Erys: An Eragon Fanfiction - (Under Editing)

Chapter Four

Fire and Flight

Despite the pace at which the slavers pushed their prisoners, the caravan moved slowly. Had they all been on horseback or drawn in a cart, they may have already had new masters. As it were, it was three days to Gilead, longer if the slavers eased their breakneck pace-a pace which continued to kill them. Erys had lost count of those who fell, unable to continue; they received a sword in the back for their trouble and were left to the vultures or whatever beast found them first.

There were some, however, who were allowed a second chance if they scrambled to their feet quickly enough. Some, the slavers even gave respite. They wouldn't make a profit if they killed all their wares before they reached Gil'ead. It was likely the only reason they were fed. Weak slaves wouldn't fetch a high price.

As they rested under the hot sun on a break to water the horses, the captain saw that Erys ate and drank. She took without complaint, realising if she were to escape, she would need all her strength. What little she'd had waned under her duress, but she held to it steadfastly. She took comfort in the fact also that Gethayn had not harmed her since the magician's interference; he kept his distance from her, as if a mere touch might earn him a blade in the back. It very well could.

But she was not free from his hatred. She could feel his eyes on her at all times. If she wasn't careful, she'd find his knife in her back when the captain wasn't looking.

He was.

"Gethayn. Go check the horses." The command was harsh and direct, with the undertone of a threat. It also conveyed only one chance to obey. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword and dropped his hand further down the hilt as Gethayn continued to glare.

He grumbled, but did as he was ordered. He wasn't keen to find his master's blade embedded in his chest. As he turned his back to her, Erys felt the tension leave her body. She hadn't realised dread had so tightly coiled itself around her heart. She drew a slow breath and ate the last of the bread the captain had given her.

The respite lasted only long enough to see the horses refreshed. Then they were again on their way. Each step brought with it trepidation Erys had never before understood, even that she had felt when she and her family had moved to Yazuac to flee what date had given them. She knew that each step carried her farther from the chance for freedom-however slim it was-and closer to an unknown fate filled with horror. The twisting in her gut told her one thing. If Erys wanted her freedom, she had to take it tonight. They were too close to Gil'ead to delay any further.

Erys allowed herself to be bound once again and retook the march. Being as important as she was, she had to be perfect to ensure her freedom. If this failed, there would be no more chances, and they would find her out. She didn't want to know what would happen if they found she was the girl they were looking for. She was lucky thus far she'd not been found out. Hiding it had been hard enough when it came to relieving herself. Secluding herself enough without seeming suspicious and finding a manner in which she didn't betray her sex had made it nearly impossible, but she'd escaped detection. She mused at how stupid the men been not to check their captives. She also thanked them for it; it allowed her the chance she needed, and she would not waste it.

Erys wasn't sure what circumstance would be right for her escape, but she knew she needed the right diversion. She remembered her prayer and pleaded again to whoever might listen. Her lips moved in an almost soundless mutter. When it attracted attention, she ducked her head. The archer laughed, thinking her mad. From then on, she kept her head low in apparent defeat in an attempt to seem defeated and fragile-not worth the effort to watch.

After about an hour, she noticed a chill to the air. When she felt the first drops strike her she took it as a sign from the gods. They were smiling down on her, she knew. Whoever was listening had answered her prayers. It began to rain.  The slavers ignored the deluge until the rain became to severe and halted their progress. The wagons could not travel through the thick mud the rain had caused the roads to become. Their wheels sunk in the road and required even the slavers to pull them loose. Every couple of feet the caravan would halt to dig out another wagon. Finally, after an hour of attempting to pull the wagons through the mud, they found a place off the road not bogged down by mud to set up camp and wait out the storm. Even when the rains ceased, they would need to wait even longer for the roads to dry before they could march into Gil'ead.