The Elven Apostate

by Sara C. Roethle

  The Elven Apostate

  The Moonstone Chronicles - Book Three

  Sara C. Roethle

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Alluin

  “Why is she still here?” The hurled vase barely missed Alluin’s head just moments after Elmerah spoke.

  He looked down at the shattered vase, then stepped further into the room, suddenly regretting the visit. Even so, he couldn’t help it. He, like Elmerah, felt pent up biding time while Faerune was rebuilt. They needed to move on with their plan, and it was quite apparent that Elmerah expected her sister to do the same.

  Elmerah paced across her chamber, then slumped into a cushioned chair atop an ornate rug from the Helshone Desert. They truly could not complain about the accommodations. Not only had Saida’s father, Ivran, insisted they stay within the High Temple, but Immril and Cornaith too. The latter pair, Alluin suspected, with motives concerning their own protection. Elmerah might be a pain in the rump, but she was also a destructive force to be reckoned with.

  After a moment of debate, he shut the door behind him, then approached the sulking witch, who was now glaring at the cold hearth. He half expected the untouched kindling to burst into flames at her thoughts.

  He crossed his arms, feeling stiff and uncomfortable in the new charcoal gray linen tunic and wool breeches. “Rissine will go when she’s ready. The sea has been choppy. Too many storms.”

  She glared up at him through a lock of black hair. “The Winter Isles clan can control the winds. She has several of them who will sail with her. Storms are not an issue.”

  He sighed. In truth, he did not know why Rissine hadn’t left yet. It had been her intent all along to sail far north on the Kalwey Sea in search of more Arthali, yet she hadn’t even begun to prepare her ship for the journey. “Maybe she’s worried about you.”

  Her gaze drifted to her crossed arms, clad in her new black coat. “Rissine only worries about herself.”

  This is going nowhere, he thought. “I came to see if you wanted to travel to Skaristead with me. It would be good too if Saida came along, so the High Council might actually provide us with horses. Several small Valeroot clans are to arrive there either late this evening, or tomorrow morning. They refuse to travel to Faerune without an escort.”

  She looked up, a bit of the anger fading from her expression. “Even with the city half in ruins?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “My people have been shunned by Faerune for generations. Can you blame them for lacking faith?”

  Despite his words, he too lacked faith at times. While some Faerune elves were grateful for the Valeroot and Arthali presence, he did not miss the wary glances—some filled with darker emotions than distrust—often cast at his kinfolk’s backs . . . though they were mild compared to the looks the Arthali received.

  Elmerah was watching him, and he realized he was now the one glaring at the hearth like a petulant child. She grinned at his silent realization. “Yes, let us be off to Skaristead. I tire of all this flowery burrberry brandy. I could use a hearty ale.”

  He rolled his eyes. “We’re not going there to drink.”

  She stood, fetched her new leather-sheathed silver cutlass leaning against her chair, then turned to him as she belted it around her waist over her coat. “No, you’re not going there to drink. I will do as I please.”

  “Fine,” he muttered, heading for the door. “If you’re going to be a total nuisance, at least go find Saida for me.”

  “What’s the point? All she’ll do is wallow about what’s happened.”

  The door partially ajar, he looked over his shoulder at her. “If you were a true friend, you’d try to talk her through her pain.”

  “Good thing no one has ever accused me of being a true friend. You find Saida. I’ll meet you at the gates.”

  With a huff, he stepped outside, then shut the door for Elmerah to finish getting ready. Now that she couldn’t see him, he smiled. She might spew bluster every chance she got, but he knew without a doubt she’d eventually talk to Saida and shake the sadness from her. What they all needed was a bit of adventure, and a bit of space from the cracked and shattered crystal walls, towering over them like a grim reminder of what had transpired, and what was still to come.

  * * *

  Elmerah

  With a freshly packed satchel slung over her shoulder, and her cutlass at her hip, partially hidden within the folds of her coat, Elmerah ventured across the main thoroughfare toward the edge of the city. A crisp spring breeze blew through her loose hair, promising warm days and green growing things soon to come. As her boots echoed across the cracked cobblestones, she wondered how different this spring would be without the elves magical moonstones. She knew their magic could amplify the sun’s effects, and could nurture weak saplings into full fruition within a single season. Just how dire would things become now without that power?

  She glanced at the elves working hard to rebuild this part of the city as she continued walking. Others were busy in the new smithies, making tempered silver steel weapons like the one at her hip. The silver steel was imbued with with moonstone dust, giving the blade just a hint of the magical properties for which the greater Faerune artifacts were known.

  She reached the shattered crystal walls, and the warped iron gate that had been repaired back into usefulness, if not as grand as before. Before that gate stood Alluin, Saida, and Rissine.

  Elmerah stepped up to the group, looking her sister up and down. “Finally setting sail then?” She knew it wasn’t the case. Rissine carried but a single satchel, and none of the other Arthali were to be seen.

  Rissine pursed her plump lips. “I hear you’re traveling to Skaristead. The ship needs more flour and grain stores for our long journey, so I thought this a prime opportunity to obtain some.”

  “Why not send your underlings?”

  “I like to do things myself.” Rissine turned with a flourish of her hips, jingling the little coins and jewels sewn onto the red sash which hugged them.

  Alluin shrugged apologetically, while Saida just stared at her feet. What a joyous journey this would be.

  The trio followed Rissine toward four horses tethered off to the right by the ruined inn. Odd, that Rissine could find a horse so quickly in a city sorely lacking in mounts . . .

  Elmerah grabbed Alluin’s arm before they could reach the horses. “You told her we were going before you even asked me,” she hissed.

  He shrugged. “She asked me to let her know if you were to depart. She worries.”

  She lowered her voice, glancing at Rissine, who was stroking the largest horse. “She has no right to worry.”

  “That doesn’t stop her from doing so,” he sighed, then pulled away.

  Hands on hips, she watched him go. Saida had remained silently by her side. She wore crisp priestess white, with little silver moons embroidered along the edge of her tunic. Not exactly travel clothes—except for the light gray cloak slung over her shoulder—but what remained of the High Council was doing its best to keep order, and Saida would need to take her mother’s place soon. It was important to them that Saida show her status.<
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  A few elves glanced their way, but seemed to pay them little mind. Elmerah turned her sights back to her sister, deciding she couldn’t blame Alluin for the betrayal. He didn’t know her full history with Rissine. The only person she’d told in recent times was Solana, and she was dead.

  She had to shield her eyes from the reflected sunlight as she looked up at the massive cracked and shattered crystals. “Let’s go, princess,” she said to Saida. “A little fresh air will do us both good.”

  “Yes,” was all Saida said as she walked past her toward the horses, her long, white-blonde hair flying free in the breeze.

  Her mood souring by the moment, Elmerah followed. She knew she’d need to have an important conversation with the elven priestess soon. This malaise could not continue. It was selfish to avoid it, but she’d struggled to find the time . . . No, that wasn’t right. She’d struggled to find the motivation, for speaking of Saida’s murdered mother would surely lead to talk of her own.

  They reached the horses. Rissine had already chosen the horse she’d been stroking, a sleek silver beast with wild eyes. The other three were varying shades of brown, tamer, the depths of their eyes more serene. Alluin had untethered them, and handed one set of reins to Saida.

  “Where’d you find the horse?” Elmerah asked Rissine. She took the remaining set of reins from Alluin and mounted the darkest mare.

  “The stables. The elves have been too afraid to saddle her.”

  Elmerah smirked, then tapped her heels, guiding her horse toward the gates. As far as she could remember, Rissine didn’t get along with animals. She looked back. “And you’re a beast charmer now?”

  Her sister’s silver mare fell into step beside hers. Rissine lifted her nose. “Mireldah helped.”

  Elmerah sucked her teeth. She’d briefly met Mireldah, but had not been informed from which clan she hailed. Now she knew. The Silver Leaf clan could charm any manner of beast. She’d long wondered if they’d been a part of her mother’s murder. On that fateful day when Rissine took her out in their small boat, the fish had been plentiful, swarming and splashing in the waters around them—almost as if they’d been summoned. The excitement had kept her and Rissine out past nightfall, leaving ample time for their mother’s murder.

  A horse’s snort brought Elmerah back to the moment. They were already riding through the opened gate, past glaring elven sentries. Soon they were on the road heading east toward Skaristead. It was early enough they’d make it there by nightfall . . . if they didn’t encounter any dangers along the way.

  She almost wished for a bit of danger. If they ran afoul of witch hunters, she could give Rissine to them.

  She tilted her eyes up toward the sky, letting the faint surrounding birdsong wash over her. No, she could not sacrifice her sister just yet. Not until she rallied more Arthali to aid the elves.

  And not until she finally admitted out loud what she’d done.

  * * *

  The tavern attached to Skaristead’s small inn bustled with activity, but the Valeroot elves had not yet arrived. After stabling the horses, they’d been met by Alluin’s sister, Vessa, a concerned expression wrinkling her narrow brow. Now they waited at a round wooden table in the tavern, considering there was nothing better to do. Rissine sat to Elmerah’s left—yet to go off in search of flour and grain—and Alluin to her right. Across the table were Vessa and Saida. If Saida sensed the mass amounts of sibling tension at the table, she did not show it. Perhaps she just didn’t understand, being an only child herself.

  The elven barmaid arrived with a tray of boiled leather mugs, the honey-scent of the mead almost overwhelming. The elves loved their flowery and sweet drinks. Elmerah didn’t really care about flavors, as long as they were alcoholic. If she were to survive a full evening with Rissine, she’d need to be at least a little bit fuddled by spirits.

  “You’re worried,” Alluin said to his sister as the barmaid placed a mug in front of each of them.

  The barmaid cast a final wary glance at Rissine and Elmerah, then hurried away without waiting for payment. Perhaps she was leaving it up to the witches whether they would pay, or destroy the inn with their Arthali magic.

  Vessa glanced at Rissine, then turned her green eyes back to her brother, raking nimble fingers through her brown shoulder-length hair. “Even if the clans were delayed, they should have at least sent scouts ahead by now. Someone should have been here. I’m worried they were attacked.”

  It was a sensible worry. With Dreilore, Nokken, and Akkeri roaming about, the dangers for a few small clans of Valeroot elves were countless.

  Alluin’s jaw tensed. He took a long breath, then answered, “All we can do now is wait. If they do not arrive by morning, we will return to Faerune and send trackers to find them.”

  “You and I are the best trackers around,” Vessa pressed.

  Alluin didn’t reply right away, but Elmerah knew he was warring with that fact. If he didn’t have other responsibilities, he’d search for the missing elves that night. But the demon emperor had to be their primary objective, and they’d already wasted too much time. Time they no longer had. The High Council had to be convinced to act now.

  Elmerah swilled half her drink in one go, and was about to ask Saida for a talk—the talk—when the inn’s double doors burst inward, rattling with a gust of cool wind. A panting, sopping wet Valeroot elf fell to his knees on the floorboards just a few paces from their table.

  “Demons!” he rasped, then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he promptly fell over.

  Elmerah was the first to reach the elf, with Alluin right behind, followed by Saida and Vessa. The entire tavern had fallen silent, except for short bursts of frightened whispers. Elmerah peered out the doorway into the still dusk, then down at the elf, face down. The poor sod had a sleek black spike sticking out of his back, impaling him.

  She knelt by his side, checked his pulse—or lack thereof—then turned her attention to the strange weapon, stretching her fingers toward it.

  “Don’t touch it!” Rissine hissed.

  Elmerah stopped mid-motion to glare up at her sister. “Why not?”

  Rissine knelt beside her, too close. Elmerah shuffled away as her sister replied, “The elf said demons. If this is a demonic weapon, it may contain a . . . residue.”

  “It looks like a spine from a bristlepig,” Alluin observed, “only larger.”

  The whispers were growing louder in the tavern. There would be limited time to observe the body before the patrons started cutting past them to escape into the night.

  Only the night might hide demons, Elmerah’s thoughts whispered. Demons like the Ayperos, and like Egrin Dinoba.

  “I don’t know him,” Vessa blurted, her eyes wide and features tense. “But he must be from one of the three clans meant to arrive here. We need to search for the others.”

  Rissine stood, done observing the victim, then turned her back to Elmerah to face Alluin, Saida, and Vessa. “You three search his pockets, see if you can find any other clues of who he is and from whence he came. Elmerah and I will check outside.”

  Her voice was loud enough for the entire tavern to hear, and no one was fool enough to argue with an Arthali witch.

  Elmerah rose with a sigh, nodded to Alluin that she agreed with this plan, then turned to follow Rissine as she led the way outside.

  Fingers on her shoulder stopped her. She looked back at Saida, for the first time in a while seeing true fear in the priestess’ eyes.

  “Be careful. I cannot—”

  Elmerah patted the small hand on her shoulder. “I know. It will be alright.”

  She hurried out the doorway before the moment could grow more emotional. She knew Saida could not bear to lose anyone else so soon after her mother. She understood. But she still had to venture out into the night in search of demons.

  Her breath fogged the dark air outside, still crisp though the growing season had arrived. Soon the final frost would come and go, and the more delicate c
rops would begin to sprout. She wondered if she’d live to see it. Rissine’s tall form was little more than a shadow walking down the quiet dirt road bisecting the small settlement.

  Elmerah hurried after her, eyes on her surroundings, keeping her senses open for any signs of demonic magic. The dark road, the surrounding hills, and the sparse forests beyond were quiet—too quiet. No chirping insects nor hooting owls. Something was out there.

  She sensed them a moment before they crested the hill overlooking the northern end of the settlement, but it took her eyes far longer to make sense of things. Spiders. The Ayperos. She had battled the massive creatures once before, but this time, there were more. Their hairy legs carried them over rough terrain like they were floating. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the other demon creatures in the distance. They were most certainly not timid little bristlepigs. They were wild boars, even larger than the Ayperos, black tusks catching moonlight, the slivers of light echoing on the quills coating their bodies. Now she knew where the spike piercing the elf’s back had come from. How he’d managed to get one of those quills in his back was anyone’s guess, and it was the last thing on her mind now. The demons charged down the steep hill toward the settlement. In a heartbeat, they were at the first of the buildings.

  Suddenly Rissine was at her side. “Summon your storm, Elmerah, we must strike while they are still gathered closely together.”

  She blinked, nodded, then unsheathed her cutlass and raised it skyward with a shudder. There were so many of them, so many demons heading right their way. They’d never be able to overcome them all.