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

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Secreted Within the Peaks

Rose was convinced that the gods did not hear her prayer.

The moment the dragons flew into the mountains the air was strangely charged, as if the rock ledges were waiting for something for quite some time. Rose sat tensely on Thorn's back as they rode past stony shelves after stony shelf of living rock. The mountainsides fell sharply down no soil could find purchase, at a drop to which should not measure to a valley hidden by the crisp greens of trees and brush sharp against the blue-greys of stone.

One careless turn or dive could spell doom, she thought as her stomach continued its descent to the alpine covered valley very, very far below. The only thing between her and that vast cold of emptiness of air was Thorn. She felt her stomach lurch. Sweat gathered on her brow and wet her palms. She had wiped her hands on her legs so many times that the fabric retained two dark streaks.

Do you not have so little faith in me? Thorn asked once, playfully diving into the air. When Rose remained silent, clinching desperately onto the saddle, he stopped and flew as steadily as he could. Flying with me has not had this effect on you in quite a time. What is wrong?

Rose looked ahead, staring at the way the sun played against his scales. It was a safe place to look at, and the longer she stared the less she felt ill. We have never flown through the mountains, not like this, she said after a time, sounding much stronger than she felt. I did not know that they would have this effect on me. When we had traveled the Pass I did not look down, not once. Had I have known that there was so much empty air, I would never have suggested taking this route.

For a heartbeat Thorn was silent, and then he said in a serious tone, What will you do if the Varden's sanctuary is atop a mountain peak, higher and steeper than the ones here?

Should that be true, than I will return to Urû'baen, on foot if I must, and lay at the King's begging for his forgiveness, said Rose, a shutter went up her spine.

No, you will not, growled out Thorn.

She sighed, keeping her eyes firmly on the patch of scales between two of Thorn's bone spikes. No, she said slowly, I shan't. I'll entertain myself with the thought, even if nothing shall become of it. We are very high up.

Thorn grumbled lowly, and Rose chose then to shift their talk to a gentler topic. She did not wish to stop talking to Thorn yet, their conversations usually helped keep her mind from the heights and her fears. They spoke little of the childish tales Rose had once heard of the mountains, and the ever strengthening wind, and how long they would likely go before having to find a place to land. Rose blankly refused to go down into the valleys so far below, knowing what beasts called these mountains home, and Thorn agreed with her.

As the wind grew stronger and began to trouble the flying dragons, Rose began to worry more and more of the possibility of a coming storm. Worse than any of the creatures that roamed these rock ledges and valleys were the storms. A storm could come with little warning and last for days or even weeks without end. Worry of such a tempest troubled her more than any sort of height, and soon Rose found herself searching the skies for any shape and form of a cloud but the skies were a flawless blue. There was no cloud in sight.

Still, Rose searched, the cold grip of worry grasping tightly ahold of her.

As the day moved on and the darkness of night became a true threat, a cave or one of the more flattened peaks was searched for. When a perch was found the dragons and siblings would break there and poke around, trying to get a feel for the land, debating on setting up camp before they chose against it and moved on.

Eventually, very late in the afternoon, a large cliff harbored a gaped mouthed cave carved into the side of a fingerlike peak. Having found the cave Eragon peaked his head in and turned calling out to Rose.

From where she stood, blinking the harsh sunlight, Rose could see the Spine stretching before her far into the distance, jagged stone peak after jagged stone peak, with a grey scar of a forgotten, crumbed path gleaming off along its flank. When Eragon called for her again, she turned away and walked past greenly springs of dropwort and mountain clover to the moss-blanketed stone her brother stood on. He waved her over and pointed to the cave behind him. "We won't be able to go in that cave," he said as she stood near him, "but this ledge offers a shield from the wind. We haven't found a place this offers that protection before now, and I don't think we will."

Rose nodded, and looked up at the sharp peak of the ledge to the open sky beyond it. Licking her lips, she walked to the cave and peered inside. The cave was more of a burrow in the mountainside littered with thin dagger-like chalky arms of stalactites and stalagmites. They reached out for each other never truly touching, like forbidden lovers kept apart. "What an uncomfortable night it would be in here!" she said, toeing one of the sharp growths. It left the tip of her boot glistening with slime. Frowning, she turned back to her brother. "Should it rain we will be without shelter."

"Then let's hope that it doesn't." Eragon rubbed at his face and winced. His cheeks were raw and ruddy from the wind and his lips were cracked.

Rose didn't feel much better; her whole face burned as if it aflame. The icy air did not cool its burning. Pulling her hood closer to her face, she turned away and walked to the dragons. They stood near the drop off, looking, for all the world, as if they were standing on the every edge of the very top of the earth.

For the first time, Rose thought that Saphira looked relaxed, or as close as the dragon could be. Her neck swayed in the light breeze, a long pinkish tongue flickered from between her teeth, her claws dug into the rock with a sound of knives scratching marble. Thorn stood beside her, his neck arched over the edge, his tail lashing violently against the ground as he studied the drop-off.

As Rose approached, he turned his head towards her and took a step away from the ledge, turning his back to it. Saphira followed soon after, and Rose and Eragon unburdened the dragons before setting up a makeshift campsite behind the protection of the cliff-face. There was no wood for a fire, and so they went without. Instead the dragons turned their backs to the valley very far below and huddled beside their Riders and the elf, offering what warmth they had.

Darkness fell soon after, blanketing the light quicker than it did outside the looming peaks which gave the travelers very little time to prepare. Rose sat beneath Thorn's tent-like wing, peaking out at the brilliant, dancing stars. She spotted constellations: the Magnificent Marsh-man, and the Dancer, and Four Grieving Beasts- the Stag, the Bear, the Dragon, and the Lion- and many, many more she had learned about but forgotten the names to. She lay down on her blanket and wrapped her cloak closer around her, not taking her eyes off of the stars. The elf lay behind her, close enough to touch, breathing softly and evenly- the only sound in the night save for the howling of the wind and dragons' occasional shifting on rocks.

What is their story? asked Thorn after she pointed out the Grieving Beasts.

Rose pulled her hood over her head, resting her head against her arms. I do not remember, she admitted after a moment. I only heard it once and that was quite a long time ago. Perhaps when we see Brom again we will ask.

Meaning you shan't say a thing about it. Thorn snorted. I shall ask him and then perhaps later I tell you what he says.

Rose smiled and shook her head. Should there be a library where we are going, I'll search for the tale myself, and not tell you a thing.

Thorn huffed a laugh, smoke curling in the chilled air, and then fell silent. Rose glanced at his raised head, and watched him as he studied the sky. He seemed relaxed, and she did not wish to disturb that peace. Looking away, she nestled in closer to him, settling in for her time on watch. She and Eragon and the dragons did not truly need to set up a watch, but all of them felt safer in doing so. And so she lay, watching the sky for a short time until footsteps were heard from beyond Thorn's wing.

"You can sleep," said Eragon from somewhere within the darkness. "I'll keep watch for a time."

Rose scooted forward, to look at the silhouetted form beyond Thorn's veiling wing. "I have hardly begun to keep watch myself. It is not late into the night," she said, shifting her hair away from her face. "Eragon, what's troubling you?"

There was a moment of pause, and then he said in a soft, slightly pained voice, "I can't sleep."

"You are not having visions again, are you?" Rose peered at him through the darkness.

"No," he said far too loudly for the quietness of the night. "No, nothing like that! Thank the gods, they stopped when we reached Gil'ead. But I keep thinking…" Eragon paused and dropped his head. For quite a time he was silent.

"Go on," Rose whispered when that silence became far too overwhelming. She shivered, and pulled her cloak closer to her, wishing that she hadn't given her sleeping roll to the elf. Perhaps if she took it back she could find a way to use the bedding as an extra blanket. It was deathly cold.

"I keep thinking about those dreams," he said softly. "I keep thinking about how I could feel her dying, and I can't help but think that she really is."

She shifted on the hard ground. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked. "Usually when something troubles you, you talk with Saphira."

"Yes, but Saphira was not in that tower with the elf when was conscious," he said, a hard edge in his voice. "What are you not telling me? What happened with the Shade that damaged her beyond healing?"

Rose sucked in a breath and held it. She did not wish to tell him that their foolish trip through the wilds had been to save a dying elf. His self-appointed mission had been for someone who would be dead within a short days' time. She released her breath watching it mist and curl in the icy air. "I cannot describe what the Shade had done to her," she said softly, "for I do not understand the event myself. I believe that he magicked her, though I am not certain."

"Do you think that's why she remaining sleeping?" he asked hurriedly, his words eager. "Did he say anything about her?"

Rose frowned and continued to watch her breath vapor. Though she could not see it, she could feel Eragon's eyes on her. The events of that night played through her mind. Her pulse began racing. Slowly, in the silence of night, she shook her head. The images and feelings of panic disappeared and she felt herself calm.

After quite some time, she shifted on the ground and spoke; "I have not the answers you seek." She peered blindly out at him, and pushed herself up. Seating herself against Thorn's leg, Rose hissed at the cold air and pulled her blanket and cloak closer to her. "I know little more about it than you, Eragon, and the Shade said very little. No plans of deception or trickery, were said. He spoke only of things that might rile and frighten us. They were more than threats without truths," she said and then paused, considering the young man sitting in the darkness. "What do you believe is ailing the elf?"

"I think that she is dying," Eragon said stiffly. "She is, isn't she?"

Hesitatingly, Rose nodded, and then realizing that he wouldn't be able to see the action, said, "I believe so." Staring at the dragon's wing draped over her she listened as her brother let out a colorful curse. After he quietened, she still remained silent and the wind became the only sound in the night. "I'm not certain any amount of healing arts or spells or miracles would have made any sort of difference," said Rose, only when she was certain Eragon had calmed enough not to restart his chain of curses. "There is a possibility that you suffered those dreams only to save her from her anguish. You don't, and you may never, know the reason for the dreams and visions."

At first Eragon did not reply. He could be heard scuffling on the loose stones as he stood up, and then there was silence. "You can sleep," he repeated his earlier words. "I'll keep first watch." And then his footsteps and skidding stones echoed as he walked away. Nothing more was said for the remainder of the night, and when morning came a charged silence surrounded the siblings as they packed up the camp.

After that night the silence began to grow between the siblings. Though Rose was gentle with Eragon, she buffered his attempts to speak about the elf, and they flew through the mountain for the next two days in silence.

They planned to travel as they had the day before; keeping to the mountains- now though they were to travel south. Any quells they had about the dangers of their choice in path remained unsaid, as if perhaps if the dangers were not spoke than they would come to be. The freights remained with Rose, however, worrying her long into the nights, only sleeping a few bare hours before being awoken.

As they traveled, she remained silent and numb, as she overlooked the crags and peaks and valleys. Each morning and early evening shadows and mists shifted around them, and a ghosting shadow cloaked in white light could be seen on the peaks. The mimic followed after them, never once fading, and only ceasing when the clouds shifted and cleared, and the day's light became harsh.

The mountains in this region were no longer broken teeth, though still steep and rocky they were much less so than what they were in the north. To Rose's delight the valleys did not seem so far below and crags so high, and tiny river systems with waterfalls ran like gleaming coils of silver in the valleys as far as the eye could see. At times they would pass gorges so deep and sudden that it looked like the gods had cut open the land with a giant blade, and at others the mountains were nothing more than steep hills or fat pillars of stones. Once they passed a flat green valley which hide a lake so pure and blue that the depths of its stony bottom could be seen. She watched its echoing, gleaming surface, and wondered at it; was its water as crisp and icy as it looked?

The dragons flew past no village or settlement though small paths were cut into the rock-side, and perhaps if they followed those paths they would see either people or beast. They did not wish to find out. Instead they stayed as far from the dirt paths as possible as they traveled the skies or settled to rest. As the dragons drank deeply from the crisp, lazy steams, their Riders remained silent. Neither Rose nor Eragon spoke to each other unless the need was presented- to clarify the direction they were to travel or where it might be best to set up camp, the risks of starting a fire- but even then the words were short and very much to the point. It reminded Rose of when they first began to travel together some weeks ago but now neither one of them tried to break past the wall set between them.

It was only when they had set up camp at the crown of a very steep hill, did that barrier finally seem to break. The night was succeeding and with it an icy chill, the stars began to poke into the velveteen of the sky and the cries of wildlife began to shift and fade, and then came the sounds of humans and chains and the wheels of wooden carts rumbling against the unyielding land.

Eragon looked to Rose, and even in the dimming light she could see the puzzlement on his face. "Who would be out here?"

Rose said nothing in return, her thoughts swarming in her head. She felt her face echo his own, her eyes drew closer together and she began to chew on her bottom lip. She had thought that they had been so careful to avoid the roads and paths and settlements, but even with the help of the map they had found in the bag Dormand left in their care- a mistake could have been made. Yet for there to be sounds of so many people, it was quite a mistake. Perhaps it was good fortune they had built no fire that night.

After a short time the sounds became louder and with them was a crackling snaps of cracking leather and sharp cries. It sounded like a young girl. Eragon shot to his feet and hurriedly crept the slope. Saphira's eyes remained on him, following his movements. He peered over the precipice and let out a hair-raising swear.

Rose cursed him for the noise, and grabbed her sword from beside her before following him and setting her eyes on what he was watching. Her body grew cold and she slowly sunk closer to the thick, sharp edged grass, her sword forgotten at her side. At the base of the hill, hidden almost completely view by a fencing of trees, were many small hazardously built long, flat cabins with crumbling thatched roofing. Each building looked like a gentle breeze could rip the wooden walls from its foundation, but perhaps they was not meant for true shelter.

It seemed likely, many people in the Courts talked of how slaves were not truly people though not quite animals either but of something that was in-between. Rose had heard it more than once before from the young and old in those rare moments when she was trapped into joining the women in their activities. She hadn't cared much for the talk, and often ignored it- speaking out against it was as good as speaking treason.

Eragon gasped as one of the tiny figures of the slaves were whipped. The sound rebounded against the walls of the mountain, and the scream the slave let lose, he stood up. Rose grabbed his hand, pulling him back down. "Stay low," she hissed, her eyes flicking towards the scene.

"Why should I?" Eragon said, not bothering to keep his voice down. "Someone being beaten, I have to help them!"

"You won't be helping them by getting yourself killed," she said drawing her hand away. "There is nothing we can do for them. Their fate has been set when the King sent them here."

Eragon narrowed his eyes, and sat on the ground. "What are you going on about? Who are they?"

Slowly, Rose looked back to the site below them, taking in the hole in the mountain, a hand chiseled cave. The slaves had to have been forced to carve out their own prison- their own lifetime sentence of drudgery and agony and death. "They are the King's slaves," she explained after a moment. "Prisoners and criminals and perhaps those who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. This is their punishment from whatever crimes the Empire believes that they have committed. They will be forced to mine what valuables are below these mountains for the King and his court and those rich enough to buy the goods. They will do this until they die."

"I thought the Riders demolished the slave trade," Eragon said, looking at the slaves with wide eyes. His hands twitched at his sides.

"The King brought it back quite a number of years ago," said Rose stiffly. "There was a good number of slaves in Urû'baen, even in the King's castle. They worked in the kitchens or the gardens or the brothels. Some were privately owned by families within the Court and loaned out to the castle as a way of gratitude towards the King. Its inexpensive labor yet it does not go without a cost beyond that of gold."

Rose turned towards Eragon, and watched as he took in this information and the filth covered slaves below. "We should help them," he muttered though it was more to himself than her. She could see on his face that he knew the same as she did: they could not save these people.

Even if they did help the slaves of the caverns it would only slow them down. Saphira and Thorn were straining themselves enough as it was and to add the slaves, if only one or two, would be far too hard. Yet, even, to find a way to free all the slaves would be worst in the end. They were all likely crippled whether it be a missing eye, or cut foot tendon so that they could not run, or perhaps a cut off foot or hand. They would be slow and ungainly in their chains and the many guards below would punish them for merely trying to run- Rose and Eragon and the two dragons would be soon overpowered and forced to yield. It would a hopeless affair.

And so, Rose turned her back on the slaves below, a prayer leaving her lips before she even thought of saying one. Cordelia had told her once that the gods favored prayers when they pleaded for the benefit of someone else. At the moment, she prayed too that her nursemaid had been speaking the truth and not just a tale but it seemed likely to her that prayers meant nothing to the gods.

When she said what she felt needed to heard, she placed her hand on Eragon's shoulder, slowly drawing him away. "We should go," she muttered as he shakily backed towards the dragons. Both of them were now standing looking towards them and the crackling sounds of the whip and the cries. Did you have any idea that this settlement was here? she asked mindtouching Thorn.

The dragon whacked his tail against the ground, scattering small stones. No.

Rose nodded and took in an unsteady breath. How far do you believe that you and Saphira can fly from here? I do not wish to stay and I know Eragon has no desire to as well.

For a moment Thorn was silent, his head swerving towards the dragon beside him. We will fly through the night if we must, he said. Saphira believes it is time to leave these mountains behind and travel the coast. I think she is correct.

As do I, said Rose, grabbing ahold of the bag nearest her. She turned to Eragon and found that he was doing the same, his shoulder sagging from an invisible weight as he worked. Slowly, she turned away and they loaded the dragons in silence. The howls from the slave camp below filled the words they left unspoken.

For the remainder of the night, the dragon's flew west their wings eager to leave the dreadful sight far behind. Through much of the night, Rose talked quietly with Thorn wanting to keep her mind from what she had seen and left. She was keen on forgetting about it, and the dark shadows of the mountains provided no comfort nor distraction.

When the sun peeked from beneath the earth they had left had the mountains behind.


A/N: There are a number of thing I want to address about this chapter and overall story.
As I've been I writing and posting I have noticed an increase of "why hasn't Rose released that Morzan isn't Eragon's father?" questions. They have come more and more frequently lately and I haven't answered them mainly because I wanted to see if someone would figure it out. I promised myself that when someone figured it out I'd post a comment about it- and someone did to a point by saying she was close minded and far too set in her ways, and that is true. There is also the fact that Rose wants to believe that Eragon is Morzan's son because she doesn't want to be hold the burden of her heritage alone. She wants someone to share it with. And she wants it so badly that she is unwilling to look back at the words Selena had spoken-which were a near dead giveaway- and other facts, and sees only what she wants to see. So that is that, now you know.
Beyond this, there is this chapter above. I had planned more for it but realized I was overshooting and would might overwhelm you guys, causing you miss some its points and overlook an important event.
Eragon's behavior is due to his suspicions that Rose is keeping something from him. As much as I do not care from him as a character, Eragon is smart.
In the original books slaves were mentioned, very briefly and only within Dras Leona, but they were never described as a part of the country's society. I cannot simply imagine that slaves were something that was isolated to only that one area, I would think that it would all over Alagaësia. And besides that really, what did Galbatorix do with his criminals and prisoners? To say he locked them away is not completely logical- it costs money to keep someone locked up. To execute them, perhaps, but to force them to labor is a cheap and easy way to benefit from his enemies and prisoners. I cannot imagine that the same man who killed hundreds and thousands of people in a tantrum would have any problem with this. And quite frankly if I were some great evil overlord that's what I would do.
There's a lot of things like this I want to explore. So expect changes and added detail from the very fragmented world we all know.
Well, I hope you enjoyed reading. If you can spare me a moment and review- good or bad, short or long tell me what you think, what can be improved, ideas you have or had, anything really.
I just want to know your opinions.