“Use your lightning you fool!” Rissine shouted, still fighting the oncoming Akkeri.
The little whelps were ridiculously hard to kill.
Seeming to sense her weakness, the wet, uninjured Nokken smiled. She crouched, then pounced forward like a wolf.
Elmerah slashed at her with her cutlass, the movement viciously straining her wounded side, making her stomach lurch. She repressed the urge to vomit. For all her effort, the cutlass barely grazed the Nokken, and her flame only managed a weak sizzle as it hit the Nokken’s wet clothing.
Elmerah backed away. “I’d like to remind you both that you’re supposed to keep me alive.”
“Alive, yes,” the wet Nokken said in the thick accent of the Dracawyn Province, “but perhaps severely mangled is acceptable.”
The Nokken stepped forward. An arrow thunked into her leg and she staggered, letting out a loud shriek.
Elmerah watched in shock as blood blossomed on the Nokken’s tattered wet clothing, then she staggered back, realizing the archer might have been aiming for her. Her shock only increased as she spotted a Faerune elf nearing from the dense shrubs, a short bow held at the ready. At first she thought it was Thera, but the elf was too short.
“What in Ilthune are you doing here?” she gasped.
As Saida neared, Elmerah noted her eyes were a bit too wide, and her hands trembled slightly on her bow. She obviously wasn’t used to shooting people with arrows.
The injured Nokken cursed in her native tongue, then the uninjured one stepped forward with a whispered comment to the other.
Saida’s bow shifted to point at her chest. “Do not move,” she ordered.
The uninjured Nokken spoke again in her foreign tongue, then lightning struck down directly on top of her. She made a guttural oof sound as she was flung forward into the sand, then remained motionless.
Elmerah looked beyond the still conscious Nokken to see Rissine approach. Daemon and the other Nokken stood back, watching, but why?
Her hands raised in defeat, the female Nokken crept back, dragging her injured leg in the sand.
Once Rissine arrived near Elmerah, she turned and faced Daemon and the male Nokken coming toward them. Her storm still crackled overhead, but it was quickly dissipating. Her power must have been nearly drained after her fight with the Akkeri, who now lay strewn across the beach.
Clutching her wounded side through her loose blouse, Elmerah moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with her sister. “Have your bow ready,” she muttered to Saida.
Daemon and the male Nokken stopped roughly ten paces away, leaving the female to sit in the sand and nurse her wounds.
Elmerah pointed her cutlass toward them. “What do you want? Why stage such a pitiful ambush?”
Daemon smiled coldly. “You and the elf, of course. We only meant to tire you out first.” He drew a jewel-encrusted rapier from his belt.
“It’s enchanted,” Rissine muttered. “It is why he would risk himself so near our magic.”
“That is correct,” Daemon replied. He flicked his gaze to Saida. “Now kindly lower your pathetic little bow and I won’t kill your friend. We only need one of the witches. Either one will do.”
Elmerah flexed her fingers around her cutlass as the Nokken who’d been struck by lightning groaned, then slowly got to her feet. Wonderful, Elmerah thought, now they’d be entirely dependent on Rissine’s sword skills and Saida’s bow against three opponents, because she was just about ready to topple over.
Without warning, Saida loosed her arrow. It sailed right toward the male Nokken, though she may have well been aiming for Daemon. The Nokken darted aside, rolling through the sand, then coming to his feet as the arrow plunked harmlessly into the ground where he’d been standing.
Before she could draw another arrow, the Nokken who’d been hit by lightning tackled her, and the two startled tussling over the bow.
With a cruel smile, Daemon stepped forward, raising his rapier in an offensive stance. “Now, who would like to test their sword skills first?”
Elmerah glanced at her sister to find her looking far paler than usual, and her eyes seemed unfocused. Curse it all, she’d used up too much of her magic. It was a wonder she was still standing.
Just then, Rissine fell to her knees and fainted.
“I guess that would be me,” Elmerah sighed. She stepped forward, then lifted her cutlass, though the movement pained her greatly. She wavered slightly, feeling like she was on a ship in choppy waters. She glanced at the male Nokken. “Let’s make this a fair fight, shall we? I’ll kill him first, then I’ll kill you.”
With a smug smile, the Nokken raised his hands, showcasing long, thick black nails, then stepped back.
Elmerah turned back to Daemon, then charged.
He parried her first swipe easily and she cursed her sluggish movements. She tried to spin around, but stumbled, slashing awkwardly.
He made a stab for her heart, which she managed to duck, then lifted her leg and kicked him in the chest. He staggered back, then resumed his stance.
She tried to lift her cutlass again, but her arm trembled horribly. That last kick had taken every ounce of strength she had left. She would not be able to fight off his next attack. They would kill her, then they would take Rissine prisoner, returning her to Egrin so he could experiment with her magic like he had hers. She heard the distant sound of hooves, and knew then that Daemon had reinforcements on the way. Saida’s struggle with the female Nokken ended as the male Nokken closed in, snagged the bow, and kicked Saida aside, ending the fight. Saida curled up on her side, guarding her abdomen against another kick.
They were utterly sunk.
She considered surrendering as she spotted the horse in the distance, just a lone rider atop its back. Probably stupid Egrin, here to crush them all to death . . . but then why did Daemon look suddenly surprised?
He turned just as the horse hit the beach, its cowled rider leaning low over the dappled mare’s neck. It was a stocky thing, made for plowing fields. It plowed right into Daemon Saredoth, trampling him.
Beyond the trampling horse, Saida rolled to her feet, using the distraction to elbow the male Nokken in the gut. He doubled over with a grunt, then she kneed him in the face, propelling him backward. As he fell, she darted in and stole his belt knife, then pointed it at the female Nokken.
The female raised her hands in surrender, slowly backing away.
Elmerah put pressure on her wound as she blinked blearily up at the rider. Sunlight cut across the beach, let in by the dissipating clouds.
Though she was about to topple over, she smiled. “Took you long enough, you stupid elf.”
Alluin
It seemed Alluin had arrived just in time. Rissine was lying motionless in the sand, and Elmerah was looking at him like she was drunk, though he suspected she was actually just delirious from the wound in her side.
He dismounted and drew the twin blades at his belt as the male and female Nokken backed away toward their remaining companion, a female sitting in the sand with an arrow in her leg.
The male raised his hands in surrender. “It seems our plan was not the wisest,” he said, his thickly accented voice a deep rumble in his chest.
“Perhaps not,” Alluin agreed as Saida reached his side.
The two Nokken reached their companion and helped her to her feet. Supporting the injured female between them, they all looked at each other with subtle nods, then turned and hurried away.
Alluin’s shoulders slumped. They needed to leave the beach before anyone else arrived, but first he wanted to make sure Daemon Saredoth was dead. He approached the crumpled form lying beside his waiting mare.
“Curse it all!” he growled. Red hair, fox ears, and a badly bruised Nokken body lay in the sand. The shapechanger had only made himself look like Daemon Saredoth.
As Alluin watched, the Nokken’s eyes opened. “Don’t kill me,” he groaned, wincing at Alluin.
Alluin pointed a dagger downward. �
�Why not?”
“We only thought to improve our standing with the emperor,” he muttered, wincing in pain. “He knows not that you are here. He knows nothing of this encounter. We thought—” he gasped, “thought if we captured the witches, we would be as valued as the Dreilore.”
Elmerah staggered up behind Alluin. “Well that was a stupid plan, now wasn’t it? You planned this with the Akkeri.”
The Nokken closed his eyes. “They hoped you would lure out the Moon Priestess.”
Alluin peered down the beach toward the Akkeri corpses littering the sand. “Let’s get out of here,” he sighed. “There may be more of them coming.”
Elmerah placed a hand on his shoulder, an unusual display of affection . . . no, wait, she was just using him to keep herself standing.
He looped his arm beneath her shoulders and helped her toward his waiting mare. She hung onto the mare’s saddle, relieving him of her weight. He turned at the sound of Saida’s whistle.
Good, she hadn’t lost the antlioch. He wasn’t sure how they would have all gotten out of there quickly with just one mount. He glanced at Rissine, still unconscious in the sand. Even two mounts would be difficult.
The antlioch approached cautiously, and Alluin realized Merwyn was atop its back, his small body leaned forward on the creature’s neck. The antlioch stepped lightly, careful to not topple its seemingly unconscious rider.
What he’d found in the woods clicked together in Alluin’s mind. Merwyn had been shot by an arrow. Saida had bound his wounds with the cloak, and turned back toward the Capital to find him aid.
The antlioch reached Saida, who in turn led the creature to Alluin.
“The storm drew you?” he asked Saida.
She nodded. “When I saw how quickly it was moving in, I knew it was likely caused by Elmerah.”
At that moment, the witch in question fell over with a soft thunk, landing on her side in the sand.
He looked to Saida. “We need to get out of here. I have no idea how I’m going to balance two unconscious witches on one horse, but I’ll have to try.”
“I’m not unconscious yet!” Elmerah called out. “Just not exactly standing.”
Saida glanced at Rissine. “Two? Why would you want to take her?”
While it was tempting to leave her behind, he could reluctantly admit they needed her. “I’ll explain everything later. Just help me lift her.”
Though Saida looked unsure, she obeyed. After some awkward attempts, they managed to slide Rissine over the base of the horse’s neck, belly down. Then they helped Elmerah into the saddle, which proved less cumbersome as she was still conscious enough to hold on, but just barely. Once she was in place, she hunched over her sister. “Don’t forget to fetch my coat,” she groaned.
Alluin peered down the beach, spotting her crumpled black coat in the sand.
Saida waited near the antlioch while he fetched the coat, then they both led their respective animals and unconscious riders down the beach.
“Will we go to the settlement?” Saida asked as they walked, one palm on the antlioch’s neck as it ambled beside her. “We need a healer.”
He shook his head. “We cannot go there. For now, we must simply find a place to hide and look at Elmerah’s wound.”
Saida nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is the first thing we should do, though I’m quite confused how everyone ended up here.”
Bile threatened to creep up his throat at the thought of mentioning his kin, but it was the easiest way to explain how they’d all ended up on this deserted beach. “My kin were killed by the Dreilore. The other elves have moved on to more distant encampments. I was tracking you to give you more information, but it seemed you had turned around. I was following your tracks back when I saw the storm, and knew it must be Elmerah.”
Saida shook her head in disbelief. “Your kin?”
His head drooped. “It is best not to speak of it now. There is much more I need to say to you. I can only hope we are not too late for Faerune. If only that Nokken had truly been Daemon . . . ” he trailed off, letting go of the elation he’d felt at trampling the man.
“Daemon?” Saida questioned. “He was present during the attack?”
He furrowed his brow at her. “No, but the Nokken was posing as him.”
She shook her head. “I only saw four Nokken, and the dead Akkeri.”
He lifted his brows. “Perhaps you are skilled at seeing through the Nokken’s disguises, as I was entirely fooled.”
Saida looked down at her feet deep in thought, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We have more pressing matters to discuss. We encountered one of the Dreilore in the woods,” she replied. “If Faerune is their target, we will not make it there before them.”
He’d thought that had been the case judging by the arrow, but just hearing it made everything feel utterly hopeless. “Then perhaps we are too late.”
“Hey,” Elmerah groaned, still leaned forward in the saddle atop her unconscious sister. “I did not get stabbed in an Akkeri water fight just to cry and give up. You two dragged me into this war, so in the name of Arcale, or Cindra, or whoever in Ilthune you elves worship, we will be finishing it. That son of a Dreilore wench who calls himself Egrin Dinoba picked the wrong witch to mess with.”
Alluin raised his eyebrows at Saida, who smiled in reply. “Perhaps not all is utterly lost,” she offered.
He laughed. Perhaps Saida was right, though they needed to get the witch to a healer soon, lest her bluster prove more than her bite.
Elmerah
Elmerah propped herself up with several hard pillows in her less than comfortable bed . . . the same bed she’d slept in after she and Saida escaped the pirates. Of course the nosy innkeep was part of Rissine’s guild, a perfect spy to gather information from the frequently visiting militia. She’d been forced to forgive the old man his gruff attitude when he’d taken them in, allowing an injured Arthali, and a more gravely wounded Akkeri to hide at his inn. Rissine had been given a room of her own, fortunately, granting Elmerah time to recover both her strength and her pride.
She reached for her nearby cutlass as footsteps sounded outside the door.
“It’s me,” Alluin called.
With a groan, she rose from the bed, then padded barefoot across the room to unlock the door. Though she wore black breeches, her loose, sleeveless undershirt exposed the bandages circling her wound whenever she lifted her arms.
She hesitated at the door, then decided Alluin had seen her in a far worse state, namely slung across a horse pinning down her unconscious sister. She twisted the lock, then the knob.
Alluin waited outside. Though he’d had time to rest, deep bags marred the skin beneath his green eyes, and his long hair was mussed. He’d found a clean forest green tunic, a few shades darker than his eyes. “You look like one of the Akkeri,” he commented, eyeing her bedraggled condition as he walked past her into the room.
She shut the door behind him. “Speaking of, how is our diminutive friend?”
Alluin shook his head as he turned to her. “Still breathing, but there’s no saying if he’ll live. His wounds have been properly tended, and he’s been given herbs for his fever. It is all we can do.”
She walked back to her bed and sat. “They’re a tough race, I’m sure he’ll recover.” She was actually not sure, and rather annoyed to find she cared.
Alluin sat on the bed beside her. “I thought we’d go over our plan before we spoke to Saida. We should be prepared to leave come evening.”
She cringed. He was right, they couldn’t tarry, but the wound in her side begged her to argue. “You mean you haven’t told her about Isara?”
He shook his head. “As much as she now detests the emperor, it will be difficult for her to believe that we plan on overthrowing the Empire entirely. I thought it might help to hear it from her friend.”
“I’m not her friend,” Elmerah snapped.
“Yes you are,” he stated matter-of-factly. “She
’ll trust what you say, just as your sister trusts you.”
She snorted. “I’ve no clue why.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You know, you’re really not as terrible as you make yourself out to be.”
“Just give me time.”
He laughed. “We’ll see. For now, we need to convince Saida to reach Isara. We can only hope she’ll still be alive by the time we reach Faerune.”
It was her turn to raise a brow. “So we’re going to Faerune now?”
He nodded. “Splitting up did not work out well for us the last time, and it is imperative that we reach Isara. We’ll stop by some of the Valeroot settlements along the way to make sure they are prepared.”
“Well,” she sighed, “I suppose anywhere is better than here. That will give Rissine time to rally the Arthali . . . if she can find them.”
He looked down at his hands resting in his lap. “Yes, the Arthali. Hopefully they’ll keep their sights on the Empire, and will not turn on the elves.”
She smirked. “Oh trust me, as much as I detest the Arthali, they know who their true enemy is. While the elves might fear or sometimes detest us, you have never been our enemies.”
Another knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” they said in unison, each reaching toward their respective weapons.
The door opened to reveal Saida, dressed much like Alluin in a fresh tunic and breeches done in forest hues . . . though both were a bit too large for her small frame. “You’re looking much better,” she chirped, hurrying into the room before closing the door behind her. She approached the bed. “I fear I cannot say the same for Merwyn.”
Elmerah nodded. “So I’m told, but like it or not, we’ll have to move him soon.”
“Yes,” Saida agreed, glancing to Alluin. “I’m told we have a plan, but not exactly what that plan is.”
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 25