Chapter 7 - Hunted

She was still holding the strip of cloth torn from her pants. Her leg was still seeping a little blood, although the worst of it had stopped. From the look of her pants and the ground around her she'd lost quite a bit. She cursed herself for not taking care of it before passing out.

Her water skin was still open on the ground beside her, and was nearly empty. She used the last of it to wash some of the blood away from the wound before tying it off. She managed not to cry out in pain in the process. After that she needed time to compose herself.

That time was interrupted by the barking of hounds in the distance. She looked up at the branches above herself, asking "Why?" She'd broken into an orphanage, she reasoned, forgetting for the moment the strange object in her pack, did that really call for bringing out hounds to hunt her with?

She grabbed her backpack and pushed herself to a stand. Her leg hurt, but it moved better without the arrowhead embedded in the muscle. She made herself move. She could almost manage a run. It was a sort of limping trot.

The dogs sounded to be still in the distance some. She could only hope they were searching thoroughly rather than just chasing. Searching she stood a chance at outrunning. If they really chased her she doubted she could outdistance them. She moved as quickly as she could, moving around trees to keep as much foliage between them and her as possible.

She could still hear the rushing water of the river nearby, so she aimed herself towards it. Someone had once told her that crossing through water would help make it harder for dogs to track her. The river was huge here, however, and Niza knew that there was no way she'd be able to keep herself from being swept back down towards the city. She did find road, however, which made her remember that for a while there were roads running along both sides of the river too. She kept off the actual road itself at first, but the more her leg hurt the more she realized that she'd make better pace if she didn't have to watch her step so much in the undergrowth. She kept alert for patrols or anyone else who might be on the road. She knew there would be no merchants this close to the city. They had already fled the area some time ago.

She'd never been out of the city before. Riverport had been her home for her whole life, and a part of her was terrified to leave it now. For a moment, she mourned the loss of her friend Maren, who'd frequently managed to get her hands on books of exotic places and adventures and read them all. Maren knew so much more about the world outside Riverport. But Niza, who'd let Maren teach her how to read but never really had much interest in books other than their resale value, felt entirely out of place here amongst the trees. At first, she felt like every step she took she managed to step on another twig, causing it to make a snapping noise that seemed to echo in her ears. Then again, her heart seemed to be pounding louder than usual too. She tried to reason with herself that it was her fear making everything seem louder than it really was. Nonetheless, she was relieved when it didn't happen as often once she had moved onto the road.

Her feet didn't hurt as badly as she had feared they would, and for that she was grateful. She knew she didn't have time to stop and check them, although she suspected she still had a few small splinters lodged in the one. The leg was the main problem. The further she went, the more it burned and throbbed. She knew she'd have to find another spot to rest before long, but didn't know where might be safe. Now that they'd brought dogs, they'd have no trouble finding her in anywhere similar to the nook she'd found before. As she made her way forward, down the road, she scanned the woods and river for places to hide.

To her dismay, she saw that the woods were thinning already, and she could see farmland beyond the trees more and more frequently on her side of the river. What little cover she had was disappearing rapidly. Up ahead, she could see areas where the trees between the farms and the river were barely more than a line. One could easily see between them.

The best she could think of was to move quickly and get a farmhouse between her and the Elar. She had used the same tactic in the city often enough, ducking into an alley so it would be harder to tell which way she'd run.

She loped off in a hobbling run. The first farm had a cluster of small houses at the center. Around them were a collection of larger barns. She headed right for them.

She got past the first barn and saw horses and carts gathered together. The carts were all hooked to horses, and there were extra horses to boot. If she could figure out how to ride one, she reasoned, she'd have a chance at escape.

The horses were all taller than she was. She grabbed on to a saddle, but with her hurt leg she couldn't hop up high enough to get far. She was trying to climb up when she heard voices. She froze.

"Gods," a man's voice cursed. "Elar're comin'. Hear that? Tha's dogs. How'd they know we're out here?"

She saw a door swing open at one of the houses not far away. She dropped down low to the ground.

"Finish quick, fellers!" a voice yelled out, "Time to ride hard away!"

She turned her head about, frantically looking for a place to hide. Whoever these men were, the last thing she needed was for them to assume she'd been about to steal one of their horses.

There was a cart she could hide in. It was situated sort of between her and the approaching figures, so they might not notice her jump into it. It was full of hay, so there would be a place for her to hide. She clambered up and started digging her way down into it, hoping she'd be able to burrow down enough that they wouldn't find her.

She held her breath as a person came around to the back of the cart. She tried to remain as still and quiet as possible, but he didn't even notice her as he took a large crate and shoved it roughly into the back of the cart. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists, doing her best to remain quiet as the heavy wooden crate shoved up against her hurt leg. Another crate quickly was put in next to the first, and then a heavy weight fell on top of her as some heavy fabrics were thrown in over the hay-filled area. She lay beneath them, grateful that they actually were providing extra cover and that the men were less likely to find her. She could hear more yelling and talking, although it was harder to hear what they were saying with the fabric muffling the voices from her.

It wasn't long before the cart began to move and she prayed for them to move fast enough to get away from the Elar. She wondered who they were and what they'd been doing at the house, since they hadn't sounded like she'd expect from farmers. Looters, she thought suddenly. She'd heard rumors that there were people stealing what had been left behind at the houses of the farmers who had packed up their families and fled. Most of her friends had agreed that it wasn't really stealing, more than keeping it out of Elar hands. The Elar had been raiding the local farms for food as it was, and bringing what families they encountered back into the city with them. No one was sure if they would be allowed to go back to their farms one day, once the Elar had taken enough ground outside the city.

She fell asleep for a while, despite the pain in her leg as the wagon bounced down the road at a breakneck pace. She woke again as the wagon came to a stop. She had no way of knowing how far they had gone or in what direction, although she supposed the latter didn't matter so long as it was further from the Elar. She could hear the men talking to a new voice and she strained to hear what they were saying.

"Well," one voice said, "get everyone on yer carts and we'll get ya's loaded up an' crossed."

She heard creaks and grunts as people climbed up onto the various carts. Suddenly a weight came down on her. She couldn't help but cry out. With the subsequent inhale came a mouthful of hay, and she immediately started gagging and choking. That's what she was still doing when she was grabbed and hauled up to daylight.

"What've we got 'ere?" a burly man with a squinty eye asked, while a couple others held her off the ground.

"I ain't payin' to put a stowaway over the river," someone else proclaimed. She choked and spat out more hay, trying to get her mouth clear.

"I'm just trying to get away from the Elar, same as you," she eventually got out. Another man came to stand in front of her. His face was disturbingly expressionless and he held a big knife. The tip was broken, but it still looked more than dangerous enough.

"She must've crept in there 'afore we left that last farm," someone behind her said.

"I don't want any trouble," she said. "I just want away from the Elar and across the river."

"Crossin' the river costs five silver, the earlier voice--the ferryman, she assumed--said. "If ya got that, ya can make the trip."

The man with the knife suddenly grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her upwards, hurling her out of the cart. She screamed as she flew through the air and only barely managed to twist her body some so that she didn't land directly on her hurt leg. Still, the impact left her winded and she lay on the ground coughing and gasping again, trying to get her breath.

"If she got the money," one of the men said, "then she can pay ya when ya come back. She ain't comin' with us."

Her arm was bruised where he had grabbed her, and she rubbed at it, watching them from her vantage point on the ground. Her leg still burned and though it wasn't bleeding anymore, it seemed to be oozing. It was hard to tell what was still damp from her swim in the river and sleeping in the dirt and what part of her pants were saturated from the wound itself. Although she was drier than she had been before, she still shivered despite herself.

"I'll be back, but I wasn't planning on making another trip tonight. It's getting dark. Unless there's someone else to go over, you'll have to wait until tomorrow," the ferryman told her as the men loaded the last horse in behind the wagon. "Assuming you have the money, that is." He didn't look as if he believed she did. She scrambled to open her backpack and pulled out the small coinpurse she had tucked inside.

"I do!" she said, holding up the purse for him to see. "I've got the five silver!"

"Do you now?" one of the other men said, striding back towards her. It was the one with the knife again, and he pulled it out and pointed it at her. "Lemme see that girl." She could hear the other men laughing on the ferry. She handed it over, not knowing what else to do.

He opened the tie at the top and peered inside for a minute.

"That just about pays yer fare fer ridin' on our cart now don't it?" he said, his face breaking out into the most terrifying grin she'd ever seen. "Too bad there ain't enough left fer the ferry too." He turned, stuffing her coin purse into a pocket in his pants and laughing as he went back and boarded the ferry. To his credit, the ferryman did attempt to protest.

"The girl is wounded..." he said, "doesn't seem right to just -"

"You're bein' paid ta get us 'cross the river," the man with the knife said, tapping the side of the blade against the man's long pole. "I suggest ya shut yer yap an' git started. The girl ain't none o' yer concern whist ye gots payin' customers."

"Yes sir," the ferryman said. He moved and untied the ropes that had been holding the ferry to the riverbank and pulled in the planks used to let wagons and carts cross onto it without getting stuck. Then he used his long pole to push the ferry away, out into the river. She watched it go, with tears welling up in her eyes.

The flat ferryboat moved farther across the river. Through her tears she saw the little eddies in the gentle water every time the pole moved. The river was wide here, so it took the ferry a while to cross. Carts were being rolled off of it on the far bank when she heard the low barks of the hounds.

She turned and looked down river. There was a line of figures in the distance. Some of them were on horseback. She wondered if dogs would have been able to track her scent for the part of the trip she had been riding for. She didn't think so, but she was on the ground now, so she felt sure they'd pick it back up. She could only assume they were following the carts now.

A flicker of hope sprang up at that. Maybe, she thought, they'd continue chasing the carts, assuming she was with them. Then she remembered the ferryman. The Elar would question him. She wondered what he would say. He had seemed kind. Maybe he would point them away from her.

Either way, she had to cross the river, and quickly. The current was gentler here, gentle enough that she thought she could risk it here. She adjusted the pack straps on her shoulders as she waded in.

The current did push her down stream some as she swam. It occurred to her that the dogs would find her scent again once they crossed if she just went straight over. Just then the current picked up and pushed her harder down river.

Fighting the current seemed a losing proposition. She hoped the Elar would assume she would continue straight away from the them, and she swam with the current. For the moment she moved back to the bank closer to the Elar, hoping the riverbank would conceal her.

In what seemed like no time at all she could hear the hounds and the horses. She took a huge breath and dove down under the water. Please don't let them see me, she prayed. She swam on as best she could until her lungs burned.

When she came up for air, she found that the current had carried her further downriver than she'd expected. The horsemen were just specks upriver, and she hoped that they wouldn't be able to see her from this distance, or at least wouldn't be looking in her direction. She swam for the other bank, the current continuing to carry her further downriver as she went. She didn't want to lose all the progress she had made so far, but fighting the push of the water was proving difficult. It seemed as if the current was stronger nearest the far bank, as she approached it. It was also steeper here and she had a hard time getting ahold of something to stop herself so she could climb up. Her legs scraped against rocks as she kicked against the current in the shallower edge, but as soon as she tried to put her feet down on something solid the current would sweep her away again.

Finally, she managed to grab hold of some roots. For a moment she just dangled there in the water, catching her breath as the rest of her body bounced and waved in the water. Then she used the roots like rope, pulling herself up with her arms until her feet finally found something solid to push off against. Eventually, she was able to scramble her way up onto the bank, where she lay on her stomach for a moment, coughing up water she had inadvertantly swallowed, and just trying to breathe.

After a while, she sat up cautiously, looking around to be sure there were no horsemen headed her way. When she was sure she had at least a few moments before needing to get moving again, she checked her leg. Her pants had been torn in several places where her legs had hit against the rocks and she had some new scrapes. A few of them were bleeding, but they were all relatively minor compared to the arrow wound. The cloth had been torn away in the water, and she could see the wound through her pants. She wasn't sure how it was supposed to look, but she didn't think it looked good. She tore off another strip of cloth from the other pants leg and wrapped it again, hoping it would help. She couldn't help but let out a cry when she tightened it around, and it took her longer than she would have liked to compose herself afterwards.

She made herself get up and keep moving. This time, she headed away from the river and the road. She knew there was another road that ran crosswise at some point north of the city and she planned to head diagonally towards it. She searched the ground as she walked, until she found a large, thick stick. She pulled loose, smaller branches off of it and used it as a walking stick, to take some of the weight off of her injured leg. Again, she found herself plodding forward in an awkward sort of rythym, just trying to keep one foot moving after the next. She tried to ignore the growing ache in her stomach.

She walked through mostly abandoned fields. She found a field of corn, and took an ear, but it was too hard. She did gnaw at some of it.

She saw a farmhouse that looked deserted, but she shied away from it. She dearly wanted to check it for food, or maybe just sleep on a mattress, but she was afraid of other looters.

She kept moving until the sun sank low on the horizon. She supposed on one hand it would be safer for her to travel in darkness, she decided it would also increase the chances of tripping on something in the dark. She knew perfectly well how to navigate a city at night, but wilderness was alien to her.

She stopped eventually at a thin line of trees separating two farms. She remembered that there was a blanket in her backpack. She sat down and shrugged out of the pack.

The blanket was wrapped around the strange scepter object. She had forgotten she was carrying it, and looked at it curiously for a while wondering what it was. There were strange symbols engraved in it, and it was encrusted with gems. There was one ruby larger than any gem she'd seen before. She told herself she had to keep it secret. People would just kill her to get it. She doubted that she'd even be able to sell it. What buyer would have the money for it?

She tried to throw it away, thinking it more trouble than it was worth, but she couldn't seem to make herself do it. Eventually she tucked it back into her pack. She wrapped the blanket around her and went to sleep shivering, even though she wasn't cold enough to warrant shivering.