Hey-o! I am back! I only own Tania and Ophelia, everything else belongs to Chrissy P. *glares* You, sir, need to write faster and get that 'fifth book' out already.
They followed the blue dragoness's gaze westward. Murtagh's face paled. "Demons above and below!"
A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowed from their heels, their weapons glinting in the dying light. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding aloft a crimson banner.
"It's the Empire," Eragon said tiredly. "They've found us… somehow." Saphira poked her head over his shoulder and gazed at the column, and Tania felt Ophelia bristle silently.
"Yes… but those are Urgals, not men," said Murtagh, and Tania felt fear paralyze her.
"How can you tell?" Eragon asked.
Murtagh pointed at the standard. "That flag bears the personal symbol of an Urgal chieftain. He's a ruthless brute, given to violent fits and insanity."
That shocked her. Tania gave him a sharp glance. "How do you know so much about him? I doubt simply meeting him on the battlefield would enlighten you about an Urgal's hobbies." Even as she spoke, she was tossing the saddle onto Cadoc's back and tightening the girth, and she could sense Ophelia take off again, camouflaged once more.
"I met him once, briefly," Murtagh said. "I still have scars from that encounter. But you are right, I had heard much about him before then." He moved to saddle Tornac as well, as Eragon hurried to Snowfire after kicking dirt into the fire. "The Urgals may not have been sent here for us, but I'm sure that by now they've seen us and will follow us. Their chieftain isn't the sort to let a dragon escape, especially if he's heard about Gil'ead."
Tania sighed. "Murtagh." He looked at her. "You're not getting out of our earlier conversation by a long shot, so here's a compromise: come with us until we're near to the Varden, and you can leave. On the way, you will tell us why you're not going. Besides, if you leave now, you're asking for a brutal deathwish."
"Very well," he answered, tossing his saddlebags over Tornac's flanks. "But when we near the Varden, I am leaving."
"I can live with that." Ophelia snorted mentally. Really?
What?
Nothing.
…you are telling me later.
How do you know?
You will. Tania placed her foot in Cadoc's stirrup and vaulted into the saddle as Saphira fanned her wings and took off in a rush, circling above, keeping guard as they left the camp, before stilling her wings and rising on an updraft, teetering on the pillar of warm air, hovering in the sky above the horses.
Where should I go? Ophelia asked.
Scout ahead, stay camouflaged, Tania answered. See if you can find the lake that the elf spoke of.
Very well. Tania saw a brief flicker of black in the sky above, before Ophelia managed her scales and disappeared into the sky, headed for the Beor Mountains.
When morning came, Tania's cheek was raw from when she had slept in Cadoc's saddle. They had alternated throughout the night, allowing them to outdistance their pursuers, but none of them knew if their lead could be kept. The horses were exhausted to the point of stopping, but Eragon and Tania had split some of their own energy among them—Ophelia and Saphira volunteering some so they didn't die—and they still maintained a relentless pace. Whether it would be enough to escape depended on how rested the monster were… and if the horses survived.
The Beor Mountains cast great shadows over the land, stealing the sun's warmth. To the north was the Hadarac Desert, a thin white band as bright as noonday snow.
I'm taking Saphira hunting, Ophelia said suddenly. She hasn't eaten in days and frankly, neither have I.
Alright. Be careful, and stay close, Tania warned.
Don't worry, we'll be fine, Ophelia assured.
Tania saw Eragon untie the elf from Saphira's belly and transfer her to Snowfire's saddle. The dragons soared away, disappearing in the direction of the mountains. Eragon ran beside the horses, close enough to Snowfire to keep Arya from falling. Neither he nor Murtagh intruded upon the silence; though yesterday's fight seemed unimportant compared to the bigger problems they had, they obviously still had bruises.
The dragons made their kills within the hour, Ophelia notifying Tania of their success. She was relieved that they'd be returning soon; after weeks of traveling solo with her when Ophelia was just a hatchling and then keeping her close, if hidden, for the past month, Tania felt exposed without her.
They stopped at a pond to let the horses drink. Tania unshouldered* her quiver and sat cross-legged, checking the fletching on her arrows to make sure none of them had loosened. The rasp of a sword being unsheathed wrested her attention her from her task, and she glanced up, seeing only Murtagh with his with his longsword held ready and Eragon, who had been startled by the sound, with Zar'roc in hand. Murtagh pointed at a hill ahead of them, where a tall, brown-cloaked man sat on a sorrel horse, mace in hand. Behind him was a group of twenty horsemen. No one moved. "Could they be Varden?" Murtagh asked.
Tania strung her bow and readied her quiver, putting a cautious hand on Cadoc's shoulder before mounting, mentally reaching out to the dragons. "Don't the Varden have an emblem? I thought they were still leagues away."
"They do have one, but they don't often use it," Murtagh answered.
"This might be one of their patrols or raiding groups," Eragon offered, surreptitiously stringing his bow as well.
"Assuming they're not bandits." Murtagh swung onto Tornac and readied his own bow.
"Should we try to outrun them?" asked Eragon, draping a blanket over Arya.
"It wouldn't do any good," said Murtagh, shaking his head. "Tornac, Snowfire and Cadoc are fine warhorses, but they're tired, and they aren't sprinters—though Cadoc might manage it. Look at the horses they have; they're meant for running. They would catch us before we'd gone a half-mile. Besides, they may have something important to say. You should tell Saphira to hurry back."
The band of men watched from the hill.
Tania rested her right hand on her hip, checking to see that her knife was still there. The leather-bound hilt felt reassuring on her palm, reminding her of what she'd done in her life. She looked up as Eragon said, "If they threaten us, I can frighten them away with magic. If that doesn't work, there's Saphira. I wonder how they'd react to a Rider? So many stories have been told about their powers… it might be enough to avoid a fight."
"Don't count on it," Murtagh replied flatly. "If there's a fight, we'll just have to kill enough of them to convince them we're not worth it." His face was controlled and unemotional, and Tania's mind started whizzing, thinking back on what he'd said. You see, my father… Her eyes widened.
Before she could confront him, the man on the sorrel horse signaled with his mace, sending the horsemen cantering toward them. The men shook javelins over their heads, whooping loudly as they neared. Battered sheathes hung from their sides, and their weapons were rusty and stained. Six of them trained arrows on the group. Tania swore mentally. These are not friendly! she warned Eragon.
We don't know what they want yet, he answered, cutting the connection.
Idiot.
The moment Eragon, Murtagh and Tania were thoroughly surrounded, the leader reined in his horse, then crossed his arms and examined them critically, gaze trailing hungrily over Tania's figure. He raised his eyebrows. "Well, these are better than the usual dregs we find! At least we got healthy ones this time. And we didn't even have to shoot them. Grieg will be pleased. And the girl is a fine specimen!" The men chuckled.
Tania felt a flicker of rage from Ophelia. Don't reveal yourself yet. If anything, let Saphira do it.
"Now, as for you two," the leader said, speaking to Murtagh and Eragon, "if you would be so good as to drop your weapons, you'll avoid being turned into living quivers by my men." The archers grinned suggestively. "And of course, little lady, you dropping your toy would be much appreciated." At this, the men laughed again.
Murtagh's only movement was to shift his sword. "Who are you and what do you want? We are free people traveling through this land. You have no right to stop us."
"Oh, I have every right," said the man contemptuously. "And as for my name, slaves do not address their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten."
Tania's felt her own rage burst into flame at that, and she had to swallow a snarl—though she was sure it showed in her eyes. I told you, she growled at Eragon as the leader shouted, "Throw down your swords and surrender!"
Sorry. They both spun at the sound of a rustle, then a loud curse. One of the slavers had pulled the blanket off Arya, revealing her face. He gaped in astonishment, then shouted, "Torkenbrand, this one's an elf!" The men stirred in surprise while the leader spurred his horse over to Snowfire. He looked down at Arya and whistled.
"Well, 'ow much is she worth?" someone asked. Tania tuned out the conversation and turned to the water. A ray of sun had just hit it, lighting it up as if it were full of diamonds. She glanced at the men as they suddenly yelled in excitement and pounded each other on the back. Saphira's attacking! Ophelia warned.
Tania smirked. Good. "Adurna rïsa," she whispered. Unnoticed by the men, balls of water suddenly rose from the pond, before releasing over the heads of the slavers. They shouted in surprise as their horses screamed. She collapsed, exhausted, briefly wondering why the world was darkening, before—
Blackness.
Well… please review!
*as for unshouldered, it should be a word. Take that, autocorrect!
FF