The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1)

by Sara C. Roethle

  Her heart thudded in her chest as the footsteps halted outside the door. Whoever it was just stood there, not touching the lock.

  She waited so long, she thought perhaps her dreary mind was playing tricks on her, and she hadn’t really heard footsteps at all. She slowly crouched, then pressed her cheek against the floor. Through the small space underneath the door she saw two feet wrapped in light leather, soft-soled boots, like what the Valeroot hunters wore. The smell of rotten fish hit her nostrils. She would have recoiled, except the feet shifted.

  The person outside made a sniffing sound, as if . . . scenting her?

  She scrambled away as they suddenly dropped to the floor. The loud sniffling continued as she pressed her back against the wall. Another set of footsteps, louder this time, echoed distantly.

  The creature—she could only think of it as a creature—silenced for a moment, then stood and hurried away.

  Saida let out a sigh of short-lived relief until the second pair of footsteps grew closer, close enough for her to realize it was two people, not one. She had a feeling this time the door would be opening, and there would be little hope of escape.

  Sure enough, the footsteps stopped, and a key clinked in the lock. She scrambled away from the door and tried to stand casually, wanting to at least maintain a measure of dignity. What would her captors think if they found her panting and sweating on the floor like a fool? They obviously knew just who she was, and she refused to represent the Faerune elves poorly, even to those who held her prisoner.

  The door opened, revealing a guard and . . . the emperor? While she’d only seen him in passing, she’d never mistake the man standing before her as anything less than the ruler of the Ulrian Empire. He wore a black tunic and thick tights in the style of the guards, though his garb was of much finer quality. The tunic boasted intricate embroidery echoed on the charcoal gray capelet. His jet-black hair was unadorned, though his fingers glittered with dark jewels.

  The guard, a brown-haired man in his middle years, cleared his throat, and Saida realized she’d been gawking at the emperor.

  “Saida Fenmyar,” the emperor said, standing casually though he and the guard were the only thing blocking her from the slightly ajar door. “I must say, you’ve been rather difficult to track down.”

  She gave him her best steely glare. “Well perhaps next time you should hire more adept pirates to kidnap your quarry.”

  She’d meant it as an insult, but he merely chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked to the silent guard beside him. “Please unbind her hands. Lady Fenmyar is our guest.”

  She stood stunned as the guard moved behind her, then untied the knots on her wrists. She slowly moved her hands to her front so she could rub her aching wrists. “Why have you brought me here?” she demanded. “If I am a guest, and not a prisoner, why have you locked me in this room?” Her gaze shifted to the door, and the sliver of light beyond it. Her hands were free now, and there were only two men standing in her way.

  “I wouldn’t try it, if I were you,” the emperor purred. “The line between guest and prisoner can be quite thin. You wouldn’t want to find yourself back on the wrong side of it.”

  “Emperor Dinoba—” she began.

  “Call me Egrin,” he interrupted.

  She nodded. “Very well, Egrin. Please tell me why I’ve been brought here.”

  He smiled. It reminded her very much of Thera’s wicked smile. It turned her insides to ice. Whatever she’d been brought here for, she wasn’t going to like.

  “I’m afraid I cannot tell you,” Egrin explained. “It is a very sensitive matter. In fact, few in the castle even know you’re here. It will only be another night or two though, and all will be revealed.”

  She glanced at the door again. All she could think was that he was holding her for ransom, but why? Egrin Dinoba had no shortage of riches. Perhaps a political move? Using her as leverage against the High Council of Faerune? She supposed it didn’t matter, as she would not be sticking around to find out.

  She shifted her weight, flinging out her foot into the nearest guard’s groin. He doubled over with an oof. She gripped his shoulders and shoved him to the ground, then ran past him toward the door.

  She reached it, flung it open, and started to go through, but she smacked into something solid. She bounced back from the impact, landing hard on her rump. She lifted trembling fingers to her bloody nose as she peered up at the empty doorway. What had she run into?

  Footsteps walked up beside her. She turned wide eyes up to the emperor. “It’s a fun trick, isn’t it? I told you it was a bad idea to try escaping. Try again, and you’ll end up with more than a bloody nose.”

  Her eyes widened further. Her entire body had begun to tremble. “You have magic,” she gasped.

  He chuckled. “Say that to anyone else, and I’ll have you beheaded.” He walked past her through the doorway, then turned.

  Still clutching her bloody nose, she stared at him. How could he have magic? The only humans who possessed that sort of magic were the Arthali, and some argued that with their long life-spans and above average speed, they weren’t truly human at all.

  “What are you?” she breathed.

  “That, my dear, is a secret.” He looked past her to his guard, who’d risen to his feet.

  The guard hurried past her out of the room, producing a key from his belt.

  Realizing she was still on the floor, she staggered to her feet.

  “I’ll send a healer to tend your nose,” Egrin explained. “And I’ll make sure you are fed. Attempt to escape again, and you’ll find yourself starving in a dark hole.”

  With that, he turned and walked away. The guard slammed the door shut in her face, and seconds later, the lock clicked into place.

  She stared at the door for a long while after that, the gears shifting in her mind. Her conclusion was not a pretty one. Egrin Dinoba had magic, which meant he was not entirely human. The Ulrian Empire had always been ruled by pure-blooded humans. If his people knew his secret it would be chaos. He would eventually be deposed, and perhaps executed for his treachery.

  This only meant one thing to Saida. It meant she would never see her home again. She could not know the emperor’s secret, and live to tell the tale.

  Elmerah

  Elmerah sat on top of the bar, dangling her feet over the edge. Two of the Woodfolk watched her warily, clutching their weapons. She’d been in the underground hideout for ages, waiting while Alluin met with his uncle.

  Casting a glare at her guards dressed in the green and brown hues the Valeroot elves seemed to prefer, she summoned a small bit of magic internally, assuring herself that she hadn’t overdone it back at the docks. Hopefully soon she wouldn’t have to worry. It was like flexing a muscle. She’d get stronger the more she used it and not tire so quickly when she did. She summoned a little more magic, wishing she hadn’t grown so lazy during her years in her swamp.

  One of the guard’s eyes widened beneath his mop of sandy blond hair, as if he could sense the trickle of power.

  She had the urge to jump up and surprise him into pissing his pants, but she had a feeling she might end up with a dagger in her throat for her efforts. The other guard, slightly older than the first with a lump of scar tissue obscuring one eye, fiddled with a loose thread on his tunic, oblivious.

  She looked at the guards. “Do these little meetings usually take this long?” Not being allowed into the meeting had her hackles up. She’d only known Alluin for a few days, and he’d not yet fully earned her trust. He probably never would, which said a lot more about her than it did about him.

  The guards just stared at her.

  She sighed and laid her back flat on top of the bar. The stone ceiling was a lot more interesting than her silent guards. They could have at least offered her a drink. She shifted her head to the side, eyeing the various bottles. Some contained liquids black as night, and others a pleasant lilac or amber, flickering in the lantern light. Her gaze
settled on one particular bottle of pale purple liquid, sealed with a cork and wax. It had been ages since she’d sampled Valeroot wine. Now here she was, so close, yet unable to reach out and touch it lest her guards rat her out.

  She turned her head the other way as the door leading to the house’s basement creaked open, admitting Alluin and another elf.

  “Get up,” Alluin ordered, “we need to go meet Thera.”

  She glared at him, then rolled off the far end of the bar, crouching for a moment beside the bottles to absorb the impact. She rose. “I’m not the one who’s delayed our return to the Jewel. There’s no need for you to be grumbly with me.”

  Alluin sighed. “Two of our scouts returned while I was meeting with my uncle. It seems a young Faerune elf has been taken into the castle.”

  Her brows raised as she stepped around the bar. “Saida? So she made it there after all?”

  He shook his head. “Her hands were bound. She was delivered from a covered carriage by another Faerune elf, who was paid for her efforts.”

  A little tickle of rage worked its way through her. “It must have been Thera.”

  Alluin nodded. “We don’t know why Saida was taken, but it must have something to do with the treaties with Faerune. I believe whatever the emperor is planning will soon be revealed.”

  One of the elven guards shifted uncomfortably at Alluin’s revelations, likely because he was making them in front of an Arthali.

  She glared at both of them, then headed toward the door. “Let’s grab Thera while we have the chance. If she delivered Saida, she must know at least some of what’s going on. We’ll torture it out of her.”

  Alluin trotted to catch up with her as she opened the door. She headed up the dimly lit stairs with him close behind, and the two elven guards not far after. He said to her back, “Baeorn and Liam will accompany us. They’ll remain out of sight, but will detain Thera should we lose sight of her.”

  Elmerah guessed Baeorn and Liam were her two elven guards, but she didn’t bother to verify the information. She reached the top of the stairs and stalked through the rest of the house until she was outside. The sun had already made its descent toward the horizon, leaving just a sharp sliver of light to sting her eyes after so much time spent in dim lantern light.

  Alluin emerged after her, followed by the other two elves. He peered up at the fading light. “We’ll have to hurry to make it there by nightfall.”

  “Yes, so what are we standing around for?” She took off at a brisk pace toward the distant sound of growing evening chatter, and the thrill of the hunt.

  Alluin

  Alluin’s thoughts raced as they made their way back to the Crimson Jewel. If only he’d kept better track of Saida that day. He should never have let her go in the first place. Now his only link to Faerune might be lost, and the emperor was one step closer to enacting his plan.

  If only he knew what that plan was.

  Egrin Dinoba had been traveling a lot as of late. He’d met with the Dreilore in the East on numerous occasions, and had been sending slaves to work in their mines. Alluin could easily guess what Egrin might want with the Dreilore. They were an exceedingly long-lived race, with powers in metallurgy and alchemy. Their arcane machinery was understood by few, and their enchanted weapons were rivaled by none. Then there were the Nokken, not far removed from humans, but feared for their shape-changing abilities. The Nokken made excellent spies.

  Elmerah slowed as they reached the Jewel, drawing him out of his thoughts. Baeorn and Liam had lagged behind. He trusted them to remain unseen unless they were needed.

  Elmerah looked as if she might destroy the entire street with her mind.

  “We should not begin this meeting with force,” he cautioned. “If Thera is the last step before Rissine, she likely won’t be swayed by threats, and if this is a trap, which it undoubtably is, we mustn’t spring it too soon.”

  “I don’t care about traps, and everyone is swayed by threats,” Elmerah grumbled. “You just have to match the right threat to the right person.”

  “You really hate her, don’t you?” he observed.

  She smirked, though her gaze was still filled with ire as she stared at the inn. “Perhaps one day I’ll tell you of my childhood, and you’ll understand why I’d hoped to never see Rissine again, and why I’m more than willing to walk into a trap if it means I’ll eventually be rid of her.” Not waiting for a reply, she marched toward the inn.

  He followed, sending out a small prayer to Arcale that she might control her temper. If Thera ran, they wouldn’t find Rissine anytime soon, and with that loss went any hope of learning what the emperor planned before it actually happened.

  Elmerah threw the door open hard enough to thwack against the exterior wall, startling several patrons who’d moved to enter behind her.

  He shook his head, stepping around those who’d hesitated to go inside after her. A quick scan of the crowded common room showed that Thera had already arrived. Though she wore a deep purple hooded cloak, her white hair and pale skin gave away what she was. She seemed taller than Saida, and a few years older. Old enough to show no fear in the face of the agitated Arthali witch now looming over her.

  He reached Elmerah’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing down until she sat in one of the vacant chairs across from Thera.

  “I wasn’t going to hit her,” she whined, looking up at him.

  Shaking his head, he sat, then laced his fingers beneath his chin as he peered at Thera.

  “My associate said you wanted to meet with me?” she questioned.

  “Yes,” Elmerah replied. “And I think you know exactly what this is about, so let us skip the pretense. Where is Rissine?”

  Thera smiled pleasantly. “I don’t know who you mean.”

  Alluin watched as Elmerah’s fingers flexed around the edge of the table.

  “What will it take for you to tell us?” he interjected.

  Thera tilted her head. “I still don’t know what you mean.”

  This was getting them nowhere. He looked to Elmerah. If Thera wouldn’t give them any information, they’d simply have to spring her trap so Baeorn and Liam could follow her. “Let’s go. She obviously doesn’t know Rissine.” He widened his eyes a bit, urging Elmerah to catch on.

  She turned a sneer to Thera. “Yes, let’s.”

  Thera looked up at them as they stood. “Have a pleasant evening.”

  He leaned in against Elmerah’s shoulder as they walked away. “It seems the trap will wait until we walk outside.”

  “Then let’s have a drink,” she suggested. “She’ll have to leave eventually. I don’t want your elves distracted by a brawl when Thera tries to slip away.”

  “Just try not to threaten anyone again. I’m sure there are other guilds about more than willing to pick a fight.”

  She swung down into a seat at an empty table, placing her back to the wall. “Don’t worry, Alluin. I’ve already chosen my fight for this evening. I won’t start any others.” She raised a finger toward the barkeep.

  He sat. He didn’t see Baeorn and Liam anywhere, but knew they’d be watching. If Thera left ahead of them, they’d follow her.

  The hunched old barkeep ambled up to their table and set down two tankards of Galterran ale. Alluin reached for his coin purse, but the barkeep held up one wizened hand. “Keep your gulls, just don’t cause any trouble tonight.” He glanced back at Thera, still sitting alone at her table, then lowered his voice, “And tell Rissine the militia locked up two of her men from last night.” With that, he ambled away.

  Her tankard in hand, Elmerah turned to him with a wry grin. “Perhaps Thera isn’t our only lead on Rissine. I’ll bet you our next drinks the barkeep is more likely to talk than Thera.”

  He sipped his ale, enjoying the herbal aftertaste specific to Galterran brews. “If the barkeep knows Rissine, this is likely an establishment frequented by her guild. It would explain why Vessa was here before. We might be in a bit over our
heads.” He flicked his gaze around, wondering how many of the other patrons belonged to Rissine, and how many knew just who Elmerah was. Her, they likely wanted alive. Him, not so much.

  “She’s moving,” Elmerah muttered.

  He glanced back toward Thera, and sure enough, she’d moved to the back of the establishment. A door in the back wall seemed to open of its own volition, admitting her.

  “So much for following her,” Elmerah grumbled.

  “Something tells me we should have brought more men,” he sighed, noticing several patrons, though not being obvious, had shifted toward the door, taking seats near the only escape route. He and Elmerah were very slowly and subtly being trapped. He glanced back at the barkeep, who watched his patrons warily, seeming to know something was about to happen, but not what.

  “So,” Elmerah began conversationally, “do we stay and fight, or do we go see what Thera is doing, and who she’s with.”

  “That might be exactly what Thera wants,” he debated.

  Elmerah took a deep swig of her ale, then stood. “There’s something you’ll soon learn about me, Alluin. I’m quite the people pleaser.”

  He reached out to stop her, then a shrill scream cut through the air outside. Everyone within the establishment froze, even those who’d moved to block the door.

  Another scream echoed.

  A closer shout. “The Akkeri!”

  Elmerah looked down at him, then toward those blocking the door, seeming to debate her next move.

  Finally, Rissine’s people made the choice for them. After a few murmurs, half of them opened the door and ran, while the others trotted back toward the door Thera had gone through.

  More shouts and screams outside. Alluin couldn’t quite believe the Akkeri would enter the Capital, but nothing else would cause such chaos.

  Elmerah glanced down at him once more. “Feel free to run with the others if you please. I’m going after Thera.” She charged across the suddenly empty room. Even the barkeep had disappeared.