She hurried to his side, halting his progress. “You wouldn’t happen to be a guild member, would you?”
His horse’s reins in hand, he stood back and blinked at her. “I am but a simple farmer, here to warn the emperor that the Faerune scouts have arrived. I saw one in my village with one of the Akkeri.”
“Oh?” she questioned, her eyebrows raised. “What did you do?”
The man snorted. “We chased them, but they escaped, else we would have put them down.”
Her shoulders relaxed. Saida wasn’t being very careful if she was passing directly through villages, but at least she and Merwyn had escaped. Unfortunately this man’s tale would only verify the emperor’s claims that Faerune was responsible for the Akkeri attacks.
While she thought things over, the man backed away from her, then continued toward the gates.
She let him go. He was no use to her if he didn’t know anyone in the guilds.
“I heard you asking about the guilds?” an oily voice said from behind her.
She turned to see a lanky man in a black cloak. His blond hair was slicked back from his face with sweat . . . or perhaps with filth. The overwhelming scent of bitterroot covered any other possible odors.
She tugged her hood a little further forward. “Who wants to know?”
He grinned, showing blackened teeth. “Someone who can help you find who you’re looking for.” He held out a bony hand, obviously expecting a few gulls in exchange for his information.
She resisted the urge to reach for the coin pouch hanging from the back of her belt. It had grown perilously light, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk her remaining coin on him.
“I need to get into the city,” she whispered, leaning far closer than she wished.
He chuckled, encasing her in another pungent wave of bitterroot. “That will cost you considerably more coin.”
She eyed him steadily. “Coin that you will receive once I’m in the city.”
The man grinned again. He’d probably spend any coin she gave him on bitterroot and potent Faerune liquor, but it wasn’t her problem. If he could get her into the city without alerting the guards, she’d pay.
“We’ll need to speak to the guard to the right,” he whispered. “You’ll walk with me. Keep your head down and he won’t ask questions.”
“He’s a guild member?”
He shook his head. “No, but his pockets are fat with guild coin.”
She tapped her fingers on her leg as she quickly thought things over. It would have to do. “Let’s go then, and if you betray me, you’ll be dead long before the guards can act.”
He smiled again. “Don’t worry witch. I’m not stupid.”
Apparently the hood and coming darkness hadn’t done much to conceal what she was, but that the man was still willing to help an Arthali witch meant he perhaps knew Rissine. “Let’s go.”
He nodded, then moved to her left side. She lowered her chin as they approached the stone walkway leading over the canal, passing a few farmers and other folk moving in the opposite direction, heading to their homes after a day at the market.
Elmerah let her hand brush the hilt of her cutlass where it rested between the side-slit in her coat as they walked, assuring herself that if the man betrayed her, she was capable of escape. She had enough magic in her currently to at least give the guards pause.
They reached the guard with fat pockets. He had fat everything else too. Probably buying too many steamed buns with his dirty coin.
Seeming to recognize her greasy companion, as promised, the guard waved them onward.
Elmerah heaved a sigh of relief as they entered the archway leading into the Capital. Once they were well out of danger, she’d question the greasy man about Rissine’s whereabouts. Maybe if he learned she was Rissine’s sister he wouldn’t demand his coin, but it was unlikely.
“Hey!” someone called after them.
Her shoulders tensed. To fight or flee? She settled on glancing back to make sure the guard was actually speaking to her.
Sure enough, he was looking right at her, not the guard they’d passed, but an older man with graying hair. She turned to her other side to find the greasy man was gone. “Son of a Dreilore wench,” she grumbled. She turned and waited for the guard to approach her. Running now would only incite a chase.
The guard itched his graying beard as he reached her. “Where are your papers?” he sighed, clearly bored. “I didn’t see you present any when you walked through.”
“I did too,” she argued. “Do you truly think one of your men would let me pass if I had not?”
He seemed to finally look at her as his heavy brow furrowed. “Remove your hood,” he demanded.
Cursed Ilthune, she thought, now everyone would know the Arthali fugitive had re-entered the city.
“She’s with me,” a pleasant voice said from behind her.
She turned to gawk at Thera as she approached, an ugly bruised nose marring her otherwise perfect face. Had Thera known she would be re-entering the city and wanted revenge for the nose? She turned back to the guard, expecting him to arrest Thera right then and there for being a Faerune elf, but the guard simply bowed his head and backed away.
Thera laced her arm through Elmerah’s, then tugged her further from the gates. “Act natural,” she muttered. “We don’t want to draw any more attention than we already have.”
Elmerah matched Thera’s pace, then narrowed her eyes at her, taking in her fine silk gown and burgundy linen cloak. “Shouldn’t you be fleeing the Capital with all the other elves?”
Thera smirked. “Now why would I do that when I have the emperor’s protection? The gate guards know not to question me. As for everyone else, well,” she glanced to one side, prompting Elmerah to spot a man dressed in black, watching them from an alleyway, then to the right, where a lethal looking woman stroked a dagger at her belt, “most know not to bother me,” she finished.
Elmerah rolled her eyes, allowing Thera to pull her further into the city past inns and stables. It seemed much of the panic from the previous day had died down, as the few city dwellers she spotted went about their regular business.
“Where’s Rissine?” she asked finally.
“Have you reconsidered her offer?” Thera questioned.
“That’s between me and her.”
Thera chuckled. “You two are quite alike.”
“Now, now,” Elmerah cautioned, “let’s not start throwing insults. I’ll have to start comparing you to ugly wyrms and trolls.”
Thera laughed again, then turned down a narrow street, forcing Elmerah to follow by their joined arms.
Leaning against a stone wall further down was the greasy man. Spotting them, he approached. “I’ll take that coin now,” he said to Elmerah.
“I think not,” Thera interjected.
The greasy man looked to her. “I helped her into the city, elf.”
Footsteps sounded behind them, and the greasy man looked up. Way up.
Elmerah glanced at the presence at their backs. He was a mountain of a man, his skin like faded leather. She turned back to see the greasy man backing away, hands raised.
“Consider it a favor,” the greasy man muttered, then turned and ran down an intersecting street.
Thera continued walking. “As I said, most know not to bother me. Those who do not know—tend to learn quickly.”
Elmerah resisted the urge to glance again at the massive man following them. She wasn’t sure if his continued presence was for their protection, or to keep her from running, but she had no interest in finding out.
“Where are we going?” she questioned, wondering if they’d meet Rissine at the Crimson Jewel, or at the docks.
“I’ll take you somewhere to wait for Rissine. We cannot go to the Jewel, unless you want to risk the emperor becoming aware of your presence.” She glanced at her with a smirk. “I assume that is something we’d like to avoid for now?”
“Forever,” she corrected.
Thera laughed. There was something a bit off about her, something Elmerah didn’t like. A bit like the greasy man, but greasy on the inside. Rissine had obviously lost her sense of judgment if she trusted the exiled Faerune elf.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she pressed as they turned down another street. They were keeping to less populated area where few would make notice of them in the growing darkness.
“Somewhere safe,” Thera assured. “You will wait there while I fetch Rissine.”
Elmerah stopped walking and tugged her arm free of Thera’s. “Oh, so I’m just to wait in some undisclosed location while you plan the ambush?”
Thera crossed her silk-clad arms. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I simply thought it best for you to wait in hiding, considering you’re a fugitive. If you run into the wrong people, they will attempt to kill you on sight.”
“Fine,” Elmerah hissed. “I’ll hide, but if anyone shows up besides Rissine I’ll burn down whatever building you put me in.”
Thera replied with a nod and a smile. “Duly noted.”
Elmerah walked past Thera’s offered arm, continuing in the direction they’d been going.
Thera hurried to catch up. At some point the mountain man had left them, but Elmerah had little doubt he’d reappear if trouble cropped up. It didn’t matter. She’d burn him down too.
The night was pitch black around them by the time they reached a small wooden shack on the outskirts of the slums. If the goal was to not be seen by any of the emperor’s militia, they’d achieved it. The slums were run by a different kind of law.
Thera withdrew a key from her belt-pouch then unlocked the shack’s door.
Elmerah waited for her to go inside first and light a lantern. Once there was light, she peeked her head in to ensure the shack was empty, save Thera. Once she felt confident there would be no ambush, she walked inside.
Thera offered her the lantern. “There’s not much in the way of supplies here, but hopefully you will not have to wait long.”
Elmerah took the lantern in her left hand, then patted her mostly-empty satchel with her right. “I’ll be fine.”
Thera nodded, the shiftiness of her pale eyes making Elmerah uneasy. Was she nervous to be harboring a fugitive, or was there more to it?
With a fake smile, Thera turned and left the shack, shutting the door behind her.
Elmerah watched her go, quickly deciding there was no way she would remain waiting in the shack. She’d find a hiding place outside where she could watch for Thera’s return.
Saida
Saida crouched in the darkness, binding Merwyn’s wound with strips of her cloak. She’d managed to remove the arrow, but he’d lost a lot of blood. Somehow he was still conscious. She never actually thought she’d be grateful for the hardiness of the Akkeri.
“You must leave me,” Merwyn rasped as she tugged her final knot tight, his slurred words now even more difficult to decipher.
She lifted her belt knife from the ground, then severed the excess fabric from the makeshift bandage. “Don’t be silly. We’ll take you back to the Valeroot settlement. Alluin will find someone to care for you.”
Merwyn tried to shake his head, then winced. “You have lost enough time already. You must go to Faerune.”
She glanced around the dark woods, still wary of Dreilore though they’d ridden far from the place they were attacked. She turned back to Merwyn. “I will not leave you.” Truly, she wanted to. After her experience with Lord Orius, she wanted to run straight to Faerune and never look back, but . . . Merwyn had saved her life. She could not just leave him to die, despite his urging.
She stood and guided the antlioch near, then crouched to help Merwyn stand. He had little strength left, and was hardly more than dead weight as she hoisted him atop the antlioch. It was fortunate he was even smaller than she, else she never would have managed.
Once he was in place, she climbed up behind him, her tired, blood-soaked limbs protesting every movement. She settled into the thick wool of the antlioch with one arm around Merwyn’s ribcage, then urged the beast onward, back toward the Capital. While most would feel uneasy in the darkness, she was incredibly grateful for it. She knew Dreilore could see in the night better than humans, but their night vision could not compare to that of a Faerune elf. She would hopefully spot any adversaries long before they would spot her.
Merwyn did not offer any further protests as they rode, only occasional grunts of pain. If she did not get his wounds properly tended soon, she feared he would perish. If only the settlement wasn’t so far away.
“We are,” Merwyn rasped, “dooming Faerune.”
She held on to him, ignoring his pungent smell and congealing blood. “Faerune will have to protect itself for now. My kin will not fall so easily.”
What she didn’t say was that she was foolish to ever think she could make it on her own in the first place. She was a failure of a priestess, and as Merwyn had proven, a failure of a friend for putting him in danger. Just as she’d thought when she first ran away, Faerune was better off without her.
Elmerah
Elmerah waited atop a nearby roof as Thera returned to the shack. It seemed her fears had not been warranted, as she returned with a single cloaked figure about Rissine’s height. However, the darkness obscured the face of the person at Thera’s side, so she remained wary.
Thera unlocked the shack, and entered, the cloaked person close behind.
Shaking her head at her own paranoia, Elmerah lowered herself down from the roof’s edge until she hung from her hands, then dropped the rest of the way, bending her knees to absorb the impact.
Fanning away the dust that billowed up, she approached the shack, then walked through the open door.
“Did you not trust me to bring her?” Thera questioned as Elmerah shut the door behind herself.
She shrugged. “Can you blame me?”
The cloaked figure turned around.
Elmerah gasped, her heart pounding. It wasn’t Rissine after all. She backed toward the door, but knew it would do her little good.
The emperor pulled back his hood, revealing his short black hair. “I must admit, I’m surprised you returned. Where is Saida?”
Her hand found the door handle behind her, but it wouldn’t budge, as if the metal had been fused together. Giving the door a final angry tug, she glared at the emperor. “What do you want? Am I to believe you ventured into the slums just to see me?”
Egrin stepped forward past Thera. “You value yourself too little. I’m sure any man would venture across the Capital to see you. Now I’ll ask you one more time. Where is Saida?”
Elmerah sneered. “Far from here.”
Egrin sighed. “Of course, I expected as much, though the Akkeri will not be pleased.” He glanced at Thera. “Leave us.”
Thera bowed, then hurried toward the door.
Elmerah blocked her path. “You won’t be going out there without me.”
Thera smiled snidely, then reached past her toward the door.
Elmerah tried to grab the handle first, but suddenly she couldn’t move. She would have cursed the bloody emperor, if only she could breathe.
Thera opened the door with ease, slid past Elmerah, and went out into the night, closing the door behind her.
A moment later, she could move again, and lunged for the door. She pressed down on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Straightening her back, she turned to face the emperor. “What do you want? I have no clue where Saida is. I cannot help you.”
He stalked toward her, his black cloak billowing around him. “You’re strong for a witch,” he observed. “Almost as strong as your sister.” She stepped further into the room as he reached her side, then spun to keep him in her sights as he paced around her. Finally, he stopped near the door, then looked her up and down. “Perhaps stronger, in some ways.”
She stepped back. “What do you want?” she growled, debating her options. He could crush the b
reath from her in the time it would take her to summon a lick of magic or draw her cutlass, and running for the door again was obviously out.
“I want to learn why you’ve come to the Capital,” he explained. “At first I assumed you were here because of Rissine, yet here you are,” he gestured to her with a flip of his hand, palm up, “not with Rissine.” He smirked. “Yet trying in vain to find her.”
She stared at him, unsure of what to say. I’m here to convince my sister to kill you, didn’t seem like a wise answer.
He laughed, though at what, she did not know. “I’m almost tempted to let you go, just to see what you’ll do.”
“I like that option,” she agreed, “let’s go with that.”
He shook his head. “I said I was tempted, but I’m really not that curious. Do you remember your time in Shadowmarsh?”
She was so baffled by the question she instinctually backed further into the room, away from him.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Rissine claims to remember little of your homeland.”
Elmerah blinked at him, knowing that if Rissine had actually said that, she’d been lying. A teenager when they left, she’d remember Shadowmarsh clearly. “What do you care for Shadowmarsh? Your father had everyone there killed. Is that not enough?”
He chuckled. “He was looking for something there, but was unable to find it. I’ve been curious about it since I was a boy.”
She chewed her lip. This was going nowhere. Was he simply toying with her before killing her? “Well I don’t remember it either, so I can’t help you.”
He tsked at her. “You Arthali are such liars.” He lifted a hand toward her.
She flinched a moment before the air was crushed from her lungs.
Though he kept his hand raised, it seemed to take little effort for him to suffocate her.
She stared at him, because it was all she could do as her mind buzzed like it was filled with bees. Just when she was about to lose consciousness, he released her.
She fell to her knees, gasping for air. Her eyes filled involuntarily with tears.
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 22