Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 30: I Will Survive

How long had she been marching? Elba couldn't remember anymore. Out there in the inky darkness, it was damn near impossible to tell the passage of time. For so long she'd relied on the sun and moon to guide her. Now it felt as if one of her senses had been ripped out, deadening her, lessening her.

All she remembered anymore was the numb sensation of her feet shuffling through the snow, the constant rattle of her chains, the occasional grumble or curse from one of the Forsworn as they marched past, making sure the other rabble stayed in line.

They'd locked her up like cattle, the bastards, fastening a square wooden yoke around her neck, loops bolted to the bottom so they could chain her arms to it. She couldn't scratch her nose or her arse even if she tried. Another loop bolted to the top made it so they could chain her to the other prisoners, leading the entire pack in a single file line if needed. Unlucky for her, the person in front of her had a quicker step, forcing her to either bend over or pick up the pace.

For the first few hours terror had been her sole companion. Elba replayed the past over and over in her head, wondering where she'd gone wrong, what she could have done better. The shock on Libro's face when she'd been torn away. Forsworn after Forsworn falling to her sword before they'd overwhelmed her. The sickening realization that she was going to die alone.

But they didn't kill her. Instead they'd taken her captive and were marching her off somewhere else instead. A certain sickening curiosity took hold after that. Where were they taking her and why? What made her more important alive than dead?

Time passed without answers, and so she'd stolen glances at some of the passing Chosen and Forsworn, comparing their gaunt differences to pass the time.

While deathly pale and malnourished, the Forsworn appeared as normal looking people. The Chosen, however, looked one foot in the grave already, and yet they radiated a certain malice she'd felt only once before.

Raylein Stelegrim. The magick aura he possessed had felt like a crushing stone against her chest. The Chosen, while to a lesser degree, had something similar, but the feeling they gave off made the hair's on her body stand on end. As if invisible eyes were always watching her. She would need to be careful around them. After her first encounter with one at the border tower, she'd quickly learned her lesson.

Finally, as more time passed and her fear and curiosity melted away, Elba began to think about the future. She wasn't going to let these bastards lead her around like fething cattle for long. She'd been under enough yokes in her life to know none would ever fit, but she wasn't about to throw her life away in a mad dash for freedom.

Deep down, Elba knew Libro would come for her. Say one thing for the Captain, say he's a stubborn little mess. When that man got into a mood, it was tough to pull him back out. Cent and Moss too. No doubt they'd already fished themselves out of the river and were making plans to head back.

And that meant staying alive for as long as possible.

Elba craned her neck up as best she could to stare at the other prisoners. There were a random assortment of young and old, tall and short, but she soon realized one common element between them. They were all women.

A cold shudder went down her back as she flicked her gaze over at one of the guards, a new, more terrible thought forming in the back of her mind. She would survive for as long as possible, but she was going to cut a man's fruits off before he even thought of touching her.

She pushed the thought down and tried to focus. If the prisoners were all women, then Tergrid may have been one of them. A possible ally perhaps, if she could find her of course. She couldn't see her past the endless rows of people, but the idea alone struck a spark of hope in her heart.