Dagny: An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction.

7. Dawn Over Teirm

Sverrir had settled for the night in the high cliffs outside Teirm. His sleep had been troubled, disturbed by thoughts of Dagny and Dagny-sister-Brigitta. He hated this. There was nothing worse than watching his Rider suffering and being unable to do anything about it.

When he woke, he was surprised to find his Rider already awake and alert. The despondency that had gripped Dagny yesterday was faded; her thoughts hummed with a sense of purpose and intention.

Little one.

Sverrir. Her greeting was affectionate. Then, in response to his unspoken question, she said: I'm better now. I'm not going to let...that, distract me from my duty to Prince Tornac.

He could hear the strain in her mental 'voice' as she forcibly turned her thoughts from Lady Brigitta. Sympathy and affection welled up in him, but he respected her decision and resolved not to mention Dagny-sister-Brigitta, or even think of her if he could help it.

Dagny wasn't in her rooms, he realised, as he directed his thoughts toward her. She was moving through the ground floor of the palace, alone and carefully avoiding being seen.

Dagny.

Mm? Her thoughts were almost entirely veiled from him, yet her tone edged on playful. She already knew what he wanted to know. But he obliged her by saying the words anyway.

Where are you going?

To help Tornac.

Sverrir tried in vain to discern her intentions, to uncover even the vaguest hint of her destination. Nothing. Her thoughts shifted like smoke and were just as hard to catch hold of.

Why are you hiding this from me? He asked at last, frustrated.

Because I need to explain this to you. If I simply tell you, you won't understand. And you'll probably try to stop me.

That made him wary, but he trusted his Rider's judgement, for the most part. She wasn't infallible, but she was clever. He trusted that her actions would not be ill-considered and he trusted that she had Tornac's interest at heart. For the present, that would be enough.

Thank you, she said, following his thoughts. She had left the palace now, slipped unnoticed past the guards on the main gate.

I trust you, he replied. With everything but your own safety. Promise me you'll be careful, Dagny.

I'll be fine. She sounded too distracted to reassure him. There's no danger...well, there's hardly any danger...except -

She sharply redirected her thoughts before he could chase the half-formed idea in her mind.

I'll be fine. Dagny repeated.

Convincing, Sverrir said dryly. I'm going to spend most of the morning flying over the city, I think. If you need me...

I'll call.

That would have to satisfy him, it seemed. He rose, stretching and raking his claws along the floor of the cave where he had rested. The blood-colour-morning-sun had reached tentative fingertips past the threshold of his cave. Sverrir padded out to greet it.

He had a plain view of Teirm from this vantage, the dominating towers of the castle, the grey sea in the ship-filled harbour, the organised, military lines of merchant's houses, shops and noble residences. Slightly lower than the rest, a darker, sooty smudge beside the dull stone order of Teirm, was Dagny's true city, her slums. He had flown down there last night. She had been distracted, not paying him any attention. In hindsight, that was fortunate. He would not like her to know what he had found, when he had gone to see her childhood home.