I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
Edited 1/30/22

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Enjoy,


The Wanderings
Part 1

Rose did not voice what had happened in the ruins of the city, something within her seemed to forbid it. Thorn knew and for a time they talked it over before their conversation shifted elsewhere and soon camp was broke and they resumed their journey south towards the flatlands of Surda. All of them were anxious to leave the reaches of the Empire far behind and so they traveled at a harder pace then before.

The next day they stepped off the broken road into forest some days ago, and bent their way eastward meandering through the trees towards an isolated village that stood at the edge of the woodland. There they had stayed one night, replenishing their supplies and poured over the map, deciding the best route to take and then moved on.

Selena suggested that the party should travel through Melian towards the border of the Empire, which would merely be a matter of following the road south. She knew that there was a Varden outpost somewhere within the city and guessed that if there was any news about the dealings of the Empire, Melian would be as good as place to hear it. After discussing various alternatives, Brom had grudgingly agreed that they might as well go to Melian as anywhere, and folded up the map and returned it to their bags.

Brom could not tell Selena of his real despair of going to the Varden, nonetheless Surda, that the chances were too high that news would get out about dragons and their Riders causing a power struggle between the king of Surda, Islanzadí (if she was still the elven queen), and the leader of the Varden. He also kept to himself his concerns about traveling the roads south: from what he had heard, there was a very real danger of encountering bandits, rogue soldiers, Urguls, or worse. But it was the fastest route to Farthen Dûr and, once there, he and Selena could decide what to do next.

It hadn't escaped his notice that over the last few days, it seemed as if Eragon was troubled by a deep unease that no one could quite identify. Often times he would stare off into the air as if he seeing something no one else could, and he did not sleep at night. Brom soon became aware of the dark half-moon shadows forming beneath his eyes, and when the boy looked at him it seemed as if he was looking right through him as if he weren't there but then he would blink and focus in on what he was looking at A distance in him seemed to form, an anxiety now distressed Brom that perhaps his and Rose's adventure into the abandon city had awoken something that was meant to sleep for an age longer.

Meanwhile, they traveled with no sign of trouble. The weather held crisp and fine, and after stopping there was plenty of food, so they only made hasty stops at nightfall, where they would eat dinner and practice swordcraft. When they reached the South Road and turned toward Melian, Brom insisted that dragons stay out of sight; keeping away from them until well after nightfall. Here they traveled briskly as they were on proper road again, but everyone kept oddly alert. Once Rose caught sight of Brom casting a veiling spell over the dragons, so that they would not be seen by passersby, when no one else was paying him any mind.

Despite the suspicion, the travelers rested inside the local tavern- in any case it was certainly better than camping beneath a dripping tree. The town that they were now staying in even had a name, Tońun, and not far from its limits was a stinking roadhouse that doubled as the village forge.

Rose had been trying to drink from a mug of mulberry very slowly, savoring the warmth of the tavern and perhaps even the noise of the townspeople after so many unobtrusive nights, talking lightly Thorn. She looked the people over and sent him a picture through their mindlink to keep herself, and him, preoccupied. He sent her an image of a man wearing a fur-lined hat and sheep-hid jerkin, and she looked over the crowd to find him, and once she had, another image was sent his way.

What did you fear most as a hatchling, Thorn asked as they grew tired of the game.

Rose took a long sip from the mug, and pulled her hood closer to her head. The Platnak, she told him. He is a faceless shadow creature with long, spindly limbs who searches for nasty children to snatch up in their sleep and bring to his mountain lair. There he fattens them up with sweets and custard tarts and eats them. I once believed that he lived the shadows and if I did not behave that I would become his next prey. I was once so frightened that I made Tornac sleep on the divan in my rooms to protect me from him.

Thorn's laughter echoed in her mind, and she smiled into her mug. He must not have liked that, the dragon responded.

No, he did not, Rose told him. She set her glass in the table with more force than necessary, it clinked lousily against the wood, and she noticed with some regret that some of the wine slipped over the edge of the mug. The door opened and the smell of rotting fish and parsley blew through the tavern, and Rose hid her face into the collar of her tunic.

A silent formed between them though it was not unpleasant, and Rose finished her wine. She had no taste for mead, sticking to tart wine that the keeper also stocked. Bespite it being a light wind, she discovered after finishing her first mug, it was much stronger than it looked.

The tavern grew louder and louder as the room grew stuffier, and soon the stank of the tavern was giving her a headache. She looked up and caught Eragon's eye; he was being pestered by a young lass, who had trapped him in conversation, clearly curious about his travels. He looked away, and she straightened herself, untangling her conversation with Thorn, and turn herself in her chair to face him.

"I hope you are not planning to drink all of those," she said, looking at the mugs sitting in front of him.

The lass asked Eragon a question, one he politely answered, flouting her for a short moment.

"Why shouldn't I?" he said robustly. He sighed and turned to her, giving her a bleary look.

Rose shrugged. "It's getting late," she said.

"Where's Sel-Mother?"

"She left for bed," Rose said. "I'm actually thinking of leaving myself but I'm thinking it to be an unwise thing to leave on my own. I was hoping that you would escort me."

Eragon nodded dolefully and looked to the lass. "I'll walk you back. Just give me a moment."

Rose nodded. Eragon turned back to the young woman, and after a short time, he pulled away from her and beckoned Rose to the door. He was looking slightly annoyed and slopped as he walked. As they walked out, she frowned out into the night, she did not fancy the idea of having to ask Eragon to accompany her yet she liked the idea of running into trouble when she was without her sword even more. She had been forced to leave her weapon behind, and felt abnormally exposed without it, as if

She squinted up the road, trying to see through the pall and darkness. It was pitch black, but after a moment her eyes adjusted, black shapes of the other buildings could be made lined the streets would be made out. Eragon looked up and down the street, and then stepped out from under the roofing. The road was empty. "Let's go," he said.

Rose followed after him, eager to get away from the stinking pub and the watchful eyes within it. They silently made their way down the road to the inn, its edges were broken and clogged with dead weed but still it was very much passable.

"Where would Galbatorix keep his prisoners if he wanted to interrogate them?" Eragon said through the darkness, his words blurring together.

Startled by the unexpected question, Rose was stilled for a heartbeat. "Why ask me?" she said, her voice sounding small in the night.

"I thought that because of the man who raised you-" he paused for a moment as if he were searching for the name "-Tornac, wasn't it? Since he was in the Empire's army I thought that he might have told you."

"Tornac was never part of the King's army," Rose said with a frown. She looked down at her feet, trying to make out the beaten road. They had no lantern, and she was uncertain about their footing, fearful even that one of them might stumble and fall into the filth. "He worked with the army, even fought beside an eminent general, but never was he in it."

There was a short, heavy silence. They passed a large building, its windows dark and blink as if it was abandoned.

"What do you mean by that?" Rose heard him say, after a shuffling sound. Perhaps he had found a giving in the road and his had caught on its edge, or perhaps they were not the only one roaming the streets. She glanced behind her but saw no one.

"I meant exactly what I said." Rose rubbed her hands together, willing that the feeling return to them. "But, yes, he did tell me about the prisons." It seemed likely to her now that he had told of these horrible places to scare her into behaving and listening to him.

Eragon was silent as if he were waiting for her continue. "What did he say?" he asked when she did not. "Where are they at?"

She huffed. "Why do you wish to know?"

"I'm only curious."

Rose kept silent, having arrived at the inn. The roadhouse was a small building, once a divided home that had abandoned by the family who owned it. After a time the family turned the small building into a roadhouse, allowing stray traveler to stay if they pleased. It seemed however that it was a rare thing for traveler to stop by, the floorboards were dusted over by soot and the roofing in disrepair; water dripped down from the ceiling, hitting the tin bowls rhythmically below, teeming over the edge and pooled onto the floorboards, streaming towards a fissure in the wood. Rose wondered why the building was kept around at all, wouldn't it be easier to let it go?

"No doubt," Rose said dryly as she glanced at him, suspicion growing in her mind. She saw that there was a fire laid but no one and lit it, the wood sat there gloomily in the overshadow of the chimney, nor had anyone yet lit the lamps, and the hallway was almost completely dark. Eragon walking up the flagged hallway that ran from the back door to the front, leaving behind him a trail of wet footprints.

"It's likely that any prisoners are in Gil'ead or Cellwair, though the capital would be my best guess," Rose said as she followed him to the room they were staying in. Eragon knocked on the door, the sound echoed eerily though the hall and was silenced the muffled voices inside. "But, I'm warning you, Eragon, if you're looking for someone, it'd be pure madness to go after them. The King prefers to keep close console, and it'd be a grueling escape once you're within his grasp. Whatever it is that you're thinking about doing, you'd best forget about it."

"I wasn't thinking about doing anything," he grumbled lowly.

Choosing to say nothing more, Rose waited until Brom unhinged the door and allowed them inside. The man overlooked them gruffly, his beard frizzled and in a hostile disarray. He caught her gaze, and looked away sharply. "I was wondering if you two were lost," he said, turning around and walking back into the room. "It's a cold night."

"Not lost yet," Eragon said, plucking at his sleeve. "Where were you? We ate supper without you."

"I had business of my own to attend to." The old man waved him away, and stepped around the pile of their bags in the center of the room.

Rose walked into the room, ignoring the conversation between Brom and Eragon, and sat down on a bed near Selena. The bed lurched dangerously, and shuttered and croaked but it held firm. Selena looked up at her, a soft smile playing at her lips. "Thank you," she said.

Rose nodded, and pulled her cloak tightly around her. "Why are you thanking me?"

"You have given me the time I requested," the woman said. "There were quite a number of things Brom and I needed to talk out. Had you not stayed with Eragon, we wouldn't have been able to. It appears, however, that your brother is stewed."

Rose shrugged, looking down at her feet, as she fought back a grin. "So it seems," she said, with wry mischief. "I'm thinking that he is going to pay for it, twice over, come tomorrow."