Edited 1/22/22 - all chapters are getting a overhaul. Things might not match until this process is complete.
Creative liberties are taken within this story.
I do not the Inheritance Cycle
Of Weapons and Woes
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 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 is Ailis?" she asked, glancing through the trees in the distance for her. The woman was no where 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 me but I remember a time when we've someone slip 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. "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, 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 all over with 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 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 measure 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, her 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, thin 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, which had smudged around her face like a mask. She wiped at the disarray with her dripping fingers only smearing it further. It would take an age to clean it from her face.
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, when he did they were always a rare and deadly beauty.
She looked up at the man, 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 things!"
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 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 it is 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 that 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 its just who he is," said Ailis with a nod. "Some horse 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 would 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 fee. 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 the King Galbatorix had convinced him take the task of watching over her instead of following his 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 she 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 and waved a wooden spoon at the man. He shook his head and made his way over, 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 begins."
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, dramatic, 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 underbush 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 be able to have what I did."
"I am 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 grip? 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 lead 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. She 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!
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. The Wanders.
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.
