Her long, deadly blade arced down toward Elmerah, who parried the blow with an explosion of orange sparks.
Alluin lunged at the Dreilore’s back, knowing the attack would only serve to distract her, but hoping to buy Elmerah time.
The Dreilore spun on him, blocking his thrust with her sword before spinning away. There was a brief moment of stillness, then she attacked Elmerah again.
Elmerah whipped a wave of flame at her before that long, thin sword could slice toward her again. The Dreilore stumbled back, then glared. “Not just Arthali then? I was told there was only one Shadowmarsh witch in the Capital.”
Elmerah sneered. “The emperor lied. Care to rethink your allegiance?”
Instead of answering, the Dreilore charged again. She seemed to have forgotten Alluin, which was just as well since it gave him ample time to fling a knife toward her.
Not even turning to look, she whipped her blade backward and flicked the blade aside with a sharp clang. Elmerah lunged with her flaming blade, throwing the Dreilore off balance.
Alluin readied another dagger, then reconsidered as the Dreilore’s blade began to glow a sickly green color. It must have been composed of the legendary magic metals of Salisfait. The Dreilore slashed the glowing blade at Elmerah, who parried the strike, but her flame went out on contact.
The Dreilore laughed. “Silly Arthali, your magics are no match for the greatness of Salisfait.”
Ignoring the insult, Elmerah stabbed at the Dreilore with her extinguished blade, then used the momentum to hook the nearby lantern with her foot, flinging it at the Dreilore’s face. The Dreilore lowered her blade as she protected her face with her free hand. Alluin stilled his breath, then flung another dagger, knowing this might be his only chance to actually land a hit.
The lantern shattered on the ground. The last thing he saw was the Dreilore raising her weapon, then staggering back, clutching the blade planted in the side of her neck with her free hand.
Within a heartbeat, Elmerah’s blade relit, providing a measure of light. The Dreilore was still standing.
The seemingly glowing embers of the Dreilore’s eyes intensified as she turned toward Alluin. Dropping her hand from a wound that would have killed a human, she lifted her blade toward him, then staggered again.
At first Alluin wasn’t sure what had happened, then he noticed the blade of Elmerah’s cutlass, still flickering with flame, as it erupted through the center of the Dreilore’s tight leather clothing.
Elmerah tugged the blade free from the woman’s back with a spray of blood, then shoved it in again, piercing the Dreilore’s heart. She withdrew the blade again, bathing them in momentary darkness as the flame passed through the Dreilore’s body.
Finally, the light in the Dreilore’s eyes darkened, and she slumped to the ground. Elmerah held her flaming blade above the monster, prepared to stab her again if need be.
Alluin’s eyes met Elmerah’s across the fresh corpse.
“I’d never hoped to face one of the Dreilore,” she remarked, “but she really wasn’t as scary as they’re made out to be.”
The Dreilore’s body lurched.
Muttering a curse, Elmerah stabbed her again with her flaming cutlass, flickering the light in the room before she withdrew it. “Bloody hard to kill though.”
“Indeed,” he commented, kneeling beside the now still corpse. He snatched his knife from its neck, all the while feeling like the Dreilore might reach out and grab him.
Elmerah fetched another lantern and lit it, then set it where she’d placed the first one as she cleaned her blade on the edge of a cloak hanging on the wall near the door. The action made his gut twist, imagining the cloak belonged to a fellow elf, but he supposed the cloak’s owner would not be coming back for it.
He tried not to speculate on just who the cloak’s owner might be. There would be time to think on that later, when they were far away from any Dreilore.
“We should hurry,” he muttered, peering down at the monster at his feet. He wondered if she’d been the one to kill his uncle. There had likely been many more present, judging by the carnage, but he’d probably never learn their names, or be able to seek vengeance.
Finished cleaning her blade, Elmerah sheathed it, then gestured for him to lead the way.
He had to force himself to move on. He did not relish the idea of seeing his uncle’s body again, but there was no other choice. He fetched the lantern and moved deeper into the house. He maintained a blade in his free hand, wary of any more lurking Dreilore. He would have liked to know why the female had returned, but there was no asking her now.
They passed through the basement, and into the hidden area below where he’d piled the bodies.
Elmerah gasped as she entered the space.
He supposed it was quite the sight, but he refused to look too closely. He’d seen all he needed to see for a thousand nightmares. He only realized he’d stopped moving when Elmerah’s hand alighted on his shoulder.
He turned toward her.
“We should douse them in the stronger liquors. That should ensure they burn completely.”
He nodded, glad she had the wherewithal to give them a proper burial, as he wasn’t thinking clearly.
Elmerah walked behind the bar and gathered several bottles in her arms. She returned to him, handed him two of the bottles, then uncorked one of the remaining bottles braced in the curve of her arm. She emptied the bottle atop the bodies, then uncorked the next.
With a shaky breath, Alluin joined her, saturating the corpses in various liquors. It began to seem almost demeaning to the dead as they continued their work, then Elmerah opened a bottle of her coveted Valeroot wine and poured it atop all the rest. The liquid wasn’t as flammable as some of the more potent liquors, but he appreciated the sentiment.
He found that was his final thought as Elmerah lit the bodies with her magic, and they hurried away through the tunnels. There might have been people in the world that would kill elves simply because of what they were, but there were also those who would fight beside them.
He would need to gather many more to their cause before long, but for that night, someone like Elmerah, as crass as she might be, was more than enough.
Saida
Saida huddled against a tree, trying to keep her map out of the rain that had come in during the night. Merwyn watched over the antlioch nearby. He didn’t seem to mind the rain, but then again, his race was capable of swimming long distances through the ocean. They were used to being . . . wet.
Pushing a strand of damp hair behind her pointed ear, she turned her attention back to the map. She knew Faerune was south, but she’d only traveled the distance in a caravan of well-protected, covered carriages. She was ashamed to admit she hadn’t paid much attention to the route taken. She’d left that up to the coachmen, and the numerous guards sent to protect the members of the High Council making the journey.
Leaving the antlioch to graze, Merwyn approached. While she wasn’t sure she believed in the Akkeri’s curse, she had to admit he looked quite a bit like a Faerune elf, only smaller, withered away like a partially desiccated corpse. He’d fortunately been granted a dark brown cloak at the Valeroot settlement to cover his ragged clothing. Even with the cloak though, it would be difficult to hide what he was in the light of day. There would be no inns in their future, unless he snuck in through the window after nightfall.
Of course, she had no intention of being alone in a room with him, his good deeds aside.
“I’m not sure which path would be best,” she admitted. They’d gone far enough that they were likely safer out of the woods, but the main path diverged in several directions, and the map did not make it clear which one would be best. They were all just solid lines, with no hint as to what monsters might lurk.
Merwyn turned to look out toward the path from within the cover of the trees boughs. “We stay near the sea. If a path leads us too far west, there is only so far it can go. Too far east, we may end up in th
e Pinewater Wilds or Dracawyn Province.”
She lowered her map. “You seem to know something about geography. Odd for an Akkeri.”
Merwyn nodded. “Yes, Akkeri keep to the sea.” He grinned, showing blackened teeth. “But we can still read maps.”
She laughed. “Yes, likely far better than I.” She folded her damp map, then stuck it in her borrowed satchel. “The western path it is. Following the sea might make for a slightly longer journey, but at least we won’t end up somewhere else entirely.”
The rain had finally lessened, letting a sliver of early morning sunlight through.
Saida walked toward the antlioch, wondering if Elmerah had managed to make it onto a ship, or if she’d gotten caught up in the storm.
Elmerah
Elmerah groaned as she awoke. After burning Alluin’s kin, a particularly gruesome task, they’d stayed the rest of the night at the Valeroot settlement. The rest of the elves had departed, which was wise. The Dreilore would not fear the deep woods. Since they’d found the hideout, they’d eventually find the settlement.
While she didn’t mind not seeing any other elves, she wished they’d left behind an antlioch or two. She was not sure where they’d go next, but wherever it was, it would take ages to travel on foot.
A sliver of light cut across the small hut’s interior as Alluin opened the hide flap and peeked in. “Are you awake?”
“No,” she groaned, turning over on the straw mattress that did little to pad her body from the hard ground.
Alluin entered the hut, then let the flap fall shut behind him. “We should discuss our next move while there’s still time. There’s no saying when the Dreilore will find this camp.”
She sat up and glared at him. “You believe they’ll find this place soon?”
“The Dreilore are excellent trackers. Many elves ventured between here and the tunnel.”
She frowned, then climbed off the mat to her feet. “When you put it that way, let’s get out of here.”
Alluin nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
She took a moment to actually look at him, noting his puffy eyes and slumped shoulders. She decided not to comment, as she wasn’t sure what to say. She knew how it felt to have one’s kin slaughtered, but when it happened to her . . . there was nothing anyone could have said to make her feel better, nothing to be done to make it hurt less. She wouldn’t have heard the words even if someone had tried.
And so, instead of offering comfort, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “You wouldn’t happen to have any more hidden encampments, would you? Perhaps something a little farther away from the Capital?”
He nodded. “Yes, there are many more settlements, but we must first plan our next step.”
She sat back down on her mat and pulled her boots toward her. “That next step being the death of Daemon and the emperor?”
“As much as I’d like that to be our primary goal, we must first reach Isara. She must be ready to take the throne before someone else can step in.”
Done lacing up her boots, she raised a brow at him. “So we’re going to Faerune?”
He shook his head. “We’re going to find Saida. If anyone can reach Isara, it will be her.”
Elmerah stood. “And why couldn’t you have sent word with Saida before she left? It seems you missed an opportunity there.”
He turned to lead the way out of the hut. “As far as the Faerune High Council is concerned, they are allied with the emperor.” He turned toward her as he held open the hide flap. “What do you think would happen if Faerune discovered the Valeroot elves intended to kill their ally?”
She walked through, wincing at the raindrops that met her on the outside. “You believe they would attack your people to protect the emperor?”
He stood beside her, peering out into the misty forest. “They would at the very least inform the emperor of our plan. To do otherwise would be treason.”
Elmerah scowled. She’d always hated politics. “And they will not do so now?”
He shook his head. “Not once the Dreilore begin their march. Faerune will have to believe us then, or risk utter obliteration.”
She followed him as he moved into one of the other huts and began gathering supplies. “You believe the Dreilore can conquer Faerune?”
He stuffed a few small rolls of hard bread into a satchel. It seemed the departing elves had left them very little. She was glad to still have the original satchel Alluin had given her, though she’d tossed out the bread after it got soaked through in the rain.
Finished, he secured the buckles on his satchel. “Defeat them? Perhaps not. Severely weaken them, especially if the emperor sends additional human soldiers? Most certainly.”
Her stomach growling, she followed him back out of the hut. “But why? Why weaken Faerune? What does the emperor hope to gain in destroying a previously beneficial treaty.”
Alluin shrugged as he led the way out of the settlement. “Who can say? All we know is that he’s doing it. There is no other reason to blame Faerune for the Akkeri attacks, or to call in the Dreilore.”
Seeing little other choice, she followed him through the dense woods, regretting her decision to stay and hear his plan. Perhaps there was still a chance of catching a ship and sailing far away from Galterra. “Maybe there’s something in Faerune he wants. Something he’s willing to kill for.”
“Whatever it is,” Alluin muttered, “it will be his undoing.”
She sincerely doubted his claims. The emperor possessed a fortress, powerful magic, and an army of Dreilore. While she had no clue what Egrin Dinoba wanted, only a fool would try to keep it from him.
She was starting to realize that she herself . . . was a fool.
Saida
Saida hunched her back, her hood pulled low over her features. Merwyn sat behind her on the antlioch in much the same position. Unfortunately, the antlioch was more conspicuous than either of its riders. The settlement they rode through was small, but it was still risky taking the main path down the center. It seemed the best way around though, with farms taking up the land to the east, and to the west, a rocky escarpment leading down to the coast.
None of the townsfolk going about their midday tasks paid them much mind except to point at the antlioch, muttering amongst themselves. They were likely used to all manner of travelers passing through their village on their way to and from the Capital.
The thundering of hooves warned her just a moment before someone on horseback came charging up behind her. The antlioch skittered to the side as the rider swung down from his skinny brown horse.
Clinging to the antlioch’s wool, Saida stared at the rider in horror, but soon realized he’d barely even noticed her.
He rushed forward to meet a woman who’d spotted him. “We have to go,” he urged, clinging to the woman’s offered hands.
Her plump face turned red. “Go? Whatever do you mean?”
The man panted to catch his breath before he could reply, “I was heading toward the textile shop to sell our wool when I caught word that the emperor would make an announcement.” His bony shoulders slumped. “Faerune is responsible for the Akkeri attacks. Next it will be the elves themselves who will cut down our kin.”
“That’s absurd!” Saida blurted, then slapped her hand over her mouth.
The man and woman turned toward her and Merwyn, just as a few of the townsfolk approached.
“It’s one of them!” the man hissed, backing away. “A scouting party! Get them!”
“Go!” Merwyn rasped in her ear.
He didn’t have to ask her twice. She kicked the antlioch’s side, inciting it to take off with a graceful leap. She leaned forward and clung to its wooly neck, hearing the shouts of villagers not far behind.
She stole a peek back to find the mob chasing them on foot, splintered wooden beams, farming tools, and other crude weapons raised. They were no match for the speed of the antlioch, however, and soon fell behind. The beast carried Saida and Merwyn fa
r away into the woods beyond the village.
When their mount finally slowed, they were deep within the trees far from the path. Saida slid from the antlioch’s back, then hunched over, hands on knees as her fear faded. “What were they talking about?” she panted. “Why would they think Faerune would attack?”
Merwyn dismounted beside her, less riled than she. “This was what Alluin suspected, was it not? The emperor wanted a reason to attack Faerune. Now he has it.”
She looked up at him. “But to say Faerune is responsible for the Akkeri attacks? The Akkeri have long been our enemies.”
If he was hurt by the statement, he didn’t show it. “It is clever. The people will think, why would he lie? An emperor would never attack those he is sworn to protect. Faerune is far away with little contact, easy to blame.”
She wrapped her arms around her cramped stomach, then slowly dropped to her knees. Tiny rocks pressed through the fabric of her suede leggings “This is worse than we thought. There is no way we’ll make it to Faerune in time to warn them.”
Merwyn approached and placed one mottled hand on her shoulder. “We must try.”
Still panting, she nodded. He was right. They at least had to try. Her breath hitched at the distant sound of voices. “The villagers?” she gasped.
Merwyn shook his head, then tilted his ear upward to listen. “They do not speak the common tongue,” he whispered after a moment.
Saida pushed through her panic enough to actually listen to the voices. He was right. They spoke a language she’d heard once or twice from the scholars of Faerune.
Her body began to tremble. “They are speaking Akenyth,” she rasped, “the language of the Dreilore.”
Merwyn silently gestured for her to stand, then helped her onto the antlioch. The distant voices grew nearer.
Merwyn climbed onto the antlioch behind her, then whispered into her ear. “Toward the coast, out of the woods. Do not run unless they spot us.”
She nodded to herself, barely noticing the stench of fish that came with his breath. Dreilore so near the Capital. When Alluin first mentioned the Dreilore, she thought him crazy, but it seemed he’d predicted much.
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 20