Erys: An Eragon Fanfiction - (Under Editing)

Chapter Nineteen

Breaking Point

For a brief moment his hands roamed over her body.  She tensed, bit her lip to keep from crying.  A single tear cleared a path in the dirt smearing her face.  She whimpered as he forced her legs apart.

In sheer panic, Erys reached for what last resort she had to save the only thing that hadn't yet been taken from her. Magic.

Fueled with adrenaline, fear, and rage, she broke past the barrier in her mind. The magic flooded her, but this time she did not recoil from it; she let it overwhelm her, her rage holding it in check. For the first time since she'd learned of her ability to use magic, she did not need her dragons for control. She needed only her anger and terror.

A feeling as cold as ice chilled her veins, its effects so intense the hairs on her body stood and goosebumps rose on her skin. The very air she breathed stung with cold.  She quivered as the intensity racked her being and sent shivers down her spine.

Misunderstanding the reaction, the man's urges grew; his breath was hot on her neck as he began tearing at her clothes.

Bile rose in Erys' throat, but she forced it down. With a final breath, she acted. Remembering what Enneniya told her, she expanded her mind; she felt the touch of the man's mind, but his barriers were up.  She drew on the energy around her.

"Jierda!"

A shark crack echoed in her ear. She cringed. The sound-violent and deafening-sent chills down her spine.

The man jerked forward violently and grunted, landing on top of her. His movements became desperate, almost manic. Something hot and sticky dripped onto her skin.

Erys struggled until he slid off of her, landing with a thud beside her. She scrambled, turning herself to face him. She cried with relief as she noticed his chest, heaving with each breath as if his lungs might burst from his body; his chest jumped erratically and an ugly bruise was already forming; it peaked from just beneath his collar, red and angry. Her relief heightened at the sight of an arrow protruding through her assailant's throat. He clawed at it, though it would do little use; the shaft was buried deeply at an angle.

There was surprisingly little blood at the sight of the wound, though it bubbled at his lips as he gasped for air past the shaft embedded in his windpipe; a thin line had trailed to the arrowhead, leaving the shaft coated in slick blood. As his breath escape him, blood ran into his lungs from his ruined throat, obstructing his breathing further. He flopped to the earth, twitching and scrabbling at his neck.

His chest jumped unevenly, a result of Erys' spell. His ribs had been broken, his lungs crushed, Erys' contribution to his suffering. The distinct hiss of escaping air assaulted Erys' ears.

She looked for the archer.  The arrow had not been sent from her companion's bow.  She returned her attention to the dying man.

His mouth moved, his tongue wriggling over his blood coated teeth as he attempted to speak. An unintelligible word sputtered from his mouth in a weak stutter.

"P-pl-plea-"

The disjointed sounds were all he could muster past the pain and torn flesh.

Erys knew what he meant, but she would not grant his request. She watched silently as the life seeped from his bones, not from lack of air or blood loss itself but the fluid pooling in his lungs, or what was left of them. He continued to sputter out his pathetic plea; spittle and blood flying from his mouth and dribbling down his chin with each gasp until he finally the word died on his lips. A thin line of blood trailed down his neck and the mass of sticky blood settled in his mouth just bridging his lips. It dripped and formed a pool beneath his head where he lay. His face turned turned purple the longer his body went without air; his eyes bulged.  Red bloomed in the whites of his eyes.  Blood.  His violent twitching and grasping slowed. His eyes lost focus and his body stilled, one final spasm racking his body. The man went limp.