Disclaimer: Don't own Eldest.
This chapter has now been updated as of 9/26
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The cart left at dawn before the city had awoken, but Alycie did not awaken until the sun was already high in the sky. She watched the scenery move by at a slow pace as the cart crossed through it and did not sleep again, but as dawn broke the second day, she could no longer keep her eyes open and she drifted off into slumber, her head lolling against the bars of the cart.
It was nearly noon when she was pulled back to consciousness as the wheel ran over a large stone, jolting the cart and everyone in it. She looked around in surprise, but only saw deserted plain for miles around. There was nothing out here. She furrowed her brow. Nothing...meaning no shelter. Had Elian followed her? Had he known she had been taken from the city? Had he heard her scream? Looking around as she did now, it did not seem he had.
The other captive slaves did not speak much as they rode along. There were a good five or six of them, mostly male, with one other female, all slumped against the sides of the cage. The men were generally older, with patches of silver and gray hair interrupting their solid colors, and the woman looked to be in her mid-thirties, with a dirty face and long, scraggly hair. Alycie thought she herself must look about the same, and didn't dwell on it.
"Where they takin' us again?" asked one man with fading red hair late into the second day of travel.
"Dras-Leona," replied another man with pure white hair curled around his ears. "Where all the captive slaves go." The woman shifted at this, looking over with wide eyes.
"Slaves? But...but shouldn't it just be a prison sentence or something? I mean...we were captured by the Emperor's officials. The slave trade in Dras-Leona is an illegal black market."
"No it isn't," said Alycie, looking over at her. "It's a thriving business that is partially dependent on civil disruptors of the peace."
"But the Emperor--"
"The Emperor funds it," said another man, one with shining silver hair. The woman shook her head vigorously, her dusty red curls waving wildly.
"No no, I don't believe that. I've lived in Urû'baen all my life being a good respectable citizen, and the Emperor, I assure you, has been nothing but kind and accommodating to our city. Even while beating away those horrid Varden, he still manages to make time for improvements in Urû'baen."
"If you love him so much, why did you disobey his laws and end up in this hellhole?" asked a man with pepper-and-salt hair that hung to his shoulders. The woman looked suddenly hurt.
"That was my own fault," she said, her nose in the air. "I had no money, so I attempted to swipe some food from the market. I was caught, and that's why I'm here."
"So, in the eyes of the Emperor, all who are hungry enough to steal should be damned to a lifetime of slavery," said Alycie. The woman looked outraged.
"That's not what I meant! You're twisting my words!"
"You're twisting your imagery of the Emperor," said the man with pepper-and-salt hair, his mouth twitching in a wry smile. The woman crossed her arms and looked away.
"I just won't talk to any of you convicts. You'll corrupt me." The man with pepper-and-salt hair snorted.
"As if you need any more corrupting," he muttered.
"What's your name?" asked Alycie, looking at him. His eyes met hers and she saw they were clouded over with silver cataracts.
"Donnel," he said.
"What are you in for, Donnel?" asked Alycie. The man smirked, repositioning himself against the bars of the cage.
"Killing a man," he replied. "One of the king's men. I was on the wanted posters around town for two weeks until they found me."
"Why'd you kill him?" asked the red-haired man.
"Because I think it's high time we start taking our country's destiny into our own hands and fighting back against the oppressive rule of a man corrupted by both power and madness," replied Donnel, his eyes growing sharp.
"For all you know, that soldier could have been thinking the same thing," said Alycie. Donnel looked at her.
"The soldier? One of his men? They volunteered to support his cause!"
"My brother is a soldier for Galbatorix," said Alycie icily. The man fell silent. "I can assure you he did not plan for it. They captured him as we escaped from Dras-Leona after he killed his master. Back then we didn't know anything about Galbatorix, and I suppose his choice was between becoming a soldier for a leader he knew next to nothing about or death. Anyone would have chosen that path."
"And if they did know what Galbatorix was doing?" asked Donnel. "And they joined anyway?"
"Those are the soldiers worth killing," said Alycie.
"Your brother was a slave then?" asked the red-haired man. Alycie glanced his way.
"Yes, we both were. I'm not from Urû'baen. I'm from Dras-Leona. My brother and I escaped and were separated...I don't know how long ago. A year ago? Two or three?" Alycie stopped. She had not known how long it had been since she had seen Garrick, and thinking of him now caused a wave of homesickness to wash over her. Homesickness for family. Home had been wherever her family was.
"What's your name?" asked Donnel, regarding Alycie with filmy eyes.
"Alycie," she replied. Her mouth turned up in a smirk. "And I'm on the wanted posters in several cities throughout Alagaësia." The white haired man looked up.
"You mean you're the one that's wanted for cavorting with the Riders?" he asked in a voice dripping with awe. The others looked at him in shock, then at Alycie, who raised an eyebrow.
"Is that what they say?" she asked, feeling a little twinge of unease.
"You've seen the Riders?" asked Donnel.
"Yes, we traveled together for a time," said Alycie. "But not for long, and it was before he was a Rider." The red haired man spoke up.
"I thought there was only one Rider," he said. Alycie frowned.
"There is." To her intense surprise, Donnel shook his head. The white-haired man spoke.
"You've not heard of the new red Rider? He stays locked up in Urû'baen. That's the Rider that's Galbatorix's pawn. I heard he's that son of Morzan, the last of the Forsworn." Alycie felt her stomach drop. Murtagh.
"But the other Rider is the one on the Varden's side, right?" asked the red-haired man. The white-haired man nodded.
"I have a feeling there will be a war coming soon over this. The war of the last remaining Riders. Right now though, Galbatorix has favor, what with his own dragon in addition to the red Rider."
"So you finally got caught?" asked Donnel. Alycie held up her hands, gesturing around, trying her best to seem nonchalant after the shock.
"Did the cage clue you in?" she asked.
"If you've remained out of captivity for so long, why did you suddenly allow yourself to get caught?"
"I was trying to steal something from Galbatorix's palace," said Alycie. There was a hush, with a gasp from the woman, who had since turned back to the group, but had said not a word.
"You broke into the palace?" repeated Donnel. His brow furrowed. "They caught you and sent you away? But you're notorious. It would have been immediate execution, wouldn't it?"
"They didn't recognize me," shrugged Alycie. Donnel looked at her in disbelief, then roared in laughter, slapping his knees.
"Those idiots! They really had no idea!" he cackled.
"What were you stealing?" asked the white-haired man.
"Well, at the moment of capture, you all, but I'd broken in for another purpose," said Alycie.
"Freeing slaves...what a crime compared with breaking into the palace. I'd like to see the guards who discovered you; their brainpower must be a marvel of the world," said the white-haired man, shaking his head. Donnel leaned in.
"Did you see him?" he asked.
"Who?" asked Alycie.
"The red Rider."
"No," said Alycie. Yet now she was not sure whether that was good or bad. She found herself apprehensive about how much under the control of Galbatorix he had become if he was indeed the red Rider.
"I was caught stealing too," the red-haired man spoke up. Everyone's heads turned towards him and he hesitated, looking nervous, but stuttered on. "I...I was walking, and I saw this gold chain...an-and gold chains don't come along that often and I knew I could get a good price for it so...so I grabbed it...but then she started screaming..."
"Who did?" asked the white haired man, his brow furrowing. The red-haired man paused.
"Oh, the woman wearing it."
"You tried to steal a gold chain right off a woman's neck?" said Alycie in disbelief as Donnel roared with laughter.
"They don't come 'round that often," shrugged the red-haired man. Donnel slapped his knees, shaking his head. He looked up at the white-haired man.
"Alright, old man, why are you here?"
"Killed my wife and daughter," said the man, his calm smile twitching. Donnel hesitated, his laughter slowing but his grin still not quite faded.
"You're putting us on," he said. The white-haired man shook his head in a sort of solemn calm.
"I'm not," he said simply. Donnel ran a hand through his hair, his good nature leaving entirely, replaced by disgust.
"Hell's teeth, why, old man!?" he exclaimed. The man shook his head.
"Do not make it your problem. I have enough demons haunting me without meeting anymore."
No one spoke after that, under the curtain of shocked awkwardness that descended. Alycie used her time to peruse the landscape, sharpening her vision whenever she came upon a potential shelter, searching for Elian. In the times in between these sudden searches, she experimented with her consciousness, reaching out and prodding her cellmates', indulging in a few of their memories. Some were visibly offset by the intrusion, but none of them could trace it, and Alycie was under the guise of sleep as she worked.
It appeared that the frizzy-haired woman was just as she appeared to be: a snobbish low class citizen who was horribly brainwashed under the current rule. Her story seemed to fit, though she had left out her begging and pleading to the soldiers who had delivered her to the cage.
The red-haired man was a strange case. He did not take into account obvious factors, resulting in an endless stream of social blunders throughout his life, culminating in his stealing of the gold chain, which had been affixed around the neck of a noblewoman. Without warning he had walked up to her in the street and attempted to rip it from her neck, but the guards had arrived in record timing and pulled him away. He often stole anything he saw that sparked his interest without regard for onlookers or bystanders.
Donnel was predictable at this point, with his rebellious nature towards the Emperor and all soldiers of the Empire. He was a member of underground weapons markets as well as a solicitor of private rebel meetings. Often he had fought with guards and gotten away, but this had been his first kill, and he showed only the slightest remorse.
From the old man, Alycie drew a blank. The memory was blotted out from invader's view, and quite possibly the old man's view as well. His earlier memories puzzled Alycie, however, because they were of his life which had been quite happy up until the blank. He had loved his family. He had also shown a certain displeasure with the current rule. Alycie did not doubt that that had had some part to play in his crisis.
Not a day later they arrived in Dras-Leona. Alycie could barely suppress her utter desolation at returning through the wooden gates she thought she had left behind forever as they entered the central section. It had not changed much at all. The haphazardly-built buildings still clustered together like sticks in a bonfire, some abodes layering over others in their placement. There were the usual daily consumers and blundering drunkards staggering about, along with the occasional slave running to fetch a thing or two from the market for their masters. The sight of the governor's castle off in the distance over the dirty slab roofs of the city brought a wave of hatred back over Alycie's mind, heating her blood and icing her heart.
Guards assisted them upon their departure from the cart and they were quickly dispersed to surrounding buildings, split as they were taken. From what Alycie heard, Donnel was taken to a noblewoman's home while the old man and the red-haired man were spirited away to a trader's venue.
"And where am I to be enslaved?" Alycie asked the metal-clad soldier who was leading her roughly along, his fist holding her arm in an iron grip.
"Governor's Palace for you," he replied in a gruff voice. "Ye'll be a servant in his household." Alycie could have laughed out loud, but her hatred was too cold for any tribute to irony to be performed. They crossed the cobblestone walk and Alycie was slowly led up to the mansion where she had spent some of the earliest and worst years of her life in servitude and captivity, alone.
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