Sja Fram [Inheritance Cycle | Eragon Fanfiction]

Chapter XXX: Running

Chapter XXX: Running

We alternated between sleeping in our saddles throughout the night, ensuring that there was always someone on watch. All of the horses were exhausted to the point of stopping, but they continued their relentless pace. I was worried that the horses would drop before the Urgals behind us gave up, after all they were fresh while we weren't.

When the Hadarac Desert was only a thin white band in the distance, Saphira flew off to get food. Eragon transferred the elf onto Snowfire's saddle, and ran beside the horse, making sure she didn't fall off.

We stopped at a pond, allowing the horses to drink. I was tightening Istal's girth when Murtagh drew his sword. I turned to face him in confusion, and he pointed to a hill ahead of us. A tall, brown-cloaked man sat on a sorrel horse, mace in hand. Behind him was a group of twenty horsemen.

"Could they be Varden?" Murtagh asked.

"According to Arya, we're still scores of leagues away from the Varden. This might be one of their patrols or raiding groups," Eragon responded, stringing his bow.

I pulled my own bow out, "Could be bandits," I said, mounting Istal.

"Should we try to outrun them?" Eragon said, placing a blanket over Arya.

"It wouldn't do any good," Murtagh said with a shake of his head. "Our horses are all fine horses, but they're on the edge of exhaustion."

"Even if they weren't exhausted, look at the horses those men have; they're made for running," I commented. "Right now, they would catch us before we even make a third of a league, we might make one-sixth, if that."

"They may have something important to say," Murtagh said, "Either way, you might want to tell Saphira to hurry back."

"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 responded. "If there's a fight, we'll just have to kill enough of them to convince them we're not worth the effort." His face was controlled and unemotional, and I scowled in distaste. Life on the road had taught me sometimes you needed to kill; it wasn't fun, but it was necessary. I had no doubt that if this turned into a fight, I would kill if I had to.

I put away my bow, knowing we would wait for the horsemen to come to us, instead I pulled out Ren. The man on the sorrel horse signalled with his mace, sending the horsemen cantering towards us. Istal lifted his head and snorted softly. The men shook javelins over their heads, whopping loudly as they neared. Battered sheaths hung from their sides. Their weapons were rusty and stained. Four of them trained arrows on our small group.

Istal shifted, clearing feeling my dread mixed with anticipation. The leader of the horsemen swirled his mace in the air, and his men responded with yells as they wildly encircled us. The moment we were thoroughly surrounded, the leader reined in his horse, then crossed his arms and examined us critically. 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."

I discretely tied my reins in a knot, letting them drop onto Istal's mane. "Now as for you three, 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; all the men laughed.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Murtagh demanded, "We are free men travelling through this land. You have no right to stop us."

"Oh, I have every right," the man said contemptuously. "And as for my name, slaves do not address their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten."