Erys: An Eragon Fanfiction - (Under Editing)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dragon's Cry

Erys was still exhausted when she dragged herself from bed; she'd kept herself from sleep the rest of the night waiting for dawn.   The news she'd heard weighed too heavily on her to find peace. She'd known when she'd first seen the vile statue, it made her feel uneasy and made her stomach churn. Now she knew.

At the first rays of morning's light, she crept from bed and woke Aneira. She lay a hand gently against her shoulder. Aneira woke with a start and reacted quickly, drawing a blade and holding it against Erys throat so closely it drew blood. A snarl escaped her lips as she sat forward.

"Wait!" Erys cried, throwing her hands up. "I need you."

Aneira sneered and shoved her away, sheathing her blade. "What do ya want, Ailden?"

"I need to see my friends.  We haven't spoken much since we've arrived.  There won't be time after the day begins, but I need an escort."

"Ah can' just—"

She stopped.  Erys could see fear in her eyes.  She seemed distracted, distanced, only for a moment.

"What?"

Aneria returned her attention to Erys.  She tapped a finger against the pommel of her dagger. "Stay here."

"But what about—"

"Stay!"

Erys waited until Aneira had left and then silently followed her outside and across the property. She kept to the shadows and edges of buildings.  Aneira turned about once, forcing Erys to throw herself behind a bale of hay to avoid being seen.  She crouched for a while and peeked past her hiding point; Aneira had continued on her way.  Erys continued to tail her.  Before they reached the hut, Erys could hear the cries.

Inside a woman screamed in pain.

Erys crouched, waiting intently.  She watched many enter the hut, Ythari, Kyail, and Kyanna among them.  She could hear the faint sound of murmuring, though she could not understand what they spoke.  The woman's cries quieted, though she still whimpered occasionally. 

Erys' legs began to tense the longer she crouched, but she refused to leave.  Even as the sun crept into the sky she did not depart, despite the risk of being seen. She jumped at each sound, turned her head at every slight movement. After weeks of mental and emotional torture, she feared even more.

Erys ducked behind a bush and waited.

The woman's cries continued until Erys heard the distinct sound of sliding steel. Panicked, she whipped about, expecting at any moment to be run through. Her hammering heart did not slow at the sight of emptiness behind her. It quickened moments later as Erys heard an audible gasp and an even louder scream; she recoiled, preparing to dash back to the homestead.

"Ah told ya," someone sneered.  "Devil child."

"Not my baby," the woman pleaded weakly.

"This ain't ya baby; it's a changelin'."

"No.  No, the changelin' died.  Let me hold my baby!"

Confused, Erys rose from her crouched position to peer through the window. She caught only a glimpse before she ducked back down, fearing she might be seen. A woman, dying on a bed, a bloodied blanket pulled over her stomach; a stillborn, dead in its mother's arms, and a baby, sickly quiet, in the arms of Ythari.

"We feed the beast."

Erys' blood chilled.  She turned and crept back to the homestead, the mother's cries—weakening with each passing second—following her until she closed the door firmly behind her.  She sunk to the floor.