"Wake up, love," Roran spoke softly into Katrina's ear. Katrina rolled over, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. In wordless communication she stretched out her arms to embrace Roran. Roran gently pulled Katrina into his lap; smoothing her out of control, copper colored hair.
Even after twenty years, age had done nothing to diminish Katrina's beauty. The slight crinkles around her eyes, cheeks, and forehead were barely noticeable to Roran. The strands of gray that were beginning to appear were merely an indication of wisdom, not age. Roran knew that nothing could ever make him stop thinking that Katrina was the most beautiful woman in the world.
"We're almost there," said Roran. Katrina breathed a sigh of relief. She was eager to be out of the tight cabin and back on solid ground. As the trip had been quite long, both Katrina and Roran were grateful that their youngest child was five years old. Traveling that distance on a boat with an infant would have been a nightmare.
With a sigh Roran thought back to how things had changed over the past twenty years. Katrina had born him seven strong children, four boys and three girls.
Ismira, their eldest daughter, was born right after the war ended. Soon after that the village had returned to the Palancar Valley to start life anew.
Roran, with the title of earl, established control over the entire area. He had responsibilities such as managing local trade, solving any problems that arose, and communicating to Queen Nasuada in the capital as to all the significant on-goings of the valley. This had required Roran to finally learn how to read and write, much to his chagrin.
They had settled down in Caravahal, as nowhere else would ever be home. Over the first ten years Roran labored to build a castle on the hill adjacent to the remains of the farmhouse where Roran had spent his childhood. It was a modest castle, at that, but a castle nonetheless, built of hewn stones, surrounded by fields for crops. Roran had accumulated a small fortune after the war, as found in his new position as earl. This wealth allowed Roran to hire some of the strong, young men back in Caravahal to work in the fields. Roran, however, never gave up farming for himself. Even after a tedious morning of settling a potential blood feud or hours of pouring over letters from Nasuada, deciphering the cryptic runes, Roran desired nothing better to spend the afternoon in the fields. The manual labor helped him not to grow soft, and his hard work paid off, as they grew prosperous with each passing harvest. Roran and his family did not alone feel the prosperity, for after the first two or three or so grueling years of trying to bring back Caravahal from nothing many were able to reestablish businesses and households. By the ten-year mark it was as if they had never left in the first place.
Two years after they arrived back in Caravahal, their second child, and first son, was born. In honor of his father, Roran had dubbed the boy Garrow. With time came more children. There was Milo, three years younger than his older brother, followed by Alwin, two years younger than Milo. Next came Rose, closely followed by Thea. Finally the youngest boy, Larkin.
Roran thought of how starkly different each of his children were from each other.
Ismira was the spitting image of her mother. Her bright auburn hair and glowing brown eyes had quickly made her the most beautiful girl in Caravahal. However there was no doubt that she was her father's daughter, as indicated by her bold, fearless personality. Ismira never had any desire to stay home with her mother or younger sisters. She thrived in exhilarating adventure and activity, whether joining her brothers on a hunt or wandering through the enchantingly haunted trails on the fringe of the Spine. As a blossoming, young woman of twenty, she was already betrothed to a young man by the name of Matthew, the son of the local innkeeper back in Caravahal. The wedding was to take place when they returned from this voyage.
Garrow was almost the inverse of Ismira. With his solid jawline, muscled build, and dark brown hair, he looked exactly like a younger version of his father. And yet there was nothing Garrow preferred better than a day around the fireside, chatting with his mother and helping her in the kitchen.
Fifteen-year-old Milo and thirteen-year-old Arwin, being only two years apart, spent most of their time together. The brothers were constantly getting into trouble. Whether it was leaping from roof to roof across the thatched dwellings of Caravahal or sneaking into the kitchen to steal extra biscuits when Katrina's back was turned, there was no end to the amount of mischief they were capable of.
Rose and Thea were practically twins, being born in the exact same year. Being 9 and 8 years old, respectively, the two girls did not spend much time away from their mother. Katrina found her joy in raising her girls in the house. The younger girls had much more patience to sit and knit or cook, much unlike their older sister.
Last of all there was Larkin. From the day he had been born there was something different about him. Roran could clearly remember that fateful day. Old Gertrude was hunched over Katrina, patiently coaxing her through the painful experience of childbirth for the seventh time. Gertrude had few concerns, as all previous births had been without difficulty. Katrina was a strong woman. Then, without warning, a look of absolute dread overtook Gertrude's weary face. Katrina was far too preoccupied to notice, but Roran could not overlook the terrified expression.
"Gertrude, what is it?" Roran asked frantically. Gertrude simply shook her head, tears seeping out of the corners of her eyes. Below she grasped the child as his head had finally emerged. With a final push, the baby landed in Gertrude's arms. She began to sob uncontrollably. The baby lay quiet in her arms, his eyes closed.
"Gertrude, tell me what is wrong!" Roran demanded, confused why the baby had not yet made a sound.
With a muffled cry Gertrude finally responded, "I'm so sorry Roran. The child has no heartbeat. It is stillborn…" Roran had felt like someone had jabbed a sword through his gut. His face fell as a ball of despair formed in his stomach. Gertrude handed the unmoving child to Roran and then proceeded to roll up her sleeves and cut the umbilical chord, sobbing unhappily as she did so.
"Roran…" came a feeble, tired voice, "Is something wrong? Bring the child here, I want to see."
Oh no Roran despaired. He could only imagine the terrible heartbreak Katrina would feel were she to see her newborn child lying cold and quiet in her weary arms. Roran looked down hysterically, praying for a miracle. Without warning, the baby's eyes fluttered open to reveal glowing, gray orbs gazing up curiously at Roran. Roran was taken aback by how alert the eyes were, staring at Roran with uncanny recognition. But Roran did not have any second thoughts. The only thing he could feel was a pang of joy that his son was alive. Immediately the grief evaporated into a gushing waterfall of happiness. He bounded to Katrina's side, depositing the eerily attentive baby in her arms. And thus Larkin was brought into this world.
As Larkin grew, he continued to be different from other children. He was constantly alert, always aware of the world around him. Larkin never took part children's games of fantasy or make-believe. He instead preferred observing others at play or work. He was a strange hybrid between his mother and father. His ginger mane grew uncontrollably out of his head, yet he had his father's inscrutable gray eyes. He possessed a sense of maturity and mindfulness most often found only in adults. It often seemed to Roran that Larkin had an adult's mind in a child's body. Larkin reminded him of Elva when she was a child.
Larkin also had the tendency to be found in the midst of strange, inexplicable occurrences.
Roran recalled an instance from when Larkin was three years old. Katrina had put him down for a nap and Larkin had climbed out of his cradle. When Katrina came back an hour later to check on him, she was distraught to see that her toddler was not where she left him. She searched feverishly for any sign of where her little darling had disappeared. After half an hour of frenzied searching around the castle and grounds, with help from all the other children, it was determined that somehow Larkin had escaped their property. Garrow had run straight to town, alerting all the villagers who quickly jumped in to help with the search. The search in the village continued for another five hours.
The entire village was thoroughly torn apart before searchers started marching into the outskirts of the Spine. Many were starting to assume the worst, and began looking for the child's body. What other explanation would suffice? No child in his or her right mind would wander so far from home and not come when called. The sun would soon be setting as Roran and Katrina's worry grew into desperation. Roan, Ismira, Garrow, Milo, and Arwin formed their own search party and set into the Spine.
It was Ismira who finally found the child. She had broken off from the main group and headed down a trail she remembered finding when she was younger. The path was steep and wound through a dark mass of trees. It dumped into a clearing where the day's last rays of sunlight were streaming through the green canopy above her. She breathed a sigh of relief to see Larkin in the clearing. Ismira was taken aback to see Larkin playing with two Urgal children.
"Larkin!" Ismira cried out breathlessly. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" She then rushed to his side. The two Urgal children watched her quizzically. Ismira was astonished at how human they looked. Besides the gray tint of their skin, it was difficult to tell the difference, as the young Urgals did not have horns.
"I apologize Ismira," Larkin responded casually in a smooth voice. As always, Ismira was surprised at how eloquent her three-year-old brother was. He spoke without hesitation, perfectly annunciating each syllable. It was so developmentally different from any other toddler she knew.
Larkin continued, "Tarok and Maghara here simply wanted to play a few games, what's the harm in that?" Larkin then looked up at Ismira innocently, his gray eyes boring into her own. Ismira was not sure how to respond. Finally after a moment of silence she let out a huff.
"Fine, Larkin. But don't you dare do that again! We were worried sick about you. We thought you had fallen into the river and drowned or been eaten by some wild beast. Mother and father are terribly upset and the entire village dropped what they were doing to go look for you! You have caused an enormous amount of trouble."
In the distance sounded a horn. Tarok and Maghara perked up at the sound, before glancing back to Larkin. They whispered to him quietly in their own, coarse tongue. Ismira listened in shock as Larkin responded fluently in the guttural, rough Urgal language. Without further delay the Urgal children scampered back through the words towards the sound of the horn.
"Alright, sister," Larkin said calmly, "You have no reason to fret, I am here now. Let us head home, I am hungry for supper." Ismira shook her head at Larkin's nonchalant attitude, as if this were something that happened everyday. She swept him off his feet and headed back home. It had been a year or two before Ismira had the courage to tell anyone what had really happened that day.
There was another instance one morning a year ago. Katrina had gone to wake Larkin up and had found a large, tabby, shaggy, female werecat sleeping soundly besides the boy. The second Katrina entered the room the creature's eyes popped open and attentively watched Katrina. Larkin then rolled over, raising a small hand to scratch the werecat affectionately behind the ears. She let out a hearty purr in response.
Without even looking over to Katrina Larkin simply replied, "Do not worry, Mother. Kyatt will be good." From that moment on, Larkin was never seen without the creature. Many in the village were uneasy about the werecat, however Roran and Katrina realized that even if they had wanted to, they could not force Kyatt to leave. After their experiences with werecats during the fall of the empire, they thought it better to leave Kyatt be, as they knew the ferocity that could be found in angering a werecat. She was in no way hurting the child. She most often stayed in cat form, however it was not all that unusual to see Larkin wandering into the woods with a small, red headed girl.
Roran and Katrina were not sure what to think of Larkin. Of course they loved him beyond belief. He was their son. They would always love him no matter what. However it was difficult to overlook how unusual the young boy was. He was nothing like any child they had ever seen before. Even though they both worried about Larkin, there was nothing they believed they could really do but raise the boy the best they knew how and hope he wouldn't wander into trouble.
Roran breathed in the delicious smell of Katrina's hair and was brought back to the present. He planted a kiss on her soft, warm cheek. Katrina turned her head and kissed Roran solidly on the lips. Roran felt himself melt into her kiss. He wrapped his arms tightly around her small body and kissed her deeply in return. After a moment he pulled back.
"Let's go up on deck, love," he said, smiling down at his beautiful wife. Katrina nodded in response. Roran stood up and set her gently on her feet. Hand in hand they made their way to the deck of the ship.
A/N
Thank you to eragon0123 for catching a discrepency between this fanfic and Inheritance. I said before that there were 107 new dragons hatched, and that the majority of them were bound to riders. That figure was incorrect, as I misread Inheritance. Only 26 dragons were to be bound to riders. I went back and corrected it, but to all you who read the version before it was corrected, there are now 17 dragons bound to riders, the rest remaining wild. That isn't all that important yet, however it will come into play later in this fic.
I promise the next chapter will not be only flashbacks for all of you that want to see how things have turned out in the future. My goal is to update this story at least once a week, if not more.
Lastly, I'd love to know what you think! Do you like Larkin? Do you enjoy this story? Reviews encourage me to keep writing like nothing else does.
Yours truly, Bae
