The village of Tenariono never saw any excitement of any kind. In the centuries that the people had maintained life on the island, they had managed to avoid any major conflict or excitement. So when Hal came rushing in on an exhausted Nani, a strange man unconscious and practically in her lap, it stirred a buzz amongst the quiet folk who were heading into their homes and settling in for supper. They had managed to make decent time, encountering no wild beasts, such as bears or lovuk — larger cousins to the wolf and the creatures she had initially been on the lookout for — on their ride. That was fortunate, especially considering the stench of blood surrounding them.
Hal could feel the beads of sweat upon her forehead as Nani finished the final stretch to a small hut on the outskirts of the village. Many of the homes were identical, except some may vary in size depending on how many people occupied it. They were made of dried mud, stone slabs, and wood. It was a mix of things to keep the homes cool during the island's brutal heat but sturdy over time and through wind and rain. There was a courtyard out front with a small fire pit for cooking and heating water. The rest of the rooms stretched around the courtyard in a U-shape. The first room to the left was nothing more than a space to conduct business and entertain guest, the individual rooms and bathing area on the right provided more privacy and places of rest. The kitchen was in the back.
Hal could hear laughter coming from the guest room as she slowed Nani to a tired halt in the courtyard. The horse warily but carefully lowered herself to the dusty ground. "DENU! DENU, COME QUICK!"
Hal was breathing as if she had been running, not her horse. A few moments later, an older man came out. His skin was rich ebony, much like Hal's whose complexion was softer with her younger age. He had no hair on his head, but his beard was thick and white. His eyes were wide, brown, cloudy, and unseeing, as the old man had never before had his sight, blinded since birth. He carried with him a six-foot walking stick, the same height as he, different species of animals beautifully carved throughout the wood. He wore dark robes that wrapped around his hips and across his torso. He wore no sandals.
"Halen, what is it, what is wrong? Why do I smell blood? Who is the person with you?"
"There was a man, in the water, a Nïdhwal, and a dragon. My gods, there was a bloody dragon fighting a Nïdhwal and I…I can't find Mennes…"
"How badly is he hurt?"
"His wounds are more than words can describe."
"It sounds like I am needed," said Mennes, a man the same age as Denu, who appeared before them. But Denu stood straighter. Mennes' body was more hunched, as if his spine was beginning to permanently curve after the countless number of sick and injured he had hovered over the past several decades of his life. He was the only medicine man in the village, with a young apprentice in training, and was masterful in the skill of making people well. Hal wondered what he would be able to do against such damage inflicted on the stranger.
"Hal," Mennes began slowly, his eyes now seeing the sight before him as he stood next to Denu. "Who is this man?"
"He's suffered horribly. Can you at least look at him, Mennes?"
The old man was flustered, clearly as anxious as Hal was at the sight of the stranger but slower to act. Denu seemed unfazed, but his brows were slightly furrowed as if lost in another thought. "Let's get him inside," Mennes sighed.
They fetched additional help from the other guests Denu was entertaining over chicken, greens, and goblets of sweet wine. They had cleared the food and mess, getting the bloody man settled on a patchwork quilt so as not to lay him on directly onto the ground before Denu kindly ordered them out. Hal saw their fervent glances and knew the rumors would spread like wildfire now.
Hal rolled a feather pillow and tied it with a rope before nestling it under the man's head. Then she allowed Mennes to order her around, fetching water to boil, bandages, plants and herbs from his hut, needles and thread, and whatever other equipment he called for. Denu sat quietly on the floor against the wall, his walking stick perched carefully in his lap.
They completely undressed him without much fanfare, Mennes unfazed and Hal more concerned by the injuries that were further revealed. His clothes could not be salvaged, his trousers discarded as quickly as Hal had discarded his tunic earlier. His boots were in somewhat of a decent condition, so Hal set them aside. Hal placed a thin cloth over his groin, but there was not much modesty to preserve at this point. And with the full extent of the damage revealed to them, Hal knew they were in for a long night.
"You should not have moved him, let alone put him on a horse," Mennes said disapprovingly. "You probably made things worse."
"I did the only thing I could do to save his life," she said unapologetically. Yet her gaze still lingered nervously over the horrible bruising along his torso. "But next time, I'll be sure to put you on the horse, old man."
"Help me roll him over," Mennes commanded, ignoring her quip, as she kneeled down on the other side of the man, opposite Mennes.
Hal had rolled up her sleeves, ignoring the blood stains that she had already collected. She grabbed the man's waist and shoulder and pulled as Mennes pushed. He started to examine the back for other injuries, but his eyes widened as he sucked in his breath. His expression became a fearful anger as he stood, pointing an accusatory finger at Hal. "What sort of dark blasphemy is this, Halen?"
"Mennes?"
"You would bring this traitor into our midst? Into your home?"
"Mennes, speak wisely," Denu said softly, scratching his nose. "Or at least with context, we have no idea what you're raving about."
"It is Murtagh Morzansson! Aide to Galbatorix and the son of the traitor himself, Morzan."
"That was quite clear when you called him Morzansson," Denu sighed, his tone almost nonchalant. But his eyes narrowed with concern. "Mennes, are you sure it is he?" he asked, pressing gently.
"Of course, I'm sure, he has the blasted scar everyone talked about. His father was a sick bastard —that much is obvious."
Hal was not familiar with the stories from the mainland and their infrequent trips to it were far and few enough in between that the village often didn't hear news until months after it had transpired, sometimes years. She had heard fleetingly of the man Mennes spoke of: Murtagh. But not much. Looking back, she realized the red dragon was a huge indicator, but in the chaos of the afternoon, she was hardly putting together the obvious clues waging war in front of her.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Hal exclaimed as Mennes rose to his feet, turning towards the door.
He shook his head, his lip curled in contempt. "The blood on this man's hands runs deeper than I care to think about. I will not dishonor his victims by saving his life."
Hal bit her lip. Mennes was right. To a degree. She did not know this man's thorough history, but if his crimes were as bad as Mennes said, then helping him would brand them traitors, would it not? And if he truly had served the king…the thought alone was enough to make Hal want to return him to the ocean where she found him. She dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to make sense of her very muddled brain. She only wanted to protect her people. But she had to admit that doing so would have meant leaving him and the dragon to die. She thought of the dragon's pain, its final effort to protect his rider to its death. Hal had reacted to a human in danger because that was how she had been raised: to respect life and know her place amongst it. She had brought the man this far. She could not abandon her efforts now.
But it was Denu who spoke first, as if he had read Hal's mind. "Mennes, I understand your hesitation —"
"I am not hesitating, Denu, I outright refuse!"
"Do not let one man's transgressions fuel your own. You know as well as I that if we let this man die out of malicious intent, our souls would never find satisfactory peace."
"He is a traitor, Denu! Would you bring the wrath of the empire upon us? For heaven's sake, they say he killed a dwarf king and another dragon rider! The enemies we would make...not to mention he could kill us all to make sure we don't alert the queen to his whereabouts. We should take him back to the ocean now before he wakes! Before it is too late."
Hal visibly flinched at this. Denu shook his head. "You misunderstand me, Mennes. I know the risk, I understand your concern, and I sympathize with your loyalty to your people and the queen. But we are not murderers. We are not soldiers or executioners but your very words indicate we should act as such. Traitor or not, we are in a position to help this young man. You must rise above your fear and hatred and do what is right, even when it is not easy."
"You can tell me what to do?" Hal said slowly, thinking. She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but she knew there was no other way. "You do not have to handle him directly, but guide me and I will do it in your place. I brought him this far, I won't let him die now."
Mennes was wavering, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he looked from Hal to Denu. "I hate when you two agree. It's worse than when you argue." Hal nodded her head in understanding of Mennes' compliance. "Do not get too comfortable, child," he warned, kneeling back down on the ground. "When he is well, he should leave at once."
Hal nodded again as Mennes began to instruct her. They worked tirelessly into the night and early morning, slowed down by Hal's unfamiliarity with the human body to this extent. Hal was growing weary with fatigue, and she realized as the sun began to peak through the reed mats that covered the windows — keeping out the dust, heat, and insects — that she hadn't eaten in several hours. Her vision grew blurry until she blinked rapidly, only for it to continue a few moments later. Her hands were shaking with a lack of food and her throat was dry. Denu and Mennes weren't faring much better, worse in their old age, and Denu refused to leave Hal's side even if he could not contribute directly. Occasionally he would hear footsteps approaching and leave to prevent onlookers and nosy neighbors, but otherwise they were left alone.
When they finally finished, Hal and Mennes practically collapsed. Her stomach pains were worsening as Mennes spoke. "We have done all we can. We will have to keep a watchful eye on him. He cannot be allowed to reopen his wounds or he will surely bleed out, if he hasn't already. With this kind of damage, he's in for a long, painful road to recovery."
Hal was staring in shock at her hands, only halfway listening. The sight of human blood on her palms unnerved her. She had hunted and skinned many animals, but this was different. It was frightening, as if she herself had inflicted these wounds on him. Her hands were stained bright red, the liquid embedded deep under her nails and in the crevices of her palms. She licked her lips slowly, raising her head to listen to Mennes' final instructions.
"If anyone asks, I will tell them you found a shipwrecked man and brought him for healing. But that is the last I will do for this man."
"You have already done more than enough," Denu said with a smile that didn't quite reach his troubled eyes. "Go get some rest."
Once Mennes was gone, the air felt impossibly thick as Denu rose to his feet, his back to Hal. "Halen, what were you thinking?"
"As you so often and eloquently put it: I wasn't," she sighed, lying on her back once more and staring up at the ceiling. "I heard the cries of his dragon and —"
"Ah, I was wondering if his dragon was close."
"It no longer matters, I could not find the creature afterwards. But he was attacked by a Nïdhwal," Hal recounted slowly, closing her eyes despite trying to fight off the urge to sleep. "I could hear its screams and I just —"
"You never could bear the sound of a creature in pain," Denu sighed.
"I didn't realize who he was," Hal continued, trying to scratch at an itch on her forehead with the back of her arm so that she didn't get the rider's blood on her face. "Denu, if I had known —"
"You wouldn't have done anything differently," he said. "You can be difficult, but you are not capable of cruelty." Hal sighed — for some mad reason — childishly wanting to refute his claims simply for arguments sake, but knowing it would be a waste of breath. He was right after all. "How exactly did you manage to rescue the young man, anyway?"
With trepidation, Hal truthfully admitted to her spur-of-the-moment cliff dive between two warring creatures. Denu's face grew twisted with rage until he finally slammed his walking stick into the soft earth beneath them. "Dammit, Halen, how could you be so reckless?!"
She rolled her eyes at his outburst. "I didn't think he had much time. I just…reacted."
"You could have been killed, and for what? What would you have me do if Nani had come back without you?"
Hal was quiet, listening as Denu struggled to control his breathing. Guilt racked her body, but she could not make herself apologize for what she had done, only for causing him pain. She told him this, and he sighed. "You are unbelievably stubborn."
I get it from you, you know."
He snorted. "I'm not this bad."
Hal looked over at the dragon rider and sighed. He was covered in blood, bruises, bandages, and stitches, one leg in a splint and his torso tightly wrapped. His breathing was still ragged, his face — what wasn't hidden behind the thick, unsightly beard — was still pale. He certainly didn't look like he had led any evil armies into battle. Absentmindedly, Hal went and poked at the fire in the courtyard and began preparing to heat more water. She needed to think less of his past and focus more on his present needs — otherwise she would lose her composure.
"What are you about to do?" Denu asked.
"I'm going to clean the blood and dirt off of him," Hal said with a tired sigh. "And then I'll be done."
"You've done enough already, Halen, do not push yourself."
"I never do," she muttered dryly and he gave her a skeptic look.
He did not try to stop her as she left some water boiling over the fire and poured herself a fresh bowl. She washed her hands again before beginning to clean his body, starting with his head. She was meticulous, gently rubbing at the caked-on blood and sand until what skin hadn't been bruised or injured was revealed, which wasn't much. Hal wiped at her forehead, pushing her dark curls from her face. They had long since fallen from their tight braid, long strands beginning to creep into her face with annoying persistence. After a while, she left them alone.
Even though the man was still unconscious, she worked as though any movement would cause him pain. She lifted his arms slowly, resting them in her lap, pulling apart his fingers with utmost care. She turned his left hand over.
She knew now he was a dragon rider, but seeing the mark, the gedwëy ignasia, on his palm gave her pause. Confirming what had still felt only like speculation. She watched his face closely for a sign of consciousness and, when finding none, raised her hand to examine the curious mark. She hesitated only for a moment, checking his face once more, before her fingers lightly traced the diffused oval, surprised to find that it felt like nothing more than skin, but was silver in color. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she stared at the stranger once more with profound curiosity and uncertainty. Hal wondered how he would fair when he woke.
She sighed and finished cleaning him. For the next few hours she alternated between checking his wounds for infection, replacing his bandages, checking for a fever, and making sure he was still breathing. Denu finally forced her to eat and rest, but she only laid down next to the rider, not wanting to stray too far lest he take a turn for the worst.
As she closed her eyes, she dreamt of the red dragon, fighting furiously with the Nïdhwal. She felt uneasy, recalling the sharp teeth that almost claimed her life. The vicious sea serpent bit into the dragon's neck and the creature let out a wail so loud and full of pain that Hal jerked awake in surprise. She was bleary-eyed and sure that she hadn't even slept an hour when she registered the screams of her people and a malicious roar that wasn't from her dream.