallen tree. Rose called the dragon and it straightened and looked at her. It turned back to the hole and growled maliciously before it blew smoke and trotted toward them.
Ailis laughed silently beside Rose, shaking her head. “That’s something I’ve never dreamed of seeing.”
Rose shivered, looking down at the dragon. Suddenly, she thought of the chilled air and wondered whether or not the creature was cold or how it could stand the blistering wind, she shook her head to clear the thought away. “Night is beginning to fall,” Rose observed.
“It is,” said Ailis, “and a hot meal is calling us back.”
While they walked little pleasantries were exchanged as Ailis focus solely on her teachings, one time Ailis pointed out a dried grass with feather-like tresses at the tops, which she pulled out of the ground and shook out the dirt out the roots, she explained how the roots could be peeled off and cooked before eaten in any season. The rest of the walk was spent by Ailis checking a number of traps, one of the snares was cut and frayed at the ends, and walking up to different trees and showing Rose how to peel the bark with a knife and the flesh that could be eaten inside, she also explained how to make a sweet tea from the twigs of a birch tree.
It was only three hours before dusk when they returned to the cabin. Chilled and still tired from her voyage in the forest from the days before, Rose quickly opened creaking door and stepped inside the warmed shelter. Shivering, Rose rushed across the flooring and curled in on herself by the balmy fire next to Tornac, who had taken to his large book once more.
“Did you enjoy your walk?” Tornac looked up and smiled tightly at them in greeting. “Am I right to assume that it was less eventful then the one previously taken.”
Rose frowned and looked down at the dragon as it curled close to her. She pushed it away with her foot, wishing that the creature would find something else to lie close to.
“I would hope so,” Ailis said getting food out a pack.
Wordlessly, Tornac leaned forward and began pour the stew into bowls with a wooden ladle. Realizing how hungry she was Rose eagerly reached out for the bowl Tornac handed her.
“We haven’t lost all courtesies, at least not yet, I hope,” said Tornac, sitting down on the other side of the watchful dragon. “You must wash first.”
Smiling teasingly, Ailis sat back with her own bowl in her hands and drank from it causing Rose to laugh lightly as she handed out rolls of hardened bread- none of them troubled theirselves with washing their hands.
They munched in silence for a time and the dragon began to thump its tail softly against the ground. When the bowls were drained the dragon again sent Rose a tendril of thought, it was desired food as well. When Rose relayed this to Ailis and Tornac, Ailis simply rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I doubt that he will ever stop eating,” Ailis said. “If he’s hungry you ought to skin that rabbit.” Rose glared at her in annoyance. “He’s your dragon, Rose, for the time that he’s a hatchling, and at moments after he grows, he’s going to rely on you for many things.”
“It’s not my dragon,” Rose growled.
“Oh, so he hatched for someone else and you just happened to be the only soul around in that moment? No, Rose, he hatched for you and now you are his Rider whether you wish it or not.”
Scowling Rose stood up turning toward the resting dragon. It snaked its head up and blinked at her. “There’s a way to revoke the bond, is there not?”
“Only through black magic,” said Ailis warily, after a short pause.
Tornac huffed at them. “Rose,” he began in a warning tone.
Turning away from them, Rose walked to the limp rabbit picking it up by its hind leg with distaste, she stepped to the doorway. “Don’t worry, Tornac, I want little to do with magic. I’m merely inquiring,” she said and walked into the freezing air.
When she went back inside, she noted that the dragon was waiting for her close to the door, she bent down and lay the meat strips in front of it. Watching the dragon sniff the stripes and then proceed to guzzle them up, Rose sighed, there wasn’t much she could do about the creature at the moment.
While she was cutting the pinkened meat, Rose thought over the predicament that was the dragon and how she should proceed. The only action she could take, as she had concluded the day before, was for the time being to accept the dragon’s presence. It seemed to her that she had little other choice and that perhaps Fate was a cruel jokester indeed, allowing her escape Galbatorix’s preparation to transform her into one thing, and then tossing at her a dragon and thus making her a Rider as her father had been.
She stood up and resignedly walked over to Ailis and Tornac. When she sat down, she ignored their conversation despite their efforts to include her. Only with the sun had set on the horizon, did Rose turn away from the fire and look at her company. Ailis and Tornac were talking quietly and, she saw in the corner of her eye that, the dragon lay close to her saddlebags studying her closely. It met her gaze and sent her tendril of thought and Rose responded in kind. After a moment the dragon stood and hesitantly toddled over to her. Stopping a foot away, it stood stiffly and Rose held her hand out toward it and watched as the dragon’s eyes went wide as it scrambled to her side. Rose unemotionally turned to Tornac and Ailis, scratching the dragon lightly under its scaly chin.
After a moment she was able to conclude that they were deciding on how they travel through The Spine, whether it be wild or road and perhaps they should they wander to Kausta, as planned, or stop shortly in Teirm to send word south to the Varden. It was a long, dreary exchange as they were thinking through all the advantages and possible difficulties that may occur. When Rose joined in on the dispute both of them started as she had cared little before that moment but listened to her option. Hours later they agreed to head towards Teirm through the wildlands of The Spine, but first they would seek a town or village and obtain a healthier set of provisions. After restocking the fire, the travelers crawled underneath their blankets and swiftly fell asleep as they would arise early the next day.
Chapter 11: Voyage
Chapter Text
Rose was not quite sure where it was that they were at, only that a small woodland surrounded the deer trail they had been following since leaving the cabin days before. They had hopes that the trail would eventually lead them to a road, and later a village. It had been to their dismay discovered that their provisions were getting low. They needed food, and soon, else they were danger of becoming fatigued or ill or starving.
In all truth she missed the shelter of the capital; she was never hungry there as she was out in the wilds nor was she ever quite so cold. Always had she had a warm bed to sleep in and never had to worry if she would eat that night or not. She had never before had to worry about those things, though she did not. When she had left, she hadn’t realized the hardships she was about to face. It was those hard hardships that made it seem as the winter had a harness to it unlike any other. She couldn’t lie to herself, she missed Urû'baen and the safety it provided, despite the threats, it had been her home.
In the wild the days passed in a blur of mind-numbing tiredness, and her body was constantly sore, as if she had been beaten all over with sticks. Their travel has slowed to mere crawl yet they kept the grueling pace of traveling from sun up till sun down. Whereas before they had been traveling solely by horseback, moving avidly and swiftly, now they frequently journeyed on foot beside their steeds, their boots disappearing in the layers of snow. The dragon followed slowly after them, and often they had to stop completely to allow it to catch up.
The clear weather had gone way, and now they traveled through a miserable blend of snow and icy rain. It agitated them, placing them in foul tempers and it was not long before many unpleasant words were exchanged, the weather also made them all the more determined to find either town or shelter.
Ailis guided them westward by the sun and stars, and on clear nights they watched the moon growing thinner until it was waned to a nail paring and disappeared, and then witnessed its gradual return. The land itself prohibited swift movement; the ground was uneven and strewn with small rocks and treacherous holes, hidden underneath a thick blanketing of snow, that threatened to twist or even break the horses legs if they were careless, because of this they could travel at most three leagues in a day and it was more than thirty leagues before they sighted the rising peaks of The Spine in the distance. As they neared its shadowing peaks the level plains were soon exchanged with rolling foothills. Rose, elated at seeing the change at first, found the foothills hard going; dreary, empty and dispiriting. Before the last of the light left the sky Ailis would ride ahead of them to check for any signs of road or life and every time she would return grim faced with heavy disappointment, and together they would quickly set up a makeshift camp in the frequent small dips or hallows that were untouched by the worst of winter’s tempest. Far too wary for much else, the travelers would eat an insipid meal of berries and the last of their hardened rolls of staled bread, and afterwards Tornac would force both Rose and himself into action and tutor her in swordcraft, pushing her far past her limits, only then the three of them would gather theirselves under the meek sheltering of their blankets.
During the fruitless marching, the dragon matured drastically, and soon it was safe from most dangers, doubling its size in the first week and when it was a fortnight old it was the size of a small horse, its shrill squawking deepened into a deep bass grumble. Repeatedly throughout the day the dragon would take off, away from the group, to hunt but it always kept within mental contact of Rose. Their mindtouch expanded as quickly as the dragon grew, so that they could communicate anywhere within the distance of three leagues.
Finding that the dragon, which seemed wholly unaltered by the freezing conditions, to be the only single affable company she had during these lengthy days, Rose turned towards its steady composure. Even with her continuous contact and the swift growing relationship with the dragon and the contentment she felt in its presence, she would more offend than not stubbornly rebuff the dragon’s attempts at furthering their contact past their mute discussions directed purely through images and emotions.
“Don’t be so severe with him,” Ailis told her one morning when she hastily strode away from the clingy dragon.
Rose frowned quizzically. “It’s a male?”
Ailis sighed and rubbed her face with her bare hands in exasperation. “Yes, Rose, do you have ears of cloth?”
Rose felt a new kind of fear stirring within her, a fear of the intimacy she was forming with the dragon, knowing its gender only worsened her uncertainties and prickled at her anger. She glanced at the dragon, and it flickered its tongue out and blinked at her, sending her its feelings of contentment. “I could leave you here, you know,” she him bitterly, “seeing as you enjoy the cold so.”
The dragon stiffened and turned away, his head raised to sky to watching the dropping snow dance in the wind. The little menace closed his mind to her, and she was once again her own person. She leapt onto the saddled back of Starshine, and looked into the countryside with resigned fury.
That day they cheerlessly rode, as the snow was low to the ground and permitted them to do so, in silence with the muted halo of the sun rising high above them before disappearing behind the rocky crags of the mountains, at times the dragon glided dejectedly above or stumbled loudly behind the steeds, tentatively commuting without words to Rose.
As Ailis took her twilight exploration for the road that night, Rose and Tornac huddled under an inadequate shelter of a small fir, with the dragon close by, sitting on his haunches his clawed hands resting on the ground in front of him. Tornac had, to cap the misery of their flight completely, developed a heavy cold with a lurid cough, and when Tornac began to shudder intensely, Rose unwrapped herself and draped her blanket over his frame. Then she wandered around the evergreen picking off their green gristly needles for a luscious tea and when she had, what she thought to be, enough she set them on the top of her saddlebags. Ambling tiredly around the tree Rose collected enough tinder for a small fire, the dragon trailing her with its bright eyes.
“Where is the tinderbox kept?” asked Rose as she positioned the kindling the same way she had seen Tornac and Ailis do.
Tornac coughed. “It is broken,” he said breathily.
“I know but that’s where the stones are kept.”
Tornac slowly leaned over and prodded through his bags before pulling out a steel cylinder with a damaged rusty chain that linked through its center, fastened to the fetter was a long horizontal ovoid ring. He handed the tinderbox to Rose and leaned back against the base of the tree, watching her with heavy eyes.
Rose turned the object over and peered inside where a corner of soiled fabric poked out of the center, pinching the silky fabric she struggled with it until the scrap of cloth was out of the tinderbox and was resting on her palm. Placing the metal tinderbox onto the ground, Rose bent down resting on her knees and unwrapped the fire starting stones, a chipped white and gray banded disk of agate and tarnished dark yellow cluster of marcasite lay between the folds of beaded cloth. She dropped the strip of fabric on top of the tinderbox and looked at the tinder uncertainly.
“Strike down,” advised Tornac between coughs.
Nodding in understanding, Rose held the stones between her fingers and struck them together, jumping back onto the balls of her feet as they collided together with a deafening clap. Calming herself, Rose struck again and again watching transfixed as ember sparks dashed off the surface of the rocks, and so she did not notice when the tinder caught. The dragon mind-touched her with a image of the smoldering tinder and the small trails of silvery smoke that climbed into the evening sky, and she started slightly before dropping the stones into the snow and leaning forward to blow gently between the stocks of timber. When a small golden flame wavered, Tornac leaned forward in front of Rose and placed a hand full of dried grass into the leaning tinder then he leaned back he pulling Rose back with him. The flames quickly ate up the brown tuft stuttering out portions of sparks as it crackled gleefully.
Rose smiled, pleased with her feat, and admired the flickering flames for a long moment before she stood and rummaged through a bulky saddlebag in hunt of the cookware. Pulling out the coarse iron pot and ladle, she walked a short distance to a patch of pure snow and scooped a small pile into the pot and walked back. Rose placed the pot close to the fire and sat between Tornac, who was leaning heavily against the fir tree with his eyes close, and the dragon. They rested in silence for a time. Then Tornac stirred and leaned forward coughing violently, Rose looked over to him with concern.
“We’re lost,” said Tornac when the coughing subsided.
Rose started. “Pardon?”
“We are lost,” he cleared his throat. “Ailis will never admit it but we’re lost.”
“I’m in the understanding that we are being directed by the stars,” said Rose with a frown, thinking that perhaps fever was affecting Tornac once again.
“We are. Not so much before, and so now we are lost.” Tornac shut his eyes.
A long silence fell between them, and Rose mixed the melting snow, dully clanking the ladle against the pot’s rimming, when the snow had melted wholly she dropped in the fir needles so to let them seep. She was so weary that she scarcely noticed what she was doing, and the pot almost fell over and into the fire. The dragon, who was resting contently nearby, growled deeply so to get her attention and Rose unthinkingly raced her hands out to seize the handles. Hissing in response to the heated metal, she quickly jerked the pot straight and inspected her hands. It was not a severe burn only a thick glossy pink band on her palms. She submerged her hand into a cooling piling of snow.
The dragon leaned in closer and snaked his head around to her, nuzzling her arm with his snout in interest. Rose looked up at him, she could see herself reflected in his eye, and they regarded each other then she felt his mind, tinted with curiosity, touch her own and instead of the images she was customary with she heard a deep, almost musical voice.
Hurt. Are you?
She started in alarm and nearly toppled over.
He blinked, and the ridges above his eyes shifted, no longer emitting curiosity but wryness and, even, amusement.
You hurt?
With her mouth agape, she stared at the dragon as he shifted, his scales, covered in globules, shimmered in the firelight like hardened gems. The dragon thumped his tail loudly and Rose shook her head in astonishment.
“So you talk now, is that it?” she asked the dragon, struggling to compose herself.
Tornac stirred beside her and opened his eyes looking at her feverishly, his were eyes glossed over. Rose simply pointed to the dragon, and seeming too tired to inquire about it he quickly fell back to sleep.
Maybe. The dragon beat his tail against the ground.
Her eyes widened at the unexpected reply and she glanced at the dragon questioningly before turning away to mind the fire, drawing the hood of her cloak snugly over her head she pushed the dragon from her mind. Rose felt rather thick for disregarding the dragon’s intelligence, she had heard various rumors that the King’s dragon Shruikan had the ability to speak with words but she always thought them to be just that; rumors and nothing more.
Rose was scooping out the boiling tea into the wooden mugs with the ladle when Ailis returned, seated regally on top of Arvid, looking both grim faced and proud. Ailis slid off the mare’s stooped back and quickly unsaddled her before dropping close to the fire next to Rose.
“I’ll have some of that,” Ailis said pointing to the green tinted tea. Rose offered Ailis her untouched mug which Ailis took greedily, and stood up to fetch a third out of the pack. Placing a mug filled to the brim with tea on the ground next to Tornac while walking past him.
“This is a pleasant change,” Ailis commented, tugging off her tatty fingered gloves. “What brought it on?”
Rose glanced at Ailis and sat in the same place as before and stirred the tea. “Tornac is getting worse,” she said quickly, “We cannot keep going scrambling around like dogs in the wild, we have to move and find some shelter soon.”
Ailis shot Rose a look of black anger. “Do you think that I do not know this?” Ailis retorted crossly, causing Tornac to flinch violently, gasping for air and looking around startled, both Ailis and Rose looked around at him as he settled. Then Ailis took a deep calming breath and said in a kinder tone, “Forgive me, Rose. I know your concerned for him, I am as well, but I cannot simply magic a road to appear.”
Rose hesitated. “I was not asking you to,” Rose said softly, pouring herself tea. “I’ve never seen him so ill in my life. I wish we were in a place to allow him to rest.
“As do I, Rose,” Ailis stated softly, taking a sip of tea and swallowed loudly, sputtering with distaste. “This very pungent! Did you add in a whole tree?” she said with a cough.
“I suppose so,” Rose said smiling faintly as Ailis peered inside the pot and groaned.
“That would an understatement. You’ve added a whole forest!” mumbled Ailis, standing up and walking away. When she came back she spread some food between them: dried fruits and meats and a single tough looking biscuit. “Eat,” she said. “Then we’ll labor through your swordcraft before bed which has been sorely neglected since Tornac fell ill.”
Rose broke the biscuit in two in response.
When they were done eating, Ailis lead Rose to just past the reaches of the fire’s glow to and looked Rose over sternly before unbuckling her shortsword from her belt, requiring that Rose do the same. Rose found Ailis to be more severe than Tornac, constantly growling out bizarre remarks to bewilder, anger, and one time insult her, and Ailis was not as talented as he; her reflexes were swift and she was very strong despite her size, but she was no elegant fighter though she was just as instance. When Rose quietly remarked on this, Ailis simply laughed.
“You have been sparring only with Tornac,” said Ailis, “who comes from a family where a great skill of swordcraft is their birthright, so its no surprise that I do not meet his abilities.”
Frowning Rose tightened her grip on her sword thoughtfully. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Ailis, where did you learned your skill?”
“I’d rather not say,” said Ailis, her face hidden in shadow. “Now let’s start again.”
Ailis took over the swordcraft lessons for about a week, and under Ailis’ tutorage Rose’s accuracy and skill grew with her confidence. Ailis, despite her occasional remarks, was a patient and encouraging teacher and Rose also was no longer a raw beginner: holding the sword no longer felt strange and she had quick reactions and had a good natural balance. After a time Ailis began to coach her in unarmed combat, and Rose began to feel for the first time that she might be able to hold her own against attack.
“Don’t get over overconfident,” Tornac warned breathlessly from the sidelines. “You are still only a beginner. It’s the stroke you don’t see that kills you.”
Rose simply looked at him sourly.
That night they were camped in a deep hallow in a shelter of two huge rocks that leaned together at a rough angle, creating a natural roof. Rose was on first watch and sat at the edge of the dell, looking over the silent hills and the stars burning over them. She was very tired, but she was use to fighting her wariness, and to pass the time she sent her mind out in search of the dragon. She felt and heard nothing. The dragon had taken off late in the afternoon that day and Rose has not been able to touch his mind since. She shifted on the hard ground nervously; it was very cold, and her legs cramped with stiffness.
Three hours after sundown the half-moon climbed into the starry heavens and cast a chilly light over the landscape. Rose was thinking that it was time she moved about in attempt to warm herself, when she heard a noise. Immediately she sharpened her mind and sent out after the noise; it was barely distinguishable from the wind but she heard the familiar flapping of wings. A mind connected with her own, and the dragon sent a warm emotion her way in greeting and she stood looking into the sky. The dragon had not spoken to her in words, not since Ailis taken over her lessons, instead returning to his silent emotions and visions to communicate.
At last Rose spotted him as he descended from the darkened sky. The snow swirled into the air as he loudly landed in front of her. She frowned at him.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
A vision of a shaggy kind of deer darting down a hill, flickered across her mind, it turned its head around with gleaming black eyes wide with fear, its breath was rapid and shallow from the exertion of its run, and its bulk trembled in fear, its tail twitching. The creature dashed to its right and stumbled into a hole twisting its limbs, and the cracking of bones could be heard. The loud sound of flapping wings, not unlike the deafening boom of thunder, and the deer was getting closer until it could be seen with one eye, it twitched and attempted to stand only to fall back down and screech in panic. Rose pushed the dragon’s mind away with disgust.
“No need to go any farther, I understand, you were hunting,” said Rose, a vile taste in her mouth. She swallowed. “You’ve been away for quite some time, it’s a wonder that you spent all your time catching a meal.”
The dragon pounded the ground with its tail and folded his wings.
Feeling the dragon’s mind touch her own once more, she opened to it and gasped. A vision of a small town, from high above in the sky, leagues from where they were now, with a beaten dirt path down its middle.
Rose turned toward the dragon.
“You came across a town?” she asked.
The dragon established that he had indeed glided over a settlement with another image of the town.
Rose grinned openly, truly enlivened for the first time since parting from Urû'baen, at the dragon. “Thank you!” she said breathlessly. “Oh, thank you, little menace, I cannot say how grand of news this is.”
The dragon’s ruby eyes gleamed happily and she looked at his bulk thoughtfully. He was now taller than she.
“You can no long go by ‘little menace’, I think,” she said suddenly.
The dragon merely blinked.
She sighed, a curl of vapor churned into the air. “You ought to have a name to go by.”
An image, crossed Rose’s mind, of tingled briar branches and attached to the vision was an emotion. Recognizing the dragon’s tinges of amusement, she narrowed her eyes at him angrily.
“Sweetbriar?” she asked raising an eyebrow, “You wish to be called ‘Sweetbriar’? That’s rather formidable. All shall fear the almighty Sweetbrair!”
The dragon sent his disapproval. No.
She momentary started as his voice echoed loudly in her mind.
“What then?”
Grumbling, the dragon faintly drummed his tail against the ground and sent another vivid vision of the sweetbriars.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Can you not tell me instead of sending me riddling images?”
The dragon thumped his tail loudly causing Rose to flitch, and focused the vision of briars to its small sharp details. Thorn, he said.
She stared at him in surprise.
“Thorn, indeed,” Rose muttered.
That next day they awoke early and Rose hurried told Ailis about the town. The woman listened, asking for further directions. When it was decided that they would change their direction north, Tornac called out to her, having wondered into the woodland quite some time ago.
She turned at the sound of her name and worried, hurriedly made her way through the underbrush towards him. Thorn followed her, nudging her arm with his snort. Pushing the dragon away, she walked around a tree, listening to the crushing of snow beneath hers and the dragon’s feet or watching for wildlife, though very little was seen, until she reached Tornac. The man was bent down in front of scraggy bush, his cloak pulled around him. She ran to him in alarm. He looked up and smiled at her.
“I’m alright,” he said with a cough, hiding his hands from view. “Hold out your hands.”
Rose looked at him warily but did as he said. She felt him take her hands and pull off her gloves, and she felt as three somethings, small and cold and hard, fall into her palm. Then she opened her eyes and looked at the objects in her hands in disbelief. “Oh! Blueberries!” She exclaimed, “I can’t believe you’ve found berries in winter!”
He grinned at her for a moment, and handed her a small bag filled with them. “I had thought you’d enjoy them,” he said, and she helped stand up.
As they began to walk back, she put the berries into her mouth. They were and dried in the harshness of cold, but at that moment they tasted better anything she had ever had. The dragon beside her, nudged her elbow again, and this she looked at him and rubbed its snout. Quietly, she thanked Tornac, and tucked the sack of berries away. Blueberries were a favorite of hers, and they were quite a treat to have. Perhaps not everything was as bad as it seemed…
Once they returned to the encampment, they left following the path Thorn had seen. When the sun was at its highest, as Thorn had promised, they saw thin lines of smoke rising on the horizon far in front of them. Forcing the horses into a fast gait, they rode throughout the day hunched against the icy rain, their cloaks clapping loudly behind them from the chilling wind.
They reached the unwalled hamlet well after dark that day. The hamlet was a collection of maybe two dozen houses, looking less like a habitation and more of a battlefield. At least three houses had been burned down, and nobody seemed to have bothered to clean away its remains. Other houses seemed to have been abandoned, their shutters swinging in the breeze, their doors hanging drunkenly off their hinges.
They entered the town quietly and headed to a small and a, surprisingly, comfortable inn called the Lazy Oak. Rose was numb with cold and tiredness, and was grateful for the respite from the rain. It wasn’t long before Ailis roused the inn keeper, who looked curiously at them but admitted them cheerfully and, after stabling their horses, showed them to a small pair of low-eaved rooms linked by a comfortable sitting room, in which he lit a fire.
“Too late for dinner, by some hours,” said the innkeeper with a slight accent. “Can I get you anything? Some spiced wine perchance? You look half frozen.”
He bust out eagerly not waiting for an answer, and did not return that night. Tornac wasted no time falling into one of the beds as Ailis threw her cloak onto a chair and leaned towards the fire.
“Perhaps it is a good thing our large friend hatched for you,” she said covering a yawn.
Rose nodded tiredly and explored the rooms, and she found, to her delight, that there was even a bathroom, although it didn’t have a way to heat water. With intense relief she washed hair and body, and changed into the last set of clean clothes from her pack. She returned to their sitting room to find Tornac swiftly asleep.
“We’ll stay here tomorrow and the next day,” said Ailis slumped by the fire. “I think we’re safe enough; I doubt anyone will notice us here. I want to buy some supplies and we need to do some washing. It will do us good to have a rest before we go on.”
Rose agreed and sat down close to Ailis. She contacted Thorn through her mind to tell him the information and to see if he was settled. They, Rose and Thorn, had decided that he was to stay near a knoll veiled by thick trunked trees just within their mind-touch should they needed to contact one another.
Safe? he asked.
Rose rubbed her hands together, still uneasy with his voice. We are. And you?
He grumbled through his mind. Yes.
Ailis says we shall stay here awhile. I cannot say I disagree with her, and Tornac is in a rather ill state.
Thorn paused, sending his emotions to her instead of words.
I don’t understand you, Thorn, Rose told him. Use your words.
She felt as he began to thump his tail. When you come, I will be here, Thorn said before breaking off their contact. Looking around, Rose noticed that Ailis had also gone to bed and for the first time since Thorn hatched she felt completely alone.
Chapter 12: The Lazy Oak
Chapter Text
When Rose emerged from her bed the next day the sun was high, and only then because Thorn was pestering her through their mindlink. Sleepily she fended him off, trying to crawl back into the enchanting space of dreams, where she was warm and comfortable. At that moment she had forgotten where she was and expected that with wakefulness would come the dripping twigs, wet hard ground, and the bone-aching cold that had been routine. When the warmth didn’t disappear, nor Thorn’s pestering, she suddenly remembered where she was and sat up.
What is it, Thorn? Rose asked irritably, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
The dragon grumbled in his mind and sent her his concern. The dark has lightened, and the day-circle is high and you have not yet risen.
Removing the nest of hair from in front of her face, Rose drew the sheets back and sat with her feet dangling off the side of the bed. She shook her head in confusion as she wondered if all of her future conversations with Thorn would involve riddles instead of words.
The ‘day-circle’? Rose repeated as she yawned, and stretched her arms out in front of her. It’s called the ‘sun’, Thorn. Is that why you woke me? To tell that the sun is up and I am not, or is something amiss?
No.
Then if nothing is wrong do not wake me again. I was enjoying my dreams.
She felt the dragon grumble forlornly, dismayed at have to linger in his isolated patch of woodlands, and withdrew from her mind. Rose stood up, shivering as the cool flooring offended her bare feet, and dressed in leggings and long tunic before padding out of the room into the small sitting room. There she found Ailis seated on a stout divan, wearing a dull blue cotton dress she had never seen before, sipping quietly from a tin goblet. She looked up when Rose entered.
“Did you sleep well?” Ailis asked.
“Better than I have in quite some time. And you?” Rose said, hiding another yawn. “Oh! How’s Tornac? Do you happen to know?”
The woman glanced in Tornac’s direction with a slight frown. “He shall be well enough soon,” she said. “We however have much to do today and very little time to dally. First, though, I think that a late breakfast is in order.”
Rose wiped the strands of knotted hair from her face, instantly cheered. The thought of food, a true to honest real meal, sounded far too good to be true. She quickly agreed, and after a quick wash Rose and Ailis went to the taproom for a meal, allowing Tornac the opportunity to rest peacefully in their rooms without disturbances.
The taproom was a grim room with a sandstone hearth, over which stood an empty dented copper ewer. There were wood-planked walls stained by years of wood smoke, and stained runners on the dark wooden floor. A few farmers sat quietly at tables drinking the tawny local beer, but otherwise it was almost empty.
The innkeeper was a rather portly man who introduced himself as Digne. He came over to them not long after they entered, a tray of drinks ready to be served balanced in his beefy hands, and Ailis ordered them some wine and a breakfast of sausages and fresh bread as they took a seat. After the innkeeper took their orders Ailis asked about finding a market, and was told that there was a decent one in the town of Cartama which was only a two hour or so ride east. With a nod and her thanks, she then asked after a lauders for their soiled attire. Digne assured that he would arrange for their washing to be taken to the lauders and that it would be ready by the next morning.
It was not long after the innkeeper went to serve another table that a little boy about four with a stock of curly hair and dark eyes served the wine, carrying the clay decanter with great seriousness, as if he carried the most precious crystal. Ailis looked down at the boy, as he slip the carafe clumsily onto the table nearly slipping it, and thanked him solemnly. The boy grinned toothily at her and ducking his head, he scurried away.
As Rose poured herself a good share of the spiced wine, she looked over and saw Ailis looking after the boy with her chin resting in her hands, her lips pursed. Frowning, Rose called after her but Ailis did not move until the boy disappeared around the corner.
Ailis looked up and met Rose’s eyes with a sigh. “Pardon me,” she said airily. “I seemed to have been lost in thought. When, oh, what’s his name- that’s right Digne- yes?-” Rose nodded “-When do you believe he will return? I have another question I would very much like to ask him or his wife. Providing of course that he has a wife, I believe, he does but I cannot seem to remember.”
“He does,” said Rose. “We frightened her half to death last night when we awoke them to get a room.”
Ailis nodded thoughtfully. “I was hardly listening to a thing he said,” she said. “I believe I was far too relieved and tired. This has been a long and hard journey.”
Rose silently agreed, and looked down at the table. “I would like to know how much longer we have to go,” she said quietly.
“Quite a long way actually,” said Ailis. “We haven’t gone very far, to be honest, just in circles. I took a hard look at the map this morning, and we have wasted a good chunk of time doing very little.”
Closing her eyes, Rose sighed and scratched her hand. If they hadn’t traveled far at all then how long would be until got somewhere where they could truly rest? She longed to find a place to sit and do nothing, and have no worry of what might come.
Shortly afterward Digne’s wife, an overly cheerful woman with the same dark hair as her son, brought them their meal. After the thin fare of the previous weeks Rose’s mouth was watering, and she was taken aback by how quickly her serving disappeared.
Once the food was cleared away, and two scratched tin goblets were refilled to the brim with a fair wine, they sat without speaking in the nook by the fire, very well content.
“Your husband fit, ma’am?” asked the Digne in passing, as he carried some beers to another table. “Couldn’t help but notice that he looked a tad under the weather, I did.”
“It’s nothing a short rest can’t mend,” Ailis said dropping her voice into a low accent.
“Just passing through, is you?”
“That’s the idea. My husband’s brother is expecting us up over in Meher in a week’s time.”
“Meher’s quite a ways over west,” said Digne, shifting on his feet and ducking his head as one of the farmers called him over. “Just wanted to make sure your husband wasn’t in a bad state. Have a good day, ladies.” He turned away and served the men over at a table far from them, chattering happily with the rough weathered men.
Ailis nodded, her lips pressed together in a hard line, and looked to Rose who had watched the exchange quietly. “Come along, there is much that must be done today and I don’t fancy wandering from this place later than we should.”
Ailis and Rose then made their way to where they stabled their horses the night before and after saddling them, they rode through the snow to the market town of Cartama in the east. Rose had never been to a town market, only the overly crowded market in the many webbed streets of Urû'baen, and even then never had she been given the opportunity to join the crowd or even observe their proceedings, and so she was both fascinated by the colors and smells and sounds.
There was a lad marching around the square calling; “ribs of beef and many a pie!” He was baring a tray laden with wooden bowls filled with cooked meats, and as a man called him, he scurried over. Rose saw huge round bellied pumpkins, their orange skin slightly wrinkled from winter storage; purple and green jumbled winter cabbages; streaky red apples, sweet and slightly wrinkled, resting in large weaved baskets There were piles of dried beans and peas and yellow lentils. She saw brown grains, bunches of garlic and onions, sacks of hazelnuts, and great rounds of cheeses wrapped in leaves plumped fatly on wooden trestles. Over everything was the drifting smell of freshly baked breads, and everywhere were the sounds of donkeys braying and cows lowing and goats bleating in distant stalls and dogs barking and the chattering of townspeople bargaining, that left Rose with a strange energy burning through her veins.
Ailis was quick to pull her out of her sightseeing and into a small sweet smelling bakery, where people cast them odd and distrustful looks. Ailis looked around and bought an enough cheap, tough bread to last them quite some time before she led Rose to the clothiers. There a demanding withered woman with wiry hair covered by a blue felt hat decorated with bells that jiggled loudly as she moved about, and bargained furiously with Ailis over a plain olive-colored dress made of rough wool. After some time Ailis handed over more coins than it looked like she was willing to give and snatched the dress up. She handed it immediately presented to Rose with a loud huff. “We’re enough of a curiosity traveling in winter, without proper dress and I’d rather people didn’t snoop,” Ailis explained to her as they whisked to the butchery.
Ailis assisted Rose slip into the one of the shop’s backrooms while no one was looking, and there she was able to change into the dress. Stuffing her tunic into Ailis’ shoulder bag, she had left her leggings on under the dress for warmth, she walked back outside, scarcely flitting around the hefty shopkeeper, and rejoined Ailis at the edge of the square where two minstrels were playing the pipes and a fiddle. They were dressed in bright clothes, with navy scarves tied around their necks, and a hat laid on the ground in front of them for coins. Ailis drifted in a leisurely fashion around the market chatting with the stallholders, Rose following behind silently keeping an ear out for the minstrels’ loud singing. As the sellers told them of the recent events, Rose slowly began to feel disheartened and troubled, and began wishing to leave the market and the music behind to ride back the hamlet with the inn.
It was just before dusk when they returned from Cartama with a supply of dried fruits and meats, barely flour and grain, a little oil and vinegar, some of the tough pasty bread, and a small sack of oaks for the horses. After carrying their supplies to the room they packed their baggage as Rose talked to Tornac about what she had seen.
Tornac seemed to have arisen from bed at last, glassy eyed and still flushed with fever, and they decided that they should eat in their room that night and arranged for a meal to be brought to them. They ate a tasty roast with crumpled vegetables followed by creamed apple pasties in routine silence, and Rose took care to eat slowly. Her stomach had been offended by the haste in which she ate in that morning.
Afterwards they sat near the lit hearth as Ailis had promised a tale from her homeland which seemed to become more and more outlandish as it went on, and soon she found herself full of burning humor. As the tale came to a close Tornac reached over and slid the carafe of wine back from Ailis’ reach. He caught Rose’s eyes and winked, completely ignoring the dark look Ailis sent him as he did so. “What you have will be enough, I say,” he said as Rose covered her smile with her hand, not wanting Ailis to turn on her.
“Wine is hardly alcohol, Tornac,” Ailis said severely. “It would take much more than a small glass to set me out of sorts. Oh, stop it, you rogue, and give it here.”
Rose bit back a laugh as Tornac spiritedly moved the pitcher onto the ground beside him earning him a very harsh look from the woman. The good humor did not last as Tornac began to cough into his chest, he quickly turned away from them, and his face peaked.
When the coughed stopped, leaving Tornac completely breathless, Rose asked if he wished to rest but her concern was met with a harsh refusal. Rose looked away, her face feeling very hot, and blankly watched the dancing fire.
Not long after, the innkeeper returned to clear away the plates. “That was a king among meals,” commented Tornac, and Digne smiled happily at him looking pleased.
“Nesta will be grand happy to hear that,” he said. “She takes a lot of care in cooking, so she does, even if business is slow and most don’t mind enough to notice.”
“Things have gotten worse over the past few years, that’s for sure,” said Tornac. “My cousin runs an inn near Belatona, and can scarce keep body and soul together”.
Digne’s crooked eyebrows lifted. “I hear the taxes is getting worse in the south. And them titled folk leave scarce little for the people to make life with, living high on the sweat of others with nary a thank you,” he said with a sad shake of head. He shifted and seemed to settle in for a long conversation. “Worse yet, I’ve rumors of raids in the north. Urgals, they say, coming down from the mountains and raves whole villages. Nesta fears they may their head our way soon and we’ll have to flee.”
“It’s bad, make no mistakes,” Tornac paused to cough hoarsely into his hands. “These may be dark days indeed, Mr. Digne, but know that not all folks are like that, some are still decent”-he fought back a cough- “Dark days or no, I have to get some sleep.”
“And I have my own business to be getting to, instead of yammering here like an old woman,” said Digne. “A good night to you!”
After he left, Ailis, who had sat silently beside Rose during the conversion, stood up and locked the door behind him. She looked thoughtful. “I don’t know about you but I’m going to use the advantages of bathing while there’s still a chance to,” Ailis said and left the room.
Tornac began to cough once more, before he too stood and excused himself, leaving Rose alone in on the divan. There she sat dreamily sipping on hot spiced wine, staring into the fire, feeling the warmth. The wind brew thick flakes of snow against the window and howled through the trees outside, and she felt extremely grateful she wasn’t out in the night. As soon as she finished the wine, she roused herself and contacted Thorn before heading to bed.
Waking late the next morning, Rose emerged feeling stronger than she had in a long time. She lounged lazily, feeling no hurry to rise. There would be plenty of hastiness again soon, so why not enjoy a comfortable bed while she could?
Eventually, she got out of bed and clothed herself in the stiff, coarse dress Ailis purchased the prior day, before padding into the sitting room where Ailis and Tornac were eating a breakfast of sausages, boiled eggs, and black beans. She sat down near them and joined them in their meal.
Over their meal, they discussed their immediate plans. Ailis thought they should leave for Ludène, an ample sized town that balanced along the rocky shores of Woadark Lake, the following day. “I think our best bet to voyage on the road for now,” she said. “I imagine that if your health were to decline again, Tornac, we would be within the reaches of aid.”
Tornac eyed her over his wine glass, which was raised close to his mouth, and he took a long draft.
“What about Tho- our sizable friend?” asked Rose. “We cannot have him pursuing us along the road, surely, someone will be bound to notice him.”
Ailis hesitated. “It might be best to ask him that question.”
Travel along the road if you must. Thorn’s voice sounded loudly in Rose’s head: he had been so quiet she had forgotten she was still in connection with him through their mind-touch. I will fly high so that no will see me.
When he remained silent she turned to Ailis, who was moving the beans around the plate with her knife in distaste, and told her of the dragon’s answer. Ailis nodded in understanding, and pushed the beans away. “Rest up while you can,” Ailis said, getting up to check in on the horses. “I’m planning on us leaving early tomorrow.”
For the rest of the day, they lounged in the inn and it wasn’t long before Rose grew weary of the wood grained walls, and she walked outside to observe a group of grubby, barefoot children that were playing in the road. From the shadowing overhang of the stables she saw the children were pitifully thin and their clothes were rags and scraps, barely enough to keep them warm in the summertime let alone winter. They were playing a sort of game she had never seen before, one of the children had a rag tied around his head covering his eyes and the other children ran around him shouting out nonsense until the blinded child would grab at them. After a time a small boy, little more than two years, was shoved out of the way by an older girl as she ran out of the way of the blindfolded boy, and began to bawl as he fell into a puddle. One of boys, with a mass of black hair on his head, backhanded the girl across her head and the wet boy began to scream more loudly causing the boy with his eyes covered to rip off the cloth and shouted angrily at them.
Suddenly a door shot open and a big woman ran out, holding a frying pan, screaming. “’nough o’ this, hollerin’ an’ whatsnot! What do ya thinkin’ ya doin’? Getter back ta yer mo’her awl o’ ya!”
The children looked up, frightened, and scrambled off into one of the houses.
After the woman shuffled back inside her home, Rose hurried inside the Lazy Oak, up the narrow stairway and into the rooms they were renting. For the rest of the day, she stayed inside talking silently with Thorn, as Tornac was sleeping the day away and Ailis was nowhere to be found.
Eventually she bid Thorn a good night, and made her way to bed, quickly falling asleep. Rose woke in the blackness before dawn to the sound of rain drumming on the roof, and she sighed. Reluctantly she dragged herself out of the warm bed and dressed, shivering in the cold. She, Tornac and Ailis made a hasty breakfast, standing up in the kitchen with Digne and his wife before walking to the sables and after burdening their horses they rode out into the mucky streets of the hamlet. A rainy blackness covered them, and Rose contacted Thorn, and he agreed to fly high above them. The half moon westerned slowly into long bands of dark clouds, giving little light. She looked back at the welcoming golden lit windows of the inn through the darkness, and thought of the warm shelter they had left.
Chapter 13: The Spine
Chapter Text
For the rest of the day they rode along the undulating road, through towns and hamlets and past lone farmhouses. Some places were as devastated as the hamlet they had rested in, while others seemed untouched. But over everything was an obscurity: they frequently saw derelict structures, last autumn's harvests lying blighted in the fields, and stray dogs wandering the foothills in search of food. Everywhere were the signs of coming famine, and in every town there were beggars, turning toward them in a plea for alms.
As they pressed closer to The Spine, they passed an entire family who were heading to a town with all their possessions piled on a wagon drawn by bullocks. Children sat at the back, their feet dangling, bickering shrilly. The few men and women stared hungrily ahead, as if they already despaired of the hope that had brought them to the road. One of the men, Rose noticed, wore no shoes and his feet were bleeding. They also passed single travelers, on foot or horseback, loaded down with heavy packs.
These were hard sights to bear and Rose, Ailis and Tornac spoke less and less as the day wore on, tacitly agreeing to camp far from the road before night came. As dusk deepened they voyaged off the road and trekked through the piles of sodden snow to a small overhanging of a huge oak in the distance. When the sky had darkened completely and they ate a uninspiring meal of tough bread and dried meat, Thorn landed close by and swiftly greeted them before laying down protectively, staring ahead towards the road. They kept watch in shifts, but heard nothing more sinister than a weasel freckled with winter's pallid fur, which Thorn terrorized by growling threateningly at it, watching merrily as it shrilled in fear and scattered for cover. The following evening they made camp under around a rock face with a slight overhang and again they slept in shifts, and again they saw and heard nothing.
In the following days they rode hard through the patching woods and farmlands and into the mountain pass. The pass was cut into the living rock, zigzagging back and forth across the mountains and sometimes even tunneling through the mountainside. From where she rode, blinking the harsh sunlight, Rose could see the Spine stretching before her far into the distance, purple peak after purple peak, with a grey scar of the road gleaming off along its flank. Before her the land fell sharply down, so that no soil could find purchase, at a drop to which should not measure to a valley hidden by the crisp greens of trees and brush sharp against the blue-greys of stone. She could see Thorn circling lazily upward from beneath their feet, startling the mountain eagles to their nests, should they need to protect their babes from him.
She caught her breath, feeling a sinking feeling akin to nausea, and stepped away pressing her back against the horse behind her. Starshine nickered and pressed her soft nose against Rose's arm, nipping the fabric of her jerkin. Absentmindedly, Rose reached out and cradled the horse's large head, pulling her away from her meal of jerkin-sleeve, before rubbing his pink peach-fuzzed nose. The horse nickered again, startling her, and pulled her head away to return to her grazing on a sliver rough turf near the path.
As they traveled, Ailis passed the time by teaching Rose the alphabet and the basic structure of the Ancient Language but rarely the words of the tongue. She taught of the mysteries, and of its peculiar histories, of the language's purpose and principles, of the behavior of wild birds, and the properties of plants. Rose was also told of the different legends about the appearance of on the content of the Grey Folk, and how none were agreed on their origins. Ailis did not mention the endangered dragons nor the reticent elves that resided in the forest Du Weldenvarden at all. By listening to these forms of knowledge, and beginning to understand them, made the present seem all the more real. After the shock of Thorn's hatching and all the events that had preceded it- everything that had happened since leaving Urû'baen- she wished that they were merely journeying, and not on this urgent quest. She pushed away the thoughts of being a Dragon Rider and all the important words and responsibilities that seemed to have nothing to do with her.
Most evenings, as Tornac slowly regained his strength, they drew out their swords and spared together. Rose learned in these days how to fight together with a partner and how to defend against two blades. More often than not Ailis and Tornac teamed together against Rose and she pressed harder than before. It was not long before she learned to rely on Thorn, who watched them intensely from the sidelines warning her of their trickier plays when he saw fit, this allowed her a short moment to raise her sword in attempt to block their assault.
At noon on the seventh day of traveling the dirt path, they entered the pass through The Spine and arrived in Ludène late that night, passing through the town to a small inn, where for one wonderful night they ate, bathed, and slept in comfortable beds. And then they were on the road again, before the sun crept over the horizon, pursuing their journey west.
The sun was beginning to tinge the horizon with dull reds and ochers as they passed through a less inhabited region dotted only with solitary shepherd huts. After a couple of hours the road wound close to the towering white crags of The Spine. There they slowed down and trotted through dripping trees, hearing only the sound of birdsong of the dull clop of the horses' hooves.
Rose was running through the alphabet of the Ancient Language, she had learned in the past days. It passed the time, and the soft cadence of the horses' hoofs crushing the dwelling snow melded into the rhythm of letters.
She was jolted out of her contemplations by Thorn, who was circling so high above them he resembled a common vulture, watching their proceedings. Two and three have been following you, he told her. They carry stringed curved sticks.
Rose glanced behind her and after seeing only the forsaken road she looked up at the sky and sought after the faint outline that was Thorn. I don't see a soul. How far behind are they? She asked.
Not far. They travel off the path.
Have they been following us long? Rose ran her fingers over the worn leather reins, picking at the reedy creaks with her nails.
I first saw them when the sun turned the sky to fire, Thorn said. I have been watching them.
Why did you not say anything about them before?
I was in doubt they followed you; now I am not.
She breathed out loudly and turned her head back to the road. She studied the Ailis' straight, unbending back for a short moment. "We're being pursued," Rose called out. Both Ailis and Tornac whipped their heads around and studied the road behind them. "They are off the road, traveling around the trees. Thorn says that there are five of them and that they are armed with bows."
"How far behind are they?" asked Tornac.
Rose quickly repeated the question to Thorn, and when he answered she said, "Not far."
"Do they mean harm, I wonder," Ailis mussed, almost to herself. "It seems rather possible. You say we have been followed but for how long?"
"Thorn said that he first saw them at sunrise."
"For so long," Ailis said thoughtfully, fingering the hilt of her sword, looking into the woodland surrounding them as if she was searching for them and then turned back to Tornac and Rose. She nodded and for a moment they all stared at each other, the same thought in their minds. Then they pushed their horse on so sharply Starshine stumbled, and began to ride through the path. The road was straight before them, and Arvid stretched flat into a full gallop. Shadowless began to fall behind, and Tornac roughly commanded him forth, and the blackened horse bolted with a new speed. Now they were bolting down the road; Arvid was still ahead of them, but the gap between Shadowless and Starshine was no longer growing.
Rose leaned forward in the saddle, the wind of their speeding lashed her hair into her mouth, and she tried desperately to spit it out. A whirring sound like a large bee, and a thock, as if something hit wood, echoed over the loud clomping the horse's hooves as they clouted heavily against the earth. She had time to reflect that she had heard the sound before, and that she didn't like it, when she heard it again; then she felt a sharp edge rend across the skin of her arm, she gasped as the pain tingled up into her shoulder. Without command the horses plunged into a mad gallop, and Ailis was shouting, "Arrows! Lay your head down!"
She obeyed instinctively, hiding her face against Starshine's neck, and hung on desperately as Starshine dashed wildly, trying to keep up the Arvid. Her arm stung where something had hit it and she realized that she must have been hit by an arrow, and was grateful it was just a cut. She dared to look back once and saw nothing through the trees. Not ten paces before her the path turned sharply to the right and only a low, stone wall stood between her and a vast cold of emptiness of air.
Rose leaned toward the cliff side, the one that Ailis was carelessly standing near as they too took in the view, and her vision flickered sickeningly as her stomach dropped once more and she began to shiver though it was not from the chilled air. One careless footstep could spell doom, she thought as her stomach continued its descent to her feet.
The rolling hills of Urû'baen had not prepared her for the driving slopes the Spine. As she thought of valley she once called home, she felt herself grow even more ill and stepped slowly around Starshine, putting the horse between her and the drop off. She understood finally why these mountains were called "the Spine" for they looked a giant's rotted backbone jutting cruelly out of the land.
You hurt? Thorn asked in agitation. Rose could feel his fury in her mind, twisting and coiling like black smoke.
Not badly, she said. Where are they?
Hidden. I can no longer see them.
Keep high, Thorn. I don't want them to see you, she told him as they wound in a loop around the trees. Thorn sent her his displeasure but kept in the heights of the sky so that he was hidden only by distance.
The horses slowed down to a canter, and then, as they reached a place where a large rocky shelf butted out of the woods, Ailis halted them with a signal of her hand, her face grave and alert. She led them to the rock, and they stood there, their backs to the stony wall, which stretched upward for about fifteen feet before ending with a slight overhang. Rose could hear the sound of horsemen pursuing them, approaching both along the road and through the trees, cutting through the loop of the road.
"We cannot race on wildly with such pursuit," said Ailis, drawing her bow out from behind her back and notching it with a feathered tipped arrow. "We will have to stand here. At the least they cannot come up behind us."
"There are five of them and only three of us. We're outnumbered," Rose said shifting on the saddle.
"However, we are not outmatched," Tornac said, his sword rested across his lap. "Best draw your sword, Rose. Remember what you have been taught in order to defend yourself. It is always smarter not to have to fight at all and if it comes down to it, don't be afraid of running away."
"And not to overestimate what you handle," she finished for him. Rose looked at her arm were the arrow had grazed her; it was a long slanting cut that had already ceased bleeding, and she fingered it, cringing as a burning tingle shoot up her shoulder from the movement. "I haven't forgotten, Tornac."
She reached for her sword, her fingers grasped the bedecked hilt, and she tugged the blade out noisily and looked towards the twisting road. Ailis sat beside her patiently, as still as stone, a long shining arrow drawn back tensely ready to sail through the air at a moment's notice. Tornac was shifting uneasily on Shadowless, staring ahead at the bend in the road with watering eyes. His was face pale and withdrawn.
It seemed that their pursuers would never come, but nevertheless a stout figure came trotting around the bend, and then another. They bore arrows set in bows and were cloaked in thick bronzed pelts. It seemed as if the men did not see them at first, as they looked around into the trees going slowly now as they hunted. Another horse came over the mound and joined them. Then the stout man, who seemed to the leader, looked up and sighted them, laughing he waved his fellows over. The horsemen let down their bows and trotted at their leisure toward them. Rose began to feel terror screwing up inside her like a vice, and she glanced about looking for the fifth and final rider, when she did not see him she contacted Thorn.
You say there are five, correct? Rose asked him, not taking her eyes off the advancing horsemen.
There are.
I see only four. Can you spot the fifth or is he still hidden from you?
Thorn snorted and there was a short pause. Not hidden, lingering behind. Be careful. I do not like this.
Rose did not break off their mind-touch, as she had done before, and adjusted her hold on the hilt of her sword nervously, watching as the men advanced.
When they were about thirty feet away, Tornac shouted indignantly, in the accent of the south. "What were you shooting for? You could of killed us. I'm going to complain to the authorities, I am."
The leading rider halted. "You could go squawking all you like, old man." His voice was raspy, as if he had spent a night too many slumbering in a bed of blowing sand. "A ghost in the wind for all the good it might do you." The three men behind put their arrows to the string, and Rose looked desperately at Ailis, who was lowering her bow, her face expressionless.
Tornac's face hardened, his scar twisting into his face, and he tightened his grip on his sword. "I can go onto this pass if I want, without being chased and murdered, by the likes of you."
"Death is the price for insolence," said the man. "But we will merciful, and give you a choice. You can hand over your goods, all your goods, if you be getting my meaning," he nodded meaningfully at Ailis and Rose, "and we will let you live." He laughed, and the men moved closer to them.
Tornac scowled so deeply his lips disappeared and for a moment his face twisted in anger but his irritation faded quickly, and he took on a look of a dim-witted man with a slacken jaw and wide eyes.
"I have nothing to give, sirs," said Tornac. "Just on my own business is all, not asking for trouble, I am."
"Allow me to show you what you have," the leading man said with a laugh, he lifted his bow.
The man loosed an arrow straight at Ailis, and Rose's heart almost failed her, in her mind she could fell as Thorn as dived toward them. Before she knew what happened, the arrow exploded in flames and fell to smoldering ashes on the ground before them.
The leading man stopped in surprise, and cursed passionately as two of his followers turned bolted toward the trees. At that second Ailis stretched her hand out before her and cried out, "Jeirda Kuistar!" and a bolt of mauve light arched from her fingers to the branches above escaping the men. The branches made a deafening fracturing noise as they fell to the ground, knocking the two men from their horses and onto the ground, where they lay unmoving.
Thorn, no! Rose shouted in mind, suddenly remembering that he was plunging toward the ground. Stay to the sky and don't let them see you.
Thorn sent her a wave of fury so mighty that she nearly toppled off the side her horse.
Rose was able to right herself quick enough to witness the other two men spur on their horses and charge at them. Tornac raised his sword steadily outwards close to Shadowless' thick neck, the horse lifted his head and neighed in apprehension. Ailis lifted her hands again, crying out as she did so, and there was a blast of light it hit one of the men and he fell, his horse bolted wildly off through the trees. Ailis swayed dizzily, her face slowly draining of its color, before straightening herself. She seemed to Rose taller and more regal, her face stern and grim, but her eyes illuminated with a strange wildness, almost a deathly joy. The last man halted the horse and hung back, before hastily releasing an arrow above them, then he roughly commanding the horse away and into the woods. Before he dashed out of sight, Ailis stretched out her arms, and a purple light struck the man, and he toppled off his horse and fell to the ground, died.
Tornac leapt off his horse in a debonair manner, effortlessly and lithe, and silently walked over the dead men. Overcoming a shudder of horror, Rose followed him with her eyes. The men lay twisted under their hide cloaks. Tornac lifted the edge of one of the cloaks with his boot, and whistled lowly before turning to Ailis.
"I recall you saying that you no longer performed such actions. What happened?" he asked.
Ailis grimaced. "I suppose it best explained in saying that I had an elapse in my temper."
"No doubt," Tornac said dryly. "I will take care not to anger you in the future!"
"We should leave this place," said Rose warily, shifting on top of Starshine. "I'd rather the fifth person didn't show face."
Tornac looked over and studied Rose's face gravely, and Rose stared back impassively, her heart beating wildly in her chest. "Yes, we do not want to wish the same fate on him as his companions have met. And we would detest for you to have more blood on your hands, Ailis."
Ailis laughed severely. "How very courteous you are, Tornac," she said. "Shall we go or tally and hunt down this last rider?"
"Go, I'm thinking. I would like to be far from this place by nightfall," said Tornac, returning to Shadowless. He stoked the horse's proud neck, which was rimed with sweat, before mounting. Without out any further word, they pressed forward, galloping swiftly through the woods. The shadow of branches passed over them like ripples in a hurried stream.
They did not stop until midafternoon, passing out of the woods on the other side of The Spine into empty grassland in which sometimes there was evidence of a farm long ago abandoned: a row in trees which once made a wind block, or orchard grown wild, and remains of a house, its roof collapsed and walls crumbing overgrown with ivy or moss. The snow had melted away, revealing tussocks of soft grass, dried strands of reed, and feathery purpled heather, which perfumed the air with its sweet smelling nectar. Rose breathed the smell in deeply, even in Urû'baen such an aroma had never been present, there had been famed craftsmen who would boil down these heathers to liquid and bottle them for profit. She remembered that she had an oblong green glassed bottle filled with the musty scent back in her former chambers, but it was a disgrace in comparison the wildland's unbound fragrance.
Rose was still shaky with the aftershock of their battle, and the deeds Ailis had preformed, but chiefly it was the strange expression that she saw on the woman's face that troubled her most. It was a savage lust for blood, Rose knew this now, she had seen it once before many years ago but it was a hard sight to forget. Although she was moved by no pity for the men, she felt again that proverbial fear and distrust that nagged her throughout her childhood. But she flinched away from these thoughts, and concentrated on keeping up with Tornac and kept her hearing alert for any signs of pursuit, as she had given up on speaking with Thorn who was in a foul mood, but she heard nothing.
They had gone about twenty miles with at last Ailis called a halt. They lunched hastily in a miserable corpse of trees. As soon as Rose dismounted placing her feet on the ground, the ground swallowed her bottoms of her boots in the blackened, sticky, moss covered mud, and Thorn dived out of the sky landing fiercely in front of them, his wings half raised. He grumbled angrily and his tail pounded against the ground, causing the horses to whinny and scatter back in fright. Incensed by Thorn behavior and lack of response throughout the day, Rose took time in her struggle of calming Starshine by messaging his silky neck, before she turned to Thorn, she had never seen him this angry. What is troubling you? she asked.
Thorn thumped his tail into the soft ground and gave her a fierce look, his red eyes scintillating like flames. He grumbled deeply within his bulk and transmitted to her in their mind-touch the events of the day how he had perceived them from far above the ground. His emotions were strong and genuine, and Rose reeled from their intensity as she often did when spoke in this way. After a short moment, she was able to identify what was riling him most, and she almost felt like laughing.
Is that all? she told him. It is but a scratch, Thorn, no need to fret so. And please use your words next time, it takes less time for me to identify the matter.
Crouching close to the mossy ground, with his length hovering just above the green, Thorn grumbled at her once more. I am not worried about the scratch, he said.
What then? Rose asked. I am tiring of these riddles and words games. For once just tell me.
Thorn blinked but returned no answer, instead he turned away and watched the horizon, his tail brandishing across the mixture of grass and moss.
Rose heaved a sigh and sat down close to Tornac, looking up into the lofty trees, watching as the tattered chandeliering moss swung in the sultry breeze. Grimacing at a considerably sized colorless spider that crawled out from the tangled strands and crawled up the stock, she glanced down towards the sodden road. The road bordered a crumbling stone wall, about seven or ten feet high, and they were now riding westward alongside it. Ailis said the Westwall ran for leagues, marking a forgotten city that was ravaged by sickness and an ancient war, protecting and memorializing the crypts from the wildlands beyond. "These is another reason the wall is there, of course," said Ailis, "Some believe the land itself to be cursed and the walls are there to protect those who travel from any dismayed specters that wish to display their wrath on them, due to their untimely and brutal death. I wouldn't worry too much about it, it is but a tale to frighten young children so that they might think twice before wandering over its crumbling walls to explore."
About five miles on they found a huge, woody ivy that forced apart the stones, and the thick wall had collapsed into rubble. Rose slowed down, to look over a landscape even more inundated and green then the one they traveled on: low scrubs of leatherleaf and sweet gale and labrador tea, under which a dense carpet of peat mosses broken only by woody stems and small cranberries and round-leafed sundew. Through the walled in peatland ran trickling streams that connected into the muddled water of the Toark River, and in distance Rose saw a darker vegetation of trees running its length. Above them were huge swags of swirling gray clouds that besieged the blue of the sky, and the air was turning thick and chilly, presaging more rain. The sun was low in the sky, bleeding long streaks of dull lavender along the horizon. Rose thought of the presently silent Thorn and looked for him the distance of the darkening heavens. After a short moment she found a gleaming stain below the cloud-cover and shaking her head, Rose gently instructed Starshine forth. The horse trotted quickly to Tornac's side, where they rode on in silence, too tired to talk.
The rain held off and they continued down the widening path, trailing past long green beards of river weed. They followed the Toark, which bent lazily away from the peatland and flooded along the side of the deteriorating wall. They followed the road even after night fall, guided by the light of the full moon, until the horses stumbled from wariness with their heads dropped. Then at last Ailis called then to a halt, and they made a cheerless camp with no fire, as it was far too damp for a fire, under an old willow.
Rose was so tired she had trouble going to sleep. She ached all over and her mind was humming like a harp string on the verge of breaking. She lay awake and looked into the sky. The moon was now vanishing under the shroud of dark clouds, and she could smell rain in the wind. That night Thorn did not arrive until the early grey hours of the morning.
For little over a week they traveled over the moors, following the course of the river toward Teirm, and when possible keeping off the road, as close as possible to the trees. They saw no woodland animals of any kind, but heard prattling crickets and croaking frogs or the harsh cry of an eagle high above. They now traveled with haste, despite them puffing and tugging the mulish horses through the slowing bogs on foot. After the first day they were covered head to toe in the sticking mud, and Rose felt as if there were ants crawling over her skin, and she wondered how long this pointless struggle off the road would continue.
On the third day a strange sultry warmth crept in and by midmorning they traveled without their jerkins. But the wind was content: pushing a blinding smudge of fog inland from the river, whistling ceaselessly through the reeds and trees. The endless greens and yellows began to fill Rose's mind with a stupor of boredom. She was troubled by an itching rash and the distance in which Thorn was forced to travel, distant from them and sleeping away in dingy tree sheltered valleys, due to the populations. The silence forced by miles apart grew oppressive each day, until Rose began to wonder if she could continue to bear it.
At night they camped without fire, huddling against the chill, which fell heavily as soon as the sun set, and they spoke quickly to each other forsaking practice in swordcraft as the ground was far too sticky and feeling that the loud clinging of swords would echo for miles, drawing villagers attention to them. On the third night in the moors, Ailis consented to Rose's entreaties for a fire. It was a laborious task on the damp ground as the wood wouldn't catch and whenever a feeble flame began to leap from the wood, the wind would blow it out. When the flame had died for the fourth time, Rose asked Ailis why she wouldn't use magic. Crossly she said, "Magic isn't meant to be used on a whim!"
Rose subsided, puzzled, and at last Ailis got a fire going, and they had a hot meal for the first time since leaving Ludène. Ailis made an herb tea that warmed Rose down to her toes, and some of the itching left her skin.
"I still do not understand why we travel off road," said Rose. "Wouldn't one take notice of mud-spattered strangers struggling through the muck, instead of traveling on a well used roadway?"
"They might, if they knew what to look for. We travel far enough from the road so that few should take notice," Ailis said, sounding exhausted. She pointed in the direction of the shadowed over road that nestled into the side of the hill, some five miles away. "Traveling the road would make just us as, if not more, noticeable. Unless I am off by my reckoning, by afternoon tomorrow we shall be forced to rejoin the road if we are to travel towards Teirm."
"Are we not going into Teirm?"
"No, I know of a farmer and his wife who shall be willing to house us for a few days. Afterwards, I will travel to Teirm and send a message south. Sleep now, Rose. We cannot go far if our eyes are not open," Ailis replied.
Nodding, Rose bid her and Tornac good night stumbling into her bedroll and laying down, looking at the disheveled branches above her as they glowed in the in the moon light. With an obscure feeling of dread, Rose picked far in the distance a white point of light, a tiny but shining star, thinking that it would nice to sleep under a different roofing instead of that of only stars and branches.
Chapter 14: Serpent’s Valley
Chapter Text
Late that next day, they passed Teirm and that night was spent in the town of Arundel inside an reeking inn, where they scrubbed their bodies clean of filth, and planned to head off for the farmer's house, which Rose had learned was named Haven Cove, early the next day. Ailis told Rose and Tornac that the farmers' lived in an isolated dell that was a relatively simple ride from Arundel past a deep winding valley known as the Serpent's Vale, and to Rose's relief, they would be proceeding on the road, taking at most four days. From there it a short day's ride to Haven Cove where they would stay for a few weeks of rest, and in that time they would arrange their transportation south to The Varden.
Snuggling into the lumpy pallet, Rose mused abstractedly on some of the things she had seen and heard in the past few weeks. None of her thoughts led anywhere, and she let them drift through her mind, one after another, as unformed images: Teirm standing tall and white out of the fields; Tornac still and silent, astride Shadowless; Thorn gliding through the air, his scales gleaming in the sun like fat rubies in the evening sunlight; the minstrels playing in the marketplace of Cartama; Ailis' calm face, contorted madly with magic; glowing wisps of the fire; the bodies of the died men, laying limply on the ground as they rode away; a tiny black bird with a red crest on its breast…But that was her last conscious thought before she drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Rose woke before dawn. A cock was crowing somewhere in the distance, but that wasn't what woke her; she itched terribly all over. Scratching furiously, she sat up, and Ailis stirred sleepily and then woke instantly. "What's the matter?" she said.
“These things are biting me," Rose hissed. “I know no if they’re bedbugs or fleas but they hurt.”
"Probably fleas," said Ailis. She slid off the bed and stretched before stepping around Tornac, who was fast asleep on the middle of the floor of the little room, the room had only two beds, and Ailis and Rose were occupying them both.
Ailis told her to put on the dress, so Rose dragged it out of the pack where it had lain since they had left Ludène. Her skin prickled as she put it on, feeling its coarse fabric scratch across her skin, and she fumbled with the buttons in the back, unused to having to reach behind her in such a way. Then when Ailis had dressed as well, they woke Tornac and packed their packs and left the room.
Downstairs the only sign of life was the black browed cook in the kitchen, who was firing up the stove. He declined to serve them breakfast, so they left the inn, walking out into the sultry morning air. They unstabled their horses and found a bakery farther down the street, where Ailis bought three loafs of bread and some meat pastries. They ate the pastries on horseback as they trotted out of Arundel. The gate was just opened, and two grimy guards looked at them suspiciously as they left. Tornac gave them a cheery wave, to the guards' evident displeasure, and then trotted briskly down the dirt road by which they had approached the town. In little under a half of mile the road split into two, one made of stone and the other remained dusty, and Ailis lead them northward on the dirt road through the fog slithered wide vales of Teirm.
That day they rode steadily until well after dusk.
If Rose were not seeing everything through a blur of wariness, she might have enjoyed the ride. The weather was fine, but felt far too hot after being harassed by winter's tempests, and the sky was an unfathomable clear blue. Above them Rose could sometimes hear the faint twittering of a sky borne lark drifting high on the thermals.
The road pushed steadily downhill, winding past meadows of rich green grasses growing in wide terraces divided by silver streams or lines of trees laden with hanging mosses. Around them stretched a peaceful and fertile landscape slumbering in a haze of heat. In the distance there were white faced herds of cattle or wooly sheep grazed there or perhaps horses, flickering their tails in the wind, basking in the sun at the edge of shadowing trees. Never far from the herds were houses made of stone, edged with overflowing gardens, set in the hills overlooking the vale. Sometimes they passed small hedged fields green with heads of arugula, spinach, collards or kale, or lines of broccoli, cabbage, and cauliflower, or the cheerful pinks and whites of flowering peas. They saw many people: farmers with carts, or children skipping or intent on some errand, women with whickered baskets, and once a shepherd with his dog chasing bleating sheep away from the road.
When they reached the straight road through the Serpent's Vale, on the morning of the forth day, the bustle of human life stopped quite suddenly. In the moment that they reached entered the vale Rose felt a long absent presence mend together with her mind, and filching as she opened her mind to a vast emptiness, Rose reached out to Thorn's intelligence with her own and wordlessly greeted him.
The landscape they rode on was lonely and bare, swept by strong winds blowing down off the distant mountains, which were humped blue on the eastern horizon. No trees grew there, apart from stunted thorns, and every now and then they passed tumbling grey weathered granite. There were also other stones, which seemed to have been placed there by human hands: circles on top of hills that looked like massive broken crowns, some thrown over and some broken, some still upright but leaning like drunken men.
"These were here before humans migrated here from the sea, and date from the earliest days that Elves walked this land," said Ailis. "None know what they signified; even in the days before the Riders they were ancient and abandoned. It is said that they were set here by the Grey Folk who lived many of thousands of years ago. Some think that they mark tombs of their kings and queens, and some think these are places where they worshipped their gods, if they had any. Some of them have curious carvings."
"What do you think?" asked Rose after a long moment of silent riding.
"I’m uncertain. All I know is that the knowledge has been lost to the ages," Ailis said.
When midway came, the wind shifted. The clear weather seemed to be turning and a chill blew in from the westward ocean, bringing clouds hurrying into the sky. Tornac halted them so that he could get his cloak, and Rose unpacked her own cloak as well, and wrapped it around him.
A couple of hours later it began to drizzle. Then with a deafening clap of thunder that echoed throughout the valley, a heavy, driving downpour soaked them almost instantly, but before long the rain came to a sudden halt and the sky gradually began to clear of clouds, and as the day heated up and intense dampness blanketed the air making each movement a hard labor.
A little while after the rain stopped, they breaked close to a flowing stream hidden from the path by a line of tipping stones. As Ailis had bought out some fresh bread from within her pack, and broke it into threes, Thorn landed stridently down from the sky. Ailis looked up from the bread and watched as Rose bounced off of Starshine's back and ran to the dragon's side. They stood together: the ruby stunted dragon and his young Rider, brought together by a destiny that was impossible to guess. Although Rose had disregarded and even forsaken the dragon in the beginning, a wordless understanding had quickly arisen between them that had formed into a fast camaraderie. It wasn't only that they had been forced together in a relationship as a Dragon and Rider, nor was it simply the marking of two very different minds and hearts mending.
Their kinship reinforced Rose's youth; as they stood together talking silently, as they always did, it was clear that the child had not altogether left her face. Looking at their forms, a sadness seemed to gather in Ailis' eyes and her face became tender and abstracted, as if she saw simultaneously some other vision now far off, or gone forever: a memory of her vanished child perhaps, a sadness of losing the ability to witness her mature into a young woman.
.
In the waning hours of dusk, Ailis led them out of the Serpent's Vale and down a broken, narrow path that vanished quickly into a small, hidden woodland. Their way twisted and turned, heading steadily upward in a gentle incline. Long woody vines laden with purple spiraling wisterias hung above them, stirring in a slight wind. All Rose could see were leaves, veil after veil of leaves in the new spring green. The trees and bushes were still dripping, from the afternoon rain, and the earth was exhaling a damp, rich smell of rotting vegetation.
A little farther on they found a deep pool of green water that bordered on one side by flat, brown rocks and on the other by a narrow shore of sand. It appeared as if it were designed for bathing.
Ailis called them to a stop and Rose sent for Thorn, he was sailing high in the sky restlessly looking for prey, and then they dismounted from their horses and made camp on the sand. When camp was made and a fire glowed healthily in the night, Tornac walked to the stone ledge and stripped himself from his heavy outer clothing, leaving on his shirt and trousers, and dived into the pool. He swam around a moment and then floated his way close towards the sandy shore.
"Do you grand ladies wish to join me?" asked Tornac, shaking visibly in the water.
Rose sat up straighter and peered into the water nervously. "It looks very cold," she said.
"It is," Tornac said.
"Then by all means, enjoy yourself," Rose said turning away and looking into the fire.
It would an inexpressible relief to wash off the mud and sweat from the previous days, thought Rose sadly, watching as Ailis, too, unclothed to her underdressings and dived into the chilled water.
If you wish to be clean, said Thorn, then why won't you wash?
It's inappropriate, Thorn, Rose said. I am not undressing in a male's presence.
Thorn sent her a tendril of his amusement. You have undressed in front of me.
That's different, said Rose, rubbing her hand together. Besides, that was long before I knew you were quite this annoying.
If you do not wish to undress in front your friend then perhaps you should ask him to turn away until you get into the water, so that you too can swim, Thorn said, shifting his wings so to glide in the wind.
I can't.
Why, Thorn asked. Why can you not ask him?
I cannot inquire for him to turn away, Thorn, said Rose.
You cannot or will not?
I cannot, Rose said, besides I have no desire to swim.
Thorn sent her his disbelief and said, You cannot lie to me.
Thorn, said Rose with a huff, her feet shifting uneasily on the ground, the water is deep and I do not know how to swim, that is why.
Thorn was silent for a short moment as he dived toward the ground. Feeling his nearness to her, Rose looked up and watched as he glided from the darkened sky, landing close by in the sand. Folding his wings, Thorn snaked his head towards her and looked at her with one of his red eyes. Thank you, he said, for telling me.
Rose quickly turned away and idly watched Tornac and Ailis play in the water, they reminded her of children splashing each other and swimming. Occasionally a glowing firefly flew enchantingly across her field of vision, but otherwise all was still: a low hum of insect life filled the air in soporific music. Before long Tornac and Ailis emerged from the water, shivering violently, with stained blue lips and fingers, but by that time Rose had fallen asleep.
They were up well before light the next day, and ate a light breakfast of the tasteless bread and tough dried meat, listening to the sounds of birds arguing in the trees. Silently, as they had yet to fully awakened, they packed away camp and mounted their steeds. They urged the horses to a canter, and so they continued for a couple of hours as the sun rose into the sky staining the sky a pale grey with tings of a pale amber and ginger. Rose saw that the mountains was running closer on either side of them beyond the shrouding of trees, Ailis steered them away from the peaking mountains and off the track, so that they were forced to walk and battle their way through tingles of undergrowth.
As the woodland began to wane, and the golden rays of sun darted through the holes between leaves, Rose began to notice subtle notches in the bark of many of the trees that they passed. It seemed to her, that Ailis was following the marks in a form of guidance.
"We'll be well out of here and under a solid roofing by lunchtime, I think," Ailis said. "Not far ahead of us is a rock face with a good number of caves. It might be best for Thorn to locate one of these, so that he can stay there. I'd rather he didn't wander into these woods alone, there could be fugitives or Urgals."
"Are we not fugitives?" asked Rose. She looked involuntarily behind her into the woods, but saw nothing but the colors of blooming foliage.
"Not in the way I'm speaking of," Ailis said.
"Ailis, I hold no doubt," said Tornac in a low voice, "nevertheless, it's well to be wary, and if there are Urgals about, what makes you think that we shall not cross their path?"
Ailis looked back at them, and patted Lanorgrim's golden flank. "Nothing," she said grimly, "I only hope that we are lucky enough not to."
Rose bit her bottom lip uneasily and contacted Thorn, telling him what Ailis had said.
I will seek for this cliff, Thorn told her, but only after I search ahead for any of these dangers Ailis has spoken of.
Thorn reported back to her, not long later, that he found no dangers he could see, and that he found the overhang and a very comfortable cave overlooking a small marsh. The cliff, he said, is sheer enough so that no creature without wings will be able to reach it.
It is good news that you will safe at night, Rose said.
From all dangers, save for the creatures that look like leathery winged rats.
Rose laughed nervously, imagining a pair of glowing red eyes. You mean bats? she asked. I do not envy you if that is your greatest foe. They are quite mighty and yet I’m certain that you would win any dispute.
Grumbling in his mind, Thorn changed the subject to his hunting options, as the marshland was new to him, and he was eager to discover what creatures lay within its realm. For a long hour, Rose listened as Thorn remarked animatedly on the bulk of deer he already seen and to his delight a large creature that resembled a weasel.
The wood ended messily, gradually thinning out until the trees vanished altogether, and soon, Rose looked over a meadow full of wildflowers that lay before them, with grass that stood almost as high as her knees, in astonishment. Ailis had wandered ahead of her with Tornac following not far behind, who was glancing dreamily about the fields. Reaching a high hedge, Ailis unlocked a gate that passed into an orchard of apple trees, lightly burdened with pink-and-white blossoms. Petals littered the ground like snow, and among the white-starred grasses nodded daffodils and bluebells and crocuses of many colors. Rose shook herself, and frowning she walked dreamily through the valley and into the blooming orchard, and continued over a path of raked white gravel towards a beautiful house. It was a long, double storied building of yellow stone, with wide windows that shone in the sunshine.
After securing the horses to a post, they stopped in front of the house and turned in to the pouch. Rose was blinded in the sudden shade, and Ailis led her blinking through two low bronze eaves into a huge atrium flagged with marble. Spring flowers of all kinds, nasturtiums and daisies and bluebells, were planted in big glazed pots, giving off a delicious perfume. In the center, in the middle of a close-leafed lawn of chamomile, a small bronze pig stood on a stone plinth, water pouring from its month into a little pool in which Rose could see the silver and orange glint of fish turning slowly beneath lily pads. Rose relaxed slightly in the coolness and looked around. The atrium seemed to be deserted.
Ailis pulled a small brass lever in the wall, which Rose guessed to be attached to a bell, and then sat down on a wooden bench and stretched out her legs.
"Sit down," she said. "Someone will come in a moment."
"I thought you said they were farmers," said Tornac. He sat down next to Ailis, and leaned forward, looking quite content to do nothing for a moment. Rose could hardly blame him, and she felt again how tired and grimy she was, and how much she longed to wear clean clothes and to sleep in a proper bed. She looked over the grand atrium once more, and thought, as Tornac had said, that this place did not appear to an abode for someone as simple as a farmer.
"Padern and his wife are," Ailis said. "I thought the same thing as you when I first came to this place. I've learned in time that their fortune is as old as their blood and as deep as their compassion yet they are not nobility and wish to remain hidden their valley."
Rose nodded absentmindedly and turned to look at the fountain. The sunlight struck off the droplets in little prisms, and its murmurous music sank into hypnotically, as if it were a song of which she almost understood the words. She didn't notice the woman who stepped out of the house until she was only a few paces away.
Ailis stood up, extending her hand in greeting. "Voirrey," she said. "Greetings."
"Ailis?" she said. "Is that really you?"
The woman in front of them was strikingly beautiful, with vivid hazel eyes and olive skin, her grey dress fell softly around her trim form, shimmering like a waterfall. Her dark hair was piled up on her head and held in place with silver combs, and she wore no jewelry.
"The same," said Ailis. "How good it is to see you!"
The woman smiled humorlessly at Ailis. "And good to see you, my dear friend. I've missed you. It has been long since your path has led this way," Voirrey said.
"Far too long," said Ailis.
"What has brought you to this part of the world?" Voirrey asked. Then with a shake of her head, "But that can wait. You are probably in no humor to answer my questions. Please let's get out this heat before we talk. Come." The woman led them across the courtyard toward some stables. "We must attend to the beasts, first."
In the cooling shade of the sables, they said nothing more as they hastily unsaddled and groomed the horses, leaving them comfortably housed, snorting at a full manger. Then Voirrey led them across the courtyard and through the high doors into a wide hallway. It was made of plain stone and dimly lit by a silver lamp suspended from the roof, but it gave the impression of richness, there were gold hangings of heavy brocade on the walls, and Rose saw that many rooms ran off it. Some doors were open, and their light spilled into the stone floor, and far off she heard the voices of children. They put their cloaks in the hallway, they were all sticky with sweat.
"Well!" said Voirrey, surveying the group. "Who are these two?"
"They're Tornac and Rose." Rose bowed her head, and Voirrey, bowing her in return, gave her a swift piecing glace, but made no comment. "Tornac, Rose, this is Voirrey, an old, and dear friend of mine."
"You and your friends are always welcome here," Voirrey said. "My husband will no doubt wish for you to join us for dinner, he is occupied at the moment. In the meantime I will arrange rooms and, I except you want to refresh yourselves and rest."
So almost as quickly as she desired, Rose found herself in a graceful room with cool stone walls adorned with plain blue hangings. A thick pale carpet warmed the stone floor. And a curtained bed, draped with an embroidered mantle, was let into the wall. One side of the room held wide windows with white shutters both inside and out, these overlooked a reedy pond and in the far distance the purple hued peaks of the mountains of The Spine could be seen. By the windows was a cushioned window seat, on which a rich crimson dress and underclothes were laid out for her. There was no fire crackling in the grate.
Rose picked up the clothing and earnestly requested to be shown to the bathing room. The chatty maid whom Voirrey had assigned to show her around finally left her to her own devices. The bathroom was especially pleasant: it had many potted trees lining the walls that were painted a cool blue, the bathtub itself was tiled with a mosaic of dolphins and other sea creatures. Rose drew herself a cool bath, pouring generous amounts of oil into the water, and lowered herself in with a feeling of bliss. For a while she simply allowed herself to relax, emptying her mind of everything except the sheer pleasure of the freshening water.
Chapter 15: Haven Cove
Chapter Text
It was a remarkably beautiful winter evening. The final light of day was lingering in faint streaks of cerulean and yellow over the distant shadows of spruce trees. The light reflected into the room off of a gracefully shaped prism. Rose had never seen something of its making and thought it to be a unique and beautiful object. It was shaped to appear to be a bird in mid-flight, and cut with a stunning amount of detail, it was made out of some unusual speckled glass that was fashioned loosely from the ceiling by thin golden linked chain. She could sit for ages turning it over, watching as tinted light spilled out of the smooth facets spilling fragments of rainbows over the room.
When she found that the longer she remained still the more thoughts bubbled up inside her, demanding attention. She hadn't the time to reflect since before Thorn hatched, and the question that kept rising up inside her was more than a bit confusing. Who was she? Before she had always known who she was, rather it was Morzan's orphaned daughter: Muirgheal, then the young and foolish girl who had revoked her usename as a childish demonstration of rebellion, and later a young lady destined to become the King's pawn, and now a Dragon Rider come to unite the Varden in resistance to the Empire's king- but what did any of these really mean? Was her becoming a Dragon Rider a way for Fate to form synchronization after so many years of her father's brutalities? To close a twisted cycle and bring order to the organization that her father assisted in the downfall of? Or was she perhaps simply meant to be a pawn for The Varden and the Elves as she was to the King?
She wondered restlessly if they would ever reach The Varden and if they did, whether it would answer any of her questions. Her feelings about Ailis were entirely enigmatic. She knew she trusted her as she trusted no other person in her life, save Tornac, but she really didn't understand why. Perhaps it was because Tornac trusted her as well, but inside she knew that it was more than that. She remembered how Ailis had first stood before her, years ago it seemed, her face anxious and vulnerable, and now she thought, sad. Even then it didn't occur to her to doubt Ailis, not truly, but at that time she was wary of the woman as she was wary of everyone. She thought of Ailis' stern, mobile face, how driven she seemed, but then how she would light up with a sudden warm smile… What was she to Ailis? A tool to defeat the King Galbatorix, a thing of power… but not merely that, surely? What was she doing, fleeing through such perils with this woman, to The Varden, a people she truly knew nothing of? What if Ailis was wrong? Would she then abandon Rose to her fate? And what of Tornac? All her life he had cautioned her on the very dangers they were willingly trailing into, so what was Ailis to him? How had she earned his trust so completely, so that he had no doubt in her? What were his plans once they reached The Varden? Would he simply continue to advise her in her actions? Or would he teach warriors the art of swordcraft, as she knew he certainly could? Or perhaps, would be able to craft his masterpieces as she knew he desired to?
She knew that The Varden leader would force her and Thorn into alliance with them in order to bring on the downfall of King Galbatorix. But she had no desire to face the King and defeat him, or the order he had brought about. There was nothing wicked in the Empire's principle, as a matter of fact she knew it to quite sound, it was only the King himself that needed to be eliminated, but, alas, The Varden wished to tear down both. Rose wished to have nothing to do with this conflict she was certain she would forced into. Unless, and this thought she knew was impossible, a fantasy and rather laughable but she thought it all the same, unless by some extraordinary luck there were more Dragon Riders in Alagaësia that could perhaps unite with them in her steed.
She had been ruminating for a long time, it was now deep into the hours of night, when the door to her room opened and Ailis peered in. "Rose! You are awake. I had thought that perhaps you might have been sleeping," she said, glancing at the bounty of cushions on top of the bed as she stepped inside. "Have you been spending your time well?"
Rose silently nodded. She had spent most of that evening, after dinner, sitting by the window, playing her viol. She had played through some scales, as she out of practice, and then, when satisfied with the resonance, she began slipping from one melody to another, deepening the harmonies and extending the variations as she went, humming softly as she did so.
Ailis, Rose noticed, had recently washed as her hair, loosened from the twist that usually held it, fell in a river of mingled browns and bronzes that was shining with dampness. She had changed out of the rich gown she had worn to dinner, replacing it was a rather simple moss green robe with a faint stenciling of lilies sewn in a darker thread. Ailis looked rather perplexed, her face dark with thought.
"Is all well?" said Rose.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course," she said, eying Rose warmly. "Do you mind me brushing your hair? It has been far too long since your hair has had a decent combing."
When Rose consented, she was forced into a chair and Ailis began to undo the plaiting that her hair was fastened into. Then when her hair was unwoven Ailis brushed it out with a boar-bristle hairbrush. Rose leaned back against her, sleepy from the evening meal and hours of solace.
At dinner, they had joined the household, which consisted of about twenty people. There was Voirrey's direct family, her husband, Padern and their two teenaged sons Jory and Daveth, and their daughter, Breaca, who was not more than five years of age. Then there were Padern's relatives, his mother Caitriona, and his brother's family, Bearnard and his wife, Rose could not recall her name, along with their adult son Gwilym. But there were others as well who had no relation to the family at all, but bore some other profound relationship of work or inclination.
The dining room itself was quite elegant; painted a pale yellow with a series of white and ocher tiles around the doors and windows and fireplaces, each painted with a different scene: the mouth of an elegant lily, children playing, a bumbling bee perched peacefully on top of a blossom, a lazy riverbed with two fishermen, long horned cows grazing in a field. In the center of the dining room was a dark wooden table set with candles in glass holders and fine, goldleaf embellished plates. In the middle were dishes piled high with a generous meal: fat rounds of golden bread, little bowls of vegetables and sauces, plates heaped with carved meats and cheese. There was a bowl of shells with pale lips: oysters, Rose was later told. Even filled with the many people, it was a calm, beautiful room.
The conversation during dinner remained general and Rose ate her way through asparagus yellowed by dripping butter, a salad of herbs and purple lettuce, fresh trout baked with garlic and rosemary. Once her stomach was filled, she sat quietly, sipping from a goblet filled with sweet golden wine, listening to a conversation about the politics of Teirm and other regions of Alagaësia. It was only when Voirrey insisted that she try a piece of apricot pastry which was piled high with rich crème, that the woman made herself, did she eat more. The pastry was delicious and exceptionally tasteful. It was no wonder she was so sleepy.
After some time Ailis let her up, and she glanced into the mirror from the chair. Looking at her reflection, Rose sighed, though the months of hard travel had leaned and strengthened her body, the person in the mirror seemed no different than the one that stared back at her in Urû'baen. The only difference she could see was a threadlike scar on her forehead, from her fall into the briar bushes, but even this was concealed with a mass of dark hair. She made a face at her reflection and her eyes stared back at her gravely. Suddenly there came to her into her mind, at once very vivid and immeasurably distant, a memory of her father's face bending toward her, perhaps to roar in anger. She realized with a slight shock that she looked very much like Morzan though her face was softer and more feminine. It made her feel desolate, and she looked away.
"I didn't think Voirrey kept this," Ailis said.
Rose tore her eyes away from the mirror, and glanced at Ailis. She was cradling the bird prism in her hands, staring down at it, her hair softly tumbling into her face. Rose perceived a great sadness in Ailis' face, and wondered what griefs had carved her past. Ailis shook herself a little and smiled, seeming again serene and practical.
"It's not a glass I recognize," Rose said.
Ailis looked up from studying the strange freckled glass and walked toward her, she sat herself on the armrest of the chair. "I would think not," she said smiling. "It is a piece I know very little about, other than it was a gift to mother from my father." She glanced cautiously at Rose. "He went hungry for almost a year but he did not regret buying it, I think. It was one of reasons my mother married him."
Rose raised her eyebrows cynically at her, and smiled mischievously. "Your mother married someone because that person gave her a glass bird?"
Ailis met her smile and shook her head. "I suppose I ought to rephrase that. My mother fancied him because he showed such kindness and later loved him, and because of that love she married him." She looked over at Rose and covered a yawn with her hand. "And now, I suppose it is time we go to bed, yes?"
Rose nodded again in agreement. "Have a good night, Ailis," Rose said.
"And you too!" She strolled to the door, and after opening it she hurried down the hall.
After Ailis left, Rose stood and pulled her viol off the window cushion and walked over to her packs. She hadn't bothered to unpack, for the moment she was just happy to relax and not shuffle through her bags, that would be a task for another day. She put the viol carefully in its case, yawned sleepily, pulled off the dress and fell gratefully into bed.
For the first time since she could remember, Rose dreamed of her mother. She was not dressed in a long flowing gown, but as if for travel; donning a long cloak, and clothes of padded leather and blackened bracers, she had a long, bejeweled dagger swinging from her waist.
In the dream her mother stood, tall and proud and strong, far from her in a meadow filled with row after row of roses, swinging a small glimmering hoary sword at some unseen enemy. As she swung the sword an arch of amethyst colored light flew out of the blade and circled her in a graceful dance. Rose looked away from her at a fortress of bronzed stone, two citadels rose elegantly into the sky like the stems of lilies where a crimson dragon flew twisting around the towers. Rose knew that the dragon was not Thorn, it was far too long and angular, processing not of his composure in flight. She turned away from the castle and looked back at her mother, finding that the woman had stopped her display and was watching her with dark eyes. Rose called out to her- "Mamma,"- and took a step off the path into the grass, but her mother turned and leapt into a fast ran. Rose chased after, but her strides were small and pathetic, and she could not reach her.
"Wait up!" Rose called.
"Muirgheal," said her mother, turning her head to look back her, her hair flew forth covering her face. "You have to keep up."
Rose stumbled over a rock.
"You're too fast," she said. "Why are you running from me?"
"I've been here, little cricket," her mother said. "You've been the one running."
And when she straightened herself and looked up, she realized that her mother wasn't running ahead of her at all but was stand peacefully beside her. She looked questioningly at her mother, but the woman was looking away towards the castle and into the sky, her face shadowed so that Rose could not see her features clearly. Rose followed her gaze.
The large dragon was diving towards them, its massive talons outstretched. Its claret wings beat the air like deafening thunder, matching the rhythm of her heart…thump…thump…thump… She gasped in fear as it neared, its maw dripping in liquid flames, and tried to run, but found that she could not move and looked desperately towards her mother but, her mother was paying her no mind as she watched the dragon with dim, hateful eyes. Rose looked back at dragon as the wings beat the air once more and the ground shook beneath her, it claws extended out not far above her. There was a sudden scream but it did not come from her, and she looked around fearfully but saw only the flower filled vale, her mother gone.
She woke to find her cheeks wet and cold with tears. She turned and looked out of the window over the garden. It was still deep night and the stars blazed coldly in the sky, casting shifting shadows on the cool grass. The image of her mother burned in her mind, bright and immeasurably far away. Rose couldn't remember much her mother as she barely saw her and when she did she was too young for her childish memory to recall the woman in detail. Her mother had passed not long after her father was killed, Rose knew with adamant certainty that his death had destroyed her mother. She wondered what it was like to love someone like that, like her mother had loved her father. She never would: it was far too dangerous.
Rose sat up and stared sadly in front of her, hugging the blankets around her shoulders. She no longer felt sleepy. There were so many things happening to her, and she didn't know to think of any of them. Her mind ran restlessly through the events of the last weeks, all she felt was confused.
Feeling restless, she got out of bed and threw on the red dress she had discarded. She wandered out the room and into the darkness to the stairway. Stepping down the stone stairs, she heard a shout in the distance and pounding footsteps like the clomping of many horses. She hastily ran down the flight of steps and made her way through the halls to the atrium, turning the wrong way only once, noticing with concern the shouts from outdoors.
The shadows of the large pots flickered cruelly on the stone wall which was alit with a golden light, like that from a fire. There was a chaos of noise: the roar of flames, the crack of stone and wood buckling, yelling and a high bawl of terror. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself, and rushed off the tiled pouch and onto the grass barefooted, her feet becoming slick from the grey dew that covered the ground.
Turning the corner she saw what the commotion was: the stables were ablaze, the bright flames dancing high into the sky, there were four men standing far from the fire shouting fiercely at one another and a woman was seemingly trying bring peace to the scene, buckets half filled with water were discarded across the trampled gardens, a child was wailing in his mother's arms.
She heard someone shout her name and she turned to find Tornac standing not far from her, his face thickly covered in soot so that it covered his scar and darkened his hair. He leaned down to say something to whoever he was standing next to, and walked over to her.
"The horses?" she asked.
He rubbed his arm. "Are most likely running about the forest in terror. Have you just awoken?"
Rose nodded. "Does anyone know how this happened?"
"No," he said. "I only just came in time to assist setting the beasts free. No one has said much, there's not much to say. Now we simply wait until the fire has burnt itself out, so that we might find out how this has happened."
Rose bit her lip and looked at him out the corner of her eyes. "I suppose there is not much one can do, except to wait."
"There is not."
Rose thought worriedly of Starshine and wondered if he was unharmed, and where he was. She thought about contacting Thorn and asking him to hunt him down but thought better of it, Thorn frightened the horse and after fleeing from a fire, his fright might just kill him. Rubbing her hands together, she sighed hopelessly.
She shifted and her foot connected with a branch causing her to slip onto the ground. Tornac looked down at her in concern, but she ignored his questioning gaze and glanced behind her to see what she had stumbled on. Grasping ahold of a long winding walking stick, she stood up and looked it over. Tornac raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask if she was hurt, and she shook her head. He placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her over the person he was talking to, and she followed silently beside him.
Running her fingers over the long walking stick, she thought that perhaps the fire was not a mishap, but that someone had done it intentionally. A marauder, perhaps, or someone seeking vengeance- but vengeance for what? Rose bit her lip uncertainly. She thought she knew who might have set the sables ablaze, but she wasn't willing to put a name to him. It seemed improbable that he had hunted her down through so many leagues of land, but she thought it be true as unlikely as it was.
It was late afternoon the following day before Rose woke. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was an expense of white, and across it danced a ripple of golden light. She watched for a short time, and realized that she was looking at a ceiling. She must be in Urû'baen, she thought, but the ceilings there were stone not white. Then everything suddenly rushed back to her, and she sat up abruptly.
A little girl was sitting in the corner, playing with a doll which was dressed fashionably in satin.
"I didn't wake you, did I?" said the little girl looking up at her. "Mammy said not wake you all up, so I only sit all the way over here where I cannot wake you all up. But you're awake. Did you have a scary dream? I wake up all the time whenever I has a scary dream. One time I has a dream about this really, really huge blue sparkling fish with wings! It was scary, because the fish was flying, and it eat all my dollies until they all go be gone. Do you like dollies? they're really, really pretty. I like they're pretty, pretty hair. Your hair is all fluffy, why is it all fluffy?"
Rose stared at her, and blinked in bewilderment. She had been told, late the night before after the fire began to fade, that no one would bother her. "Should you to be in here?"
The girl looked up at her with curious eyes, and Rose remembered who she was. Her name was Breaca, the young daughter of Voirrey and Padern. The night before Breaca's appearance had puzzled Rose, as the child did not resemble either of her parents nor their other children. Her parents and siblings were dark haired and tanned skinned, while Breaca had vivid red hair that tumbled down her back in loose ringlets, wide green eyes, and very fair, very freckled skin.
"No," Breaca said returning to playing with her doll.
Rose hugged the blankets securely to her chest. "If you are not allowed in here you ought to leave."
The girl bobbed her head, and continued with her game, noisily smacking her lips together all the while. After a short moment of this, Rose sighed loudly, and pushed a few strands of hair back from her face. At that moment, Breaca looked up, holding her doll above her head, and sent Rose a toothy grin. Rose noticed that two of her front teeth were missing.
"Did you not hear me?"
"I heard you," said Breaca, with a shrug of her shoulders. "You say that I should get out, not that I had to." Her grin widened. "So you be nice, you let me stay. Jory and Daveth don't ever let me stay. They're really, really mean all the time and call me really, really mean names. I don't like them." She took a loud breath. "Mammy says I have to love them because they're my brothers, but that doesn't mean I has to like them. Do you have any brothers? You're lucky if you don't because brothers be meany-heads all the time, and they call sisters naughty names and say mean things."
"Please, leave," Rose said narrowing her eyes.
Breaca met her eyes. "No," she said in a mulish tone. "I can't. Jory will find me, and I don't want Jory to find me. He'll be really, really mean to me if he finds me, and this is the only place he can't look so you has to let me stay."
Closing her eyes, Rose took a deep breath. She did not interact with children often, and never had awoken to find one sitting the corner of her chamber. She had done such things to Cordelia as a child, so to needle the woman, but those had often ended ill for Rose. Rose thought of Tornac and the many conversations, how he had always seemed to have a never-ending tolerance. With another deep breath she summoned all her patience.
"Jory is your brother, yes?" asked Rose. Breaca nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Rose did not allow her the chance. "I thought as much. Now, will you tell me the reason you wish Jory not to find you?"
"No."
"If you refuse to tell me then you will have to get out."
Breaca receded further into the corner, and looked down at her lap. "I tell you, but only if you promise to let me stay with you." She paused then said, "You let me stay and I'll be really, really quiet. I promise."
"You may stay," said Rose against her better judgement.
The girl paused as if to consider her words carefully.
"Jory is mean. I did something mean because he is mean, and-and now he's looking for me. He deserved it but-but now he be really, really angry at me, even though he deserved it."
Rose nodded, yawning tiredly, and closed her eyes. Resting against the cushions she thought that, perhaps, it was not too late to fall back into the delicious folds of sleep.
"You're really, really lazy," said Breaca loudly causing Rose to open her eyes and look at her without a trace of humor, "and you drool like ah old doggy. I've been up for a long, long time. Mammy says that ladies should never, ever sleep when it be day out because it makes them lazy, and being lazy no be good. If you be lazy all your chickens die and you will be very, very hungry and have nothing to eat because you let all your chickens go be died." She looked at Rose seriously. "Did all your chickens go be died because you be lazy?"
"I thought you said you were going to be quiet." Breaca pressed her lips firmly together, and smiled cheekily at Rose. "I suppose I need to get dressed," Rose continued, looking meaningfully at the child, "and since you insist on staying you best turn away."
"Mammy set out clothes for you," said Breaca, helpfully pointing to a carved trunk, on which had a robe draped over it, "over there." She turned around and began to play with her toy once more. "Why has you got a sword?" Breaca asked, as Rose got out of the bed. "Mammy says that only men carry swords, but you don't look like a man. Are you man? If you be a man, why do you wear a dress? Men don't ever wear dresses." Breaca took a deep sudden and deep breath. "You weren't wearing a dress yesterday when you got here. Why weren't you wearing a dress yesterday when you got here? Where did you get here from? Daveth said that Jory said that Uncle Bean said that you come from a place far, far away from here. Daveth also said that you grew up in the woods, and played with wolves. Were you born in the wild? Why didn't the wolves eat you? Uncle Bean said that wolves eat little kids and that's why I can't be out at night or in the woods. Have you ever met my Uncle Bean? Uncle Bean isn't his real name, I just like to call him that. It's so, so funny because beans make Uncle Bean really, really sick all over!"
It's a wonder: I'm dressed, my hair is decent and she has yet to stop talking, Rose thought. She walked to the window with a sigh and looked out.
The day was clear and beautiful, as if to make up for the mishap the night before. Rose watched the birds as they jumped in and out of the tall reeds, not far from the reeds were two boyish figures that sat in the grasses with a long pole in hand, probably fishing. She stayed there for a short moment before walking past the babbling girl, as if she were not there. After tucking her sword, which she had absentmindedly left on the top of one of her saddlebags the day before, under the mattress, she walked to the door and out of the chamber. Even with the door firmly shut and the stone walls to muffle the child's voice Rose could still hear Breaca talking vivaciously, though she could not make out the words.
Rose negotiated the halls using the occasional vase filled with vibrant crocuses set on a richly polished stand or the decorated vases to guide her way through the house. As she wended her way downstairs she noticed that Breaca was following her, only a short distance away. When she caught the child's eyes Breaca ran towards her, the doll being held by its hair behind her bouncing gravely across the floor.
"I come with you," Breaca said, grasping Rose's hand. "You might get all lost. You don't want to get all lost, because then you be lost and that be no good."
Rose ignored the girl and made her way to the library with no trouble, as she visited the labyrinthine chamber the day before. It had been added to the home in a fastidious fashion in the years that the farmhouse had been built. Some halls were lit by huge windows, but all walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves each of which were piled with scrolls or leather-bound volumes or curious interments whose purpose she could not guess. Rose would have been quite happy to sit at one of the tables and wander through the books had it not been for Breaca who was clasping tightly onto her hand, following her with opposition.
"If you do not wish to be in here then perhaps you should leave," Rose told Breaca, when she began to impatiently tug Rose down the book lined halls.
"No," she said, "I can't. You might be eaten!"
Rose paused, and arched her eyebrows in surprise. "What do you think will eat me?" she asked.
"The books," Breaca said, looking at her with wide eyes. "Daveth says that some the books will eat you if look at them too long." She paused and looked around before dropping her voice to a whisper. "He says that that the library be haunted by ah evil, evil witch who cursed to books to do it, he told me." She took a jagged breath. "Oh, it's so, so scary!"
Rose's shoulders shook with silent laughter. She looked down at the serious eyes of the child and took a deep breath to compose herself. "It sounds to me as if this brother of yours was telling you tales," Rose said.
"No, Daveth don't ever tell tales," Breaca said. "He be nicer than Jory. Jory lies all the time, just to scare me but it don't work because I ask Daveth if it be true or not. If Daveth say it be true then it be true, if not it not be true because Daveth don't ever lie to me. Do you ever lie? I did once and I got in big, big trouble because lying be bad and I'm not supposed to lie."
Rose looked at her humoredly and turned away in pursuit of a book to read. After a long time, a book was found and Rose turned to a trembling Breaca and asked where there might be a sitting room to read. Breaca nodded, happy to leave the library at last, and pulled her toward the door. The child led Rose down a stairway and through a few halls to a friendly sitting room, chattering happily all the while. Inside the sounds of voices talking intently some matter could be heard. Breaca halted quite suddenly, releasing Rose's hand, and turned on her heels scattering hastily back the way they had come. Rose looked laughingly at the running child, and after Breaca vanished around a corner, she glanced into the sitting room.
It was a grand room, the long casements were shaded with floor-length curtains, which glowed with a rich sheen of gold, and the low couches where covered with the same material, a huge grate stood tall and proud against one wall, dark and without a fire. But these were not what made the room so grand, one wall free of any shimmering curtains which painted, with an elegant hand, so to appear to be looking out to a leafy woodland inhabited with marvelous beasts and birds. Rose looked around, her mouth open, and saw a dark hair man with a burly build seated upon a wooden chair, his head bent, deep in a conversation with Ailis and Voirrey. The man looked up, and Rose recognized him to be Voirrey's husband, and her surprise he beckoned her inside.
"We haven't had the chance for a proper meet," said Padern as she walked in. "I am Padern." He respectfully bowed his head to her, and Rose did the same.
"It is a pleasure to meet you," she said blandly. "How do you do?"
When Rose sat down close to Ailis, at the woman's insistence, Padern glanced between them with dispassionate interest and then his gaze settled onto Rose, as if he was studying a piece of sculpture. She lifted her chin and met his eyes, which shone blackly with a strange emotion.
"You remind me mightily of your mother," he said.
Rose started with a gasped and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You know who my mother was?"
"Aye, I do," said Padern. "Selena is her name, yes?"
"Yes, it was."
"Padern," Voirrey said, stirring in her seat. "This is hardly the place."
Padern looked at her grimly. "Do you have a better place in mind, my dear?"
Rose glanced at Ailis out the corner of her eyes. Whatever emotion she might have displayed was hidden as she was leaning heavily back in her seat, her eyes closed and her mouth set. Rose looked forward. "How did you know Selena?"
He turned her way and leaned forward. "The same way one might often find themselves knowing her," he said. "It is hard to forget the face of the one who was sent to kill you."
Rose grimaced. "I did not know."
"I suspect you to know very little of your mother, and in your case, such ignorance can be deadly."
"I know plenty." Rose veiled her irritation with polite humility. "I know of what she has done enough to understand that it is a wonder you are alive."
He looked at her with cold humor, and opened his mouth as if to respond, but it was Ailis to spoke first. "Are you done with your torment, Padern?" she said, her face dark. "I hope that you are as I have heard far more than enough of it. Now, do you still have that cherry cordial, I have missed its taste something terrible."
"Oh, yes, we do," Voirrey said. There was a short silence. "I'm sure my husband would not mind fetching us a glass, would you, Padern?" The man looked up, and stared at his wife for a moment, before standing up. When he left the room, Voirrey turned remorsefully towards Rose. "Allow me to apologize for my husband's words, they were ill-used," she said. "It is my hope that you can forgive him."
Rose nodded stiffly. "I see no reason that I should not."
Padern returned with a glass decanter full of cherry cordial, gleaming like a huge ruby, and a platter full of sweets. He poured them all a small glass each, and sat down, taking a sip from the glass. Rose shifted in her seat, as much as she wished to leave she knew she could not, years of harsh tutoring to stay until she was dismissed echoed in her head, dull voices from the distant past. Tensely, she listened as the conversation moved on to other topics.
"Bearnard and Derby are planning to head out in an hour's time," Padern was saying. "It should not take but a day, at the very least, for a single horse to return to us. How long was it that you are planning to stay?"
"Six days at the least, ten at the most. We have traveled hard since leaving Urû'baen, and I know that rest is desired for all of us." Ailis sat up and leaned forward.
"Urû'baen?" Voirrey's eyebrows arched up in surprise. "What exactly were you doing there?" Ailis made a vague gesture, dismissing the question, and Voirrey return the subject before. "My guessing is that, after you fully rested, you wish to travel to Teirm to contact those in the south."
"You're correct, as always, Voirrey," said Ailis. "However, I do not wish to speak of this at the moment. Tell me, what news you have heard in recent months."
"News doesn't often pass our way," said Padern. "Once again you'll have to turn your way to Teirm, if you wish to know of the tidings."
For a long time Rose sat bored, tapping her fingers against the skirt of her dress, wishing to be dismissed. But the exchange went on and they discussed many things; subjects Ailis had spoken of before, to Rose and Tornac; how the Padern's farm and family was fairing; how most of the men that worked the land on the farm had been quick in their departure that morning in pursuit of the horses. Those men were also quick to voice their fear that horses might form an abscess on one of their hoofs, or consume an unnecessary amount of greens causing them to suffer colic but also they feared that the horses could become prey from the many predators that roomed these lands. Rose had fought back a smile at this; there was nothing more fearsome of predator than Thorn. The thought of Thorn twisted her stomach in a worried knot. She had not heard from him as of yet as she thought she would, and she wondered how he was fairing.
"You are looking awfully pale, dear," Voirrey said, turning to Rose. "Are you feeling well?"
Pausing, she considered her answer while she did not feel unwell Voirrey, Rose noticed, was merely giving her an opportunity to leave to room if she wished. "No, I suppose I do not," she said slowly. "Perhaps, it would be best if got some fresh air." She then excused herself, and walked out of the room toward the gardens, where she spent the rest of the afternoon sitting silently under an oak, reading the book she had borrowed from the library among the swaying grasses.
For the next few days life had went by slow in a monotonous daze. Rose woke early every morning feeling refreshed and walked downstairs to breakfast. After a light meal, as she had taken to avoiding people and there was little she could think to do, Rose borrowed a book from the library then wandered the grounds restlessly until she found a peaceful place of her liking. Many places in the gardens tickled her fancy, and she lazed peacefully in only a few of them, either thinking or reading.
She thought about many things, unconnected images and words, ideas and histories, actions that ought to be pursued and preparations that were to be done, until the clinging of the small evening bell interrupted the soft flow of her thoughts or the words written. Then she would return to the house for dinner and retire to her room, or spend the evening with Tornac or Ailis before toiling over a large blanket made of sheepskin covered by a thick layer of wool. She had spent only a few nights laboring over a large scrap of sheepskin until the dark hours of night.
On the seventh day, Ailis found Rose by a small pond filled with tiny striped turtles whose heads bobbed curiously in and out of the water, and little black fish that swirled beneath its inky surface. "It's peaceful here," she said sitting beside her. Ailis was silent for a few moments, listening to the water trickling from the fountain into the pond and the chirping of birds.
"It is," Rose agreed after some time.
"Do you wish to talk about what is troubling you?"
"Not at this moment." Rose looked up from her book.
Ailis sighed heavily. "The men have found and returned Shadowless and Arvid, along with three of Padern's steeds," she said. "As Arvid has returned in a fair state, I plan on leaving at first light tomorrow for Teirm. Otherwise we might be waiting here for ages, and I am finding myself chafing at this delay…" She let the sentence trail off.
"May you have a safe trip," said Rose bleakly.
Ailis pressed her lips together in a fine line. "Talk to Tornac," she said, standing up. "He's worried about you."
"I will," Rose promised.
Ailis looked down at her, and hastily turned away leaving Rose alone with her book, which she immediately returned to.
Later that day, Thorn had, at last, flown close enough to the farm house for them to talk. Frightening as it was, Rose told him of the sheepskin blanket she had acquired and what she wished to do with it, and after a lengthy discussion on all that had passed, they came to an agreement.
I am glad you put forth so much thought into this, Thorn said, but I cannot say that I agree with you.
Rose huffed at the ground. What else am I to do? she demanded. Am I to continue to sit here reading about some matter that does not concern me? I tire of sitting and doing nothing, as I have done all of my life. The answers I seek shall not come to me delivered on a silver platter, I have to search for them. She smiled humorlessly and added, Dragon Riders were not called such, by standing beside their dragon twiddling their thumbs waiting for a deed to complete itself.
She felt him humored agreement roll through her mind. Here we will meet, he sent her mental picture of a vale and the path she might take to get there, when the sun is, again, in the middle of the sky. Then we will do as you wish. With that said, Thorn flew too far away for them to talk. Rose returned hesitantly to her book, with shaking fingers and a spinning head.
That night as the sun waned, Rose grabbed the shoulder pack from the small pile of bags, and turned it over. First, came out a small plain wooden box, which she kept a few pieces of jewelry wrapped up, she unwrapped them from their silk casing and set them down in front of her; two silver combs with pearls set into them, an exquisitely wrought golden ring with a crimson stone, a thistle shaped brooch, and a bracelet with a piece of green string stuck between the clasps that held a strangely banded stone. She put various other items next to the trinkets: a pen and a small bundle of paper, a blue ink well, a beautifully illustrated book of poems wrapped in oilskin, a battered carving of a roe deer, and a thick volume. These were all that was left of her life in Urû'baen, it seemed pitifully little after the years spent there, a regret and a relief.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and then she put the items into the same saddlebag which she kept her viol. It took time for her to repack the shoulder bag, but by the time she was done she had a healthy supply of all that she would need. Picking a pear out of the bowl on the table, she stepped to the window seat and sat down in the shading of the night, watching the stars as they twinkled high above in the sky. Come morning, all that she had planned would fall into place, and she hoped that it was enough.
Chapter 16: A Journey
Chapter Text
The following morning, she tiredly got dressed in a pair traveling clothes, and after lacing up her boots she hastily brushed through her hair which she hid under a widely brimmed hat, she swung her pack onto her back. Rose picked up an undyed woolen cap and a folded piece of thick paper from off a table, and after slipping the cap into her bag, she walked out of her chamber towards the room where Tornac was staying. She stood outside of Tornac’s chamber for a very long moment, debating whether or not to knock and talk to him. Eventually she slipped the folded paper under the gap of his door and quickly stepped away, feeling rather cowardly as she descended the stairway.
Downstairs, she went through a huge flagged kitchen dominated by a long, scrubbed wooden table. Copper and iron pots dangled from hooked racks suspended from the ceiling, and the walls were lined with jars filled with seeds and oils and flour, and rows of fruit and vegetables, and herbs and spices hung from small hooks. Against one wall was a huge health and next to it was a black iron stove. The women preparing the morning meal looked at her curiously, but Rose ignored them and asked the woman, who she thought to be in charge of the kitchen, for some fresh bread and cheeses and berries and slices of cold meat. The woman glanced at her questioningly but wordlessly nodded her round head, and made for the pantry. When she came back, she handed the neatly wrapped packages to Rose, and turned back to her work. Rose shoved the food into her bag, along with a full canteen of mulled wine. She looked around for a simple breakfast, and after grabbing an apple from the table, Rose exited the kitchen through a tiny roofed line into the courtyard, into the woodland behind it.
As the sun slipped higher into the sky, Rose looked uneasily behind her, pulling at the constricting straps of her pack, it didn’t feel nearly as heavy as she feared it might when she had packed. Seeing nothing but plant life; lilac bushes that grew in clumps, currant vines, wild berries and deciduous climbing flowers of many colors grew in tingled clusters under the trees, she walked on. The sky was a very clear blue with very little moisture to it, good weather for walking. The walking emptied Rose’s mind of everything that troubled her. She entered the rhythms of her body letting her arms swing and her legs push her forward, at times she wiped her brow or took a swig from her bottle. She was wearing linen trousers and a light tunic, and she was even wearing a straw brimmed hat on her to prevent the heat from baking her face, but even so the sweat ran down her back in gullies and she was sure her face was puce. The dampened heat didn’t allow her think about her future or her fears or the reason she was out there, though these lingered in the shadows of her mind.
Rose stopped in a small low grassed clearing, and swung the pack from her back. Putting the pack down, she untied the sheepskin roll that hung down and placed the fleece on the ground. She sat down next to it, resting her pack on top of her lap and waited, spinning a piece of grass between her fingers. She did not have to wait long, because soon she felt the familiar intelligence press against her own, Rose looked up at him and allowed Thorn into her mind. Above she could hear the cadenced thump of his wings as they beat against the air. Are you ready? Thorn asked.
I have to be. Rose bit her lip, and added nervously, Hurry down, Thorn, before I change my mind.
Thorn answered by quickly diving out of the sky and landing smoothly in front of her. I hurried, he said, his tail pounding contently against the ground. Have you changed your mind?
She scowled at him. I have not, said she getting onto her feet. I still believe this to be foolishness.
It is as you said when we last spoke-
“There is no need to remind me.” She jumped, realizing that she had spoken aloud. “I know my reasons.”
Rose took her pack and the roll of sheepskin from off the ground, then walked to Thorn. With trembling fingers she shook out the sheepskin and set it over the dip near the base of his neck. He snaked his head around and watched her with a single red eye as she straightened the worn sheepskin blanket. Once the sheepskin was arranged so that two looped coils of robe hung off down his sides equally, she crawled under his torso and slipped the loops around his broad legs which she tied together with a length of rope she drew from her bag. Thorn blinked at the skins.
It will due, he said, spreading his wings in sudden flourish, and Rose despite herself stepped back, admiring her work with a frown. As thick as the sheepskin may be, she doubted it would last long against the sharp edges of Thorn’s scales.
“I hope so,” she said almost to herself, “else my skin shall soon be in tatters.”
With a disheartened sigh, she grabbed a firm hold of one of the spikes that ran down Thorn’s spine, and awkwardly leapt onto his back. Rose nearly went over the top and fell, but Thorn shifted himself and this allowed her to uneasily balance herself before she could slip off. You’re too far forward, he said swinging his head around to look at her, maybe if you lean back you won’t fall. Rose nodded and sat back as Thorn advised, this caused her to roll off of him and onto the ground below. Thorn looked down at her, his eye glinting with humor, and she blinked at him dazedly. Are you hurt? he asked laughingly.
“I’m fine, no thanks to you,” she said, rubbing her arm. She was confident that she was going to have a few new bruises by the time this trip was over.
Thorn’s bulky chest grumbled, in a way that made Rose think him to be laughing at her. Ignoring his humor, she stood up and attempted at mounting for the second time, this time she didn’t jump high enough and ended up hanging over his back on her stomach, like a sack of grain, she slid off and landed next to him on her feet. On her third try she jumped too high and missed his back completely, landing on the other side of Thorn on her back. When she finally landed on his back, again, it was only because Thorn lowered himself as much as he could to the ground for her to do so, and she gripped firmly onto the pointed spine in front of her so that she was almost laying across his spine. As she cautiously scooted forward, until she was cozily positioned, Thorn stood up. She looked down and nearly swore. Thorn hadn’t seemed to up so high before, but now she atop a creature who was suddenly as tall as an oak tree! She bit her lip to keep her from shouting and leaned forward, clutching tightly onto his spine which was smooth and her hands where unexpectedly slick with sudden worry.
Are we to fly? Thorn asked.
Rose drew in a deep breath. For now, if you don’t mind, I ask that you simply walk, she told him through their mind-touch, not trusting her voice.
Thorn winded his head to glance at her but whatever emotion he felt or saw he kept well hidden from her, and after a short moment he looked away. He said nothing as he lively walked around the valley, his Rider bouncing along, holding firmly onto one of his white spines. When he made a full circle, he looked back at Rose again and stretched out his wings.
Now, he said, we fly.
Thorn! Don’t-wait! she protested, but it was too late as he already bound into the air, his winging beating the air as they took them higher and higher. Rose looked around wildly and, after tearing the hat from her head, and shoving it underneath her bottom so that it would not fly away, she clamped her eyes shut.
It is too late, Thorn said, after a time. Open your eyes, little one, and see.
Fearfully, Rose forced open her eyes and stared at the landscape beneath her. For a long time she didn’t recognize it as a landscape, it looked like a strange and awesome painting. In the distance a sinking sun lit up the western sea, the water flamed like a molten gold, and in the east jagged mountains climbed dangerously into the sky. They were very high up, in the upper regions of air, and she could see very far, and there were no clouds at all only a shadow moving over the earth which she recognized as being Thorn’s.
It’s, Rose began to say then paused unable to find the correct word. That is quite a view.
That I know, Thorn replied, his wings thumping loudly on the air, as he kept them unmoving above the land. When I am higher it is better but I shall not take you any higher for now. I fear you might start to feel ill.
Rose blinked slowly in annoyance. Thank you for thinking so strongly of me.
Thorn snorted in amusement. Being up too high makes me unwell, and I assume that it will be the same for you, he said.
How high have you gone? said she, as Thorn began to move them forward.
He began a vibrating hum beneath her. Very high, he told her, high enough, where I was above the clouds. The breathing was hard and thin there, and there are no birds.
Rose twisted her hands around the spike and looked at the blue of the sky, after a moment she closed her eyes. It’s bad enough up here, she said. Forgive me, Thorn, I very glad you enjoy your flying but I’ll be much happier when I’m once again safely on the ground.
You are no where safer than where you are now, said he after a long moment.
Rose opened her eyes and scowled. I don’t doubt you think so. She looked to the south and saw the winding valley not far in the distance. For the first time she thought she understood why it was called the Serpent's Vale, from so high those leaning stones below entwined messily from the across the hilled plains. I wonder if they were placed to seem this way, she mussed to Thorn, like tiny colorless snakes slithering across the land.
Thorn grumbled through their mental link and dived sharply at the ground causing Rose to yelp with surprise and nearly loss her grip on his spine. Feeling herself slipping, she tightened her grip by digging her knees after far as she could into Thorn’s chest. The ground below grew closer and closer, and the wind blasted against her, and she closing her eyes leaning close to his thick gleaming neck beside his ivory spines. After a moment she began to relax as the blasts of cooled air tangled her hair but the moment was fleeting as Thorn’s wings flared out and they were lifted in the sky, jolting her enough that her teeth to chattered together and she nearly fell from his back.
Never, Rose told him sternly; when she was able to speak again as the fright of his sudden actions caused her momentary forget how to think, never do that again.
It is good practice, Thorn said.
Practice for what? Frightening me to death? You just about did!
No, however if we were to be attacked, he reasoned, and I was forced to dive, you should know how not to fall off.
I don’t care if The King himself is behind us trying to blast us from the sky, do not do that again!
Thorn grumbled a laugh, and returned to his former height.
After the dive, Thorn flew gentler in his flying with Rose, and after a time she began to relax, finding herself able to loosen her rigid grip on his spike. They remained in the air, save for a few short moments when Rose asked Thorn to land so that she could get her jerkin out of the bag as it was chilled up in the sky, and thrust the crumpled straw hat inside the sack, but after that they returned to the skies until the sun dipped below the horizon.
As Rose made camp in a large circling of toppling stones, Thorn lay coiled near a tall clump of briars close by. Carved into the granite were two signs, she examined the carvings curiously, they looked very much like a set of runes she had been forced to learn in her childhood though she could not recall what they might read. She looked away after a moment and began to build a fire, it was unnecessary Rose knew but she didn’t fancy a night spent in the blackness of night. When the flames leapt up in that dark valley, she sat on one of the tipped over stones. “It’s quicker to fly,” she said. “What had taken over five days of travel, we have just completed in mere hours. How bored you must get waiting for us. What is it that you do with all your time?” Rose looked over at Thorn.
I hunt, he said.
“It’s no wonder you’re so big!” she exclaimed, widening her eyes at him as he began to thump his tail in amusement.
I chase the creatures but if my stomach is not craving for meat I do not kill unnecessarily.
Rose nodded and looked into the fire. After a long time she got the food out of her pack and cooked a light meal, pieces of meat that were cooked on a heated stone and some fruits. Then she lay down on the sheepskins, as she had left her sleeping roll at the farmhouse, and swiftly feel asleep.
Late in the afternoon that next day they reached the wide meads near Teirm, which was rising tall and white out of the fields. The citadel flung up, battlemented wall within battlemented wall, and its high towers thrust into the sky gracefully and proud. Below the road pushed steady uphill, past meadow of rich grass growing in wide terraces, which were often divided by brown streams and treed with fine strands of lofty pines or elms. Occasionally they could see the Toark River winding many miles to the south, glittering in the sun.
By the time they drew close to the walls of Teirm, in the evening, a dark band of clouds had spend over most of the sky and a chill wind was blowing, threatening to cast Thorn from of the sky. The light dimmed as the clouds ate up the sun.
Thorn tussled his way through the wind to a sea cliff not far the city. He was looking for something, but what Rose did not know, then after a time he suddenly fold his wings back, and brought them into a wild dive straight through a scarcely visible hole far above the rolling sea. A dozen feet below waves stumbled the shoreline, a littoral of black rocks shining, dimly wet.
They had found the cave in the nick of time. As they entered, a deafening clap of thunder broke over their heads, heralding the storm’s first heavy drops. Inside it smelled fusty and close. Thorn landed roughly, throwing Rose from his back and rolling onto the sandy floor where the cave bent. When she sat up, she blinked wobbly at Thorn, she could still see the mouth of cave and a circle of surreal light shone from it veiling Thorn. “That was unpleasant,” she said, “if I were to put it mildly.”
To her surprise, Thorn did not react. He collapsed heavily onto the ground where he landed and stayed there. After a short moment Rose inquired after him, and only after the second time did he respond. My wings ache me, he said, and my head feels unwell.
She looked at him concerned, then stood up and began to tie the knots that held the sheepskins to his back. She left the ropes where they were, but tossed the skins to the side. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked.
No, he said. I am tired. I’m going to sleep this off. Then, with a disconcerting swiftness she had never witnessed before, Thorn lay his head down and fell asleep instantly.
Rose lay down, spread out on the sheepskins, and listened to the rain and thunder and waves. The sound was oddly comforting, even laying in a cold cave in middle a cliff, where the only way to get out alive was by dragon back. For a time she studied the storm outside, watching as the black waves below roll and crash into the rocks, as lighting shoot fiercely across the sky, as leaves blew down from the treetops high above and into the spinning water. That night she got very little sleep and when she did it was of a restless sort, as she spent it laying on the sheepskin, tracing over it charred edges with shaking fingers. Her mind was racing with many thoughts.
Chapter 17: The Festival of Shining Waters
Chapter Text
That night Rose dreamed she was flying on a red dragon. For a moment she thought she was riding Thorn, and she reached out her mind to mend with it but all she felt a savage hatred that burned and twisted in her mind. She quickly withdrew her mind, and noticed that the dragon’s scales shone a darker color, it was less bulky and much larger than Thorn. She was sitting on the dip of its neck on top of a molded leather saddle somewhere high in the sky, higher than she had ever been before, and there was someone sitting behind her. Looking behind her, she saw a tall man veiled by a very dark, very long cloak, his hands darted in and out of the shadows of his cloak as he was cutting a smooth round fruit with a small knife. She couldn’t see his face, but his eyes gleamed under the hood. “You cannot hide from me, Dragon Rider,” a dark voice said from around her, somehow she knew it did not belong to the man. “I have seen you and your dragon. Your enchantress’ charms do not work against me. I will find you and you will serve me.” The voice began to laugh, but it was an empty laugh void of any emotion, cold and dark like the night itself.
The dream shifted, and she was standing on a street of a stinking city with low buildings and high walls. There were no people in the streets at all, only filth and rats and stinging insects. She watched as a rat scattered out from under a four wheeled cart and past her to a square structure, the only building that was taller than the guard walls. The rat squeaked at her foot and scampered over the paved path, straight into the barred windows of the tower. A breeze blew through the city, rolling scraps of paper and rubbish. She lifted her foot as a paper rolled across the ground and swatted at an insect as it flew close to her face. “Look to the north,” a voice like a whisper said. She looked around, then faced the north looking at the barred tower. “Look to the north,” it repeated.
The dream passed into other dreams that Rose didn’t remember but when she woke, she felt an uneasy despair.
The next morning Rose was so stiff she could hardly move, she felt as if she were bruised all over. She turned over with a groan and sat up disconsolately. As Thorn was still asleep, she dug through her pack for food cautiously, watching the calmed ocean stir below. The day was overcast and drear, and a dim pale light filtered into the cave, seemingly draining the world outside of color, expect for the sea which had shifted from its inky color to a mellow green. The echoing of the waves below seemed unnaturally loud, even threatening.
She had just finished a light meal, when Thorn woke up.
We go? He asked groggily.
Rose nodded. “We have a few days of recreation, and I wish to see Teirm,” she said. Glancing at him, she remembered his ill state the night before. “How do you feel?”
I do not yet know.
“If need be, I wouldn’t mind us staying here,” she said with a sigh.
Thorn expanded his wings as far as he could in the cave and shook them, then folded them back. I would mind, he said. I need to fly.
She stood up with a smile, and tucked her sword beneath the sheepskin, fastening the hunting knife in its place. Tornac hadn’t put much thought when he made the sword, she had realized the day before, had he put more thought into he might not have made it appear so grand. The sword was far too remarkable for what she was hoping to accomplish, and though she did not wish to be away from it Rose thought it best to leave the blade behind.
“I doubt the sheepskin will be needed today,” she said tying the undyed cap to her belt, “I think it would be best if you flew me halfway to Teirm and left me near a path, so that no one notices you. As long as you don’t fly too far, we should be able to keep in contact.” After filling a small drawstring bag with food, she turned to Thorn. “I’m ready when you are.”
Eager to go, are we? Thorn said.
Rose stiffened then bit her lip. “Yes, I am,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve never been on my own, not truly. I’m finding it rather exciting to go somewhere without an escort or a herd of sentries or an overbearing guardian following behind, watching my every move.”
You are not alone, he said blinking at her, his tail sweeping across the ground.
“I know,” she said, flinching out of the way of Thorn’s tail. “Though you’re quite different than any other company I’ve kept before.” With a frown, she looked at Thorn out of the corner of her eyes and rubbed her hands together. “Shall we go?”
Yes, Thorn said leaning down, allowing her to climb onto his back.
Once on top, she sat at ease, gripping the spike that jutted from his spine with a light hand. That was until he moved forward and jumped out of the entrance to cave at a steep dive towards the sodden rocks below. Rose shut her eyes and leaned close against his back, holding tightly onto the spine, struggling to balance herself.
Then before Thorn’s head broke the water, he flared out his wings and glided over the water. Rose opened her eyes as he lowered himself even farther, extending his claws into the water creating a glistening green stream, spraying them both with chilling beads of water. Thorn swiveled his head around at Rose, who was clinging desperately to his spike so to not fall off, before he turning away blinking and thrusting his wing down rising into the sky once more.
I despise it when you do that, said Rose as he leveled out.
Thorn sent her a tendril of amusement in reply, and playfully folded his wings back forcing them into a slight plummet towards the sea for a few feet before rising on the wind. Rose didn’t speak a word to him, hanging silently onto his spike, her mouth clamped shut against the twisting sourness in her belly. She had her head turned down near her shoulder with her eyes firmly close, listening eagerly for the noises that where associated with Thorn as he landed, instead she only heard the replicating beating of air and the thin whistle of the dragon’s wings. For a time she rebuffed Thorn’s attempts to communicate with her, withdrawing herself completely from his mind and listening only the sounds that surrounded them.
After a long moment, but the moment came none too soon, Thorn landed in a dingle of trees, and Rose hurriedly turned off of his back. She landed on her hands and knees, on top from knobby root, which caused a radiating pain to crawl up her legs and into her back. Quickly standing up, she spun around and angrily faced Thorn. Feeling Thorn press against her mind she made a face at him, then turned away and tucked her braided hair into the undyed cap. Rose felt him press against her mind yet again, this time more urgently, and she reluctantly allowed him in.
She felt him pass into her mind, lightly examining her emotions and sending her his own as he did so. This left her shifting impatiently from foot to foot, with her bottom lip wedged firmly between her teeth. After a time she felt him recede slightly from her.
Are you done now, Thorn? she asked. I would like to be going.
Thorn switched his tail across the ground. Yes, he said as he crouched to the ground readying himself to jump into the air.
Nodding, Rose turned away towards the twisting deer trail which led to the road. Not long after she reached the sheltering of the trees, she felt her juvenile annoyance towards Thorn fade and diminish completely. She turned and watched as Thorn faded to the skies, before turning back down the trail and walked in silence.
The clearing Thorn had landed in was less than a league south from Teirm, but the walk still took Rose most of the morning before she reached the high white walls of the city. As Rose neared the walls of the city, she could see from on top of steep hill, to the north the sea cliff where she and Thorn had spent the previous night ebbed away to a rocky shore with many numbers of docks. From the distance, the seaport city of Teirm seemed to have been buildings of scattered stones. Most of the buildings were constructed white or tan, some were of a strange pink stone, but all gleamed like blocks of salt amid the cobbled roads and dark green gardens of cypresses and laurels and olives. Teirm was a busy trading port, its harbor well protected against both storm and attacks by brigands, by a tangle of reefs and currents, by the peculiarly ascending structures, and by the arms of its encircling ramparts.
As Rose neared the towers, she began to feel apprehensive. Much sooner than she would have like she arrived at the tall gates, thick oak stoutly barred with black steel. Over the gates a yellow pennant stirring in the wind, stitched into the emblem was a rough outline of a roaring lion and under it an arm holding a blossoming lily. Two guards clad in a rich purple stood at the entrance, the metal tips of their pikes that blocked the path into the city gleaming from the veiled sun. “Wha’s yer name and yer business here?” asked one of the guards in an uninterested tone.
“I’m called Wyn,” she said looking down at the ground, hoping the hat would cover enough of her face. “I’m here because my da left his lunch at home,”- she nudged the cloth sack at her waist- “and my ma told me t’ bring it for him.”
“Is that so?” The guard shifted towards her.
“Yeh, sir,” Rose said still looking at the ground, “it is.”
She could feel his eyes studying her, as he was deciding whether or not to believe her story. Biting the inside of her cheek, she whispered a silent prayer that he would.
“And what village are yer comin’ from?” said the guard suspiciously.
Rose started and bit her lip hesitantly. She felt like kicking herself, why had she not thought of this? As quickly as she could she ran a mental list of the name of the towns and villages that remembered where in the area, but she could only remember two. She opened her mouth, but the other guard saved her from a hasty lie.
“Leave the lad alone, Nab,” said the other guard withdrawing the pike from in front of her.
The guard called Nab glared angrily at his colleague before grudgingly withdrawing his pike from the entrance, allowing her into the city.
Cautiously, she walked past the guards into the city, a hand on her knife, and stared at the buildings with interest. They were squat and plainly square, but the further she went into the city the taller the buildings got, with a flat roof covered in slate shingles with a bordering of decorative metal rails, and not as scattered as she originally had thought. The doors and windows were narrow and deep set, bordered with strange carvings, some grotesque, some of surpassing beauty, and runes. Many of the homes were empty, their windows darker with streaks of dust and filth, grass and weeds growing from the cracks in their stone-tiled yards.
The twisting alleys gave way to wide streets flagged with stone that threw the sunlight back blindingly. Here there was little vegetation, and she did not hear the squabbling cheep chirp of bird. High above the streets the citadel was austere, seeming to eschew mere prettiness. There was something that bothered Rose, but at first she couldn’t put a finger on it, and it took her a while to figure out what it was. She couldn’t hear the voices of children anywhere, there was no children playing in the lines, or laughing in hidden gardens. The people who walked the street were adult and grave, most of them carrying a large weapon, and very few of them were women.
She spent the majority of the day wandering, and as the skies cleared of the heavy clouds revealing that the sun was in the middle of sky, a deep bell chimed and echoed deafening throughout the streets. She cringed, struggling to not cover her ears and turned away. Not long after the noon bell rung, she reached the harborside which unlike most of the city was thriving with activity.
The quay was crowded with baskets of blue and silver fish packed in salt, giant coils of rope, pots filled with lobster and tongued mussels, and dozens of arguing people. Many traders were bargaining, scoffing in disbelief at the prices offered, and talking up the value of their wares. Elsewhere fishers were bringing in their catch, shouting orders at eachother, and sailors were working on their boats or greeting friends, laughing and swearing. The teeming, noisy harborside was a shock after the silence of the city. You two-leggeds, Thorn said watching from their mind-touch, all you do is talk but rarely are words spoken.
She started, nearly stepping onto a massive loop of rope, having forgotten that she was still in touch with him as he has been quiet throughout the whole day.
It is not about the words spoken but the meaning that is hidden behind them, Rose countered, once she recovered. In the least that’s how it is in Urû'baen but these people are like birds, you scatter some feed on the ground and they fight to be first to get it, cheeping and twittering the whole while. She paused and glanced around at the crowd pausing at the sight of a tall man in a ragged cloak. After studying him for a moment, she said, How are the winds?
Much calmer than earlier, he said.
That is good, said Rose. I’ve seen all I can here. I’m going to head for that valley.
I will go back and wait for you to return.
Rose turned away from the noisy dockside, and walked on in silence.
On the morning of the fourth day that they spent near Teirm, the sun rose into the sky as perfectly blue as a robin’s egg. During the previous days, Rose had spent either walking the streets of Teirm, in attempt to familiarize herself with the city, or flying with Thorn, learning how to balance herself better as he flew. Now she sat comfortably on his back, without fear of falling but was only when he was simply gliding with the winds.
The winding alleys and small streets of Teirm were packed with people dressed in bright clothing: emerald green and crimson and gold and azure and turquoise, so bright that Rose could see them from in the sky. As the afternoon wore on, more and more people swelled into the crowded streets.
Near evening, Rose questioningly looked down at the sea of colors. She hadn’t realized there were some many people in Teirm. I wonder what’s going on down there, she said, a light breeze played through her hair.
Do you wish to find out?
Yes, said she after a moment’s pause, shifting into a more sable position as Thorn dived towards the ground. Once he had landed in the usual knoll of crushed heather, she jumped from his back and jogged to the broken trail ignoring the protecting squawks of birds. Are you going keep to skies? If so, tell me if you see her. I’ll only be but a moment.
I will, he said.
She felt a cooling draft of wind come from Thorn’s wings, as she stepped around a tree. Wandering the city had become pall, and she hadn’t the intention of to go into Teirm that day, wishing to spend it with Thorn as they watched the path or the sun play over the sea. Without the intent of meeting human life she had left the woolen hat in the cave, and her hair hung unfastened down her back, this was something she was sure she would regret later.
As Rose neared the walls of Teirm, she began to run her fingers through the tangle of hair before she quickly gave up her attempts and walked on. She passed through the gates unchallenged, the guards looked on forlornly as if they didn’t see her, and squeezed her way through the streets feeling breathless. The instant she pressed into crowd, she felt as she had jumped into a surge of sweltering water.
The brightly colored crowd pushed her steadily towards the waterfront, where it was more crowded and more noisy and hot. Children wiggled their way between people’s legs, some wearing masks of dried feathers and silk, some had their faces painted with little cats and foxed and birds and fish, yet all the child wore bells in their hair. The sounds of bell tones filled the air like a wild music.
Suddenly she could hear a huge drum being hit in a solemn, commanding beat, and though it seemed impossible, the crowd parted and pushed back from the streets where there seemed to be hardly any space available at all. Rose craned her head to see an enormously stout man with a gilt and green drum that hung around his neck, and behind him a procession of tumblers and jugglers all dressed in bright colors. Some of the jugglers were throwing gold knives that flash in the sun or touches with a bright glow of flames at both ends. Rose watched the juggler as they landed in tumbling arcs onto each other’s shoulders, or walked on their hands or on stilts, or built theirselves into human towers of a dozen.
After them came a column of dozens of children, some riding stocky ponies with saddles decorated with feathers or flowers, some walking, or some running with hoops and sticks. The girls were clad in dresses with several layers of flounces and lace with beribboned parasols laying over their shoulder, while the boys wore brilliantly striped trousers and shirts, a painted wooden sword swinging at their hip. Most children and masks mode of feathers, and glass, silk and mirrors that flashed in the light, some of the masks were broken or worn with age, all of them carried an unlit candle. Some of the children walked less enthusiastically, and one bumped in a tiny boy knocking him to the ground. Instead and bursting into tears, he scrambled up, and whacked the older kid on the rump before running off again in cheer, his mask lay broken on the ground.
A glint of light caught her eyes blinding her, and she looked across the road at Ailis. She was holding a triangular piece of mirror from one the masks, looking at her with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Ailis motioned her over with a hand but Rose shook her head passionately pointing to the street as a series of floats drawn by gorgeously harnessed horses passed by, causing Ailis to press her lips together.
With a deep breath, Rose returned her attention to the floats, each more extravagant then the last. And at last came the last float, a dozen of nobles stood in the middle of a replica garden from child’s tale Little Addograt. Identifying the spindly Lord Risthart by the shine of his polished head, Rose ducked her head and looked away willing him not to notice her. As the float passed, an overwhelming sweet perfume drifted down into the applauding crowd.
“Did he recognize you?”
Rose started and looked up at Ailis, who was clapping along with the crowd, not looking at her.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“That’s a good thing,” said Ailis emotionlessly.
Rose bit her lip and shifted. “Do you know who he was?”
“No,” she said as she stopped clapping, “but you do. Would you like to go have an evening meal, or stand out here and clap for the next hour with the rest of the crowd?”
“Supper would be welcome.”
Ailis nodded, and roughly grabbed her hand, shouldering her way through the crowd towards a small pub in the distance. Eventually they reached their destination, tavern called the Croaking Toad, where Ailis lead her to a small table in the corner as far from listening ears as possible. The sounds of talking and laughing and even the playing of a harp could be heard.
When Ailis said nothing, Rose asked, “What are the festivities in celebration of?”
“The glowing waters,” said Ailis after a moment pause.
Rose looked at her disbelief. “Glowing waters?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Rose waited, but nothing more was said. “Meaning?”
“That you are quite dense,” said Ailis, closing her eyes.
“I didn’t see you come into Teirm,” Rose said after a very long moment of listening to harpist.
“So you were watching for me.” Ailis sat up and examined her face. “You should know, then, that I arrived last night moments before the gates closed. And you? When did you and your friend get here?”
Rose hesitated. “Days ago,” she said finally.
Ailis nodded and fell quiet. “I think, you’ll enjoy watching the sea tonight more than the festivities that will proceed throughout the evening and night,” she said after a long time. “It only happens once a few years, and when it does Teirm becomes quite passionate and the people tend to become,” she paused and pursed her lips, “rather jaunty. I suppose that would be best way to say it.”
“It’s awfully overwhelming,” Rose agreed.
“It is, isn’t it,” Ailis mussed, then shook her head. “After we eat, you best stay out of Teirm, I would dislike it if someone were to recognize you and report you to the Empire. I don’t like to hear of my own, or those I travel with, proceedings. It always bodes ill.” She paused again and looked around the room. “Then, again, we might just want to skip over the meal and leave Teirm all together.”
“You’ve gotten in contact with those you needed to so soon?”
Ailis shook her head. “It’s time for celebration here, no one would wish to talk to me,” she said quietly almost to herself. “I’d only dampen what little joy they have. I was referring to the fact that the best view of the sea is from above.” Ailis smiled wickedly at her and called the server over to order a meal. When the server left and a meal was ordered, Ailis continued, “As I said before, you’ll like this night, quite a bit.”
Chapter 18: Lights in the Night
Chapter Text
The insipid grays of sea rolled noiselessly below them, or perhaps, they were too high elevated to hear the crashing of the waves and the swooshing as the tides summoned the waters back into the depths. Rose watched the waters beneath from above, as they pitched and toiled in an arbitrary rhythm. It was in truth rather unexciting, compared to the vociferous festivities that she had left behind in the seaport city of Teirm. Festivities that now she wished she could join.
She sighed and leaned forward, resting her head on the side of Thorn’s neck. As she shifted on his back she could feel the smooth knobs of dragon scales through the, now, thin and dilapidated sheepskins. Though the sheepskins had once protected her with a thick layer of wool and a thinner layer of soft leather, the continuous friction of sharp scales and her weight had worn it down to flimsy slip. To her dismay, she had spent a number of hours that pervious night picking and pulling at the fleece caught between Thorn’s scales, something she was sure she would have to later this night as well. She swung her legs out loosening the tightened, stiff muscles, then as she felt unbalanced she grasped firmly with her knees.
A white and black feathered seabird unwisely flew close to them, and Thorn playfully growled and snapped at it with his teeth. The seabird screeched at him before diving away. Thorn folded his wings slightly and let them drop after it, as they plummeted Rose leaned herself closer to his bulk and tightened her grip on his spike. While his dives no longer frightened her as they once had, as he had done them so many times in these past days that she now use to it, she wanted to kick him for not warning her.
Not far ahead of them the seabird rapidly swirled in a different direction then flared out its banded wings and ascended into the sky, and Thorn matched each of its movements. The seabird and dragon continued this way, in their dancing chase, for a time before Thorn sped up with one powerful flap of his wings and snapped at the seabirds black tail feathers, causing it squeal madly with shock, before he glided away.
Rose turned her head around and watched the bird frighteningly spin down at the water. I think you frightened the poor thing to death, she told him.
She felt, more than heard, Thorn hum with contently beneath her. Not to death, he said happily, only enough so that it will no longer fly close a dragon.
Only for fear that it might be snapped in half.
His bulk shook with a throaty laugh. I have gifted it with a valuable lesson, he laughed.
Rose closed her eyes and shook her head at his humor. You’re a cruel teacher, Thorn.
Thorn deepened his rumbling laugh and glided higher into the sky. He shook himself, enough to unsettle Rose’s imperfect stability, having forgotten that she was on his back.
She gasped and after steadying herself, Rose swept her gaze to the shore. Hundreds of feet above the shoreline, a leafy woodland covered a flat land that fell abruptly, as if a monstrous knife had sheared it away, to a muddled coast with dark, shining stones. She did not see anyone. By this time, she was quite sure that Ailis would have arrived but she had not and the sun was falling rapidly to the end of the sky, where the wide blue skies met the endless grey of the deep sea, glittering in hues of gold and red.
Had they, perhaps, come to the incorrect place, mistaking the sea cliff for the many that lined the coastline near Teirm? Rose didn’t think so, the precipice the hung over the stony beach was the first one she and Thorn had seen for many miles. If seemed very unlikely, that Ailis had been referring to the precipices which were leagues away, unless she had no intention of arriving before dark.
She thought again of dinner at the tavern called the Croaking Toad. There both Ailis and Rose sat silently as they ate choosing either to listen to the chant of the harpist as he sang ancient lays, music Rose hadn’t heard in what felt to be years, or watching the people around them laugh and joke and dance in wild jerky movements.
Rose had never before felt so apart from people, it was as if there was a thin glass separating her from them. In Urû'baen she knew how to behave; to be silent and smile in the pretense of enjoyment and others would conduct themselves in the same way, but the people of Teirm were different. Their wild delight took her by surprise and all she could do, all she wanted to do, was to observe them so that she might understand how a people as a whole could be chillingly severe one day and beguilingly jubilant the next.
She watched the people celebrate throughout the meal, but at times when she turned her focus to her meal she noticed that Ailis was watching her, likely judging her actions. Ailis’ unfaltering gaze left Rose feeling like a child waiting to scolded for something they didn’t know they did wrong, and she sat at the edge of her seat nervously eating the food, not knowing what she ate or the taste of it. When she did meet Ailis’ stare, the woman would unwaveringly scowl back at her until Rose looked down or away.
After the plates were cleared and the meal paid for, they left the tavern and struggled their way through the vibrant crowd to the gates. Once they had reached the bordering walls of Teirm, Ailis had turned to Rose and had her promise in the Ancient Language not return to the city for the next four days. Rose had said the words only once before many months ago, the day after they had fled the capital city, but she had thought very little of them then and forgot the words soon after she said them. After asking for the words Ailis demanded, Rose promised though grudgingly, and Ailis requested that meet at the beachside covered in rocks three miles north of the city before rushing back into Teirm and disappearing in the mass of colors. On her way to meet with Thorn at the vale, Rose ran over the words of the Ancient Language committing them to memory. As she repeated the words in her mind an awareness blazed inside her… Eka aroel… Eka aroel… Eka aroel…
The thought of those powerful words pressed heavily on her mind, and she sighed, promptly turning to look away, clearing the thoughts away.
She watched silently as the sky darkened and the land and sea dulled, and Thorn sensing her mood kept quiet as well. As her patience began to wane, she switched her attention to watching the shadows play across Thorn’s wings. Then as that too grew tiring, it was now dusk and the last of the light of day had not left the sky, she leaned forward and stared down at the coast.
To her surprise, a small fire blazed close to the edge of the cliff and a figure, small and dark, sat at its edges. Rose immediately sent Thorn a depiction of what she saw, and the dragon whirled in that direction.
Thorn landed just outside the glowing reaches of the firelight, and the figure sitting on the ground started and looked up. “Did you stop to think, for the slightest moment, that it might not have been me who was sitting here?”
Rose swung her legs over Thorn’s back and sat sideways, her feet dangling over the ground. “No,” she said, “I hadn’t thought to.”
“Think about it next time,” Ailis said, poking at the fire with a long winding stick. She spoke slowly, conflict clear on her face. “I’d rather you walk into tribulation prepared, then dive into chaos without an idea of how to face it.”
Rose looked around the clearing at the horse, and after studying the dark creature for a quick moment she looked away. She clenched her hands into fists, and felt a sharp pain on her palm as her nails dug into her skin. “Have you left Arvid behind?” asked she sliding down off of Thorn. Rose walked past his broad tail, which he playfully swung at her, she dodged it and sat down across the fire from Ailis.
The woman closed her eyes and stretched over her arms. “I did,” she said. “she has a slight limp, and so I borrowed Shadowless, which is something Tornac did not allow me to do lightly. He’s rather cross with you at moment but I except you knew this as you told him your intentions in writing.”
Rose nervously bit her lip. She had known the moment she decided that she was leaving for Teirm that Tornac would be irate with her, and Ailis was right, as to why she had wrote the note. What Ailis had not voiced, however, was how carven it had been of her to do so, though, her lack of courage was not a concern to her when she had composed that message. Her anxiety had been directed to the actual act of arriving to Teirm, as the means of travel was less than ideal, to such a degree that her logic for doing so was pushed to the back of mind, almost forgotten.
Now, sitting across from Ailis, her flawed reasoning was pushed to the front of her mind, incase she had the need to defend herself. There was no need for this, as Ailis simply looked her over and tutted.
“You shouldn’t bite your lip,” said Ailis. “One of these days, you might end up biting it off.”
Rose sighed and looked at her from across the fire. “Cordelia use to say the same thing,” she said, referring to her former nursemaid. “After a month and countless warnings, she smeared hot pepper oil on my lips in attempt to get me to take heed to her words.” Rose faintly smiled at Ailis. “Her attempts hadn’t worked all too well.”
Ailis stopped in her prodding of the fire and looked at her in surprise, her face dark.
It was as an unspoken agreement that they did not speak of Cordelia, neither in Urû'baen or after they escaped from the city. Though, Cordelia had been harsh with her, and at times unspeakably cruel, the nursemaid was the woman who had comforted after night terrors and bandaged her hands when she fell, and when Cordelia abruptly left Urû'baen Rose couldn’t help but to feel abandoned and betrayed. When she had met Ailis, Rose had pushed her anger and resentment aside as they were far too unsullied to think about, and even after the time that had passed her resentment towards the nursemaid hadn’t altered.
“I can see that,” Ailis said, shoving the burning stick into a clump of dirt. When she pulled the stick out it was charred and spotted with black flacks.
Rose scowled and looked away from the fire into the blackness of the night. The dark of the night was now complete, the sky was blanketed with a mysterious sapphire curtain dappled in the brightness of stars. The glowing orbed moon was hidden from sight, and starlight shaded the forest beyond them with sinister shadows. Rose shifted uneasily, turning back to look at Ailis, and said “Do you believe to be dark enough to see these glowing water?”
Ailis glanced up at the sky then she stood up, dropping the stick onto the ground. “I believe so,” she said, pulling a lantern out of her bag. She picked the stick up and swung the end into the fire, after the stick had ignited once more she lit the lantern, and stuffed the stick into the ground. Ailis held the lantern high over her head and walked to the edge of the cliff.
Rose stood up as well, and followed Ailis as she walked along the ledge. Looking out over the black sea, Rose saw only darkness and she frowned. “The water is not glowing,” she observed.
She heard Ailis sigh.
“I know,” Ailis said gloomily. “The sea is being too idle. I had hoped it’d be more active tonight, as it was during the day. You’re going to have to patient.”
Ailis came to a stop at a broken, narrow path that led off the ledge and wound its way treacherously downward, curling around ledges and rocky slopes. Without a delay, Ailis began to scramble her way down.
Rose bit her lip, looking down doubtfully and backed away. “I’m not going down that path,” Rose said.
“And why not?”
“It’s nighttime therefore it is dark, also there is only one lantern to guide us instead of two,” said Rose rubbing her hands together, looking thoughtfully at Thorn. He appeared to be asleep, his tail curled around him touching his snout, but Rose knew he was not. He was deliberately ignoring her. “You may fancy the idea of falling but I do not.”
Ailis laughed indifferently, in the black stillness of the night Rose found it rather haunting. “I won’t let you won’t fall,” she said and paused. “Here take my hand.”
Rose looked at her hand, a white smudge in the vast blackness. She gritted her teeth, pushing aside her discomforts, and took a careful step onto the path. “You might need your hand, incase one of us slips,” said she, blindly picking her way down the slope.
Ailis muttered something but too softly for Rose to hear what she said.
For a while they continued in silence. It was hard going, and both of their hands were scraped and bloodied. Twenty feet down the slope, Rose slipped and nearly fell off the cliff face but Ailis caught her by her arms, nearly dropping the lantern, and heaved her up. After that the trail widened slightly and it was easier going. After a long struggle, they reached the bottom and stood wobbly on the black stones beneath it.
Ailis bent down and picked up a handful of small, round stones, placing the lantern between them. Turning to Rose, she grabbed her hand and dropped a stone into her palm. “Throw it into the water,” she said, walking the edge of the sea.
Rose ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the black stone and followed Ailis. She stopped beside Ailis and with a quick look at woman, Rose gently threw the stone into the water. The stone twisted then plumped softly into the sea. A ring of intense cobalt light circled the place where it landed, the glowing ring grew and grew, another appears and then another. Rose stared in open wonder, her mouth gaping open, as the first band of blue light faded.
As Rose bent down to collect more stones from the ground, as Ailis skillfully tossed a stone so that it pranced across the water, three sets of looped light swelling after it until the sunk into the black of sea. Ailis tossed another stone into the water, in the same way she had done before. This time there was five series of light that lively grew and dimmed.
Rose watched for a moment, bent over, as Ailis flung her stones into the water, noticing how she flicked her wrist and making out that she only did so with the flatter stones. With a handful of stones, Rose stood up and waited for the lights to die away. She picked out a flat stone with her left hand, it was cool and damp, then she gracelessly hurled the stones into the inky water. She grinned widely as she watched the stones make contact with the water and the rings of light that pulsed after them. As an afterthought, she flung the stone, she set aside, as she seen Ailis do, the stone didn’t skip across the water, but sunk mindless to depths below. She felt a tinge of disappointment which she shrugged away and Rose bent down to gather more stones.
After a time of tossing stones into the water in comfortable silence, Rose looked at Ailis from the corner of her eyes and tossed a stone as far as she could.
“What is it that the people of Teirm do at night during their festival?” said Rose, watching the loops of light in the black water.
Ailis was still for a moment, then she bent down in a crouch and selected a few stones. “Those who can afford it paddle out to sea on large rafts,” she said standing up and tossed stone across the sea, “and release small crafts with lit candles attached to them. On those small crafts, are two gold coins, a token to the gods, a roll of parchment and on that parchment is a wish or letter to a loved one who departed. It is said that if you release the craft in a night that the waters glow, that the wish will come true or the spirit of those you love will receive your letter. The crafts that sank are believed to be an omen for ill fortune. Those who cannot afford to sail on the raft or do not desire to, release a thin block of wood or a homemade craft from the shore normally without a candle, or toss a bottle into the sea. Many of the children play close to the shores and splash in the water.” Ailis smirked as she threw another stone. “Sometimes those children who play in the waters return home glowing.”
Rose glanced at her doubtingly. “Do the children honestly glow?”
“Yes. It’s quite a chore to scrub off them, too.”
Rose laughed softly and looked out into the water. She could not see Thorn as he flew them but she did see the ripple of light as he dipped his claws into the water, and she felt the gust of wind as he landed on the shore. She glanced in his direction, and could scarcely make out the red gleam of his scales as they flashed in the lantern light. There was a faint glow above the stones where Thorn’s claws might have been.
Is it any better to look at from above? she asked, looking back at the sea.
It is much more fun to create then to look at it.
Rose grinned openly and tossed a stone the size of her hand into the water. The stone plunged heavily, and a spatter of shining water rose up and swallowed the stone. Delicate, thin rings of blue circled the area it fell into and the circle grew and brightened until they were no more. Her grin widened with the simple wonder of the radiant waters, but the enjoyment of watching the sea shine was soon broken.
“Forgive me, Rose, but must ask,” said Ailis. “I know you have no coins with you to pay for food, and I cannot help but question if you brought enough to eat for the next days.”
Rose felt as if Ailis poured cold water over her. With more force than before, she hurled a stone. “I don’t have as much as I’d like,” she admitted.
The stone loudly plugged in the distance, and lit up the inky sea.
There was a chiming jangle of coins, and Rose felt a weighed cloth press into her hand. “Take that,” said Ailis, “you might need it.”
“I cannot go into Teirm,” Rose reminded her.
“There’s a decent market in Culdaff,” Ailis said pointing in the southern direction. “If I’m correct, it’s a league south of here. Do you remember the road we were on when traveled north of Teirm?”
Rose nodded, then realizing that Ailis likely couldn’t see the action, she said, “Yes.”
“If Thorn follows that south you’ll reach Culdaff without a problem,” said Ailis. She turned to Thorn, swaying slightly as she stumbled over the uneven ground. “Thorn, it’s the only town that the road cuts through before reaching Kuasta which is many leagues away. You’ll be able to see an island in the distance. If you’re willing to go, keep above the road and out of sight.”
Tell her that I will fly there, said Thorn.
Rose could feel his curiosity brimming through her mind, and she struggled to push it away. She shifted on her feet, she had heard of the town Culdaff before but she could not remember when or what the conversion might have been about.
“He says he’ll fly there. Why Culdaff?”
“It’s a sleepy town. Sleepy enough so that I have no qualms sending you there.”
Closing her eyes, Rose took a deep breath, the sea air was musty with salt and decay. She opened her mouth then closed it and bit her lip with a slight shake of her head. “Culdaff it is, then,” said she lowly after a moment.
“Oh,” Ailis exclaimed. “I only meant that the markets of Culdaff will not press you as hard as those around Teirm. You won’t have to bargain as hard.”
“Bargain?” she said. “As in haggle? Ailis, I had not done such a thing before.”
Another stone went skipping across the water and Ailis sighed. “I know, and it’s time you learn.”
Rose shifted uneasily, the bags of coins felt heavily in her hand. She tied the bag to the loop on her belt, but the weight didn’t fade. Tossing a very round stone, she watched as the sea lit up.
What’s troubling you? asked Thorn.
This goes against everything I’ve been taught; women don’t partake in barter, they don’t bargain, and they certainly do not carry coins, she said then looked across at Ailis. Most women, that is.
***
High above a swelling moon overlooked the seam its silver light fell on the grass turning it silver against the fire on top of the seacliff. Had the women below looked up they might have thought that their eyes were playing tricks of them, and blinked at the deceptive moonlight. For some time it seemed that the shadows swelled and distorted, and something black moved against the twinkling sky. If there had been a watcher, and if the watcher had been patient, after a time it would have become clear that that a darkly cloaked figure watched furtively from above, keeping low to the ground. The figure briefly murmured something that was inaudible and crept away from the cliff face, slipping past the fading fire and the picketed black horse, and into the woods.
Chapter 19: An Obligation
Chapter Text
In the black hours of the night, Ailis and Rose bid each other a goodnight promising to meet again at a tavern, in one of the many small towns bordering Teirm before dark that following day. As Ailis scuffled her way back up the cliffside path, Rose bent down and picked up a handful of stones, before climbing onto Thorn’s back. She rested against the side of his neck tiredly, as he flew to the cave they have been using for lodging.
Ailis seemed rather calm, Rose said to Thorn through their mindlink. She had thought that Ailis would be raving with fury, when they had reunited, though she had also believed that they would not meet again until after the both of them had returned from Teirm.
Thorn sent her a tendril of agreement.
She dropped a stone from over Thorn’s bulk, and watched the dark water below as it lit up an alluring blue where the stone made contact. Then she dropped another stone and another until she held no more. A short time after Rose emptied her hand of stones, they arrived at the cave and Thorn dived into the opening. He landed roughly, jolting her though not enough to send her rolling from his back as he had the first time. I do not believe her to be unruffled, said Thorn. I think she is very angry but she has set her sentiments aside to keep peace with you.
Rose slid off of his back. I’d rather she’d yell at me.
What would that accomplish?
Rose shrugged at him, and began to untie the ropes attached to the sheepskin pad. It’d accomplish nothing, she said. Though I might know how she feels. I feel like I’ve been living in an effervesce and, everyone’s emotions, including my own, hardly touch me. She pulled the wooly sheepskin off of him and flung it onto the ground. I’d like to punch someone to know if it’d hurt.
Thorn cheerfully thumped his tail onto the ground, scattering the dust. It’s very likely that would hurt, he said in a serious tone.
Rose plucked a cluster of wool from in-between his scales, resisting the sudden childish urge to roll her eyes. I know it would hurt, she said, running her hands blindly over his bulk. By the gods, Thorn, it’s an expression. Thorn began to vibrate beneath her hands rumbling with satisfaction. You purr like a cat, did you know that?
I know. That’s how I am. Is there something wrong with that?
No. Rose dropped her hands to her sides, giving up on freeing Thorn from the wool that stuck onto his scales. Cats make me ill is all, and you sound just like one.
She heard his tail thump loudly. Do I make you ill? He asked.
Rose smiled and sat down on the sheepskins. There are times. She yawned. Have a good night, Thorn.
And you, he said.
Rose nodded, and lay down on the sheepskin pad. For some time she stared at the blackness of the cave and breathed in the musky air, each time she closed her eyes; flashes of white-blue danced cross her eyes and her body felt as it swayed and fell and rose until she felt queasy. Eventually, the dancing lights stopped and her body stilled and she was, at last, able to sleep.
Culdaff was once a teeming fishing village that hugged a tiny harbor of rose-colored cliffs, with wide stone walls that protected a lively populace of laypeople. Now, however, most of the walls were crumbled or broken covered with green, leafy creepers. The stone in many places were blackened with a previous fire, and among the tumble of wreckage, charred beams and broken doors and pieces of colorful broken glass. The village itself was of perhaps, four dozen houses that cluttered hazardously against the cliff walls. The buildings were painted in fading primary blues or greens or reds. Fresh washings were strung over the streets from house to house like colorful flags, where rows of seagulls crowed and clucked at each other. On the corner of each street stood soldiers, a shining emblem stitched on their beast. Some chattered quietly together or to passersbys, or watched the streets with a mild expression, while others tested their edges of their blades or throwing knives.
Save for the soldiers, few venders, and a meddling dog which nosed down the alley looking for scraps, the market was completely empty, and the only thing Rose was able to purchase was a little honeyed sweetmeat. Rose had arrived when all the boats were out at sea and everyone else was having their midafternoon break. She walked, almost absentmindedly down the market passing stalls and small shops quietly observing all that they held. Beads of water, evidence of a passed rainfall, sprinkled on roses and jasmine and saffron in stalls, and rainbows quivered over the scales of trout and salmon, and on the iridescent feathers of killed pheasants and ducks which lay on wooden blocks. From the food to herb stands spread a procession of stalls and tiny shops, which had once sold everything from curious fortune telling machines laden in copper to tiny brass lanterns, from robes of gossamer silk to thick linen tunics, to rings and brooches to knives and pots. There where shops without roofs, as they had long ago crumbled in, their windows dark or broken.
After a time of wandering the barren town, Rose turned back the way she had come, kicking a stone between her feet so it rattled on the cobbles. She wasn’t taking much notice of her surroundings, so when someone shot out of one of the side alleys and crashed into her she was taken completely by surprise. As she was sent sprawling onto the ground, the assailant grabbed a part of her cloak and held her firmly to the ground, even when she lashed out blindly and hit the person in the eye with her fist. She felt a grim sort of satisfaction as her attacker called her a number of unfaltering names. Her pleasure quickly faded as she felt the person grab one of her arms, and then another, holding her even more firmly to the ground. They were both panting with the effort.
The assailant was now sitting astride her, how he had gotten there she wasn’t quite sure, his fingers encircled her wrists. “Yer a hard person tah track,” the assailant said, “did yeh know that?”
Most of his features where hidden by the shadowing of his hood but Rose could make out the outline of his nose and a sharp, bearded chin. He stared at her balefully, and Rose flushed.
“There’s a reason for that,” said Rose, trying to pull her arms free. “Release me.”
“Only if yeh give yer word not to run away,” he said.
Rose paused, and glared at him with distrust. She tried to contact Thorn but he was too far off, exploring the surrounding region for a meal as he promised he would be. She felt like cursing but instead she nodded. He studied her for a moment, and Rose took a deep breath, and fixed her expression to what she hoped looked like innocence. Carefully the man got off of her, and she leapt to her feet and jerked away from him. She heard him shout in incredulously, and she whirled around and kicked him, as hard as she could, in the stomach before darting down the street. She was halfway to the corner when she felt the man grab her by the back of her collar. He swung her around, and flung her to the ground. She fell painfully onto her knees and rolled across the path, the breath knocked out of her.
The assailant started towards her, his hands flexing at his sides, his face hidden by his hood. He looked terrifying, and though Rose knew she ought to be frightened, a cold glassy detachment had come over her and time seemed to have slowed. The man reached down toward her, and she scrambled to get up but the man put his foot on her neck and leaned down to her ear.
“Don’t bloody try that again,” he whispered hoarsely.
Rose bit back her retort, and twisted to get away. The assailant pressed harder, so her face was pushed painfully against the prickled cobblestone.
“Let her up, Trent.” The voice was smooth, with an edge of menace. Rose shuttered, realizing that she recognized who the voice belonged to. “She can’t fight the both of us.”
The assailant took his foot slowly away from her neck, allowing her to sit up and brush herself down. Her hands were shaking with fury, or fear she wasn’t sure, and she clenched them into fists.
“Yeh never told me she was a madcap,” the assailant said, touching his face where she punched him.
“Didn’t know she was meself,” Dunion said, raking his eyes over her. “We need to go before the shields come. Comin’, lady?”
Rose shook her head, though she had no illusions she could fight them off and run. Both of the men were taller, broader, and she stronger than she was. Though Tornac and Ailis had trained her to defend herself against such people, she was already hurt from her earlier tussle and there were the Empire guards to consider.
“You might want ter,” said Dunion, “unless you want ter go with ‘em shields in darbies.”
She bit her lip in confusion and she ran her tongue over a small cut on her lip, tasting blood. What were darbies? Irons, perhaps? Shaking her head, she looked behind her at the road searching for her hat, which she must have lost in her struggle, but she couldn’t see it. The hat was hardly important, she knew, but she wanted to have it. It was an insane notion.
“Let ‘em shields get her,” the assailant said. “She killed Nerth, the Laws say she ought to be looped.”
“They wouldn’t loop her.” Dunion walked over to them and hauled to Rose feet. She started and bit her tongue to keep from crying out but she didn’t fight him, she was too surprised to do so. He gestured from her scuffed trousers to her bruising face and wayward hair with two of his fingers and, with a smile, he said, “She’s a Lady.”
“An’t much of one,” the assailant laughed. His laugh was silent and breathy with a hedonistic edge to it. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Aye,” said Dunion, and, taking the knife from her belt, he forcefully pushed Rose ahead of him, causing her stubble. He moved his face close to her ear. “Don’t resist,” he said so that only she could hear. “We’re not going ter hurt you.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said in the same low tone. “I know better than to believe you.”
He sighed, and she shuddered as his breath stirred her hair. “You don’t have ter. We’re running from ‘em shields just like you are,” he said, “and none of us want to get caught.”
She thought back to the caravan filled with belongs, belongs she was sure didn’t belong to this man, and found that she wasn’t surprised in the least that he was running from the Crown’s ruling. “How would you know I’m fleeing from the Empire?” she said.
“You’d be with yer father in his pretty manor, wearing much less revealing clothing if you weren’t, fer one,” he said. He shifted his grip to her elbow and pulled her next to him, so that if someone were to pass them it might appear as if he were escorting her tenderly down the street. “You’d also wouldn’t be carrying a knife with you, and you wouldn’t know how ter fight like that. Trent an’t easy ter hurt, either.”
“Those are hardly reasons to believe that I’m running from the Empire,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.
He grinned. “They an’t, are they?”
There was a long silence, in which they passed a group of guards. Rose looked at the guards half-pleadingly but they took no notice, which was, she reflected, likely a good thing. She could no longer rely on the Empire for protection. Once again she reached out her mind to Thorn but could not contact him.
“Would it trouble you terribly, to tell me where you’re taking me?” Rose asked.
His smile widened. “No.”
She glared at him indignity. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“My house,” he said.
She stopped, her chest heaving, and Dunion pulled at her arm but she refused to move. The assailant, Trent, huffed with annoyance behind them.
“And the reason you’re taking me there, is?” she asked pugnaciously.
“I’m in need of yer help.”
“There’s nothing I could help you with,” said Rose, her voice felt like it was caught in her throat. She swallowed and glanced behind her at her, now silent, attacker who looked back at her grimly. She turned away.
“There is,” said Dunion, his eyes snapping.
Nonplussed, Rose jerked away from him. “There is no reason I would help you,” she said. He pulled on her arm again, and this time she walked with him.
There was a very long silence while Dunion and Trent guided her through the street. Rose took to biting her lip as she tried to master herself. She wanted to yell and grab her knife from him and fling it but she couldn’t. It was as Dunion had said, they were both running from the Empire and would do no good to draw attention to them.
“There are many reasons you will help me,” he said, drawing her closer to him. “You have no choice. Yer bound to help those in need by yer honor, and when I saved yer life you never sent me yer father’s gold as payment.”
“I would like it very much for you to meet my father,” Rose said more temerity than she felt, “so that you may get your compensation from him yourself.”
“I an’t needing his gold at the moment,” said Dunion airily, coming to a stop in front of a low roofed sable. “I have something else in mind.” Dunion said nothing further to her and turned away from her and had a quick, almost silent conversation with Trent.
Rose took a deep breath. The air smelled of stale salt and putrid fish and the stinks of horse, which consumed the less noticeable scent of grass and sweet perfume of the leafy, bloomless magnolias. Silently she watched as the assailant nodded and walked into the sables through a green painted door. She looked up, another question on her lips, and found Dunion was watching her with less-than-friendly eyes, she looked away, biting her lip. He’ll do anything to get what he wants, Rose thought, shifting from foot to foot, without thought of another’s welfare.
After a time, the assailant returned leading two horses of a stocky breed, one of the horses was beige with a black mane and other horse was a misty grey that reminded her of Starshine. He stopped in front of them and handed the reins of the grey one to Dunion. Dunion took the reins and mounted, motioning for Rose to get on front of him.
She bit her lip and straightened herself to her full height.
“You can get on by yer own free will,” Trent said ostentatiously from behind her, “er I can force you on meself.”
Before Rose could reply, Dunion leaned down and hooked one arm around her, sweeping her up in front of the horse. Before she was completely settled he commanded his horse forth with a quick flick of his heels. They left the small yard in front of the sables and turned down a filthy, narrow path. After the long days of riding the smooth almost effortless flying of Thorn, Rose found horseback unpleasantly jolting.
For a short time no one talked and Rose listened to the clopping as the horses hurried down the cobbled path. Ahead of them a large, mangy dog growled at them then they drew closer it ran away, its tail tucked between its legs.
“I need your help,” Dunion repeated as they rode out the town. “After you help me, you’re free to go. I swear.”
“You keep saying you need my help, yet you do not say what it is you need help with. How am I to know if I could possibly help you?” said Rose.
“You can,” he whispered. “You can, ‘cause I’ve seen yer pet dragon and I know what you are. That’s why you can.”
Rose started and stared ahead, trying to contact Thorn once more but there was nothing. She took a deep ragged breath and closed her eyes. Curse you, Thorn, she thought praying that he could hear her. Curse you and blast you.
They reached their destination in the cooling hours before dusk. A thick mist had begun to rise around them, obscuring the moon and stars. Although they traveled on no roads, Dunion seemed to know the countryside like the inside of his own head, and never appeared to be lost. They passed a number of ruined farmhouses, their roofs slumped in decay, stone walls crumbled with age and weather. Rose had thought of casting herself off into the dirt path, but there was no way to do so unseen, and she would immediately be picked back up and forced back onto the horse. Every few moments, she endeavored on contacting Thorn but not once had she been able to get a reply, he was probably still hunting. It was not long before she sank into a dull trance of languor.
At last they seemed to arrive somewhere and she started awake, shaking her head to try to clear it. Out of the mist loomed the outlines of what appeared to be a rundown farmhouse. The door was open, and through it she could see a wide hearth where an orange fire burned low. Dunion lead them around to the back to a walled-in dirt yard, where huge dockweeds nodded in the corners. A knee-high speckled dog, Rose recognized as Wolf, came bounding out of the sables to their left whining happily in greeting. Dunion swung his leg up and back, and slid inelegantly off of the horse, still holding the reins. He greeted Wolf then turned and looked at Rose with a raised eyebrow.
“You coming?” he asked.
Rose slid off the horse in answer and studied the walls of the house. The walls were made of some type mesh woven together by sticks, giving the house a rather feeble aura. The sound of a child talking greeted her ears, and she looked at the door. A small dirty-faced boy clung to the door with a toothy grin, a string of mossy blonde hair was coiled around his button nose. He wore a brown tunic and stockings but no shoes, there was something curiously unusual about the way his legs were shaped. The boy waved at her and hobbled away, very much like an old man would, into the house. She absentmindedly bit her lip.
Dunion lightly touched her arm, and guided her inside the house. They entered a straw floored room, which was filled with a delicious smell that made water fill Rose’s mouth. A woman with golden hair bound back by a leather thong sat at a big wooden table with long benches on either side, she was mercilessly beating a mound of dough. A long, woolen curtain covered a doorway behind her. Over the table were clustered lines of dried herbs and onions which hung from wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. A large brick oven with an iron door took up all of the far wall, and kettle was singing on the hob.
By the stove stood a young woman, hardly more than a girl, with long dark hair, very white skin, and very blue eyes. She turned as they entered and stared at them with open curiosity. “Why is it, Dune,” she said, “that every woman you ever bring into this house looks like you’ve had to beat them to get them here?”
“This time it an’t my doing,” said Dunion holding his hands as if to surrender, “I swear it.” He walked to the woman sitting on the bench and sat down next to her. “Is Namma with Mathon?”
Rose moved to the far side of the room, close to the only window and looked out it, though it was too murky to see much but the outlines of trees, then she looked back at the scene before her.
The woman at the table nodded into the dough. “That’s the only place she’s ever at,” she said. “She’s as bad as you are.”
Dunion stood up. “Come on,” he said to Rose waving her forth.
“Shouldn’t you let her eat first,” the woman at the stove said, wagging her finger at Dunion. “I’m willing to bet you haven’t even told her what’s going on.”
Wolf, who followed them in, whined at his feet. “Out, Wolf!” he commanded the dog. Wolf whimpered and scuffled to the doorway where she laid down and watched him with pleading eyes. Then to the woman he said, “You tell her, I’m going to see Namma.” He walked away to an overhang of curtains and disappeared behind it. The woman at the table stood up and trailed after him, abandoning the dough.
“You can sit down,” said the woman with dark hair, “you won’t get the itches. No one here has had the itches here in years. I’m Abagail, by the way.” Rose scowled at her and said nothing. “I’ve never thought nobility to be quite so boorish. Weren’t you taught any better?”
Rose started and shook herself. “Yes, I was,” she said lowly. “I was also taught not to wear trousers or to carry weapons, both of which I prefer.”
Abagail smiled and twisted a lock of her hair, turning back to the stove. A moment later she walked over with two mugs of hot broth one of which she gave to Rose. “You shouldn’t worry about weapons at the moment,” she said taking a sip from the mug, “there’s some fresh bread in the oven, and more to come.”
Rose took a sip from the mug, it was a sweet broth that warmed her down to her toes. Then Abagail cleared away the dough at the table and put down her own mug and drew the bread from the oven, and laid out good cheese and the pot of yellowy broth and a bowl of spiced chutneys, some cooked meats, a jug of ale and another of fresh springwater. Rose realized she was ravenous, and walked over the edge of bench and sat down. Abagail smiled at her when she sat down then vanished behind the curtain, she came back a moment later along with a crooked, old woman with silver hair and a very lined face, and the little boy who was being carried in Dunion’s arms.
Dunion looked around the room. “Trent come in, yet?”
Abagail shook her head, and Dunion swore loudly causing the boy to giggle. The old woman looked at him as if she wished to hit over the head with something and Rose was quite certain she would have, had he not set the boy on the bench and quickly walked out the house, Wolf following after him. The older woman looked at Rose and nodded her head in greeting.
“I’m named Ionia,” the old woman said sitting heavily onto the bench. Her voice was delicate and kind. “Have all of my grandchildren been too rude to ask your name, dear?”
Rose put down her mug. “I’m called Rose,” she said, deliberately eluding the question.
“Lovely,” Ionia said, “That’s lovely. Abagail, you mind pouring me some ale, it’s too heavy and I can’t reach it.”
Abagail glanced heatedly at her grandmother as she had just sat down, and stood back up. “Of course not, Namma,” she said.
The little boy began to fill his plate, and after pouring himself some water he grinned greedily at Rose. “I’m Cai,” he said cheerfully, reaching across the table for a large slice of meat. “How many people have you killed?”
Rose started and, pushing her plate away as she was no longer hungry, stared at the boy- she wasn’t the only person to do so. Abagail looked at him with a mix of horror and humor, and his grandmother looked at him almost blind with annoyance. “Caileon,” Ionia said almost portentously. “That’s not a polite question. Apologize.”
Cai shuttered under her gaze and quickly apologized the same moment that Dunion returned from the sables with Trent. The two men sat down and filled their plates in silence. The boy said no more throughout the rest of the meal.
After the food had been cleared away, Dunion stood and pulled Rose by her arm to the curtain, she followed behind him angrily but quietly. Behind the curtain was a room that wasn’t much bigger than the main room. It was occupied by a large bed, where a very small child lay in wrapped tightly in blanket and the blonde haired woman, Rose saw before, lay next to him, and there a chest at the end of the bed with a basin filled with water and rags but nothing more. Dunion stopped next to the chest.
“There’s food, Thelma,” said Dunion. “Go eat. I’ll watch him.”
Thelma looked up, her eyes were dark and tired looking, and nodded. “You,” she said to Rose, “save my son. You took my husband from me, the least you owe me is my son’s life.” She slid off of the bed, taking one of many blankets with her, and walked out of the room.
Rose closed her eyes. “What did she mean when she said that I killed her husband?” she asked.
“In the Spine Pass you killed four men, do you remember that?”
Rose opened her eyes and glared at him with distaste. “It was not I who killed those men,” she said, her tone harsh.
Dunion looked back at her emotionlessly, although she saw the muscles around his eyes flinch with distaste. “I was there,” he said. “I saw you do magic. I saw you kill them.”
Rose laughed. It was a cold, severe laugh that she didn’t recognize as her own. “I don’t know magic, even if I did it wouldn’t have changed what has transpired. I didn’t kill your friends, and I cannot heal the child,” she said, more gently. “I do not know how to do so.”
Dunion swore viciously, and Rose bit her lip. Her gaze caught his own she held it confidentially, as their will wrestling each other. Neither of them moved. At last, it was the man who desisted and looked down.
“My father once told that arrogance would be the Empire’s downfall,” he said slowly as the words burned him, “and that I should be wise enough to know when to strive and when to quit. I don’t know what yer father taught you but that’s what mine taught me.” He looked out the small window over the bed. “I’m only asking ter try. Yer a Rider, you have ter ‘cause its yer duty.”
Chapter 20: The Lone Farmhouse
Chapter Text
Rose looked at the child’s flushed face, suddenly she felt very tired and realized with a staggering alarm that she was incredibly angry. She inhaled and held her breath until her head felt as if were about to spin then very slowly she blew out, as if to release her anger.
She took another deep breath, and then said, “You are the only one to know of what I am, yes?”
“Yeh,” Dunion said from somewhere behind her. “I an’t gonna tell anyone either, lady, you an’t got ter worry about that.”
Rose felt speechless, and she looked over her shoulder at Dunion “What is it that you expect me to do?” said she.
“I don’t know,” Dunion said with a shrug. “Heal him or something.”
How? The word came to her lips almost without her knowing, but she was able to swallow it. She looked over the face of the boy once more. Feeling herself flush, Rose very slowly sat down on the bed next to the child. The flimsily made bed was shaking from the child’s violent tremors, and as Rose studied him, she could see that his eyes were moving rapidly from underneath his eyelids as the fever warped his dreams. The boy looked to be hardly out his first year of life, and yet his skin was yellowed and creased like that of an elderly man’s from his burning fever.
Rose experimentally ran her fingers through his wispy hair, he was very hot to the touch, and his skin burned the tips of her fingers. Fretful, she bit her lip until she tasted blood and drew her hand back, folding her hands onto her lap.
Children were often the innocent ones, yet, they were fated to participate in the hard game of chance in which many did not survive but some did, and later in life, those few, played victim to their parent’s beliefs and crimes. Would this toddler be better off if she left? He, surely, would be not recover with her staying? Yet, she saw no reason as why she should not try to help the toddler. If she did perhaps, she could leave peacefully and return to Thorn, wherever he might be. However it was more than likely that the man would ask more from her, though she had nothing to give.
Rose knew exactly what the man was asking her to do, though it was unachievable for her to do so without further knowledge in the Ancient Language, which was something that Ailis refused to give her. Though she could not heal the child magically, perhaps there was a way to reduce his burning fever… Rose bit her lip in deliberation, and thought for anything she might know. There was something, she had learned it long ago, that her former nursemaid had thought her in preparation for when she might someday become a mother herself. Rose had at the time thought to disregard the information, as she sure she would never need it as a mother for her children would be cared for by a nursemaid as she had been. However she remembered it now or perhaps, the only reason she recalled it was because the child kicked her.
She stood up, mindful to not shake the bed, and walked to the chest, where a basin filled with cool water rested, then she withdrew the old rags from the water and wrung them out before returning to the bed. She tried her best to ignore Dunion, who was standing in the corner of the room watching her every move, as she uncovered the toddler and wrapped the damp rags around each of his ankles but her movements were jerky from his endless scrutiny.
“That is all I can do at the moment,” said Rose as she recovered the small child with the thin blankets.
“You an’t gonna do anything else?” he asked.
Rose shot him a fierce look and stepped away. “There is nothing more I can do,” she said as calmly as she could.
Dunion cursed and looked as if he might say something more but Abagail walked in, bringing with her a beaten iron ewer of water smelling of lemon grass and mint, an empty bowl, and some cloths. She carefully set the ewer on the ground close to chest and placed the basin next to it then she met at her brother’s cross glare.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Abagail said. “Namma’s in there badgering me about the lady’s state. Really, Dune, didn’t you think she would?”
Dunion pressed his lips together and looked Rose over as if she were livestock. “Yeh, I did,” he said easily. “I’ll be out there, if you need me jest holler.”
Abagail nodded in understanding as Dunion gave Rose a piercing look, clearly warning her not to try anything she might regret, before leaving the room. Forcibly, Abagail opened the chest and bent over it as she shuffled through it. After a time she stood up with a dress and long, grey sleeveless tunic which had several ties running down the sides, carefully draped in her arms. The respectful way Abagail held the raiment out towards Rose alerted her that the dress was precious, though she could see nothing special about it. The dress was made of a fine wool, Rose did not recognize, and dyed a blue so dark it might have been black, yet despite its strange color the dress it was rather simple. Gallingly, Abagail made clicking noises with her tongue until Rose took the dress. When Rose took the garment from her, Abagail then placed the sleeveless tunic and ewer and basin on top of the chest and walked to the side of the bed where she sat down and began to stroke the toddler’s sweat streaked face.
Rose meekly touched the soft material, then stood up and, after insuring that Abagail was not watching her, she poured the water into the bowl, and with intense relief washed herself properly for the first time in days. There was some soap in the bowl, and with it she washed her hair and dealt with the cuts on her arms and face. They were not very serious, though they stung from the harshness of the soap. Then she drew the dress over her head, it was too long on her and pooled slightly around her feet. She didn’t know what to do with her dirty clothes and did not feel like asking, so she folded them up and placed them on the chest next to the empty ewer, picking up the gray tunic and slipping it over the dress. Silently, she put on a pair of stocking and examined her boots which were looking worse for wear. She wondered if she should switch them for the new pair in her packs back at the farmhouse when she returned there. Putting that particular problem aside, she began the slow business of untangling her hair- some of it almost matted like felt. She finally managed to rid herself of most of the knots, and looked up. Abagail had fallen asleep, sprawled out next to the child.
The meal and the fresh clothing made Rose’s exhaustion overwhelming, and she fought back a yawn. She studied the foot of the bed for a long moment in debate before she lay down, intending on a short rest while she could. She wondered how Dunion had known what she was, and how he had seen Thorn, she wondered what else was known. She had thought that Thorn had been well concealed, but clearly it was not so, and if she and Thorn where apparent that they seemed to be, then they were certainly in peril… worrying vaguely around these thoughts, she drifted into a deep sleep.
She woke up with a start and immediately sat up, instantly alert. The room was much darker, and the candle that had burned in the shelf of the window was now absent; she must have been asleep for hours. Rose sent out her mind in search of Thorn but felt nothing. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Slipping off the bed, she slid on her boots and picked up her clothing from off the chest. Walking as quietly as she could to the curtain, she listened for any sounds that might alert her that someone was awake but heard nothing except for the sounds of the night, crickets chirping in the grasses and the threatening hoot of an owl and the soft snores of the people who lived in the house.
After a moment of hesitation, Rose poked her head around the curtain and glanced around. Two figures slept close to the door making it impossible to open and escape out of, and the windows were too high and small to crawl out. With a resigned sigh, she stepped back and sunk down to the ground to wait. There was nothing else to do. It was not long until exhaustion crept up on her again, and she lay down and drifted into sleep.
When Rose next opened her eyes, she knew she had dreamed but was without any memory of dreaming. What woke her was hunger; her stomach felt barren and grumbled and twisted anxiously. She sat up and, with a glance around her, brushing the dirt and straw off herself. Rose stood up slowly, as she was stiff from sleeping on the ground, listening to the sounds that sailed through the air: the cluck of chickens scratching the soil, a couple of women chatting in the crisp dialect of the west, the low of cattle drifting the distance, the cark cark of crows. A warm late-morning light shifted through the aperture and tempted her to wander outside. She stretched lazily then walked over the narrow window and, lifting herself up on her tips of her toes, she looked out.
Now that the haze had lifted she could see that the house rested on what was once a rich and fertile farming country. Numberless wildflowers carpeted low peaty hills; mixtures of bluebells, yellow and orange bird’s-foot trefoil, purple and white flowers that Rose did not recognize, and grainy reed grass bobbled in the wind. In the distance lone farmhouses lay blighted in neglected fields of gray fungus, which meant the corn or wheat would never be gathered and eaten. Further away was a dim flickering and a curl of grey smoke rose from a fire too far off to be properly seen.
With a sigh, Rose turned away and walked to the side of the bed where the boy and his mother lay. Thelma looked calm with her eyes closed, stroking the toddler’s head with her crooked fingers. The toddler, Rose noticed, was no longer damp with sweat and his lips were cracked and desiccated. People could recover from a wet fever, she knew, but a dry fever would kill. Rose looked at the child’s flushed face with regret, she was very sure he would not recover. Children often died of sickness or accident or for no reason at all, and so there was no reason for her to feel culpable, not in the least.
Rose shifted uneasily and walked to the doorway. She heard someone scuff their boots against the straw littered floor as she pushed the curtain, looking towards the source of the noise. Standing tensely by the edge of the entry, she watched the man closely. Her assailant was wearing the same worn and tired clothes as the day before, it was obvious that he not washed. He was poking the fire in the opened oven with a long metal stick. After a short time he seemed to become aware of Rose. He turned his head and looked directly at her.
After a moment, Rose looked up into his face and despite herself, grinned rather deviously. A grim sort of delight bloomed in her belly when she saw that the area around his eye she had punched him was swollen with discoloration, and there was a large bruise close to his ear where she cuffed him. It took her a moment to recognize that she proud of the injuries she had caused him, and when did she realize this she felt a burning dismay and forced herself to turn away. She sensed rather than saw his eyes on her, reviewing her wear as if for the first time grasping she was in fact a woman and how it was not courteous to strike a woman. Not that, Rose thought silently to herself, these men knew the meaning of the word “chivalrous” and how to abide by its rules and laws.
Rose switched her gaze towards the table where half a loaf of bread and some cheese was set out on a plate, and next to the plate was mug with insipid liquid. Meager, though the food was, it made her mouth water. She did not ask whether the food and drink was meant for her, the thought of doing so brushed against the remains of her vanity in a very unpleasant way.
She took a seat on the bench and slowly reached for the bread, the air had hardened the crust of the bread yet it had not taken away from its sweet taste. Rose wondered whether people who lived here had the luxury to sugar, it seemed unlikely, though the dinner prepared the night before avowed that they were not in complete poverty. Mussing over her thoughts, she took a bit of the cheese which was as sharp as the bread was sweet.
She swallowed. “Where has everyone gone to?” she asked. If there was only Trent and the mother and toddler within the house, perhaps she could run and meet with Thorn sooner than she hoped.
“Meybe workin’, meybe out gettin’ ‘em shields,” he said, “er meybe their gettin’ a loop fer yeh themselves, like I suggested.”
Rose nodded as if she completely agreed with his proposal of looping her, as he called it. “Everyone is outside, then,” she said.
“Imma knowing what yer thinkin’, girlie, and it an’t gonna work,” said Trent.
“There’s nothing stopping me from leaving,” Rose said indigently. “The road is just over there.”
“Yeh can try,” said Trent with a casual shrug. “I think yeh might it interestin’.”
Rose pressed her lips together and took a large gulp of the liquid in the mug: it was a bitter liquor that went down into her belly like fire. She choked as a harsh aftertaste stung her mouth and burned her palate. Warmth thrilled through her body all the way to her toes, and for a second she wondered if she was going to be unwell. Blinking, she pushed the liquor away from her, and coughed breathlessly until the flame passed.
“Can’t handle mead?” asked Trent, sniggering.
Contemptuously Rose kept her gaze from him and drank from the cup again, this time she didn’t choke. Sip by sip, she finished the mug and set it down on the table. She felt a little dizzy now, if a little lightheaded, and slowly she swung her legs over the bench and put her feet on the ground.
She stood up and walked to the open door, her legs felt wobbly and weak and she instantly regretted drinking that mead as it caused her to stumble. Though Rose heard Trent following after her, she kept walking until she the sun heated her face. She now stood in the doorway, looking up at the sky watching what might have been a vulture fly lithely above. For a long moment she stood there, watching the creature glide in aimless circles. In a thickly vegetated garden not far from the farmhouse were its occupants, laughing and joking as they labored. She listened to them for a moment longer than necessary and with a resigned sigh she walked back inside the dwelling. She missed Thorn, and she wondered when they would next see each other, without him her leaving this place seemed all too unlikely.
Rose stayed in the secluded farmhouse another two days. She spent most of her time with Abagail, with whom she struck up a very unexpected camaraderie. In Abagail’s company, she could forget of the reasons as to why she was there, a Dragon Rider confined in a lewd building in a feeble hope that a child could be healed. She could pretend that she was just a young girl without much more to worry about than the day’s tasks or gossip and that her past was not her own, that it belong to someone else entirely. Although Abagail had not been raised in the manner of refined dignity, her grandmother had taught her some of the practice: she knew few of the great lays by heart though she could not read she knew the alphabet. She could be, Rose had thought, a great scholar if she wished to. Rose, who cherished reading, had carved out some runes in the dirt with a stick, showing them and explaining their meanings to Abagail.
“I don’t think I want to read,” she said ruefully, looking at the runes. “It seems to me to be an uninspiring use of time. What good is reading stories, when there is so much work to be done? I like doing these things, it makes feel like I’ve accomplished something at the end of the day.” She glanced at Rose, as if daring her to disagree, but Rose privately understood what she was saying; the fact was, Abagail did in fact have many things to do. Abagail silently returned to her sewing.
Rose subsided and threw the stick onto the ground. “There is no shame in not knowing something,” she quoted. The shame in not willing to learn, but she left these words unspoken and instead turned to dampen the sickly boy’s face. He was not fairing any better nor was he any worse.
There is nothing that you can do.
The voice fell so lightly in her mind that at first she thought it to be her own, and she almost laughed at her own foolishness. I know, she replied. Her stomach turned over, as the presence of him entered her mind. Where have you been?
She felt Thorn sway due to a sudden current of wind. Hunting, he said plainly. She felt his concern and his relief at finding her through their mindlink. When I returned to the meadow, I could not find you and I flew over those buildings in search of you. You were not there, so I flew over the lands. I’ve been flying for days and nights looking for you. Where have you been?
She leaned back on her hands and the boy kicked out violently. I’ve been here, said Rose, mostly. She told the whole tale of what had happened since their separation that one afternoon through a jumble of words and images. Thorn listened attentively, and did not interrupt once. Never before have I been so cross that I had not realized that I was angry, Rose said after she finished reviewing the events that landed her at the isolated farmhouse. She felt Thorn’s amusement running through her. There is hardly anything amusing about this situation, Thorn!
No, he said in merriment, there is not. Are you all right?
As all right as I can be, she said. It’s hardly wise to stay here. These people believe I slay someone they loved, and no matter what I say I cannot seem to reason with them.
Do you believe that you can get away from them?
Despite knowing that Thorn couldn’t see the action, she shook her head. Not at this moment, she said.
When then? said Thorn in sudden irritation. I want you back.
Rose looked around the room and bit her lip. Carefully she examined his intentions, then said, I don’t desire my being here either, Thorn, but this predicament is not a simple one. She paused and ringed her fingers around her wrists. How far away are you?
With a snort through their mindlink, Thorn sent her a vision of where he was, which was not far. Below him was a crumbling wall painted a faded blue with a sun that was once yellow, Rose remembered passing the wall days before, there a scoured house not far from it. In the distance was the dwelling, Rose was at, with a small building to its left which she had assumed to the sables. Though looking at the sables through Thorn’s eyes Rose saw that it was not quite big enough to be called a sable nor a barn as it was only slightly bigger than large shed.
I’ll see you soon, my friend, she promised.
Rose’s mind was briefly flooded with Thorn’s anger and fright and desolation, but when he spoke in her him his voice was fierce with assurance. I’ll be watching you, little one, he said, then she was suddenly pushed out and the mindtouch was closed. She tried to reach him again, a few times, but the dragon didn’t respond. Dejected and uncomfortable, at last she turned away from the child and stood up. She hadn’t realized before how much she missed Thorn’s presence.
In the afternoon that day, the wind shifted and strengthened, and a bank of dark clouds began to build on the western horizon. The people of the house had left, to prepare the farm for the storm, leaving Rose to sit sweating and bored at the table, as it was the only place she was out of the way. She used the stick to trace runes in the dirt, sentences of nonsense and silly rubbish that made her quite thankful no one there besides herself knew how to read.
The weather steadily worsened all day until the people were working through a driving rain and the wind was almost gale force. Toward evening, the little boy called Cai stumbled into the house with a long reed in his hands and he sat down beside her, a puddle of water dipped off of his clothing and onto the floor. Soon after Cai came in, so did the others and Trent who had been sitting in the corner of the room stood up and opened the door. At that moment an outburst from the storm slammed the door on its hinges, and a blast of spray-laden wind sent the soaked him almost instantly. Rose turned her attention to Cai, as he began to drill holes in the reed with a small knife to make, as he told her, a flute.
Once more she reached out her mind to Thorn, and sighed with relief as the dragon merged in mindtouch with her. As he merged his mind with Rose’s, a bright crackling of lighting flashed across the sky and a roaring of thunder shook the house. Somewhere outside came the sound of Wolf as she began to howl at an upcoming intruder.
Chapter 21: The King’s Men
Chapter Text
As Rose felt her way into the mind of Thorn, she saw the familiar pattern of his thoughts, the formal shape of his mind. Slipping into his mind was like trying to read a book of poems in a language she hardly understood. She could perceive the grammar, the syntax, the recurring words, the shape of the verses, but the meaning was beyond her. Gradually a pattern of enormous complexity opened up before her and she could understand the consequence of his different emotions and thoughts, and she was able to shape her mind to his own. His senses were colored by overwhelming emotions, and she immediately felt both his fear and determination.
A howling cry startled her out of her mending and for a moment Rose panicked as she could no longer feel Thorn and she hastily gathered up her mind jabbed out blindly for his presence. The next thing she knew was the overwhelming of a new sensation, the sense of smell; her tongue and her nose were suddenly flooded with odors, the fresh steady scent of rain and the crisp, green smell of trampled grass and waving leaves. The sky above her rumbled angrily, and she could hear the vociferous wind rattle the leaves and crack the branches in the unforgiving wind. She felt the splashing of rain as it beat against her scales and streams of water as it ran down her sides in glossy rivulets, and yet she did not feel its wetness. Moisture gathered under the lids of her eyes, and her tail was switching across the mucky ground in long, smooth movements. There was a faint tang in the air, like the smell of burnt metal that left a sour taste in her mouth. She flickered their tongue out between her dagger sharp teeth, tasting the air.
Just as she perceived this, Rose realized that was seeing and hearing and feeling what Thorn did, and it unnerved her and a tickling cold shivered down her spine. Rose gently pulled away from his mind so that their thoughts were barely touching and they were each their own person again and then she opened her eyes, blinking at the dim golden light spinning into the room. Neither Thorn nor Rose said anything, there was no need to as there no words to say, only a silent agreement from the complete mending of their minds.
Their mindmending had taken very little time, and when Rose glanced around she saw that Trent was now struggling to get the door closed, and Dunion had come to assist him. She stood and peered outside through the door with interest. It seemed to her that the heavens theirselves were in a boiling dispute: shapeless masses warped and collapsed in theirselves and twirled about like lazing birds of prey. There was a rage of thunder, the sound was almost deafening, and a flicker of greenish blue light as the skies exploded in a dazzling radiance. Rose gripped the whittled edging of the table, as the wind roared into the house the sickly child awoke from his sleep with a baying wail. She remembered a prayer she had recited numberless times throughout her childhood, and she whispered it now in a frantic rush. The prayer did not make her feel any safer, only certain that she was mad to even consider going out in that bedlam.
At last the men got the door closed, though Trent seemingly chose to forgo his trip into the lashing outdoors instead choosing to seat himself at the table. Rose caught him looking down at the runes she had written in the dirt and how his face twisted in an inexplicable expression. “What’s awl this rubbish?” said he nudging at the words with his foot, as if the runes might turn onto iniquitous snakes that would surely bite him with their noxious fangs.
Dunion sat down next to Rose, his back facing the table. She glanced at him with her eyes and shifted away, watching with the people with mild exasperation. The wailing coming from the child in the next room did not help her humor any as it made the conversion rather hard to hear, and her ears and head began to ache with a dull throbbing.
Both Cai and Abagail looked up from their tasks and glanced at the words curiously. Abagail shrugged and returned to her task. “They’re called words, Trent,” she said.
Cai’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Words?” he said, studying them with interest. “What do they say? Do they tell ah story?”
“That yer gonna be eaten by ah ogre if yeh don’t mind yer own business,” Trent growled, turning away. “Only fools tell stories.”
“I’m not gonna be eaten by no ogre!” Cai exclaimed, still looking at the words. “Ogres don’t exist! Abagail, tell him ogres don’t exist!” He looked meaningfully at his sister.
Abagail didn’t look up from the vegetables. “Ogres exist,” she said.
“You’ve met one, Cai,” said Dunion, leaning back on the table.
Cai perked up. “Really?”
“Yeh,” he said leaning back, his back pressed against the edging of the table. “You remember Trahern?” Cai nodded. “He was one.”
The sound of Abagail’s merry laughter tinkled throughout the room, though most of the sound was lost to screeching of the ailing toddler and howling sounds of Wolf baying in the barn. Rose looked on, a little enviously. The kind of freedom these people had was completely alien to her; and their comments made Rose acutely aware of her lack of companions. It made her think of Tornac, and this riveted her remorse and grief, and Ailis and the very few of her other friends, which she realized, she likely could no longer claim them as friends. Perhaps she could one day, if she survived this quest and was able to make amends, though she had no belief that she would be able to at all.
“Now there is someone I don’t miss in the least,” Abagail said, standing up.
Rose, glancing at Dunion, saw that he was watching her with teasing smile. She quickly looked away and took to studying the ground, trying to pick images out of the scattered straw and mixed dirt. In one place she saw a crude outline of the long face of a horse, and in another there was leafless tree.
“Yer have ter thank Lady Marsh fer that,” said Dunion.
The conversion changed to other topics, and for a time Rose ignored them and sat bored searching for images on the ground. After a long moment, she felt Thorn proceed deeper in her mind, and she perked up in interest wondering as to what it was that he was doing. The dragon seemingly joined her in her activity, pointing out images not in words but by casting imagery before Rose’s inner vision. There were lazing cows and crippled houses and swollen clouds and a sly weasel and a young fowl and once the face a bearded man.
It looks like a squash, said Rose squinting at the ground. How is it that you see a weasel?
He sent her another vision, this one more firm, of the wily creature in response. Mixed with the image was the feeling of odium which seemed to permanently color Thorn’s emotions towards the animal.
She fought back smile with a shake of her head. I shall never understand your antipathy, she told him. It all seems rather childish.
There was another roll of thunder then the toddler’s answering cry and the dog’s baying howl, and Rose’s hair prickled all the way down her back. Thorn called her attention back to their game with a niggled grumble, and with an effort she glanced at a piece of the flooring indiscriminately and relayed the picture of it through their mindlink.
Rose was so completely immersed in their game of search, that when a pale hand tapped her on the shoulder she nearly fell over with fright. Composing herself, she turned and glancing at Abagail and took a bowl of stew, it smelled strongly of fish. They sat and ate, as Cai made his dislike for the stew more than apparent though most of his words were lost to the chaos of noise.
When the food was eaten and supper’s mess had been cleared away, they readied themselves for sleep however unlikely slumber was to call on them that night. Outside the farmhouse the wind roared, rattling the shutters over the windows, and the thunder deafened the skies and the dog in the barn continued to howl at the echo of pounding rain and the farm animals screamed in their panic, and very little else could be heard as the baby’s cries intensified. After a while, the rain seemed to have thinned slightly and the thundering had lessened though the crying and howling only worsened. By some unspoken agreement the people roused theirselves out of their blankets and sat at the table in exhausted silence.
As the baying howls coming from Wolf, whose growls had been getting louder, suddenly ceased, Rose felt her calm pretense begin to thin and fade, and she retreated into Thorn’s mind in a feeble hope of steadying herself. When she felt no tranquility from Thorn, only the turmoil of the storm, she withdrew from his mind. She watched as Dunion shot up from the table, nearly knocking the sizeable mug of mead from Ionia’s shaking hands, and darted out the door. Moments after Dunion left the sheltering of the house, the sound of shouting could be heard over the toddler’s endless wailing. Hearing the noise, Thelma emerged from the isolation of the small sleeping room with the flailing toddler in her arm, looking as if she about to be in tears herself. “What’s with all the shouting?” she asked, her voice rising over her child’s cry. It was a wonder that the toddler had not cried himself into a slumber.
Abagail looked up and opened her mouth as she meant to say something, but it was Ionia’s voice that answered. “Your brother’s luck has finally run out,” she said cheerfully, her words were slightly slurred from the amounts of alcohol she had consumed. Ionia took another long drink from the mug.
“He said we would safe here,” Thelma said, before cooing at the child in her arms. For a moment he became quiet and she visibly relaxed.
“And we have been, dear. Like everything, our safety here can only last so long.” She set down the mug and cackled at Thelma’s glum face, as if her granddaughter had told a hilarious tale. “Our world is full of sorrow and evil,” Ionia said after she had calmed herself. To Rose’s surprise, the old woman’s eyes filled with tears and she covered her eyes with her hands as she began to bawl.
Abagail stood up and pulled the old woman’s hands away from her face. “And full of such beauty and love,” she said. “Perk up, Namma, we have no time for this. Come on, now. Oh, there’s a smile.” She pulled Ionia to her feet and supported the woman, as Cai grabbed the mug full of mead and shoved it under the table. “If the shields are here we should prepare ourselves, yes, Namma?”
Ionia nodded and wiped at her eyes. “Gracious, I don’t know what came over me,” she said, suddenly sounding like her abstemious self. “Yes, yes, of course. We must ready ourselves. Thank you, Ailis, dear.”
Rose waited, taken aback, as an uncomfortable silence filled the room. She felt Thorn’s inquiry through their mindlink, and started slightly. She had forgotten they were still in mindtouch as he had been so silent. It is a common enough name among the commoners, she told him. Two people possessing the same name means little to naught.
Abagail leaned forward and touched her grandmother’s shoulder, and the old woman looked up and blinked, as if she had just awoken from a dream. “It’s me, Namma. It’s Abagail,” she said quietly.
The toddler whimpered.
The old woman’s face collapsed into a grimace of pain and she turned her head to one side, studying Abagail. Slowly she nodded. “Oh, so it is,” said she turning to consider the stove, humming softly under her breath.
“We an’t knowing its them shields,” Trent said, breaking the tension.
“We don’t know its not,” said Thelma harshly. The child in her arms gave out a little feeble cry, and she hushed him with a coo and a smile.
“Wolf an’t ever quiet when it storms. She don’t like ‘em,” Cai explained, staring at his grandmother with interest. “So there’s something wrong with her if she’s quiet. And there’s all this yelling going on outside. Who’s yelling?”
“I don’t know,” said Abagail. “Shields, I guess, who noticed Dunion in one of villages and followed him here. He’s been more careless than he should be lately. I don’t know why they would attack in the rain.”
Trent’s head shot up as Abagail spoke, as if noticing for the first time the racket outside, and he quickly left the house. As the door crashed shut and the toddler began to wail once again, Rose stiffened and bit her tongue. Tasting blood, she swallowed but the metallic taste seemed to be trapped in her mouth. Thorn? she called out.
I am here, he told her. We should make it well out of here; those two-leggeds are too occupied to be looking out for a stray girl.
Rose did not know how long she sat there picking at the dirt with the stick, though it could not have been a long time. I cannot, she said at last. Beyond the whining of the toddler she could hear the shouting of men, and the air vibrated with a sound like the screech of tortured metal. I’m not fool enough to believe that the King’s army, if it is indeed them, will not notice their prey wander away from their hunt. As Rose spoke, a green lighting split the night, and Thorn sent her a wave of furor and she reeled, her senses stunned. Are you angry with me or because the circumstances would not allow me to leave at this exact moment as you wish me to? she retorted, fighting back her own annoyance. Direct your anger elsewhere, not at me. I’m not here for you assail with your antagonism as you see fit.
A flash of something caught her eye, and Rose looked up. She watched as Abagail took the firepoker from its resting place near the stove, and pressed the tip of it against her palm. It was dull and left behind an ugly brand of soot on her skin. To Rose’s surprise, Abagail took the firepoker and stabbed it into the wall. The wall cracked where the firepoker make contact, and the firepoker cut cleanly through it. Abagail pulled the firepoker out with a great amount of effort, and fell onto her bottom when the object gave way, before standing and stabbing at the wall once more.
“Oh! Goodness!” Ionia exclaimed, watching her granddaughter attack the wall. “Abagail, dear, what are you doing to my poor wall?”
“Making… us… a way…out of here.” Abagail pulled out the firepoker, leaving behind a small hole. “Don’t just stand there! Help me!”
Rose stood up, making her way over and Thelma followed after her. Had she known that the walls were made of something so feeble she could have left days before.
Thelma handed the toddler to Ionia and shuffled through a cabinet where she drew out two large kitchen knives. She handed one to Rose, she took it fingering the weather wooden handle as Thelma pushed Abagail aside. “Give me that thing,” Thelma ordered holding out the knife to Abagail. “You’re doing it wrong.”
Abagail huffed indigently at her sister, but handed over the firepoker, and took the knife instead. She stabbed the knife into the wall, it did as much damage as the firepoker had which was not much.
For a heartbeat, Rose watched Thelma spear the wall and pull the firepoker out an angle, this way left behind a gaping puncture in the wall, before she did the same with the knife. Where the knife wounded the wall, small blasts of chilled wet air breezed through. Rose hesitated outside the grouping of women, looking into the holes of darkness; it seemed astounding to her that anybody would be traveling through the wildness in this tempest so causally. The people or the Empire’s soldiers had made an effort to conceal themselves, but now they made themselves well known. In her mind something didn’t quite add up; had someone noticed the scuffle in Culdaff after all? Or perhaps, there were people hunting Dunion, and they had found him at last. Whatever reason for it there was something curious about this predicament, and with that on her mind, she walked over to the window and, dropping the knife on the table as she went, she opened the shutters and she peered out of the window.
The rain had lessened, it was no long a driving downpour, and Rose saw cloaked army men, a crest at their each of their breasts reflected in the light spilling from the window. There were five of them. They kept a hound behind them, it sat on its hunches, and beside the large hound was a crumbled form. The form was no longer recognizable, but from its size Rose knew it was once a creature known as Wolf. Dunion and Trent were not anywhere within sight. A dark shape moved towards the house, and as it approached it caught her staring, it- he, held up his hand as if he were to wave and then stopped halfway through the action. Rose shrank back, taken aback, and nearly stumbled over her own feet in her haste as she ran to the door to fasten it shut.
“How many men are out there?” asked Thelma without looking at her.
“I sighted half a dozen of the King’s soldiers though there might be more,” said Rose.
“And my brother?” she asked. The silence that followed was more of an answer than any words that could be given and Thelma nodded, examining her aperture critically before deciding that the wall had been weakened enough. The mother sat down and kicked the wall with both of her feet, and both of her feet went through with a crashing sound. When Thelma pulled them out Rose saw that a hole large enough for an adult to crawl through had been created. Thelma stood and took her son from Ionia, then guided her grandmother to the hole. “You and Abagail go first,” Thelma said. “Run. Don’t look back, just keep running. We’ll be right behind you.”
When Abagail looked as if she were to argue, Thelma shoved her roughly through the hole, jerking the toddler somewhat so that he began to cry, and Ionia bent over and shuffled quickly after her. Thelma then turned away from the hole and called after Cai but the boy did not come.
Thelma called for him again and again but he did not come.
There was small, almost unheard, whimper. Rose heard Thelma curse and then the sound came again from underneath the table.
“Cai?” Thelma called. “Where are you, you little whelp?”
At that moment there was another whimper.
Rose sighed and peered under the table, Cai was there, sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped firmly around his legs. She peered at the cowering boy, and then she reached forward and tried to pull the boy out from under the table but he clung desperately to supporting beams. With an impatient huff, Rose gave up and scuttled into the small empty place next to the child, she kneeled next him and tried to pull him out from there but he would not move.
At that moment there a banging noise. Rose started and, turning away from the boy, she peered under the bench; three soldiers had walked boldly into the house without knocking, dressed conceitedly in red and purple tunics, and gold colored chainmail, dripping large puddles of water onto the ground from their short cloaks and pooled around their boots. She couldn’t see their faces. “Good evening, madam,” said the captain, a motif was fashioned to the Empire’s insignia ensuring that his position be known.
“What do you want, sir?” Thelma’s voice trembled.
“I see. A very good evening to you as well.” The captain stepped forward and reached Thelma, out of Rose’s line of sight. “We’re here in search of something,” said the man. “Meybe you’ve seen it.”
There was a rustling like that of paper being unfolded.
Rose sat as if she were paralyzed, her lip wedged firmly between her teeth. A trickle of blood ran down her chin where her tooth pierced into her skin. She heard the iron scrape of swords being pulled from their scabbards, the lapping of dripping rain, a set of tramping of feet that vanished into the next room, and a grunt as someone picked up something heavy. One of the soldiers stepped close to the table, his black leather boots were within her arm’s length. She had a hand on Cai’s thin shoulder and she could feel his entire body shuddering. He made no sound.
“No,” said Thelma, “I have not. May you feel welcome to see yourself out of my home, and have a decent night.”
“We cannot leave without it.”
“It’s not here.”
There was crashing shout of thunder and the toddler began to cry once more and the captain shouted something that was lost to the wailing. Rose gulped and then strengthening her will, looked around the flat beaming of the table. She had to see for herself.
The captain lazily extended a hand. Nothing seemed to happen, and then a flash of reddish-brown light pulsed from his hand, and the toddler fell limply into his mother’s arms, his body crumbled, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears, his lips drawn back in a frozen wail. Rose realized with a thrill of dread that the captain was a magician. She had never seen a man bearing the crest of the Crown act with such careless savagery before, and even as disaster loomed over them, the sight of it hit her like a savage blow to the her stomach. She gagged, breaking into a cold a sweat.
The boy next to her whimpered a cry and she silenced him with a stern look. The boy surprised her, as he reached out and pressing himself against her breast. She rocked back on her heels before wrapping her arms around his form. With an effort she swallowed, pushing away her fright.
“Not… him…please… not him,” Thelma said, an intolerable grief gathering in her eyes. Her face crumbled, and Rose saw that her shoulders were shaking, and then there was a screech of rage, like that of an injured beast, and she lunged at the captain, savagely hacking the firepoker at his face. The barbed end sliced into his cheek and there was a welling of blood. A blade flashed and Thelma fell to the ground, blood running darkly from her neck and mouth. She convulsed and then did not move.
Rose turned away and mindtouched with Thorn but said nothing to him simply taking in the comfort of his being there. There were more sounds and shouts as the men looked through the house in search of whatever it was they were looking for, and this lasted a very long time. Finally, they left.
There was a long silence, and neither of them moved. After a time Cai put his face into her chest and began to wept, curling himself around her. Rose tightened her hold around him and shut her eyes. She held him for what seemed like a very long time. Rose kept making soothing noises and at last he let go of her, his sobbing subsided to some extent and he sat up and moved slightly away from her, rubbing his face on his sleeve. Cai allowed her to bring him out and they both looked around, avoiding the sight of the crumbled bodies.
Utensils and belongings were thrown everywhere, and bottles of and grains and pickles had been smashed of the floor, the curtain dividing the sleeping room from the main room was torn off the wall. Inside the sleeping room the mattress had been slashed and the floor was covered with its stuffing of horsehair and straw and the clothing from in the chest had been tossed carelessly to the ground.
Rose regarded the ruins with no emotion at all; neither pity or disgust or fellow feeling, she only felt drained and empty. They surely couldn’t stay there that crumbled, deathly house, and storm or not, and she found that Thorn’s overwhelming desire to leave burned inside of her as well. “We should go,” she said.
To her relief Cai nodded and scrambled forward, unbalanced because of his sobbing. He stank of urine, and his face was wet and slimy and streaked with dirt. Rose put her hand on his shoulder and took him out into the night.
She squinted into the darkness which was so complete that she would not be able to see her hand if she put in front of her face had she shut the door behind them. They walked slowly and quietly, peering around in the darkness. To her astonishment, Cai took her hand and clung onto her. He didn’t let go. Their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud, and echoed strangely as they crossed a puddle. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they reached the fencing wall that surrounded the home, and they stopped.
How far from us are you, said Rose to Thorn.
Not far. Why bring the small one?
Rose squeezed her eyes shut. I don’t know. She shuddered as a stream of rain ran down her neck. I suppose he has no place else to go, she said, and he is frightened and grief-stricken and alone. After what he has witnessed… We cannot just leave him here.
Rose dragged her eyes away from the darkness and was about to step forward when a figure sprang out of the darkness and lunged at Cai. Taken off guard, Cai screamed and was knocked to the ground completely unable to protect himself. His head bounced pitifully on the ground as a shadowed creature pinned him roughly to the dirt. Rose shouted with surprise and leaped toward him, wondering what she should do; she couldn’t hit the creature without putting the boy in danger. For a brief moment, she stood completely still in indecision, and there was a sudden glow of light and within moments two men melted out from the shadows, a lantern held high over their heads. “Don’t move or the boy dies,” one of the men said.
Rose stilled, staring dumbstruck at the men. Why hadn’t she have thought to bring the knife or some sort of weapon? She did not ever remember putting her knife down or where it might be. She looked over her shoulder and glanced briefly at the house.
The second soldier sneered. “You come here, peasant,” he said. “I am the captain of this region. The orders are that any persons here come with us.”
It seemed for a moment that she could not move, and the captain examined her suspiciously. Rose did not like his face; whereas the soldier had a buff, open expression, if not very intelligent, this one looked like a ruffian and held an air of cruel authority. She also couldn’t forget what savagery had taken place inside that home and how he had killed a toddler and his mother so carelessly.
“Perhaps we can get ter know the lady a little, eh?” said the captain after a time. He nudged the first who looked a bit uncomfortable, and walked up to Rose and grabbed her arm. Rose shied away and the captain let her go and laughed. “She seems the handy type, to be sure. We could have a bit fun together, eh?”
She reacted with blind fury, without thought, gathering up all the strength within her and drew back her right hand and drove it straight into his throat. As he stumbled back, his hands at his throat choking for breath, she turned and ran, sending out a message of urgently out to Thorn. She barely got three paces away before the soldier seized the back of her dress and hauled her backwards.
Gasping in shock and sudden pain as the hem of her dress cut into her throat, choking her, she fell back and crashed to the ground, and as she fell the man released his grip on the dress. She gagged and rolled onto to her knees, jerking away from him and stumbled into the middle of the yard. The man gasped and fell back, he was murmuring something. It took Rose a moment to realize that he was praying for protection against the demons of the Dark. She recovered and dared a look over her shoulder, not ten feet behind her was Thorn, his maw opening threateningly. His eyes stabbed the night like red flames and black shadows carved his face. Rose felt his consciousness tap against her own, and then there was a deep grumbling in his chest, and he roared and it seemed that the darkness itself was screaming.
The soldier behind her had dropped to both his sword and shield and had fallen to his knees, covering his eyes with his hands in a gesture of despair and horror. The hound cowered and ran, and horses tied nearby reared and screamed, beating the air before or behind them with their hooves. One of them broke free and sprang sideways and reared before bolting away.
There was an awful moment of silence, and then Rose stood and scrambled over to the insensible form of Cai and swept him into her arms. He wasn’t as heavy as she feared and she was able to hoist him onto Thorn’s back like a corpse, his head down one side and his feet the other. Then, she climbed onto the dragon’s back and sat behind the boy, clinging to the spine that jutted out of the base of Thorn’s neck. Thorn heaved himself into the air and flew over the path, wobbling this way and that as he fought against the steady current of wind. They passed the King’s men, and Rose averted her face so that she could not see them; she knew without looking that they were watching them and the young woman and toddler that they had murdered lay crudely on the ground of their own home, and she had no desire to know anything more.
Chapter 22: In the Byre
Chapter Text
Rose sat beside Cai on the side of the straw filled mattress and watched the sun rise over the downs. Gradually the world filled with color, and a chorus of birdsong rose around them, and the horror ebbed away. Still she could not sleep. Her mind was too agitated for it; she still felt dizzy with the successive shocks. She sat in silence, reflecting on what had happened in the past twelve hours; first Thorn finding her, then the meaningless deaths handed down by the Empire, then the ambush. Her thoughts couldn’t rest on anything for long, but leaped ahead of her, flashing a kaleidoscope of images into her mind; the young mother lunging at the captain as the body of her child falling to the floor, the look of complete terror and grief on Cai’s face, the shadowing glow of Thorn…
Despite the warmth the shrouded sun brought she shivered, doubting that the damp would ever leave her. Her fingers were numb and her clothes were sticking uncomfortably to her body but it was her hair that made her miserable; dripping beads water down her back, clinging her neck and face, and continuously veiling her eyes with its tingled heaviness. She never before wished more a brush for her hair, but when she searched for one all she could find was a brush for a horse’s slick coat.
They were under the sheltering of a half attached roof in old rutted byre. Underneath the ground was slightly, and there was even a little protection from the dripping rain. Thorn was huddled close by, his head rest atop of his paws, his back hunched miserably against the rain and shifting wind.
What are we to do? asked Rose. Her gaze swept, smoldering with irritation, over the bare, lonely hills.
Do? he said. What do you mean?
We have to find out that happened. Those, those people… There has to be something we can do. Rose bit her lip. No one deserves death for simply being associated with somebody, and we cannot keep the boy. He has a family.
We’re not going back. I will not heedlessly return you to that perilous place. Thorn pounded his tail against the ground. We can’t afford any more trouble.
Perhaps not, said Rose. There is no harm in flying over the area and checking. We cannot continue our journey without knowing whether or not those soldiers are going to report us to a higher order. They saw you, Thorn, don’t you understand that? As much peril as you believe there is in returning to that house, there is the same amount in continuing back to Teirm.
All the more reason not to check, said Thorn. The risk is too great.
Rose was silent, for a time, turning over their options. At last she sighed, pulling at a loose grimy thread from one of many holes in the mattress. So be it, she said. What shall we do with Cai, then? We cannot take him with us nor can we leave him.
With an unhappy grumble Thorn stood up. I will look, said he flourishing his wings, if you stay here, and promise not get into anymore trouble. When I return we leave and find your companions if I do not see his two-leggeds, perchance I do I will return him and then we will leave this place. With that said Thorn jumped into the air and flew away.
Until they had found the byre, their flight had been difficult and miserable. The rain had shot down from the sky like tiny, frozen needles, and the shifting wind had forced Thorn to fly close to the ground but it was the lack of the sheepskin that caused the most trouble. The thin stockings provided a very little protection from the sharp points of scales on Thorn but the dampness made it a challenge to stay on his back, and each turn or shallow dive sent both Rose and Cai this way and that. It was made shoddier by the fact that the boy would not wake, not that Rose could blame him as the blackness of unconscious was far better than reality, and she had the trouble of keeping both herself and him securely on Thorn’s back. Eventually Thorn flew far enough away from that lone dwelling that he agreed to find a shelter for the remainder of the night, and not soon after his agreement the half standing byre and a small, high roofed house was found.
The inside of the chalet was the grimiest place Rose had ever seen; it lacked even the rough coziness of the previous havens. It smelled of stale air and mold and damp, as if house had been empty for some time. A dish of beans, half-eaten and layered with grey dotted fuzz, lay on a table nearby, and a chair was pushed back as if someone had suddenly stood up. Another chair had fallen over. A mug was broken and split on the floor, the beer dried in a dark stain, and several other cups, half-drunk, had been left where they stood, scattered on the small table in the room. There seemed to be several layers of dust on everything. Rose wandered through the three bedchambers, and all of them looked at if the people had left hurriedly.
Having decided that she did not wish to stay in that abandoned home, she pulled one of the sack-like mattresses out from its framing and dragged it over her shoulder into the byre, and then returned into the house to get two blankets. The blankets were comfortless; smelling of mildew and filled with holes but it was better than nothing, and Rose wrapped both herself and Cai in them before she tried to go to sleep. The moment she laid down, she felt a burning nausea that seeped throughout her body and deathly images passed before her vision, and she sat up and instantly became ill.
Rose did not try to sleep after that, but instead choose to look over the hills thinking over what had happened, that perhaps had she done something different things mightn’t not ended the way they had. In her mind she kept thinking over the things that could have been done. Perhaps if she had something different; perhaps she would have been able to change things; perhaps had she heeded the warnings she wouldn’t be there seated on a molding mattress with some crippled boy. It was not just the recent events that troubled her, it was everything that had effected in the past year, of all the events that led to her self-enforced isolation and later to this journey, or whatever one might call it, to the Varden.
A familiar dull fear rose up inside her but it was just that dull, like an overly used knife. Rose did not wish to go those rebels. Rider or not, they would not welcome her with open arms, she was sure. They would recognize her, someone would somehow, and then what? Her parents had made many enemies in their lifetime and here she was in the same standing as her dreaded father, with an alliance to the King or not there was sure to be blood shied. That was the blessing that her father bestowed on her; no matter where she might go someone would be hunting her, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the moment she took a misstep and then they would pounce. There was no place that was safe.
She stared balefully into the endless hills of the forsaken farmland, remembering Tornac’s words, on how thinking of the thinking of ifs were a fruitless use of time. It felt so very long ago that they had sat in that cabin together. Immediately she missed his calm, understandable presence and wished she had not thought to travel to Teirm.
She didn’t even know why she had done it, her reasoning was so flawed and not truly the reason she had wished to see the city. Had she been truthful with herself, she would have realized that that she the cause of her discomfit was how it reminded her of her life in Urû'baen, and how that had troubled her. She had left as a fool under a false principle, and felt it all the more now.
Rose shook her head. Her thoughts were not making sense, she was simply too tired to think properly. She couldn’t sort through them properly, as it confused her already jumbled feelings. It reminded her when she was a child, lost in the maze of halls and at every corner was the Platnek waiting to catch her, when in fact there was nothing there except for her own imagination.
She laughed to herself, feeling all the more of a fool.
***
It was some time later that Rose had her head leaning in her hands, listening to the rhythmic splashing of the rain. She was on the brink of sleep when suddenly it seemed that a darkness grew over the lands and there was raging booming of thunder. Rose started awake, grabbing the axe beside her -which had a broken handle and its blade was chipped- that she had found in the cowshed, and cradled it to her chest.
Thunder sounded again, and the boy awoke with a struggled gasp, and slowly he sat up looking around them. It seemed to take him a moment to remember what had transpired the night before and, Rose watched unsure as to what she should do, as his face gradually paled and crumbled, he covered it with his hands began to weep with a violent cry. She felt suddenly as if she were a trespasser, intruding on the privacy of grief; this was a sorrow too intimate to witness.
She turned away from Cai, and stood up to study the new coming storm and allowing the child a moment of solitude. Rose looked down the valley, the ground swept away before her, a constant, steady decline of peaty hills with pockets of flooded water. After a time the rain fell to the earth like a blankets, and she began to search the sky for Thorn with her eyes and mind. As she had the days before, she felt the emptiness of his presence and she regretted sending him away.
A long time after Cai awoke his sobbed subsided, as did the storm, and he insisted on finding something to eat whether it be wild berries or the remains of a forgotten crop as he was quite hungry, though Rose certain that he only wanted do something to keep his hands and mind busy so not to appear weak. When she agreed, Cai stood up and hobbled outside to the small woodland behind the byre. They found nothing expect for springy, green mint which they picked and returned to the byre with.
“It puts off hunger,” he told her happily.
Rose bit her lip and stared at his smiling face in disbelief. “Cai,” she said warily.
He shoved a handful of leaves into his mouth and chewed on them. “Whah ish shet?” he said with a full mouth of greens.
“Do you have a place you can go to?” she asked. “Relatives who live nearby?”
Cai nodded and moved the goo of mint into his cheeks. “Yeh,” he said. “I gots Dune, and Thelma, and Abagail, and Namma, and Mathon. How far is home from here? Did you walk the whole way?”
She shifted in the ruined doorway of the byre and looked down for a moment, before squaring her shoulders. “Do you not remember what had happened this previous night?”
“It was a trick!” said Cai harshly, spitting the mint onto the ground. His face was strained and pale, his anger ebbing into confusion. “Ah real mean trick, too! Take me home, I wanna go home!” For a second his face creased up, as if he was going to cry again, and he put his fists to his eyes like a little boy. Rose wanted to hug him or comfort him somehow as she had done the night before, but was overcome by a self-consciousness and instead turned away. He would to come to terms with had happened on his own.
Three hours after the sun reached the middle of the sky, the darkness of the storm cleared leaving behind a heavy, dripping fog. Over everything was an empty silence, save for the dripping of the rain and wind as it stirred the grass stems. Rose sat with her head resting in her hands, unsure if she awake or asleep, sending out her mind experimentally. She didn’t feel Thorn only tiny, fragile glows of life, like many touches of light in the darkness, but she wasn’t all too certain if this was something her mind invented out of its exhaustion or not.
When he returned it without warning, and the only reason she knew he was there was because of a scream that tore through the thick air like a knife. She startled awake and glanced around in confusion, her mind hazy with the state of half sleep. Beside her was Cai, trembling with fear, poking at something with a shaking finger. Rose looked at him then glanced in the direction he was pointing. “The-the Boogey Beast,” he said so softly Rose could hardly hear him.
She glanced at Thorn, who stood relaxed at the opening of the byre, and mindtouched with him. Was there anyone there?
Yes, he said. I saw many men with pieces of fire attached to their beast.
Was there anyone else?
His tail flickered across the mud. No. I did as you asked now we leave.
I thank you for checking. Rose turned to Cai and said, “He goes by the name Thorn.”
“You named the Boogey Beast?” he said frightfully.
She nodded tiredly. “If you don’t behave he’ll eat you,” said Rose standing up.
Thorn sent her a tendril of exasperation. I will not, he said. The hatchling is too boney, there’s hardly any meat at all.
Rose pointedly ignored him. “Up you get,” she said to Cai, as if Thorn said nothing. “We have a long way to go.”
Cai looked up at her in panic, his eyes widened and his bottom lip trembling, his fists clutched at his sides. “No,” he said defiantly. “Take me home.”
“There is no home for you to return to.” Rose blinked her eyes slowly in impatience. “Please, do get up.”
“Nothin’ happened, it was awl ah trick!” he said loudly. “I wanna go home.”
Her anger grew in its own accord and she felt something inside her snap, as if she had been held up by an ever tensioning cord and someone cut it. Cai sat silently, his head bent, and she saw his cheeks burned with anger. Rose looked at him and then turned away. “Get up,” she said harshly. “There was no trick. What you saw happen was truth, your eyes did not lie. Now, get up!”
Slowly he stood, and Rose saw that his shoulders shook. “It’s not fair,” he said.
“Life often isn’t.”
Rose stepped away, to collect herself, and picked up the scraps of rope she had tied to the mattress, in a fashion very much like what she had done with the sheepskins. She pulled at the ropes and slowly dragged them over the Thorn. It wasn’t very heavy but she glanced at Cai with pity and sighed. “I need your help, Cai,” she said. “Are you willing to help me?”
The boy nodded and assisted her pull the flimsy mattress onto Thorn’s back. Whenever Thorn move even the slightest, the child flinched and nearly fell over but eventually they got the mattress on Thorn and Rose tightened it. Not long after that, Rose pushed a resistant Cai onto Thorn’s back and she fought her way up behind him. She tested herself, and found that it would not take much to unbalance her, before telling Thorn that she was ready to return to Teirm.
Chapter 23: Talk of Shadows
Chapter Text
Three hours after they left the byre when the sun became but a fading halo casting a dim orange light over the grayness of the sky, Rose leaned forward tightening her grip around the small frame of Cai. Her hands quavered and she couldn’t get a decent holding. The boy was leaning against her chest in a fast sleep, his snores were lost to the cry of wind and the heavy rhythmic beating of wings pounding air. Had it not been for the smack of cold wind in her face that kept her well awake and her hair streamed behind her as they rode at speed, she would gladly join the boy in his slumbering.
Rose regretted using the mattress, as replacement for the sheepskins she had left in the valley near Culdaff, as soon as Thorn leveled out in the heights of the sky. The mattress moved as they shifted and gathered beneath her, unbalancing her and making the flight very unpleasant. She had tried to bargain with Thorn to fly lower or to land, but the dragon stood firm in his covet to return to Teirm unseen and without stopping.
The heavens were a colorless stupor like a grey ocean rolling with dark waves and nothing could be seen past the span of her hands and the numbing winds shrieked around them, deranging Thorn and threatening to throw them from his back. Not once was a sky bird seen or heard.
The next hours were equally cheerless, although the wind began to fade and the clouds no longer rolled, but at last some sunshine warmed them. The veiling sun crept to the edge of the west and peaked out from behind the clouds. Below, they saw only the faint glimmer of the landscape, pushing broad and shapeless through the undulating emptiness. Rose began to feel that she was not moving at all, but rather she sat on Thorn still as a carven statue, and the mists whirled past her in a gust of wind.
They didn’t speak, she and Thorn, both still felt the darkness of their earlier disagreement and separation. Thorn was now pushing himself faster, and Rose shivered: the cold was beginning to bite, and huddled Cai closer to her. The cold made her feel strangely fragile, as if she were made of glass. It rained again, a heavier shower, and then the clouds vanished from the sky completely and the moon emerged from hiding so that the land below shone silver below them, a stretching endlessly into the distance.
Three hours after the moon rose into the sky, Rose saw Teirm rising tall and hoary out of the darkness and below wound the Toark River lazily through the farmlands, glittering the moonlight. She looked excitedly to the west, thinking of the coming hours of sleep, at the inky glimmer of the ocean. Thorn pushed himself harder still and glided towards the sea cliffs. Not long after, he landed dived into the cave and lay down as Rose inelegantly tumbled from his back. She searched blindly in the darkness for her sword and upon finding it, she cut the ropes tied to the mattress and slide both that and a roused Cai from Thorn’s back. Then at last, Rose carelessly discarded her sword and lay down between Thorn and Cai where she fell asleep almost instantly.
When the sun came it ascended recently, casting a warm golden light over all that it touched. As Rose awoke it was now already midmorning, the air was thick and pressed down on her heavily. It took a moment but the solidity of sleep left her and she sat up, looking around the shadowy cave. Cai was sitting at the edge of the cavern overlooking the sea, beside him was her sword, the blade shone in the overcast light. She glanced around wildly for its scabbard, upon seeing it she scrambled forward and swept it from the ground where she had carelessly thrown it the night before.
The child looked up as she walked towards him, he had dark half circles under his eyes and he looked ready to drop. She wondered if he had slept at all or if he had been forging it. “Yer ah girl,” he said. “Why do you got ah sword?”
Rose sat beside him and took the hilt of it, lifting it from the ground. For a long moment she stared at the light reflecting off the blade. Somehow having the sword in her hands made her feel more grounded, safer almost as if she would be able handle what was to occur in the coming hours.“Do you know the reason why your brother brought me to your house?”
His lip wobbled. “Ter repent,” said he, playing with his fingers.
“That’s not the reason why.” She stood up and returned her blade into its casing.
“Then why?” said Cai, he too stood, but in anger, and glared at her through a tangle of coiling hair.
Rose moved and took out some food, throwing the rotten meat and decayed fruit over the cliff into the sea below, and the water bottle. “Thorn is not the Boogey Beast, he’s a dragon,” she said, sitting on the mattress, her legs stretched out before her. A scattering of molding straw was spread across the ground from an enlarged hole in the shredded mattress as Thorn’s scales had done a fine job wearing its cotton martial down to tatters.
She ate the stale bread hungrily, watching as Cai took in this information, looking between her and the large dragon behind her. Thorn was well awake though he remained silent and still, watching over the humans as they interacted. Rose could feel his mild interest through their mindlink.
Slowly a look of understanding dawned onto his face, and he looked at her with wide, dark eyes. “Those an’t real,” he said darkly. “Are you playing me some trick?”
She shrugged and ate the last bit of her hardened piece of bread. “No one is playing tricks here,” she said, buckling her belt around her waist. “I have food in that bag if you want any of it. There’s not much, mind you.”
“I an’t hungry.” He cast her a look of dislike.
“If you’re not hungry then don’t eat,” she said glancing at Thorn. Shall we?
Cai looked at her as if she had just spoken a different language which he understood nothing of. “Yeh an’t gonna make me?” he said.
She looked at his gaped mouthed expression and shook her head. “I must leave for a time,” she said. “There’s someone I must talk to.”
“Yer just gonna leave me here?”
“I am,” she said with a dismissive shrug.
He looked over the endlessness of the ocean far below. “I an’t wantin’ ter stay here.” His words were soft and Rose could hardly hear them. He looked at her meekly and his lip wobbled again.
With a look of indifference, she put her hand onto Thorn’s scales. They were cool and smooth to the touch, like glass was though they held none of its fragileness. “I certainly cannot take you with me,” she said, gasping as an edge of from a scale sliced into her finger. She looked down at it as a welt of blood bubbled from her skin.
Is it wise to leave him here alone? Thorn asked.
Rose climbed onto his back, and balanced herself there for a moment. Where else is he going to go? We cannot risk him running loose in the city telling all he sees about you. The less word out there is out there about us, the better.
“That an’t fair!” Cai exclaimed.
“There’s less risk in you remaining here,” said Rose. “Think about those men, they might be looking for you.”
Cai flinched and fell back onto his bottom. “They could be lookin’ fer you, too,” he said, shuddering. “You gots the Boogey Beast.”
Nodding, Rose urged Thorn to go forth and after a moment’s hesitation he moved towards the opening of the cave. I’m enough to protect you, said Thorn jumping off the ledge and flaring out his wings.
I hope so, she said fervently. For both our sakes.
After they left the cave, Thorn flew as close as he dared to Teirm and allowed Rose to climb down before going off on business of his own, likely to stalk her from above, and she made her way to city, bending her steps to the inn Ailis said she was staying at. Thorn was quite unhappy, he did not wish for her to return to Teirm, and he had turned her augments from the day before against her. It had taken Rose quite some time to convince that all would be well and that she had to speak with Ailis but the dragon would not relent. You will have to go perilously near those army two-leggeds to go into the city, he had said. They’re gathering down there for what reason is beyond me. Its dangerous, I do not like it. We should return to the cave.
The more time we spend disputing in the skies the more perilous our path becomes, Rose argued. Let me down, Thorn. The dragon only flew higher and Rose kicked at his bulk with her foot. It hurt her more than it hurt him. Did you not just say that you were enough to protect me? What are a bunch of lowly soldiers carrying sticks compared to a big strong dragon like you? She hit at his vanity, his weak point, and at last he landed.
She remembered the way through the maze of streets with little difficulty, ignoring the looks she received from the people she passed, and halted outside the Croaking Toad inn, suddenly feeling foolish. What if Ailis wasn’t there? Rose had been gone for days, and it wasn’t as if Ailis couldn’t have left.
She opened the door hesitantly and climbed up the stairway to the room Ailis had been staying at. When she knocked, no one answered and she slowly tried the door. It was locked. She peered into the keyhole, and saw a familiar leather bag on the bed. Ailis was still here, somewhere within Teirm. She hadn’t left, yet. Rose gasped and sat down, leaning against the door. She had been so sure that Ailis would have left by now, given up on waiting for her and returned to the Haven Cove but she had not. Setting her sword on her lap, Rose waited. There was little else she could do.
She didn’t know how long she sat there waiting but it seemed to be an endless stretch of time before she saw Ailis walking down the hallway, the woman’s head bent studying the floor before her. Ailis looked up and upon seeing Rose for a moment she stood absolutely still, her bottom lip trembled as if she was holding back tears. Then something flashed in her eyes, and almost quicker than Rose could follow, she had come up to her and grabbed her arms. Rose was too surprised to move, and with a strange force, the woman picked her up and pushed her into the room, half throwing her into the room. Rose stumbled to the floor and her sword slid out of its scabbard and slid across the room, she gasped as it hit the wall with a pitiful twack!
Recovering her balance Rose grabbed her sword from the ground and backed against the wall, looking at Ailis with mingled horror and astonishment. Ailis looked very angry indeed, and Rose wondered if might be wiser to risk the jump from the window and leave the city altogether. But before she could decide, Ailis was upon her, easily pulling her sword from her grip and dropping it behind her, she kicking it away. Her eyes were hard.
Rose stood trembling with rage, now that the shock had died away she was quite angry, in front of Ailis. The woman looked crazed, her eyes glittered dangerously, and her lips trembled at the edges. Rose hadn’t seen that expression since they had passed through the Spine and were attacked.
“Do you have half a mind?” she said, her face darkening as she spoke. “Do you have the faintest idea how worried I’ve been? Being trapped here, unable to leave and search for you lest you return? Five days! You’ve been gone five days, Rose, without word or bird message. I ought to wring your neck for what you’ve done!” Ailis shot her a look of black anger, and wiped at her eyes with the palms of hands. “I spent half my life traveling and never once have I met someone so willingly runs away from the arms of saf-safety. Haven’t you the slightest idea how hard it is for those who are trying to keep you from harm’s way, when you’re running from them?”
She stopped listening as soon as she realized that Ailis was beyond reason. Rose watched her as her tantrum continued with her arms crossed, and when she saw no end in sight, she stamped purposely on the woman’s foot. It was hard enough that Ailis finally fell silent just long enough for Rose to speak. “No more!” she said fervently.
“I beg your pardon?” said Ailis, her eyes snapping.
Rose leaned back against the wall. “I said no more,” she said. “Ailis, you need to calm yourself. Don’t speak to me again until you have because I won’t listen.”
Ailis’ eyes turned black with anger. She opened her mouth to say something more but Rose raised an eyebrow at her and covered her ears with her hands to state her point. The woman drew in a shaky breath and turned away to sit on the bed. She sat there for a time and a long silence fell over them.
“I’m very angry with you,” Ailis said sharply though she was notably calmer than before. “It was a foolhardy thing to do, disappearing like that. I know that I was the one who spent you to Culdaff but I had expected you to return without a delay. What had happened?”
Rose pulled her hands away from her ears and looked down at them. Noticing that they were shaking, she hid them in the folds of her dress. “I’d rather not say,” she said.
Ailis stood and walked over to Rose, cupping her hands around her face forcing her met the woman’s eyes. She looked not quite so cross as she had been, a small ghost of a smile played at her lips, or perhaps not. “I am deeply sorry for my actions and words.” Ailis’ voice was gentle but within it was a strength like steel. “Anger makes a fool out the best of us, and such anger is often borne out of love.” Ailis touched her thumb to a cut on Rose’s cheek, and she struggled not to flinch. “Please tell me what happened.”
Rose was silent for a time, and then after a long struggle with herself she slowly told Ailis all that had happened. As she talked about the deaths of the mother and toddler, a strange sorrow welled up inside her and she found that she could say no more for a long moment. Ailis turned her back to her, listening attentively in silence.
“The captain could have healed the toddler as easily as he killed him. It was maddening to see such a death and being unable to help. I thought the Empire soldiers were tasked with protecting the public but it seems to be everywhere that this is not the case,” Rose said, and then to her surprise found herself crumbling to tears. She turned away, but Ailis had already moved close to her and she took her hand.
“Rose, our world is full of evil shadows,” she said. “But there is no shadow without a light to cast it. You must remember that.” She looked earnestly into Rose’s face, but Rose couldn’t meet her eyes. She turned away, thrusting away her hand.
"I am sorry,” said Rose, wiping at her face. ‘I should not have lost control of myself.”
Ailis stood silently, her face shadowed, but it wasn’t long before she seated herself on the bed. Rose lifted her eyes, still burning with tears, to her face, but the woman did not meet her gaze. Her heart was full of an anger and pain she couldn’t describe even to herself, but she didn’t want Ailis’ compassion. She preferred the woman’s earlier anger, the compassion only made things worse; it raised a fear in her, over which she had no control.
“Not as sorry as I am,” said Ailis at last. “Would you like to find a something to eat? I’m ravenous at the moment.” Rose nodded, she didn’t really feel like eating, and after picking up her sword she followed Ailis to the corridor.
“Something” turned out to freshly made meat pasties, and rye bread, and white cheese, and fruit from the tavern connected to the inn. Ailis even bought extra for Rose to bring to Cai. They took their bounty to a small, green hill at the edges of the city sat down, facing the ocean.
“I think it would best if you returned to Tornac,” said Ailis after they finished eating. “We cannot take this boy with us, and with him having seen your friend I believe the best place for him is with Voirrey and Padern. It is better than sending him to an orphanage, that’s for sure.” She turned over a throwing knife with her hands. Rose hadn’t seen it before and she wondered where Ailis had gotten it from. “When you get there, I want you collect your things and have Tornac do the same, also I need you to ask Padern for the rest of my belongings before you return here. We need to leave this region as swiftly as possible.”
Rose looked at her in mild surprise. “Are we not going to wait for a ship to take us south?”
“We can’t,” said Ailis with a shake of her head. “The southern bound ships haven’t been getting very far and we must make haste. You haven’t been the only one who’s made discovers, my dear.” She threw the knife. It landed half way down the hill trembling between a stone and a tuft of cotton tailed grass.
“Ailis?” Rose asked after a moment. “Is all well?”
The woman looked up at her sadly. “Nay, Rose, all is not well.” A shadow fell over Ailis’ face and she stood up to collect her knife. “Some things are best left buried in the past,” she said, her words were almost lost to the sound of the wind but Rose heard them and stared curiously at Ailis for a long moment. Eventually, they took their leave with a solid promise to meet again.
Chapter 24: Sowing of Seeds
Chapter Text
"Is this necessary?"
Rose looked down at the water as it slithered towards her toes. She audibly gasped as its cold waters insulted her skin, and she hastily backed away from it, stepping on shards of black, shining rocks that chewed at the skin of her feet. "Yes," she said with a shiver as a stream of seaweed edged closer, "yes, it is."
"I think, I'm fine as is," said Cai, sitting onto the ground stubbornly. "I an't gonna do it. You can't make me."
He hunched his shoulders and looked out at her mulishly, twiddling his thumbs. From a stone ledge above, Thorn looked laughingly at the scene before him and contacted her through their mindlink. The hatchling is probably a different color under all that dirt, he said reflectively.
Undoubtedly, said Rose smiling at the waves as they skidded to a bubbling halt on the rocky shore just before her feet. And his hair is probably white as snow. Rose shook her head with a laugh. "Thorn shan't let you on him until you bathe," she told the boy. "That's quite a long climb to the top of the cliff."
The boy looked behind them at the high precipice with widening eyes. Roughly, a dozen feet above the sea cliff bent inward creating a small quay, there it buckled just ever so slightly before soaring high above into the endless velvet sky with tiny pearls a-glistened in the velvety gloom. It would a tedious and time consuming climb as the shadows played off the edges of narrow headed rock and pools of saltwater filled every crevice. "You an't gonna make me climb that!" he said in a high nervous voice.
"No, I cannot," she said, "however I can leave you here."
Cai looked at her angrily, his mouth set into a grim line though she did not see it in the shadowing gloom of night. "Thelma wouldn't make me climb it or bathe!" he said dejectedly throwing a rock at her. It missed skidding to a halt before it was drowned by a spitting wave. She staggered back as the wave crashed against her, wetting her half way up to her knees and a piece slimy seaweed glided over her foot and coiled around her ankle.
The night was clear and bright, and Rose breathed in the salt air, willing herself to unwind as she was still very distressed from her unpleasant meeting with Ailis. The way the woman had assailed onto her was like a savage blow to her face, and she didn't know how she felt about it. She took another deep breath, a light breeze played in the tangles of her hair. "Cai," she said gently, back away from the coastline as another wave came forth. "Thelma is not here."
"That's 'cause you killed her," exclaimed the boy. "You and that horrible Boogey Beast of yers!"
Rose turned to Cai in exasperation. "I did not kill your sister, Cai," she said forcibly.
Cai stood up, stomping his foot on the ground, nearly falling over as it unbalanced him. "That an't the way I remember it!" He paused and his face creased up in sorrow. Tears began to run down his face, making little rivulets in the dirt. "I wanna go home! Take me home! I need ter feed them chick'ns! Namma'll be mad at me if I don't feed them! I havfta go!"
Rose did not reply, turning away to look back out at the ocean which was oddly hypnotic. She would stand there all night if she could just to stare at the crashing waves.
As Cai cried himself out, she waited, occasionally throwing pebbles into the inky water, and after a while he stopped though his chest still made little jumps and hiccups. "Where're we going?" he asked, his anger gone. He gulped hard. "I'm hungry."
She closed her eyes. "If you're hungry go wash yourself off."
Cai nodded, suddenly sensible, and hobbled ankle deep into the ocean to washed off his face and body. Rose turned away in an agony of modesty, and when the boy returned, she handed him the share pair of trousers she had packed. He quickly got dressed, and stood waiting as Rose untied her dress from around her waist and slipped her wet stocking clad feet into her boots. "When are we gonna get food?" he asked with a ghost of cheekiness.
Rose forced herself to stand patiently, as Thorn flew down from the small quay in the cliff where he made himself a perch. "Soon enough."
Cai looked unhappy at her answer, but he let her boost him onto Thorn's back and she climbed up behind him thankful that he no longer stank of urine. Now at least she could cope with the long ride, back to Haven Cove in a little less misery than was necessary.
They spent that night flying in the skies that bordered the ocean, for as long as possible before going inland. A cruel wind drove through Rose's and Cai's thin clothing freezing them almost instantly, and because of this Thorn flew over rising greens of a woodland where the wind eased and was not so bitter. As the dragon flew he was often silent, but his silence seemed calm, the wordlessness of abstraction of thought. When he talked with Rose it was trivial things that meant little to the both of them, their previous arguments seemed pity and soon they lingered in the shadows at that back of their minds, forgotten. Rose sat overlooking the chilled night sky in a dizzy tiredness, watching as the waxing moon rose and the clouds tore open releasing a wavering light. She was huddled as close as she dared to the boy in front of her for what little warmth he was worth. Cai, who was a tense jangle of nerves and was so cold he could hardly move, did not protest in the least taking to it as a warming comfort.
Eventually the sun rose over the horizon, sending pale glimmers of light but then the rays brightened and fell bright and new on the world below, awakening the birds so that they sung their tidings in a noisy chatter. Rose looked around. They were above a small beech wood, and a road was visible below winding carelessly through the trees.
Some hours later, Thorn moved them deeper into the woods, and finding a broad glade where the sun shone unimpeded, he landed. Cai was so stiff with cold he had to be lifted off Thorn, his teeth chattering. He sat on top of a sun heated rock, rubbing his bare feet until some life came back into them, watching as Rose untied the tattered mattress from Thorn's back. Rose set the mattress down and swung the bag from her back, taking out what little food she had left, she hadn't had the nerve to tell Ailis she had lost the coins given to her and was almost without food, and gave Cai his share. They were all grey with exhaustion, and Rose and Cai ate their meager breakfast wordlessly, as Thorn slept. Rose felt too tired to chew. She sat tiredly in the sun's healing warmth, happy to do nothing and move nowhere, watching the sun play off Thorn's scales. Cai examined his feet with concern and then stretched out on the mattress and slept peacefully in the sun. After an hour or so Thorn woke up. He and Rose talked through their mindlink so that they would not wake Cai.
When Rose hadn't returned from Culdaff Thorn had flown over the city, lightly tapping his mind against every person he could but all were with no sign of Rose's glow, and when he realized that she was not there he flew hard over the lands surrounding it. It seemed to him that she had vanished into thin air. He flew for days without stopping in an endless hunt for her, his mood blackening with each passing hour, and it was only by pure luck that he found her at last. He had shuddering with uneasiness for days and so when Rose refused to leave the small hut all he felt was a black anger.
I don't understand why you are telling me this only now, said she shaking her head.
Thorn snorted out a curl of dark smoke. I hadn't thought to tell you before.
It certainly explains a lot, Rose said. I wish you had told me sooner, though I probably should have known. I'm very glad you had found me when you did, Thorn, I don't know where I would be at this moment had you not.
They continued to different topics. They decided that they were to travel through the Serpent's Vale by night. Thorn wanted now to follow the roads, so not to risk further delay. A little while after they decided this, Rose woke Cai and made a meager repast of fruit and bread and told him of their plans for night travel, he nodded seemly indifferent. Once the sun slipped below the horizon, they mounted Thorn, Rose again putting Cai in front of her. They were all refreshed after their rest.
It was a beautiful spring night and no trace of the previous wind now troubled them; the air was balmy and gentle, and the stars blazed overhead casting a faint light on the spirals of clouds, and Rose reached out her hand as if to touch them though she could never reach far enough, and her fingers only grasped empty air.
They traveled this way that night, slowed by the clumsy mattress, passing a great forest that stretched far beyond the horizon, over its crowns which looked from such a height like little sprouts in a vegetable garden until they saw in the distance a cropping, a round meadow, with a house standing gallantly at its center. The scents of grass and flowers rose from below, released by cool night air and rousing wind. The boy fussed from within her arms his words lost to the sounds of wind and beating of wings. Rose felt the mixture of apprehension and excitement stirring within her as they neared the farmhouse.
At last they reached the edges of the crops to the east of the house, and Thorn landed allowing Rose and Cai to descend from his back. After untying the mattress and dumping it an outcropping of trees, they walked in silence until they reached the house, and Thorn returned to the sky likely to find himself a meal and later a place to rest. It was in the early grey hours of the morning, and though Rose was certain no person was awake she pulled the lever set into the wall. They waited for what seemed an age, in reality it was a short time, before the door opened and before them stood a tall man with a finely trimmed beard.
"Who's there?" he said, peering out into the dim light. "By the name of Arianwyn the Aged, girl! What are you doing here? Come in and be quick about it." He waved them inside into a well lit antechamber, and locked the door behind them. "Have you replaced Ailis with this boy?"
"No," she said with a shake of head, "Ailis sent me back with him. She requests that you allow him to stay here."
Padern scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You good with animals, boy?" he said bending down to the boy's level.
Cai nodded, swallowing hard. "I need ter go home," he said abruptly, but the request fell onto deaf ears.
"Is there any reason she requested him to stay here, that I need to know of?" he asked, straightening himself.
Rose bit the inside of her cheek. "He has no place else to go," she said.
Padern nodded. "So be it," said he. "We could always use another pair of hands. Did she request anything more?" Rose nodded and after telling him what else the woman asked for he rubbed his face tiredly. "It's too early for this. Come on, then, let's find the boy a room and hunt down these things."
Rose shifted her pack, and then Padern led them up several flights of stairs to the guest chambers. She blinked as they walked through the dimly lit corridors. Padern's house was big and grand, the ceiling just high enough to be lost in shadow, it was sparsely but richly furnished, and Rose often saw the glint of gold or a bright tapestry or they would turn on a landing and confront an exquisite statue glimmering whitely through the shadows. They passed many doors, through some of which they could hear the murmurs of waking or the greedy snores of slumber, once they passed a young man who stared at their wild state. Padern didn't bother to try to make pleasant conversation and remained ahead of them in content silence, his hands folded neatly behind his back.
When they came to a familiar looking hallway, Padern opened the first door and poked his head in. "This looks like a fitting room for you, Cai. Make yourself at home. I'll send someone to help you clean up and show you down to breakfast. I have no doubt you're hungry."
Cai, whose eyes were as big as saucers, nodded meekly and walked into the room. Padern closed the door behind him and turned to Rose.
"I know you wish to rest," he said, "but I have work to do and not much time before I must start. We'll find these things belonging to Ailis and then I'll leave you to your own devises. This sounds agreeable, yes?"
When Rose agreed, they made their way up yet another set of stairs and into a high chamber with white stone walls. She looked out the window set into the far wall as Padern swooped down on a large chest and searched through it, humming softly under his breath. A white crooked necked crane dipped its head into the reedy pond and above it was a swarm long tailed birds squabbling in disgruntlement, a small group of men marched towards the fields for a long day of labor but little else could be seen, and she began to tap her fingers against the grimy skirt of her dress.
After a time Padern poked his head out from behind the chest. "Did she say what it was that she wanted?"
"She did not," said she with a shake of her head.
He sighed in frustration. "How am I to know she wants back?" he said almost to himself. "You're the one traveling with her, come over see if you can figure out what it is that she might want. I'll be back briefly." He stood up and walked out the room, shutting the door none too gently behind him.
Rose bit her lip in debate, and then slowly moved to the chest and peered inside. The first thing she saw was a glass faced doll. It was precious thing, once a child's beloved friend, with dark hair poised into delicate curls under a fine netting of painted glass beads and elegantly painted sapphire-colored eyes. She wore a red dress that hugged close to her shoulders and arms and then flared out from around her hips in a generous fall to her feet, the sleeves opened out at her elbow like divine lilies. Rose stared at it for a long time, before setting it aside and took out a golden box with mirrors fastened to the sides, inside was a set of sharp edged knives, and a leather bracer covered with a protective silver guard, she set these aside as well and took out an empty quiver for arrows and scrolled parchments soft edged with age, a sword with a blackened hilt but little else. Rose sorted through the scrolls finding that they were maps and letters to a beloved, she scanned through the letters and then put them back but kept out the maps. She returned the doll and took the rest.
When the door opened it was not Padern but Tornac. For a time they remained apart studying each other's faces. Then with a sigh he come over to her, in his hands was a long sack, and down beside her. "Did you find Teirm to be well?" he asked.
Rose nodded and looked at the bag. "Padern sent you in with that, did he not?"
"He did," Tornac answered. "He's been in quite a rush these past mornings and had requested that I bring this to you." He looked across at her and handed her the sack. "What had happened?"
She shrugged, opening the sack. Inside was a bow. "It's a long story," said Rose examining the wood, and then pulled the quiver back out from the chest. "Ailis says we should pack what belongs to us and leave as soon as we can."
"You should rest before we go."
"No, I'll sleep later," she said standing up, thinking of the men who had seen Thorn. There was work to be done, and knowing this she shook off the remains of tiredness. "I'm well enough awake now. We should leave today, and be well out of here before light begins to fail."
Tornac looked at her strangely and then he too stood, shaking himself.
Soon they were packed and ready to leave Padern's House. Voirrey embraced them both fondly as they stood on the atrium overlooking for the last time the magnificent vista from her home.
"We shall miss you both," the woman said. "It has been good, having your company. May the gods bring your journey to a safe end."
"And may you and those of your house fair well," said Tornac, smiling. "Your hospitality has been the very best."
"You are welcome anytime," Voirrey said. "Do be sure to tell Ailis that as well."
"I shall," said Tornac, taking a step back. "Until we meet again."
"Good-bye!" said Voirrey, and she stood alone at the door and watched them as they vanished into the gloom of the woodlands.
She looked Starshine over with ill ease. The horse whinnied, his ears pricking forward, and Rose placed her hand onto the creature's silky nose. "It's alright, my sweet," she whispered soothingly as she twitched up her face in a painful wince. Part of the horse's left front hoof was torn away, revealing pink and bloodied and very raw looking flesh. "My sweet dew, how is it that no one taken notice before?" she asked the creature.
Tornac, who was, with great difficulty, attempting to light a fire in the face of the biting wind, looked up. "What are you speaking of?" he said mildly.
"Whatever might be wrong with Starshine's hoof," said Rose, looking over the bare, empty hills of the Servant's Vale. "I don't understand how I haven't noticed it as it's not exactly something that could be overlooked. It's little wonder he's been limping all this time!"
"Rose," he said. "What is wrong with his hoof?"
"Oh! Come here and see yourself," she said franticly waving him over.
Tornac shook his head, and dropping the tinderbox onto a rock ledge, but he came over and gave her an indulging look. Biting her lip, Rose bent down pointing at the horse's injury. He examined it for a time, and lifted the injured leg up to get a closer look. Starshine nickered in protest and shied away, at that moment something bumped Rose's elbow and she started with a yelp.
"Not you," she said pushing Thorn away. "You only frighten him. Off you go now." Thorn made a throaty sound that was meant to be a laugh, and he nudged her again. Then when he did it again twice over, she moodily mindtouched with him. What is it, Thorn?
Will you not be able to ride the creature for a time? he asked sounding far too happy.
His head swayed towards her once more, and she batted him away with her hands. It's likely, said Rose pushing at his snout. Though, it is also likely that Tornac may allow to me to ride with him and Arvid.
I miss flying with you, he told her dejectedly.
At last when she pushed his head away, it did not return. I know.
Thorn laughed his throaty laugh once more and she turned away from him, ignoring his continued pestering.
"What are we to do about Starshine?" said Rose, returning to her earlier grievance.
Tornac studied her face as she stared frowning at the wounded hoof. "We have two choices. One is to return to the farmhouse and hand Starshine over so that he can heal properly. The worst it will probably take is a few day at most. Or we treat the wound ourselves and go slow until it heals. And we have no way of know if it will heal."
"We don't have time."
Tornac gave her a sour look. "No. But it's the choices we have all the same. Starshine is injured and we cannot carry on as if he were not."
"We haven't far to go," she said looking out into the distance. "I could always fly with Thorn. He'd enjoy that, anyhow."
Tornac was silent for a time, returning to tinderbox as he thought over their options. A flame finally caught and he cradled it carefully from the kindling to the wood. "Ride with him if you believe you should but know that I don't like it."
Until Starshine gained his injury their journey to Teirm had been swift and uneventful. In a way Rose was more than glad to keep to the roads, it would be a pleasant balm to her nerves to be getting well out of the coastal region and back within the safety of being east of the Spine, away from those men. By now she had told Tornac of everything that had happened, and the man had more or less forgiven her for running off as she had. With this acceptance from him, a peace spread over them as they traveled and they made good time. They had left the woodlands behind them within the first day and ridden swiftly down the Vale's road, the rock riddled hills towering around them.
The night Rose had sat morosely as she retold of her excursion, and Tornac sat not far from her, polishing her sword with a rag in a very serious manner. "I must ask," he had said. "What it is that troubles you? Your witnessing of the mother's and her child's cruel death or seeing that it was the Empire's men who dealt it?"
Rose did not answer but remained looking into the flickering of the flames.
"Good and bad are a reflection of the human heart," he said after a time. "There is not one without the other. Do you think that the Varden's men-at-arms are any different than the Empire's? That they have not washed their hands with the same vile blood? The King may not deem this a time of war but it is, as long as there is blood being spread, there is war. And war, Rose, brings out the cruel likeliness in all of us."
"Those are not exactly comforting words," she said shifting on the ground. "Saying that there is small doorway of corruption in every direction we turn, even within ourselves."
"Aye," said Tornac. "Do not shut yourself to it, nevertheless, that would be the greatest mistake."
"How so?"
Tornac leaned closer to the fire. "Think of it like this; If you only sit in a room of light, you will never know darkness, and do not see it for what it is. If you do not know your own shadows than you cannot protect yourself or others against them. But alas, I'll say no more, I believe that his conversation would best be had with Ailis. She's well versed in the darkness of men's hearts."
Her frown deepened and she looked over at the sleeping form of Thorn. "I get the feeling as if you've known information about Ailis that you're not willing to share with me, Tornac, yet you've been trying to tell me all the same. Why is that?"
Tornac shrugged and swiftly changed the subject, instead to scold her on the improper treatment of her sword. She hutched her cloak around her and stared balefully into the depths of the wood, pondering over what Tornac had said. Sometimes it seemed to her that he purposely placed that seed doubt in her mind knowing full well that it'd grow out well of her control. And she wondered, did he want her to question everything?
Chapter 25: The Vantage Point
Chapter Text
It was a morning of dripping fog, presaging an early spring, when they rode out of Teirm. The horses snorted unhappily, skittered over the hard ground and spattering the puddles, churning them to mud. Rose watched, in a dull tedium, as day began to dawn into clear skies in which rode huge clouds, silver and grey beneath the white and gold above. The air held a dampness to it, and she could feel its moisture sticking to her clothing and hair. Ahead of her was Ailis and Tornac, both of them walked swiftly beside their horses up a steep hill winding the scattered streets and alleys.
Rose and Tornac arrived in Teirm the early evening the day before, as the sun began descend behind the high walls. A pair of guards, who stood permanently by the gate, had demanded identification and then, in almost an apathetic fashion, one of them waved them in. They had walked for a ways, through the streets until they reached the Croaking Toad, a dark but cheerful inn with a lovely tavern attached to it, where they later had met with Ailis.
While Tornac and Rose had traveled to Teirm, Ailis had restocked their supplies, these now weighed down heavily on the horses. Starshine's damaged hoof, which had been cleaned and wrapped each night before Rose and Tornac arrived, had festered and the bandages had tattered, covered with filth, and the moment Ailis saw it she had healed it with magic. The horse was now in decent form, his hoof completely healed over, but the task had put Ailis in a foul mood. Moments after this, they had eaten a meal together in their rooms and the woman told them of the news she had heard, most of it boded ill for the region and none of it held the slightest rumor of Thorn, this was something Ailis had listened out for. Also ,they had talked through their plans at the inn.
"I have told you this before," Ailis had said glancing to Rose, "that many of the ships headed south have been lost to the seas, and numbers of merchants are no longer sailing. This doesn't help us any as I was planning on us being able to board one of these ships."
"Has anyone the faintest idea on who might be responsible for this?" said Tornac, leaning back in this chair. "It sounds like the dealings of pirates, if you ask me."
Ailis shook her head. "I don't think so. That's what is baffling the people, the merchants being hurt by this are the same people over and again. What's stranger still is that there seems to be a pattern to it."
Tornac nodded his head thoughtfully. "I suppose that we shall have to continue our voyage over land, then, yes? Kuasta is not a possibility at all?"
Ailis looked up quickly, shaking her head. "It is," she had said, "but if these dealings are happening here in Teirm I have no doubt the same is occurring in Kuasta as well. I would rather dislike it to travel all the way there just to find out that we shall have to return north to through the mountain pass."
Rose, who was on the verge of sleep, stirred at this. "There are other passes through the Spine," she said tiredly.
"And all of them are exceedingly perilous at the best of times, and these are not the best of times," said Ailis, moving around the beans on her plate with disinterest. "I'm not willing to take the risk of traveling through them."
Nodding, Rose subsided and continued to listen. She didn't like this thought, of routing back through the pass and traveling east of the mountains once again. It seemed to her, that this proposal could change the moment they reached the pass as many of Ailis plans did, but the woman had a determined look about her and Rose knew that her mind was set.
"No road is without risk," Tornac said grimly. "We can go and investigate Kuasta, and hope that the attacks have not affected their ports. If word has gotten out about our companion the Empire would not expect us to travel south, even if they've track him and Rose as far as here. They will expect us to be fleeing them, and I think there has been hearsay though you have not heard it."
"No," Ailis said avidly, her face darkening. "I think this is our best gamble. We have no choice."
She acted as if she was wanting to say more but did not, instead spreading out a map in the table, holding down the curling parchment with her hands. Tornac, who shook his head but argued no further, pored over it as well. Ailis wanted to ride as quickly as possible to the mountain pass, running along the Toark River which pierced the Spine, which would bring them back out to the eastern country. After that, she planned to go south keeping strictly to the roads and afterwards she would not say.
That following day, they awoke before the sun, while it was still night, and prepared themselves. As they turned down the road, Rose looked behind at Teirm for the last time allowing the sight to etch itself into her memory. Teirm had been first built many hundreds years before around cliffs that trust up more than a hundred feet, before gently swooping down to a on a low pinnacle of rock on which the city stood like colossal stalks of quartz. The city of Teirm did in truth rise up on a giant tor that stretched cliff to cliff, it was on this incline that the city was built. On one side the city scoped down and stopped at the harbor, a small inlet with a narrow mouth, bordering on the city side by a wide stone quay, and on the other it inclined more gently down to the plains of the east.
The original buildings of the grand city of Teirm were now little more than ashes and broken shambles, hidden deep beneath the cobbled streets. Over the many years that had passed, the city had been rebuilt from savage fires and treasure-seeking brigands and ruthless Urgals and rushing floods, until the city earliest arrangement and name was long forgotten, and over its wreckage stood Teirm. The buildings of Teirm rose high in its center where the city's garrison lived, companies of stern warriors numbering in the hundreds, and low at its edges, a design constructed on defense with very little thought of leisure. Even in the days of the Riders, when Teirm had long fallen from its greatness, it was proud and strong.
For the rest of the day, they rode through the coastal region, through town and hamlet and past lone farmhouses. Some places were as devastated as those in the south, abandoned with shutters swinging drunkenly in the breeze, while others seemed completely unaffected. Eventually, the mountains seemed to emerge from their swathe of distance all at once, as the leagues of hazy air had held them at bay, making them mere pictures and not real things at all. From the foots of the mountains, riding eastward along the Toark, it was as if the eye could not take in such vastness. From here Rose could see only the lesser peaks, and even they looked grim and forbidding. But despite this, over everything was a pall. The sky remained grimly overcast then, late in the afternoon, it began to drizzle. Only when the light became too hard to see did they make camp under the shelter of granite overhang covered with curling moss and white tailed grasses.
"Have I ever told of you of the heavenly dancers?" Tornac asked, dishing out the barley stew, in a strange tone.
Rose nodded guardedly. "Yes," she said. "A good number of times."
As a child she had heard of the tale many times, though then it was told to bore her into slumber. A tragic tale; it was of two lovers who met, and wended their way to the dungeons of a foul-hearted king, and there they died beyond hope or help of the gods. Their spirits live however, and in the north, a place at the setting sun's right hand that lies on either side of life, sometimes a curtain of light fills the skies as the borders of life and death become less certain and the lovers are able to guide, in voices like the star, those in peril away from a fate such as theirs.
"I believe this night to one of them," he said. "I can hear it, like a strange music from the stars."
"There is no sound," said Rose worriedly glancing at Tornac. "There is no music from the voices of the stars."
Ailis huffed unhappily. "If there is then I have yet to hear it, Tornac, and I can't say that I'm not glad I have not."
"Because you cannot hear them does not mean that they are not there," he said.
Rose shifted uncomfortably. "It is only a tale, Tornac. You shouldn't take it such sincerity."
"There is a truth in tales," said Tornac looking on humoredly. "Small truths nevertheless earnest ones. For that reason, some people fear fables and others yearn for them. The truth is a lockless door, one can try to latch it shut but it will always open, somehow."
She looked at him in confusion for a moment, and then noticed that he was not looking in her direction but instead at Ailis. The woman stilled under his gaze, then moved to set her bowl aside. There was a silence then, in which the chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs and hooting of night birds sounded, for a time that was all that was heard.
"This will be the last of the rain for a time," said Ailis, leaning back on her hands, changing the discussion. "At least I hope so. It would be nice to strike good weather for the next few days."
"Yes, it would," said Tornac tiredly.
Ailis wiggled her feet. "Nicer still, to go through the Pass without anything bad happening."
They were silent, again, for a time, and Rose listened to the fire snapping and an owl call out into the night, and far off a dog's feral howling. A little moonlight, that escaped the blanketing of clouds, glimmered greyly onto Thorn's scales who lay at the edge of the overhang. He moved in his sleep, his tail flickering restlessly, and made a humming noise but he otherwise still.
Not long after they finished eating did Rose feel a wave of exhaustion sweep over her, and she bid everyone a good night. She scrambled down to the bottom of the hallow and lay down, looking at the roof of stone over her. After a while she sank into a restless sleep trouble by vague, disquieted dreams.
They broke their fast the next day in the grey light before dawn, barely able to see each other through a thick fog that had descended in the dark hours, and entered the pass soon afterward. It was darker there, in that forested pass, and Rose felt its darkness press around her. Since the night before, Ailis acted notably colder towards Tornac, rebuffing his attempts at conversation, forcing them to ride through the mountains in silence. Above them flew Thorn, a dot in the vastness of the hazed sky, with whom Rose struck up a conversation, mainly to keep her mind away from the deeds that had happened here, the last time they traveled through, and all that preceded it.
The track was heavily strewn with rotting leaves, which dampened the sound of their hoof beats, and was punctuated by stone fords from the many streams that crossed it. As the day drew on Rose began to feel oppressed by the silence, and she and Thorn spoke less and less frequently. She thought often of the thieves and the exchange the night before, but by the time the afternoon came she had forcibly pushed it from her mind and listened instead to the birdsong. She saw no living thing, the birds remained hidden in the branches, but once she thought she saw the red form of a deer disappearing, swift as wind, between the trees but it was so brief it could have been a trick of the eye; otherwise she saw no living thing.
When they drew close to Ludène, late that afternoon, they skittered around it altogether. Rose watched the buildings rise from the wood, partly veiled by masses of leaves, and listened to the chitchat of people, and among the people, she saw glimpses of the smart red tunics of soldiers, their voices rising above the crowd. Ailis who had looked grim before, scowled even deeper and hastened their pace.
Impelled by an increasing sense of urgency, they pushed their horses hard and soon reached the edge of the plateau. Here the land tipped precipitously down and the going was slower; they had to pick their way carefully along steep, narrow tracks winding through the tingles of prickling juniper and bristly stems of fiddleneck and leafy packs of amaranthus that grew grandly around bleakly speckled granite and mazes of small, noisy streams. Rose squinted up at the obelisks of stone, fragments of somber sky between, sometimes she would see Thorn flying there, zigzagging in and out of the columns. She was suspended between delight at the astounding vistas that sometimes opened up before her and a constant anxiety about the dizzying depths and heights that seemed to wait only a few steps from her feet. After a while, the woodland seemed to have thinned slightly and the road broadened, and so they mounted and cautiously pressed on.
Then Ailis stopped suddenly, and Starshine nearly ran into Arvid's rump. Rose turned, her mouth open to a comment, her face cross, and saw a sudden flash and the sound of a whirling of many bees that came from above and before them, then the thawks as the bolts hit home. Tornac shuddered from the impact, an evil-looking arrow was protruding from just below this collarbone. It had passed right through his back. Shadowless reared nervously, shaking his head, then screamed as he too was struck. For a short moment Tornac clung to his back, like a thistle, and then toppled sideways from the saddle.
A wordless scream reverberated in the small canyon, and it took her an instant to recognize that it came from her. Forgetting everything else, Rose spurred the horse around and dove off the saddle, and in that moment Tornac lifted his head and opened his eyes and looked up into her face. His eyes were very blue and clear, and his face very pale, the scar around his eye suddenly vivid. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but produced only a bubbling of blood. There was no chance Tornac could be saved, she understood with an agony as clear and sharp as a flesh wound, as his head dropped and he stilled.
Something brushed against her mind, and this jolted her from her dumbfounded state. Rose, you have to move this instant, Ailis said into her mind. And then when she noticed that Rose hadn't moved she sent a bolt that nearly knocked Rose over. Now!
Rose shook her head in confusion, but had no time to think as a wave of black tipped arrows shot down from the peaks. She instinctively ran from the bolts, to her horse and desperately scrambled onto his back. Rose heard the screams of the horses, a panicked sound like splitting rock, and just hung on as Starshine plunged forward, Arvid stretching ahead. The horses' ears were flat against their skulls, their tails stuck between their legs. She looked up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, her chest heaving in great sobs of breath and with a sick horror saw a gang of men jumping down from the rocks, and arrows still raining down in great falls, these were somehow weaving around them, as if redirected by some giant shield. Starshine spun himself around the sharp bend, making Rose's neck crack with the violence of the turn, and tore down the road bolting for his life.
Chapter 26: Pursuit
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They raced around a hairpin bend in the round, the air whistling loudly in their ears, stones falling noisily into the emptiness below dislodged from skidding hooves. Rose looked over her shoulder and glimpsed Shadowless chasing madly after them completely out of control, and behind the frightened horse, were two soldiers in pursuit, their voices raised in shouts. They had a good lead, but she realized that Arvid and Starshine as well as Shadowless- for as long as the horse would follow them- were already tired after a day's hard riding, wouldn't be able to outpace fresh horses. Then she concentrated on not falling off Starshine, her body shuddered in violent uncontrollable tremors.
"Halt!" the men were shouting, their voices rough and hard. "Under the Order of the Laws of the Crown you are commanded to halt!"
Don't stop, whatever you do, said Ailis into Rose's mind. Do not stop.
Rose leaned forward in the saddle, the wind of their speed lashing her hair into her mouth. How long was it to the other side of the pass? It couldn't be too far. She began to worry that they had taken a wrong turn; but they had passed no forks in the road- there were no wrong turns here. Beneath her, she could feel Starshine tiring.
At last it seemed that ahead, the mountain path widened and faded and the flat land around the jagged highlands changed into a thawing clay pathway. Ailis turned sharply off the trail and into the shelter of trees, plunging through the banking snow now beginning to melt, and puddles of creeping slush, and began turning Arvid sharply, constantly changing directions. Rose rode in her wake, concentrating on following her movements. A branch almost swept her from Starshine's back, giving her a stringing lash across her cheek, and she swept down lower, her head brushing against the horse's neck. The noise of the horses crashing through the forest meant that Rose could hear nothing of their pursuers, but she thought that they surely could not be far behind. She had now completely lost sense of direction.
They came across a steadily flowing stream and Ailis rode down its sharp banks and urged Arvid into the water. Starshine snorted in protect and followed him, Shadowless not far behind. Now they slowed down, trotting slowly downstream, the shallow water frothing around the horse's fetlocks. The rushing of the water covered any noise they made. They had gone some distance before Ailis took Arvid up the opposite bank. Here there was a close-knit grove of ancient, thick-branched oaks, growing so close together their branches intertwined. They dismounted, and led the horses into the grove.
Over everything was a peaceful silence, save for the tiny noise of the woodland that rose up before them; the whispering of leaves, the scurrying of a small animal. Rose slowly sunk down to the ground, her legs felt weak as if they could no longer hold her, and became aware of the smell of the damp earth, rich with rotting leaves. Tears, she didn't know were there, burned her skin as they slid down her cheeks, and she wiped at them.
She looked up at the horses, wanting something to look at other than the ground or trees or sky, and watched them with growing numbness. They had cooled down in their trot in the stream, and were no longer winded; but their coats were still streaked white with sweat and their cheeks freckled with foam. The air held a chill to it but there was no breeze, and it was not cold enough to freeze the water on the horses' coats, she and Ailis would have to wipe them dry. Shadowless had a small gash were he had been hit with an arrow, but was otherwise unharmed, Tornac's saddlebags hung limply from his back.
Her lip wobbled and her eyes burned with new tears. She sniffled and wiped again at her eyes. She felt empty; the place where grief and anger should have been, they were not, only emptiness. She bit at her lip to still its quivering.
"I think we have thrown them off our trail," said Ailis stroking Arvid's neck. "For the moment. But I have no idea where we are."
Rose said nothing, Ailis' words seemed blurred almost nonsense but slowly she understood them, and nodded. Ailis bent down next to her, until she was sitting on the ground, and Rose nearly toppled over in fright as Ailis put her hand on hers. "Come here." The woman hesitantly pulled her to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her, holding her as if she were a fragile, small child, her fingers threading through Rose's hair.
There was something squeezing her chest, shortening her breath, and her eyes stung as more tears came. These she didn't bother to wipe away. It felt as if, in that moment, her soul had been swept away; emotion strangling it wholly, until eventually it had collapsed, leaving behind nothing but the essence of swirling misery.
For a time Rose stayed there, allowing Ailis to hold her, to comfort her until the feeling passed, and then with a shattered breath she pulled away, wiping at her face. She stood up and in slow movements moved to the edge of the trees. Her body shuddered with violent, uncontrollable tremors, as she stared out blinkingly, her eyes now dry. Though her heart still pounded in her chest, and she couldn't seem to breathe in enough air. "I'm going to get some wood for a fire," she said softly, and then staggered out of the marquee-like copse.
Rose didn't know how long she wandered around the woodlands, or how she found her way back, but eventually, after the sun vanished from the sky and the shadows lengthened and darkened, she began to regain her ability to think and feel as the numbness slowly ebbed though it never completely went away. She didn't know how long she sat on the forest floor before she something startled her and she stood up then made her way back the camp, collecting odd bits of wood.
When she did return, Ailis sat by an already made fire, poking at it absently, and behind her was Thorn relaxing in the flame's glow. Rose looked at the dragon and started, she had forgotten about him completely, and sent out her mind to him. To her relief, he instantly replied.
Did your walk serve you well? Thorn asked.
Rose looked at him and shook her head. I don't want talk at this moment, she said. I only wish to ask whether or not you have been hurt.
I have not. Thorn opened his eye and began to sweep his tail across the ground, crushing what little snow lay on ground, turning it brown as it mixed with dirt.
As she walked into the edges of the ember light, she cut off her mindtouch with Thorn, and Ailis looked up. She considered Rose for a moment and then, took a bowl and poured a stew of barley and lean meat into it, she stood up and pressed the bowl into Rose's hands, exchanging it for the meager handful of wood. "Eat," she said fussily. "I don't care if you're not hungry, you must eat regardless."
Rose looked at the bowl in distaste, before seating herself, the smell made her stomach churn. She took a hesitant sip, barely tasting it. She could feel the cold growing, the soup hardly warmed her.
Ailis sat down and was silent for a time, allowing Rose to eat, her eyes darkening. "Rose, we need to talk about what happened in the pass," she said, watching as Rose shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. "It's the only way you'll be able to come to terms with what has happened."
Rose looked at her guardedly. "Not now, Ailis."
"You're sure?"
There was something stuck in her throat and with an effort she swallowed it down. "I'm entirely certain."
Ailis sucked in her lips, and dipped her head. "Tell me when you wish to know," she said, and then patted Rose's knee and bounced to her feet. "I'll take first watch."
Rose doubted she would ever want to know what had happened. She set down the stew, no longer able to eat it, and stood as well. "Have a good night, Ailis," she said.
"Try to get some sleep, dear."
An owl began its night call, and Rose started, looking around. She went to her bags, and unrolled her bedroll before crawling into it. For a long time she stared at the fire, watching the golden-red flames flicker and rise and fall and quiver. It didn't seem possible that Tornac had died and traveled to the beyonds of the Void. As she lay there, the memory kept creeping back on her, first image and then another. She didn't search for it, something within her pulled back the terrible realization of what had happened. But randomly, inexorably, images floated into her mind, until finally she covered her head with her hands, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, casting the images from her mind.
She lay awake for a long time, listening to the night, shifting restlessly on the hard ground. The stars glittered between the bare branches in the darkness above. Rose stared at the bright path of the Atodrad, the rider of the stars, which arched in the middle of the sky. She had never seen it shine so brightly. It was said that the dead walked that road on their way to the Void, that the Void was not much of a void of nothingness but a gateway into the afterlife. She wondered if Tornac lingered there, watching her as he made his way to those gates, and the thought brought her no comfort. He simply had to be long gone- past the Gates of the Void.
A fresh tear rolled down her face, and she sighed heavily, wiping at it, grabbing at her blanket almost as if she drowning. Somewhere behind her, Thorn shifted and moved and she felt him lay close to her, his tail resting close to her head. And she looked up at him, but his eyes were already closed and he hummed softly, as he forged sleep. For once she didn't move away from him, as his tail moved closer her, she didn't fear that he would begin his thumping in the night. She simply watched him or the fire or Ailis or the stars until her eyes burned and she could no longer remain awake.
When she awoke, the sky was highlighted with the pinks and oranges of early morning. She sat up, realizing that Ailis hadn't woken her for her shift, and looked around. Her eyes wandered over the packs and the snorting horses, their breath churning white, Thorn, the deadened fire, a pair of discarded boots, and Ailis who lay asleep. For a moment she looked for Tornac, and then, with a shattered gasp, she stood up knowing that she would not see him.
A torrid surge of agony physically rocked her, and she forced it aside. At the moment she didn't want to examine her feelings or her thoughts. Instead she sat herself beside Thorn and watched as the sun rose into the sky, as the bright colors faded to a burnished blue, and the creatures of the woodland woken. A robin above flittered from branch to branch.
Ailis woke not long after Rose had, her eyes red and puffy, and they continued their way through the woodland. In the peace that surrounded them, the incident the day before seemed like a strange dream. Sometimes Rose forgot about it all together, turning around with a comment on her lips and upon seeing Shadowless alone, without his rider, she'd fall silent, the loss of Tornac anew, and would stare out into the forest.
Dewlings hung from each twig, sparkling in the shafts of sunlight that fell between the tangled limbs of branches above a small deer track. Looking to each side, Rose saw the trees were here more thickly grown, wrapping the woods in darting shadows. Sometimes in the distance she saw a vagrant patch of sun where a great oak had crashed to the ground and lay twined leafless ivies and mistletoe, or where grey out crops of granite rose suddenly out of the forest floor. The ground was thick with patches of bracken, pushing out of the wreckage of winter it mild green fonds. Similar to the forested pass through the Spine, very little wildlife was seen, only the twittering of birds above were heard. Once in a while little creatures like weasels with glossy freckled brown coats, and occasional foxes and hares and birds were seen, nearly invisible to the eye.
That night they stayed in another ring of trees, and spent the night watching in shifts, but they heard nothing sinister. The following evening they camped under a huge oak near the track, again keeping watch, again hearing nothing threatening. They lite no fire now, for Ailis would do nothing to arouse attention in the forest, and Rose slept uneasily, feeling unprotected. She was beginning to feel the forest's stillness unnerving, and her mood darkened.
The days passed in silence, each following their own thoughts. Rose thought she sensed a new distance in Thorn, a retreat from the intimacy that had grown, and after a time this grieved her. Instead she watched the forest, picking at a loose thread in the saddle, or thinking. Her mind kept returning to Tornac's death, this always brought on fresh tears, and how he had fallen from an unwarned shot. His death was unlawful, and had she been at her former standing those men would be trialed for their crimes and hung. It troubled her, though, that they had to flee from the scene so, leaving what was left of Tornac behind. His life would never be honored nor would he be laid to rest in the ways he should. It often seemed impossible to her that he had gone to the Void, and she'd think that somehow there was a chance he had survived though she knew he had not. She would shake herself then and look ahead, deeply disturbed by Tornac's death.
On their third day in the forest Rose watched in unconcealed displeasure as Ailis drew a line in the snow. She wanted to curse the woman for delaying their travel that day but Ailis was adamant that there was something that needed to be done first.
When Ailis had awoken she was in a fury of words and actions, rushing this way and that, sorting through bag after bag before coming suddenly to a stop. Ailis then turned around and looked at Rose in the face before huffing a sigh and drawing out the red oak bow, received from Padern, and throwing it roughly onto the ground in front of Rose. The woman insisted that she picked it up. It was much heavier than she anticipated.
"Should we not put as much distance between us those men as possible?" Rose asked tapping her fingers against her arms, looking at the woman between narrowed eyes. "Should they find us-"
"They won't," interrupted Ailis, pulling out a long arrow. She held out the shaft to Rose. "Here."
"Honestly, Ailis," she protested. "Weren't you in a state of urgency yesterday?"
"I am in a state of urgency. That's why you must learn this." She poked Rose in the side with feathered tip. "Take it."
Rose looked at it, her stomach flipping in unhappy rumbles, and took the arrow from her. "I shan't be able to hit a thing."
"It doesn't matter as long as you know how," she said with an indifferent shrug. Ailis then took a different arrow and gave a brief demonstration, her arrow finding the center of the target, which had been carved into a wide trucked tree, straightaway. She motioned for Rose to try.
Nervously, Rose picked back up the bow, where she dropped it, and stood in front of the oak, her toes touching the line Ailis had drawn. Her hands shook as she placed herself as Ailis had shown her to, and drew the string back, testing it.
"Rose," Ailis' voice cut through the air, "your form needs work. Stand tall. Pull your arm back. Come now, you can pull harder than that."
She strained to draw the bow back until it slipped slightly from her fingers, forcing her to let it go with a grunt. The arrow did not sail so much as it whimpered in the air before scuffling across the ground and lodging itself into a mess of thorny roots and muddy snow. Rose looked at it in exasperation, and behind her she could hear Thorn's throaty laugh.
"Ailis," she said. "Can we not just go? This is pointless."
The woman smiled at her. "Humor me, and aim higher."
"I'd rather not," she mumbled.
She heard Ailis sigh. "Come now, Rose," she said. "I'm trying to teach you something important, the least you can do is work with me."
Rose rested the bow on her shoulder, and pulled the string slightly as she would to restring a viol. "What is that you are trying to teach me?"
"Focus," said Ailis moving to stand by Rose. "You focus on too many things at once. What I'm trying to teach you is the ability of focusing on one thing with both body and mind." She scratched her hand. "Best receive the arrow, now."
Gritting her teeth, she did as she told. "I had thought," said Rose shaking the arrow clean of snow, "that focusing on many things at once is important."
"In sword play, yes," she said impatiently. "But I am not talking about swordcraft. I'll be frank with you, Rose, you're a Rider and more than that you're a woman living in a world of men. You have a power most do not, and this will scare them. Men have been taught that women are supposed to be docile things who listen to the very word of men as if it were law but you can't be that. You have to be strong, stronger than you were in Urû'baen because men will see you as something shameful, a traitor. You have to gain a single-mindedness to make these men understand that they cannot control you. You must defy these rules you were taught and make your own destiny."
Rose started and narrowed her eyes. "A woman who seeks great power and wealth has to pay a great price," she said, carelessly tossing the bow to the ground. "I'm not quite sure I'm willing to pay that price."
"You must know what you stand for, else you shall fall for everything. It was a weakness of your mother and I know that you do not wish to become what she was," said Ailis.
"My mother was a fool," Rose said darkly. "She was given a wheel of fortune that threw her so high, too high, and then she was thrown down. I'm not fool enough to think I can walk among men in belief that I know more than them. I've seen what happens to those who do, and I do not wish for the same to happen to me."
For a moment, Ailis was silent, looking as if she had been wounded and then she took a shaky breath. "Your mother was only a fool," she said gently, "because no one had taught her how not to be. I'm trying to teach how not to make the same mistakes as her, please allow me to do so."
Rose took a calming breath and nodded, her sudden anger fading though not quite leaving, staying just under the surface of her skin. In hesitant movements she picked up the bow, and ran her fingers over its smooth surface. She struggled to get her arrow into position, neither she nor the arrow wanted to cooperate.
"Keep your elbow to your side," said Ailis, startling Rose enough that she released the arrow. It wobbled and stuck itself straight into the ground, quivering. Ailis sighed. "Don't be so nervous. No one will surprise us here. We're completely safe."
"You hardly know where here is," Rose grumbled under her breath, and went to fetch to arrow. She pulled it roughly out of the ground and returned to the line, drawing back the arrow.
Ailis put her hands over Rose's to steady her uneasy hold. "That's better," she said. "When you strike do so without hesitation. See the target, the objective, and nothing else." Rose looked at the tree until it was blurry, and Ailis released her hold. "Listen to nothing but yourself, your breathing, the beating of your heart. See the center until there is no center, and then release the arrow."
She released the arrow. It flew with a sharp, whipping sound, striking the very bottom of the tree. It quivered, its feathered tip swaying, and then stilled.
"Better," said Ailis with a sigh. "Much better. I think we should continue our traveling now. Keep the arrow, you may need it."
Rose gave her a quizzical look and shrugged, reclaiming the arrow. She tugged at the suborn thing for a moment until it gave and hesitantly slid away from the tree. "I hardly know how to use it," she said, turning to Ailis.
Ailis smiled humoredly at her. "Yes, but now you an idea of how to use it, and that's better than not having one at all." She began to fasten her saddlebags shut. "If you needed to use the bow you could, and perhaps you will get lucky and hit your target. I hope you won't need that luck, though," she said sounding suddenly very tired. "We'll work on it."
Rose looked at the carving in the tree, and then with a sigh she turned away from it and packed her own bags. Tornac's old bags lay on the ground next to her. Neither of them knew what to do them; they didn't wish to go through them, or to throw any of his possessions out, and so they left them be, packing them onto Shadowless and then traveling with them. Rose knew that eventually she would have to sort through them, to relieve Shadowless of some of their weight but at that moment this thought was too painful. She bit her lip, filling a stinging in her eyes and wiped at them. She was so very sick of crying, she had filled her tithe of tears and she felt as if she had no more to give but still they came.
Silently, she and Ailis packed up camp and saddled the horses. They continued forward, listening to the birdsong and at times Ailis' prattlings which always ended on a serious note, Thorn flew high above them keeping watch, as they weaved through the woodland because for now that was all they could do.
The following day they continued through the woodland, and at last Rose though she detected a subtle thinning of the trees and wondered if they neared its edges. Ailis thought this also. "Another day's ride, and I think, we'll be would these woods and at the northeast border of Leona Lake, a two weeks ride from Dras-Leona," she said. "We'll stay to the roads, and continue south and hopefully we shall have no more trouble."
Rose said nothing and they rode on in companionable silence.
They made camp in another dingle that night, but this time there was an overhang and they made a fire. The fine weather held, and the night was even a little warm. After dawn the next day they continued, and around lunchtime Rose saw a light through the trees, and they reached the end of the track.
The forest ended quite suddenly, and Rose found blinking that they were looking over a land of rolling hills shaded in the distance by small buildings, humped blue in the eastern horizon. The landscape they rode through was lonely and bare, swept by strong winds blowing down from the distant mountains. They stuck to the path that led them through the woodland, and the going was slow because they had to pick their way, fear to lose the path altogether, and often the horses sank into mud past their fetlocks. Clouds of mosquitoes or gnats pestered them, and their discomfort increased as the sun got hotter. They pressed on for several hours, not stopping for dinner, and at last to Rose's relief, were past the bogs and back on solid ground.
When dusk began to fall they were still far from habitation, and they stopped by a stream for a very late meal, and let the horse graze and drank, soon Thorn joined them. There was no sound expect the sigh of the wind through the grass and the melancholy cries of plovers, and that night they talked little and quietly. Rose drew closer to fire.
"It feels desolate here," she said.
"Yes," said Ailis, "it does. We'll be among people again soon. I doubt we'll have any more trouble, but even so it'd be best if you took out that boy's cap and kept your hood up, if we meet with anyone, say nothing."
"I'm your mute son now, am I?" said Rose, amused. "Escorting you about? I must ask, what had happened to dear old da?"
"He has traveled to the Void," said Ailis, blinking in a tragic fashion. "Fell down the well. He was quite ungainly, that poor man. Bless his soul."
Rose smile weakly and shook her head at Ailis.
That night Rose slept restlessly, and it seemed in her dreams she heard sounds of hoofbeats far off in the night, searching for her, and all around were sinister shapes of men cloaked in red and gold. She woke, shivering, and looked straight up into the star-strewn heavens, where the waxing moon rode high in a vessel of clouds. Thorn lay nearby, humming lightly, and soon she slept again and dreamed no more.
Notes:
Here lays the ending of the first arc of Lirouratr. I've decided to split it up on this site (it's not on FF.net) as it is in my files which seems to sit well for me story wise. Hope you enjoyed this first part!
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 5 Sat 17 Jun 2023 10:07AM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 6 Sat 17 Jun 2023 10:47AM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 7 Sat 17 Jun 2023 02:41PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 8 Sat 17 Jun 2023 03:35PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 9 Sat 17 Jun 2023 04:15PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 9 Sat 17 Jun 2023 04:22PM UTC
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maireh on Chapter 9 Sat 17 Jun 2023 05:05PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 9 Sat 17 Jun 2023 05:34PM UTC
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maireh on Chapter 9 Sat 17 Jun 2023 05:55PM UTC
Last Edited Sat 17 Jun 2023 06:10PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 10 Sat 17 Jun 2023 06:36PM UTC
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maireh on Chapter 10 Sat 17 Jun 2023 07:01PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 10 Sat 17 Jun 2023 07:45PM UTC
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maireh on Chapter 10 Sat 17 Jun 2023 08:47PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 18 Jun 2023 04:32AM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 11 Sun 18 Jun 2023 10:58AM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 12 Sun 18 Jun 2023 12:59PM UTC
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maireh on Chapter 12 Mon 19 Jun 2023 03:30AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 19 Jun 2023 03:31AM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 13 Sun 18 Jun 2023 07:36PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 14 Mon 19 Jun 2023 03:31PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 15 Mon 19 Jun 2023 06:35PM UTC
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maireh on Chapter 15 Mon 19 Jun 2023 06:51PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 15 Mon 19 Jun 2023 07:19PM UTC
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maireh on Chapter 15 Mon 19 Jun 2023 08:43PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 16 Wed 21 Jun 2023 01:24PM UTC
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dragonriderofold on Chapter 17 Thu 22 Jun 2023 04:01PM UTC
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