Edited 1/29/22 -Please let me know your thoughts throughout the story, I'd love to hear for you :)
I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
Enjoy,
An Obligation
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."
