She took a steadying breath. “And Rissine is a part of this? Are you sure? She has allied herself with a man who detests our race?”
He nodded. “So you see why I had to be sure of this before telling you. I wanted to find Saida again to gain her trust, and send her with word back to Faerune. We’ve tried to send other messages, but the Faerune elves are untrusting, especially of my kin. Allying ourselves with one of their priestesses could prove invaluable, especially one of her standing.”
“Her standing?” she questioned distantly, still in a state of shock.
He nodded. “I may be mistaken, but I believe she is the daughter of one of the high priestesses. Faerune is always ruled by six. Saida stands to take over her mother’s role.”
Elmerah leaned back against the wall, then slid against it to the floor. What in Ilthune had she gotten herself into? She looked up at him. “The contracts,” she breathed.
“Contracts?”
“On the ship,” she explained, “I found the contract with my name on it, signed by Rissine. That’s how I knew I wasn’t just taken by coincidence. There was a contract for Saida too, not just for a Faerune elf. Rissine requested her by name.”
Alluin crouched in front of her. “But why would a slaver want to acquire the daughter of a high priestess?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”
Saida
Saida groaned as light hit her face. At first she thought she’d been moved somewhere with a window, then she realized a lantern was being held before her eyes.
She scowled at the woman dangling the lantern, now in focus. Thera. It was the first time she’d seen her since she’d been drugged. Although, in the pitch dark of her long night tied to the chair, she hadn’t been able to see anything. “You should be ashamed,” she rasped, “to so betray one of your people.”
Thera retracted the lantern. “My people? I’ve never even been to Faerune, nor would I be allowed within the crystalline walls. Rissine has done more for me than the elves ever will. Now are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” Saida flexed her bound hands against the chair arms. Her bones were cold and achy. She’d hardly be in a fighting state when she was finally untied.
“To be bait,” Thera explained. “You will help us lure in Elmerah, then you will be granted your freedom.”
Oh yes, that. “Why do you want her? Do you intend to hurt her?”
“That is none of your concern,” Thera snapped.
“Ah,” Saida observed, “so you don’t know either?”
Thera glared at her, though it had little effect. As far as Saida was concerned, Thera was filth. If her mother was truly exiled, it was for good reason. She had no justification for selling out her own kind.
Thera glanced over her shoulder to the room’s dark back end. It was only then Saida noticed the two large, muscular men standing there.
“As you can see,” Thera said, turning back to her, “any attempts at escape will only end in your misery. Play nice with me, and you’ll not be harmed.”
For some reason, she doubted that. Slavers had no honor. As soon as she helped them, they’d turn around and sell her to the highest bidder. “You swear you’ll let me go after you have her?” she asked meekly, playing along.
Thera grinned. “Of course. We have no reason to betray you.”
Saida would have laughed in her face if she wasn’t so busy concocting a way to escape that wouldn’t involve betraying Elmerah and using her as a distraction. Of course, Elmerah herself might be the solution. She’d seen her display of power on the ship, but suspected Elmerah had overextended herself, and needed time to recover. Hopefully she’d had long enough.
The two men stepped forward as Thera knelt and began tugging at the knots securing Saida’s wrists to the chair. She’d tried to tug at them herself most of the night, but had been unable to maneuver her hands to the base of the chair arms.
The ropes came free, leaving a stinging sensation at her wrists. Once both hands were free, she rubbed them together, hoping the feeling would return soon. The men stood near, watching her every move while Thera untied her feet.
Once they were free, one of the men tugged her up by her bicep, hauling her to her feet.
Her bladder cramped painfully. “Um, I might need to use the latrine before we depart.”
Thera stared at her as if she suspected a trick.
“Unless you’d like to walk around with an elf in wet breeches,” Saida added.
Thera nodded at the man to release her arm, as her own hand took its place. “I’ll take you. You need to change your clothes anyway. We don’t need anyone gawking at the elven priestess.”
She towed her to a closed door, opened it, then shoved Saida inside, closing the door behind her.
Saida had a moment of elation when she thought perhaps she’d been presented with an opportunity to escape, but it was quickly quashed. The natural light that had her momentarily excited filtered in through a window high up in the wall, far out of reach. The small latrine was sparsely furnished, with nothing she could move to stand on.
The door opened suddenly behind her, and a pile of clothing was tossed in, then the door slammed shut once again.
She knelt to unwrap the bundle of clothing, then frowned at what she found. Within a finely woven magenta cloak was a ruby red silk gown. Surely she would stand out in this far more than she would have in her dirty white tunic and tattered cloak.
With the dress were fresh white underpinnings and new stockings. She assumed she was intended to keep her same boots, as they would hardly show beneath the long, flowing gown.
She glanced at the door, then around the small latrine with a heavy sigh. She’d have to play along for now, and hope the opportunity to escape presented itself once the feeling had fully returned to her limbs.
Elmerah
Elmerah peered out at the ocean, soothed by the damp air caressing her face. She always felt content near the sea. Unfortunately, the rough wood of the dock was beneath her feet, not the pure white sands of a home she barely remembered.
She brushed her hands down her new fitted black coat, held in place by three brass buttons down the center. The hem reached her knees, flapping gently with the ocean breeze. A slit up the side allowed for easy access to her cutlass at her belt. She pulled up the coat’s black hood, hiding her hair and shadowing her face.
Alluin stepped up beside her, his own features shadowed by his ever-present cowl. “I believe I found the building Vessa described, though I’m not sure we should approach.”
She whipped her gaze to him. She was more than ready to find her wretched sister. “Why?”
“It’s being watched,” he explained. “My guess is the men with Vessa are hoping to silence us before Rissine learns of her slip up.”
“The men, but not Vessa herself?”
He shrugged, turning his gaze out toward the sea. “I have hope Vessa would not wish me harm, though part of me feels that might not be true.”
Elmerah stroked the cutlass at her belt, ready to be imbued with the magic that had finally returned to her. “Blood loyalty only goes so far amongst the morally corrupt.”
He chuckled. “I suppose that means your blood loyalty is nearly non-existent.”
She glared at him, though she couldn’t quite argue. She knew she might have to kill Rissine in the end, if she hoped to be free of her. Such an act would label her both disloyal and morally corrupt, but if it meant she could return to her swamp in peace, then so be it.
“Let us trigger their trap then be done with this,” she decided.
“You believe we can best them?”
She smiled, though it was more of a snarl. “I take it you’ve never fought with a pure-blood Arthali witch?”
He looked her up and down. “I sincerely hope you can live up to the name. The warehouse is the last one at the end of the dock. You can’t miss it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Will you not
be joining me?”
He smirked. “Oh I don’t want to miss this, but I think I’ll let you lead the way.”
With a snort, she turned and walked further south down the dock. She knew he was using her to take the first blow, but she didn’t mind. She’d never been much of a follower.
Her boots echoed down the dock, past men unloading the morning’s catch from small fishing boats, and others unloading crates from larger vessels. She found it telling that no militia men were in sight. They’d be out in droves at the main docks where sea-faring ships brought goods from Faerune and beyond, but here, there existed a different kind of law. According to Alluin, the larger guilds were nearly as powerful as the emperor himself.
The warehouse Vessa had mentioned came into Elmerah’s sight, and sure enough, she spotted movement by the far wall. She debated skirting off that way and silencing the waiting men one by one, but she’d always been better suited to facing threats head on.
She reached the front door with Alluin following a few steps behind. She lifted the heavy padlock, then dropped it with a sneer.
“What’s wrong?” Alluin muttered behind her.
“It’s enchanted,” she hissed. “My magic won’t work on it.”
He stepped up beside her. “Watch my back.”
She looked a question at him, but soon obeyed, moving to shield him from sight as he knelt in front of the padlock. A faint clicking sound hit her ears and she smiled. He knew how to pick locks. Perhaps he’d be of more use than she’d originally thought.
A few moments later, the padlock clicked open. She waited, scanning their quiet surroundings while Alluin removed the lock and opened the door. Apparently the ambush would wait until they went inside, which was just as well, she would be a fool to use her magic out in the open.
With a final glance down the docks, she turned and slipped into the warehouse ahead of Alluin. She moved a few steps in, then stopped. Crates, oars, furniture, and bolts of silk and linen were stacked around haphazardly, providing numerous hiding places for would-be ambushers.
Alluin came inside, shutting the door behind him, then stopped by her side. “Are we just going to wait for the ambush here,” he whispered, “or should we have a look around?”
She leaned near his shoulder and hissed, “My magic will do little good if I receive a dagger in the back.”
“Your back will be fine, because I will be watching it.”
She smirked. “Somehow I don’t find that comforting.”
She walked forward, keeping her distance from the nearest crates. She knew Valeroot elves had superior hearing and sense of smell, and wondered if Alluin could hear their watchers breathing, or if they were wrong about everything and were actually alone in the warehouse.
She walked toward a neat stack of rolled silks. Perhaps this really was just a storage warehouse. She didn’t see any signs of inhabitance, though Vessa had claimed slaves were kept here before being sent off to meet their fates.
Alluin tapped her shoulder, then pointed to the area past a stack of crates. A dusty rug was spread across the floorboards. Conspicuous, as only that one area was covered.
She glanced at him, assuring herself that he’d watch her back, then approached the rug. With one hand on her cutlass, she reached down and flipped it aside, revealing a trap door. Judging by the height of the docks, any room below would be nearly at water level. Another dark, damp space. Wonderful.
“Elmerah,” Alluin hissed.
There was a loud thud, then the nearby stack of crates shifted. Before she could react, Alluin grabbed her bicep and tugged her away, flinging her right past him moments before the crates toppled near the trap door.
“You shouldn’t have come here!” a female voice called from above.
Righting herself, Elmerah glanced upward to see Vessa standing on one of the beams spanning the width of the ceiling. Her hand still held a rope attached to a heavy sack of grain or sand. The sack had been let down onto a board wedged underneath the crates, toppling them.
Elmerah backed away as three men emerged from their hiding places within the storeroom. “You really though to get rid of me by flattening me with crates?” she balked. “How unoriginal.”
Vessa sneered. “Whatever gets the job done.”
Alluin had withdrawn a gleaming sliver dagger from his belt. He moved protectively to Elmerah’s back, facing the two men edging in from that part of the room.
Elmerah drew her cutlass, debating whether or not to give the men a fighting chance.
One man drew his sword then spat at her feet.
It was a short debate.
She focused on her cutlass. It was difficult to wield elements indoors, and she didn’t want to push herself as far as she had on the pirate’s ship, but she was quite sure she could manage. She thought of flames, the feeling of heat on her skin and the sharp sting of a burn.
A flicker of orange surged across her blade.
The two men who’d been nearing her stepped back.
“Your blades will protect you, you fools!” Vessa called out. “Now attack!”
Elmerah frowned. Of course they had enchanted blades. If they worked for Rissine, they’d already had a taste of Arthali magic.
She extinguished her blade as one of the men charged. There was no reason to expend her extra magic if her attacker’s blade was made to nullify it. He swung his short sword in a well-practiced arc. She parried, swooping her blade around his and flinging it from his hand. He knew how to swing, but had obviously never faced a skilled opponent.
She caught a glimpse of Alluin gracefully fending off attacks with twin daggers, then turned back as her second attacker lunged for her. This one was more skilled. Their blades connected with a clang, sending a jolt up Elmerah’s arm.
She parried his next attack, then sensing someone approaching her back, she shifted her grip on her cutlass and stabbed through the circle of her left arm behind her. Her blade sunk into flesh, and the knife poised to stab her in the back clattered to the floorboards.
She tore her cutlass free, then parried another attack from her still-living attacker.
“Cursed Arthali,” Vessa muttered from above, just before hopping down onto another stack of crates.
Elmerah parried another attack, cringing at a whiff of sweaty odor wafting from the scarred man. She needed to force him onto the defensive, but without her magic she was relying on sword skill alone, and he was good.
She continued to block his attacks, then instinctively rolled aside as Vessa launched herself from the crates, intent on kicking her in the head. Elmerah quickly stood as Vessa effortlessly rolled with her momentum then hopped to her feet, drawing a pair of daggers. It seemed she and Alluin had been trained by the same mentor.
Thinking of Alluin, she backed away from her attackers and called, “Are you alright back there?”
“Fine!” he replied, echoed by the clang of steel on steel.
Vessa twirled one of her daggers, then crouched in a fighting position beside the scarred man. “My apologies, but I cannot let Rissine find out about my mistake. You never should have threatened me.”
Elmerah tightened her grip on her cutlass. “And you’ll kill your own brother to cover this up?”
Vessa frowned. “He will not be killed. I know he would never sell me out.”
Okay, so she didn’t have to worry about Alluin, they didn’t want him dead. They obviously didn’t know just who she was though, as she was quite sure Rissine wanted her alive. She could tell them she was Rissine’s sister, but she really didn’t want to spoil the surprise.
“Are your daggers enchanted as well?” she asked.
Vessa’s smug expression faltered.
With a wicked grin, Elmerah relit her blade.
“Get her,” Vessa hissed, stepping behind the thug.
He charged Elmerah, but his movements were a bit slower than before. Lots of muscle, but no endurance if he was already tired. She darted around him and went for Vessa, increa
sing the fire on her blade as she flung it forward. The fire whipped outward, hitting Vessa in the chest and knocking her to the ground.
Vessa shrieked, rolling across the floorboards to extinguish the flames from her clothing.
Elmerah used the distraction to slice her still flaming blade through the air at the scarred thug. If his blade truly was enchanted, it would easily extinguish the flames, but in his moment of terror he seemed to forget. He threw himself out of the path of her flaming sword, his back landing hard on the floorboards. He was nowhere near as graceful as Vessa as he tried to hop to his feet, and she quickly disarmed him.
Contact with his blade extinguished her flames, but it didn’t matter now that she had the pointed tip at his throat.
Alluin trotted up from the other side of the room, a little mussed and bloody, but none the worse for wear. He stopped in front of his sister.
Elmerah wished she could see his expression and not just his back, but there was no way she’d be taking her attention off the thug.
“Where is Rissine?” Alluin demanded.
“She’ll kill me if I tell you!” Vessa cried.
Elmerah was glad Alluin didn’t seem to have much in common with his sister. All this moaning and whining was getting annoying. “And we’ll kill you if you don’t tell us,” she growled, speaking to Vessa though her eyes were on the thug, “so out with it.”
“Never!”
Elmerah momentarily turned toward Vessa and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
She whipped around and eyed the thug dangerously as he shifted to the side, his fingertips scrambling for his sword. His scrambling quickly ceased.
“What are you going to do?” Vessa asked, clearly speaking to her brother. “Will you kill me in defense of an Arthali witch?”
“Why not?” he questioned. “You’re clearly willing to die for one, though I’m not sure why. You know you have protection if you want it.”
“Yes protection,” Vessa spat, “and a life of always hiding, always being looked down on for our heritage. I cannot live like you, brother.”
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 7