“This is getting boring,” Elmerah interrupted, “and my arm is tired.” She looked down at the thug past the tip of her cutlass indenting the skin of his throat. “Tell me where Rissine is, or I’ll drive my blade through your throat, then I’ll incinerate your body and give the ashes to the Akkeri for their dark rituals.”
The thug’s eyes widened. “I don’t know where she is, but a Faerune elf named Thera does. She runs a textile shop near the main square. If you want to find Rissine, she’s the one you need to see.”
“Now was that so difficult?” Elmerah quipped.
Keeping her blade at his throat, she moved to his side and retrieved his discarded sword. The enchanted metal seemed to suck the life out of her, though she knew that wasn’t the case. It was simply the nullification of magic she was feeling. It felt as if she lacked a little sliver of her soul.
She secured the blade beneath her arm, then drew back the tip of the cutlass from the man’s throat. “Off you go. I suggest you leave Galterra at once. Rissine has quite a temper.”
“You’ll tell her it was me?” he whimpered.
“Sorry,” she replied, “I don’t do favors for people who kidnap young girls and sell them to the highest bidder. Be thankful you’ll leave here with your life.”
He nodded a little too quickly, stumbled to his feet, and ran. Once he was out the door, he slammed it behind him, and his footsteps could be heard echoing down the docks.
Elmerah moved to Alluin’s side to look down at Vessa. Her tunic was missing its center, surrounded by fabric charred black. She’d extinguished the flames before they ate through her underpinnings, though areas of her flesh were badly burned.
“The other two men?” Elmerah questioned, flicking her gaze to Alluin.
“Taken care of,” he replied cooly.
“Well,” Vessa began, “you have what you want, so can I go now?”
Elmerah raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you intend to flee the city as well?”
She glared up at her. “Tomas was the one who betrayed Rissine, and now that he’s leaving the city, I can easily blame it all on him.”
Elmerah took a step forward. “Unless I tell Rissine it was you.”
Vessa’s eyes widened. “Just who exactly are you?”
Elmerah squatted down in front of her. “I’m one of the very last Shadowmarsh witches. If you know Rissine well, you know just what that means.”
Vessa’s green eyes were now wide enough Elmerah thought they might pop out of her head. “But Rissine said she was the last one, the only one. She never spoke of a sister.”
She smiled. “Rissine is a liar. Now, since you seem to finally comprehend the situation, I’m going to offer you a deal. Go into hiding, take whatever protection your brother can offer, and I’ll deal with my sister.”
Vessa looked to Alluin, then back to Elmerah. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll hide. Just please don’t tell Rissine I was involved. I won’t speak a word about you being here to anyone.”
Elmerah stood, then made a shooing gesture. “Off you go.”
Vessa scrambled to her feet, took one last look at her brother, then fled.
Alluin stepped up beside her. “I’m surprised you let her go.”
She turned to him. “You mean you wouldn’t have protested me killing her?”
He shook his head. “No, I would have protested, but if you truly are a Witch of Shadomarsh . . . ”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” she sighed. “I for one have never put my enemy’s head on a pike.” She turned away, ready to see what was hidden under that trap door.
On her way, she glimpsed the two men who’d attacked Alluin, bound and gagged with strips of silk.
She glanced back at him with a wry smile as he walked up behind her. “Have you? The pike I mean.”
He smirked. “On a pike, no. The Forestfolk tend to be a little more discreet.”
She pushed a fallen crate aside, then knelt by the trapdoor to find another lock, this one smaller than the enchanted one outside. This one was also benign, unlike the enchanted blade still braced under her arm. She set it aside, then sent a trickle of air magic into the lock until she’d built enough pressure to turn the mechanism over with a faint click. She tossed the lock and gave the door a tug.
It was heavier than it looked. She stood and crouched down, bracing with her knees. Once it was lifted Alluin darted in to help her flip it over to the opposite side.
She walked back to the opening and peered into the pitch blackness. The space below smelled foul, like rotten wood and sweat. There was a rickety staircase leading down.
She turned to Alluin. “Care to take the lead?”
“Now you want me to take the lead?”
She sighed. “Yes, Alluin, if I have a chance to avoid going into the small dark space, I’m going to take it.”
“I thought you seemed a little skittish in the cavern.”
She scowled at his back as he crept down the stairs, creaking loudly with every step. He didn’t comment about having only the light from above to see by, though she knew Valeroot elves did not possess superior night-vision.
She waited above, glancing occasionally toward the front door. She doubted Vessa or Tomas would return, but one couldn’t be too careful.
Finally, Alluin climbed back up the stairs. “Just sleeping mats, water skins, and a bit of refuse. It seems Vessa told the truth. The women are likely kept here for a time before being moved through the city.”
She glanced again at the bound men. “I suppose my next step is to find this Thera. I don’t imagine they’ll have any more to tell us.”
“I know the shop,” he replied. “We can go there now.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “We?”
He blinked at her. “You know I have a vested interest in this.”
“True . . . ” she trailed off.
“So what are we waiting for?”
She frowned. “Nothing I suppose.” She watched as he walked past. Really, she didn’t mind the help, but she hadn’t expected him to continue on after confronting his sister, and she was used to working alone.
With a heavy sigh, she retrieved the enchanted blade she’d taken from Tomas. If it came to a fight with Rissine, she wanted the ability to nullify her sister’s magic, even if it meant nullifying her own.
She could only hope Rissine hadn’t been keeping up with her swordplay, though she sincerely doubted it.
Saida
Not long after getting dressed, Saida had been herded into a carriage. Curtains barred her view of the streets beyond. On her right sat one of Thera’s cohorts, his shoulders half as broad as she was tall, and on her right, Thera. Across from them was the other thug, his heavy brow shading his gray eyes as he glowered. She hadn’t seen Rissine again since their initial meeting.
“So,” Thera began conversationally, “at which inn did you last see Elmerah?”
The thought of telling the truth made her sick, but what else could she do? Her only hope of escape was if Elmerah showed up. Her hands had been bound once more before leaving her temporary prison, and she still felt weak from whatever drugs were in the tea.
“The Crimson Jewel,” she muttered, guilt making her throat tight. “It was not far from your shop.”
“Very good,” Thera said, patting her leg through the ruby gown.
The carriage rattled on across the cobblestones. Saida really had no idea if Elmerah would even return to the inn. If not, she might never see her again. Perhaps it was for the best, if it kept her away from vile women like Thera and Rissine. While Elmerah might not be the most charming sort, she was preferable to her present company.
The carriage continued on for what seemed like forever. Her captors remained silent. How far had she been taken from Thera’s shop whilst unconscious? She couldn’t imagine they’d moved her a great distance, lest their actions prove conspicuous.
“Have we passed it?” she asked finally. “It wasn’t far from your sh
op.” She turned to Thera.
Thera’s smile sent a chill down her spine. “Do not fret, dear. You’re too valuable to play bait. Now that we know where Elmerah is staying, someone else will go there to fetch her.”
She started to stand, but the man on her right grabbed her bound wrists and pulled her back down, wrenching her arms painfully behind her.
“Where are you taking me!” she cried out. “Help!”
A meaty palm sealed her mouth. She struggled against the man now pinning her back to his chest, practically pulling her into his lap. Thera tried to grab her flailing feet and she managed to kick her in the face, giving Saida a brief moment of satisfaction. Then the man pinning her wrapped an arm around her throat and squeezed.
She continued to thrash, but her vision slowly went gray, then black.
By the time Saida regained consciousness, the carriage had reached its destination, or so it seemed. She sat up from where she had been across one of the cushioned benches. The two men sat on the other bench, watching her.
Thera was gone, but she could hear voices outside.
“Are you positive it’s her?” a male voice asked.
“Saida Fenmyar,” Thera’s voice assured. “She came in on one of our ships.”
Saida’s heart skipped a beat. They knew her full name? Had the pirates not just taken the first priestess they saw? What in the name of Arcale was going on?
The carriage door opened, revealing Thera and a man with long, honey blond hair. He wore thick burgundy tights, and a deep blue tunic embroidered with gold. His stockings above his buckled shoes were perfectly pressed, and jeweled rings glittered at his fingers. Behind him stood two guards dressed in the purple and white livery of the Empire.
Her jaw dropped as she leaned forward and looked up to the impossibly high walls of the castle. They were in the rear courtyard by the stables. She recognized it from her visit with her parents.
“Bring her out,” the blond man instructed, not looking Saida in the eyes.
The thugs in the carriage moved toward her. One gripped her shoulders and forced her down the retractable carriage steps.
“Why are we at the castle?” she gasped, having regained her senses.
“This will be your home, for a time,” Thera explained. “I know not what the emperor wants with you. Perhaps he wants to make you his bride.”
The blond man snorted. “I think not.”
She looked a little closer at him. She’d only seen the emperor in passing, but remembered he had black hair and eerily pale eyes. He was most certainly not this man.
The blond man nodded to the guards behind him. “Take her to her chambers. Do not let her out of your sight. Keep her hands bound.”
The guards stepped forward. Though one was young and one old, both were well muscled and had an air of sameness to them. Neither looked her in the eye. They each grabbed an arm and ushered her forward.
She struggled, twisting her upper body back to Thera. “You cannot just leave me here! We had a deal!”
Thera tsked. “Poor little pampered priestess. My heart bleeds for you.”
The last thing she saw was the blond man placing a velvet coin pouch in Thera’s hand, then she was forced past a tall hedge, blocking her view.
“Unhand me!” she growled, struggling against the two men now dragging her along. Her red dress tangled around her legs, scraping the toes of her boots across the stone walkway.
She knew once she was within the castle, there would be no escape. There were guards everywhere, not to mention she’d likely be locked in a room with her hands still bound.
She hated the tears slipping down her face. She had no idea what the emperor might want with her, but if he’d been willing to pay slavers to obtain her, she knew it wasn’t good.
Alluin
By the time they made it to the textile shop from the docks, the sun was high in the middle of the sky. Alluin would need to report to his uncle soon, to let him know what Vessa had done, but it would have to wait. He might have lost Saida, but if he could figure out why the slavers had taken her to begin with, the information might prove invaluable.
Elmerah stood beside him, features shadowed by her black hood, though passersby still gave her a wide berth as they eyed her height and the cutlass at her belt. “Are we sure this is the right place?”
“This is the place Vessa described,” he replied. “I do not believe she was lying.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “Alright, let us find this Thera. The sooner I can get to Rissine, the sooner I can leave this cursed city.” She marched toward the shop, her head nearly brushing the brightly colored silks hung on display from the awning.
He followed, hoping they were not in for another fight . . . or at least not a fight with enchanted blades. Things would go more smoothly if Elmerah could use her magic unimpeded.
He shivered at his thoughts. A true, pure-blooded Shadowmarsh witch. The Shadowmarsh witches, a hereditary line possessing power over the elements, were the most feared among the Arthali. They were rumored to have been eradicated during the Great War, killed by their own people in exchange for orders of exile over death from the former emperor. He’d have to be more wary of her moving forward.
He jumped into motion as she swung open the door and marched right inside. He pulled the door shut behind him as he entered, then glanced around the shop. More textiles were on display, along with spools of thread and a few other seamstress tools. A small counter stood before a door leading deeper into the building, likely where a storeroom, and perhaps the shop owner’s living quarters, would be.
The door opened, revealing a young man with short red hair. Alluin placed him around eighteen, though the glint in the young man’s eyes hinted at a certain cunning.
“Can I help you?” the young man asked, his attention on Elmerah.
As she straightened from observing a lower shelf of folded linens, the young man’s eyes widened. It almost seemed for a moment as if he recognized her, then the moment passed.
Elmerah sauntered up to the counter, leaning her elbows on the surface to peer at the young man. “We’re looking for an elf named Thera. We’re told this is her shop.”
The young man nodded. “Yes, this is her shop, but she’s been away the past few weeks. Visiting relatives in Faerune.”
Somehow, Alluin doubted that.
Moving nearly as fast as an elf, Elmerah grabbed the neck of the young man’s billowy white shirt, twisting it taut. She leaned in, placing her face uncomfortably close. “Were is Rissine?” she growled.
The boy didn’t so much as flinch. “Who wants to know?”
“Take a close look,” Elmerah hissed, “then take a guess.”
The boy observed her for several long moments. “I cannot tell you where she is, but I can set up a meeting with Thera. She’ll decide whether or not you can meet with Rissine.”
“I thought you said she was out of the city,” Alluin interjected.
The boy shrugged, though his shirt was still twisted around his neck, and he was bent halfway over the counter. “Maybe yes, maybe no. It’s not worth it to me to place myself in the middle of Arthali witches.”
Elmerah let out an abrupt laugh, then gave the boy’s shirt a tug, returning his attention to her. “Tell Thera to meet me at the Crimson Jewel at nightfall. She will show up alone, or we will run. I can guarantee you Rissine will not be pleased if we run.”
The boy nodded sharply, and Elmerah released his shirt, then turned away.
His brow furrowed, Alluin followed her out the door. Once they were out in the street he asked, “How did you know he knew Rissine?”
She smiled coldly. “He seemed to recognize me at first. My sister and I look a lot alike. At least, we did when we were young.”
He nodded. “Well in any case, we need to find my uncle before we return to the inn. I must tell him what Vessa has done, and he may provide us with a bit of protection when we meet Thera.”
“Your
uncle?” she asked as she started walking directly through the crowd, forcing them to move for her and not the other way around.
For someone who wanted to remain inconspicuous, Alluin thought, she didn’t try very hard. He caught up to her side. “Yes, he is the head of our organization. He’ll want to know what we’ve learned about Rissine’s business as well.”
“I don’t like the idea of involving more people. I do not want anyone to stand in the way of me . . . speaking with my sister.”
“No one will stand in your way,” he assured. “Our goal is to gather information, to predict the coming change in the tides. Thera nor Rissine will ever see anyone in our guild besides you and I.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Elmerah nodded. “I hope your uncle proves to be less of a thorn in my paw than you are.”
He smirked. “Funny that you would view me as such, when I’ve been in two, nearly three brawls since I met you.”
She chuckled. “That’s what we call the Curse of the Arthali. You’ll get used to it.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to it, but for now, like it or not, their fates were entwined.
Saida
Saida prowled around the small chamber, her hands still bound. She’d been left alone, for what little good it did her. The chamber was high up in one of the castle’s four towers. Even if she could manage to fit out the small window, the fall would surely kill her. The only other exit was the heavy wood and iron door, locked from the outside. Even if she managed to free her hands, there would be no breaking through the thick wood. The rest of the room was sparse, just a small bed, a washbasin, and a chamber pot.
She slumped onto the hard bed, then tensed at the sound of light footsteps outside the door. She crept her way off the bed, careful not to make the frame creak, then tip-toed toward the door, stationing herself against the adjacent wall. There was only one set of footsteps, and they seemed to belong to someone small-boned with lightweight shoes, not the boots of a guard. If she could manage to knock the person down, she might be able to escape and find a storeroom to hide in until nightfall.
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 8