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.
The most words, as of yet, are in this. I'm not lying when I say that I could dance with pure happiness because this chapter is finished! All that ran through my head while writing this was
Humpty-Dumpty- hence the title.
There are two different storylines, three including Eragon's, that are happening. The third I'm hammering out the details for and those will one day be posted.

As always, enjoy,


The King's Men

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.