Isara’s spine stiffened so abruptly that her curly blonde hair almost seemed to bristle, but she did not speak.
Noting Isara’s reaction, Elmerah looked to Alluin. “Thoughts? Concerns?”
He scowled. “This is not a laughing matter, Elmerah.”
“And I’m not laughing. I’m just as worried as the rest of you, but sulking in silence is no way to form a plan. We know that Isara can dampen his magic for a time, this is our only hope of keeping him in place long enough to kill him. But my main worry now is whether or not the demon king can be killed.”
Celen glanced back at her. He looked utterly gigantic in the saddle, and his poor horse seemed to labor more than the others. “You have slain Ayperos, and whatever it was you faced in that cavern. Why would the emperor be any different?”
She shrugged as Celen turned back around. “Well, he’s their king. It has to mean something.”
“The Fogfaun seem to believe you capable of slaying him,” Alluin suggested. “So it must be possible.”
Her thoughts jolted back to the strange creatures, and what they’d told her. The part about her possessing more magic was utter rubbish, and they had sent her down a hole after a greater demon. Considering those two matters, she didn’t exactly trust anything else they had to say.
Then, there was what had happened when she’d faced that thing in the cavern. She’d fought valiantly, she’d thought, but when the demon pinned her against the cavern wall, its putrid breath hot on her throat, its talons piercing her flesh . . . she thought she was going to die. Then her power had swelled up like a geyser. She had dropped her blade—she had nothing to guide the magic. It didn’t matter. She’d become pure flame.
Unnerved by the memory, she absentmindedly fiddled with her reins. She’d come close to such a thing before. She’d wielded fire without a blade, but it had been a small burst. What had happened moments before that demon would have killed her was like a forest fire. It swarmed out of her, eating the demon’s flesh from its bones. In mere moments, a greater demon lay dead and charred at her feet.
She wasn’t sure why she had withheld details of the event from Alluin—no, that was a lie, she knew why. Wielding such ferocious magic had scared her. Greater demons were fearsome monsters, but what type of creature was she to sear the flesh from their bones with a thought?
It wasn’t right. So many folk already feared her, and they had no idea what she could truly do. Until she’d faced that demon, she hadn’t even known herself.
Alluin cleared his throat.
She met his gaze, realizing he’d been watching her, and Celen was looking back over his shoulder too.
“What?” she snapped. “If you two have no suggestions on how to defeat Egrin, I must think deep to come up with a plan myself.”
“I have a plan,” Isara spoke so low, she almost didn’t hear.
Elmerah tapped her horse’s sides with her heels, trotting up next to Isara while Celen fell back toward Alluin on the narrow path. “Let’s hear it then.”
Isara peered down at her hands where they twined with her reins, though she should have been looking ahead at the forest for hidden dangers. Her curls bobbed with the movement of her horse. “I think we should lure Egrin out of the city. Once we’re close enough, we can start rumors that an Arthali witch and a blonde woman were spotted traveling together. If he knows we are near, unprotected, he will come for us.”
Elmerah shook her head. “If it were that easy, he would have come for us while we were in Faerune. Either he doesn’t care enough to seek us out, or he fears your magic now that you have turned against him. You are the only person in existence who can stop him from slipping through our fingers. He will not walk willingly into a trap.”
Isara finally met her gaze, her eyes tense behind her spectacles.
Elmerah didn’t like that tension, it made her suspicious. “What has changed? Why are you so much more worried than before?”
“Helping you escape Egrin was one thing. What we’re plotting now is murder.”
Elmerah leaned back as far as her saddle would allow. “You did hear the whole part about him being the demon king, correct?”
Isara nodded, then looked back down. “Yes, and it has made me doubt our ability to defeat him. We’ll stand a better chance if we face him in a location of our choosing, rather than within the Capital where he’ll be surrounded by Dreilore and the militia.”
Elmerah sensed that there was something else going on here. That perhaps Isara avoided her gaze because she didn’t want to be caught in a lie. The reason was not hard to decipher. Daemon Saredoth would surely be within the city. If they attacked Egrin there, and had a shot at Daemon too, Elmerah would gladly take it.
“If we lure Egrin out,” she said evenly, like she was speaking to a spooked mare, “he’ll have warning that we are coming. We would lose the small advantage we have. This is the whole reason we departed Faerune the way we did. If we would have stopped to plan, I have no doubt it would have gotten back to Egrin. The Nokken are clever spies.”
For a moment, only the gentle clop clop of the horse’s hooves could be heard. She sensed Celen and Alluin both watching her. Had they already realized Isara’s hesitation?
Isara held up her nose, her eyes wide to prevent the moisture resting there from falling. “If you did not want my input on your plan, you shouldn’t have asked.”
Elmerah chewed her lip, unsure of what to say. If she mentioned Daemon now, and the fact that she could not guarantee his safety, they might lose Isara’s aid in the matter entirely. “You must understand why we cannot grant Egrin a warning,” she said softly.
Isara wouldn’t look at her.
“Leave her be,” Celen said to her back. “We have plenty of time to discuss this later. For now, let us worry about surviving the journey.”
Elmerah flexed her fingers around her reins. The ability to back away from an argument was not a strength she usually possessed, and it had been difficult enough to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
She took a deep breath, then counted backwards in her mind. “Fine,” she said after a moment, her eyes still on Isara. “Perhaps now is not the time.”
Isara finally looked at her, a thousand different emotions clear in her eyes. She didn’t need to speak any of them. Elmerah understood. Isara wouldn’t let her brother die. She’d turn against them all if that’s what it took to protect him.
Elmerah realized she was a fool to have thought she could ever convince Isara otherwise. After all, she’d never killed Rissine, and her sister had done far worse than simply catering to a demon emperor.
* * *
Rissine
It felt good to be back on the open ocean, the salty wind in her hair. Rissine’s new elven-made coat, fashioned from vibrant emerald wool, billowed around her legs as she leaned against the railing. The elves might have been a lot of haughty whelps, but they made the most beautiful clothing. They did not, however, make a worthwhile crew, and that’s what she had, a lackluster crew of elves. Her crew consisted of Merwyn, Alluin’s sister Vessa, and a handful of Vessa’s fellow hunters. Just enough to man the ship.
None of the other Arthali, save Zirin, had been willing to dedicate their time to a secret mission—but she couldn’t very well tell them where they were going. Egrin might still have spies within Faerune, and she’d not lead him right to Elmerah.
Heavy boots echoed across the deck behind her, then Zirin stopped at her side. His hair was that extreme shade of black that almost held blue highlights in the sun, with no tones of brown or warmer shades. That dense curly hair fell in a braid down his back, making his large features seem severe.
Eyes almost as black as his hair scanned the calm sea. “The winds won’t come easy this day. We won’t make as much progress as we’d hoped.”
She scowled at the news. She knew she should probably thank him for trying. While the Winter Isles clan could control the winds, the winds had to exist to begin with. There just wasn�
�t enough this day, though she could see rainclouds far off toward the mainland.
Zirin looked to her, waiting for the next command. Beyond his attempt to control the winds, she should have thanked him for coming at all. He’d never even asked what the mission was. The moment she mentioned getting on a ship, he was ready to depart.
Zirin watched as one of the elves hurried past with an oar in her hands—though Rissine could not divine a purpose for the oar up on the deck.
Zirin spat over the railing. “Elves don’t know their way around a ship. Useless.”
“Hmph.” They should both be grateful for the elves too, otherwise, they wouldn’t have a crew. She hadn’t told Vessa her intent, but Vessa knew. She knew that if Rissine was leaving, she was going in search of her sister, and with her sister, would be Alluin. Zirin probably knew too, but he hadn’t mentioned it.
“Storm brewing,” he said.
She was about to snap at him for continuing to make conversation, then her eyes widened. The storm that moments ago seemed a gentle thing had darkened. The clouds were so angry they seemed to boil like over-heated stew. She could only guess at how far Elmerah had gotten on her journey, but in all likelihood that storm would cut right across her path.
“You stupid, willful girl,” she muttered.
Zirin watched her for a moment, then said, “She’s just like you.”
He walked away before she could reply, leaving her to turn and stare at his back in shock before turning her sights back to the storm.
Zirin was right. She and Elmerah did not shy from danger, and they did not shy from storms. They sailed with dangerously inept crews, and faced demon emperors all on their own.
Perhaps they were both foolish, but no one would ever call them weak, and to the Arthali, that was all that mattered.
* * *
Elmerah
“Leave it to the gods to pick now to water the crops!” Celen yelled above the thundering rain.
They had dismounted to lead their tired horses through the muck, searching for anything to provide just a bit of shelter. The heavy boughs overhead poured collected streams of water down atop their heads, like walking through a waterfall.
Elmerah cursed as her boot caught on a slick root. Her wet hair whipped forward into her face as her horse spooked and tugged backward. She slipped and teetered in the mud, but managed to stay upright and not lose her horse. “This is miserable! I don’t care if we find shelter. I’d rather just stop moving!”
“Agreed!” Alluin called out from behind her.
It would have been manageable if they were just walking, but trying to lead horses through the muck was dangerous and all together frustrating. “There!” She pointed.
It was as good as they would get. The massive oak might shield just a touch of the rain if they stood right up against its trunk.
Alluin and Isara reached it first, the latter looking ridiculous with her hair plastered to her head, and her spectacles steamy and dripping. Alluin, however, looked as natural as could be with his rich brown hair slicked back, turned darker with moisture, and his sharply cut jaw more prominent without the hair to frame it.
Celen reached her shoulder and leaned in. “You’re staring,” he whispered, then continued past with his horse.
She smirked, moving forward as Celen found a free lower branch on the oak and tethered his horse, not far from where Isara and Alluin had tethered theirs.
Elmerah’s horse snorted and thrashed its head, slowing her progress through the sucking mud. Alluin came back into the heavy deluge to take her mount. She handed over the reins with a nod, then hurried past him to the oak. Relieved by the shelter, she leaned her back against the trunk next to Celen, with Isara on his other side.
This is just my luck, she thought. Caught out in the rain far from her destination, at odds with the only person who could help her save—well, she supposed at this point she was saving all the land, not just her friends and what remained of Faerune.
It was a heavy weight to bear. Too heavy. She’d never much cared for responsibilities beyond keeping herself alive and comfortable. Especially when most of the people she was saving would just as soon spit on her, than thank her.
Finished with the horses, Alluin leaned against the oak at her side opposite Celen. Cold droplets still pelleted in with gusts of icy wind, but at least here it wasn’t like having buckets of water poured on their heads.
Alluin edged closer, his shoulder nearly touching hers. “Let’s just hope it lets up before evening.”
“At least it washed away the smell of charred demon flesh.”
He wiped lingering droplets from his brow. “I noticed the smoke. You must have burned that thing alive.”
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Something like that.”
He didn’t question her further, and for that she was grateful. Her shoulders began to relax. This wasn’t the worst way to wait out a storm.
“Speaking of fire,” Celen began from her other side, “you could provide us with a bit of warmth about now.”
“Water can extinguish even magical flames, you muckfish. I’d waste all my energy trying to keep it lit.”
Celen laughed. “It was just a suggestion. If we’re going to be here through the night, I might be able to summon us up a bit of shelter.”
“I’d rather not have your dirt clods melt into mud atop us while we sleep.”
“I meant to make us a temporary shelter with fallen boughs and leaves, you angry whipfish.”
Elmerah glared at him as he stepped away from the trunk and turned his attention to Alluin. “Care to join me, elf? We’ll let the ladies rest awhile.”
Alluin pushed away from the trunk, then followed Celen into the gushing rain to search for materials, leaving her alone with Isara, the one person she’d rather not face right now. She glared at their backs as they faded into the mist. Traitors.
Oh well, no time like the present. She grit her teeth and sidled closer to Isara.
Isara peered out into the rain, looking about ready to cry. Maybe she already was. It was difficult to tell with her wet face, and her nose red and sniffly.
Elmerah steeled herself for what she was about to say, as it went against her better judgement, and Alluin would not be pleased. She cleared her throat, but Isara still wouldn’t look at her.
She sighed. “I won’t kill your brother.”
“W-what?” Isara’s eyes went wide and filled with child-like hope, facing Elmerah at last.
“I said I won’t kill your accursed pompous brother. I promise.”
Isara pushed a sopping wet curl behind her ear. Her delicate hands trembled. “Why would you promise this now, when we are finally setting your plan into motion?”
Did she have to make this so bloody difficult? “I detest my sister. She’s a venomous viper of a woman. But if you were intent on killing her, I’d strike you down where you stand.”
Isara froze halfway through the motion of wiping away another wild curl. “That’s not exactly comforting.”
“And I’m not one to give comfort. I am, however, a woman of my word. While I think your brother should die, I can understand why you’d want to protect him. In fact, if you’d agreed straight out to kill him, I don’t think you and I would have gotten this far. I would have known from the start that you weren’t a person to be trusted.”
Isara slid her back down the rough bark, then plopped her rear in the soggy grass and hung her head.
Elmerah didn’t think the position looked terribly appealing, but had a feeling Isara expected her to join. She sat gingerly, then waited for her friend to speak.
“I was prepared to turn against you,” Isara sighed. “In fact, I had devised a whole wild plot in my mind that after Egrin was gone, I’d suppress your magic and let the militia arrest you. That way, Daemon would be safe.”
“Why you little wretch!” Elmerah hissed.
Isara flinched, seeming to shrink in upon herself. “I was wrong,” sh
e groaned. “I should have confronted you about it more firmly from the start. I should have had the bravery you just showed me, telling me you’d kill me here and now if I intended to harm Rissine.”
Elmerah leaned her back against the trunk with a heavy sigh. “I don’t suppose I blame you. No one cares to negotiate with an Arthali. If we’re not useful as weapons, we’re better dead.”
“That’s not what I—”
She held up a hand. “I’m used to it. People are afraid of me. If I were an elf or human, I’d be afraid of me too. I’m just as scary as the Dreilore, or a demon.” Perhaps scarier, she added in her head. If Alluin had witnessed what I did to that demon, he would have run far, far away from me.
Isara stared at her, jaw agape. When Elmerah eyed her fully, she snapped it shut. “I’m not afraid of you, Elmerah. With a single thought, I could render you harmless,” she glanced at Elmerah’s cutlass, running the length of her leg in her seated position. “Well,” she amended, “I could render you as harmless as any other skilled swordsperson. I’m not afraid of you any more than I am of Alluin.”
“Then why have you been so silent? Why not lay down your terms from the start? Why not just tell me that if Daemon is harmed, you’ll turn on me?”
Isara’s face, already flushed with cold, grew even redder. “When my father died, I fled. I stayed in Faerune and hid my nose in books. Then I went to Fallshire, hiding myself away even further. This is the first time I’ve ever truly stood up for what I believe in.”
Elmerah laughed softly, shaking her head. This girl was so very young. “You stood up for yourself when you helped me escape Egrin. And you did it before that, when you ran far from Egrin and your brother. Sometimes running is standing up for yourself. It may feel cowardly, but it’s better than staying in a bad situation.”
The Elven Apostate Page 10