The Elven Apostate

by Sara C. Roethle

  “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  “The others can hide on their own. I’ve made a bad habit of choosing the coward’s way out in the past, and I am riddled with regrets.”

  Isara nodded. She knew just how Vessa felt. “Let’s go.”

  She turned to run, realizing Merwyn was already ahead of her, scurrying through the brush like a rabbit.

  Slow me down? Isara thought, then jogged after him with Vessa at her side.

  Vessa clutched her bow tight to her side, avoiding the curling brambles. “That little creature is braver than us all,” she panted.

  Isara didn’t answer, her tongue tied in half-regret for guilting Vessa into coming after Alluin had convinced her to flee. She hoped she wouldn’t get her killed.

  She hated seeing death, and couldn’t understand how others could kill at all. Unfortunately, that seemed like all everyone wanted to do.

  * * *

  Alluin

  Alluin held his bow at the ready, though he had but a single arrow left, and no time to retrieve those he’d loosed. Storm clouds surged overhead, seeming almost sentient in their fervor. The accompanying winds carried the scent of ocean salt, blowing his hair back from his face. Before him Elmerah, Rissine, Celen, and another Arthali that Rissine had brought with her formed a living wall at the start of the docks. Bodies, dead or unconscious, were sprawled all around, some unlucky ones bobbing in the rocky tide below.

  Elmerah cast a worried glance back toward him, her cutlass ablaze and her hair soaking wet. “Go after your sister, you fool! You stand no chance of surviving this!”

  At the end of the docks a ship had cast anchor, and nine Arthali had disembarked. They were tall, dark, and terrifying, all dressed in the different fashions of their clans, some in furs, some in leather, some in more subtle linens and silks. Those with arms bare to the gusting coastal wind bore tattoos, the designs as varied as their clothing.

  A female with white fur at her collar and tattoos that swirled like angry winds approached ahead of the others and called out, “Shadowmarsh witches! You make our task too easy!” She didn’t spare a glance for the bodies she stepped over and around, followed by the rest of her crew. Her curly hair swirled with gusts of coastal wind.

  Alluin watched as Elmerah looked to Rissine, and he didn’t miss the worry in their eyes. They were afraid, more afraid than he’d ever seen either of them.

  Elmerah wanted him to run. He’d convinced his sister, Killian, Merwyn, and the others to run, but he would not leave her. If this was where it ended, they would go down together.

  Rissine’s storm clouds echoed with thunder overhead, or maybe they were Elmerah’s, though her cutlass burned brightly with flame.

  Rissine raised her rapier toward the sky, and a thin line of lightning stuck, meeting the tip of her blade. “Tunisa, you coward!” she called out. “You claimed you did not want to leave the North when I found you.”

  The woman in white furs, presumably Tunisa, laughed. Her eyes were lighter than Elmerah’s, almost gold. “We were already in talks with the emperor, you fool. If I’d have known my task then, you’d be in a cage.” She neared the end of the dock, stopping roughly ten paces back. Her golden eyes flicked up at the sound of hoofbeats on the road beyond. “Oh, how perfect,” she laughed.

  Alluin glanced behind them, spotting horses in the distance, Dreilore riders atop their backs. Countless more Dreilore marched on foot, and at the head of the group rode Daemon Saredoth.

  Elmerah was the first to react, breaking the line with her sister, Celen, and the other male Arthali to move to Alluin’s side. “You should have run when you had the chance.”

  His fingers flexed around his bow. “I’ll always watch your back, Elmerah.”

  “For what good it will do now.” Her cutlass blazed brighter, bathing them both in warm yellow light. The flames flickered in the storm winds like a campfire on the coast.

  “You handle the Dreilore!” Rissine called back to her. “The Arthali scum are mine!”

  Elmerah’s flames reflected in the depths of her dark eyes as she bared her teeth. “You always get to have all the fun!”

  Rissine didn’t answer. Alluin glanced back to see Tunisa lifting her arms, violent winds swirling around her. With a whip of lightning, Rissine charged, and Alluin turned just in time to watch Elmerah charging in the other direction. Forgetting Rissine and the Arthali, Alluin ran after Elmerah, watching her back, as promised.

  * * *

  Elmerah

  Elmerah was already exhausted, and she knew without a doubt she’d not win against so many Dreilore, their drawn blades glowing with enchantments. But what else could she do? There was no escape, and she’d not go down without a fight. She wouldn’t go back to Egrin’s cage willingly, they’d have to kill her first.

  She pushed more fire into her blade as her boots pounded the hard-packed muddy earth. Those on horses fell back, leaving the lower ranking foot-soldiers in Elmerah’s path. Her fire blazed brighter with every step, jumping from her blade to form hot orange rivulets around her.

  “Take her alive!” one Dreilore shouted.

  The order would be their undoing. They couldn’t kill her, but she’d rain death down upon them like a fiery goddess. Or a demon.

  She stopped walking as the soldiers neared, swiping at her fire with their blades, making it sputter out in places with their enchantments.

  She pushed her magic further, hoping Alluin was well out of reach. The fire seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat. The beat of a drum leading her to war. Arms extended, her body heaved until all she could see, hear, and feel was fire. It boiled the blood in her veins, and singed the ends of her hair, filling her senses with an acrid stench.

  The odor gave her pause, and her magic faltered, then flared back to life. Her own fire should not be able to burn her. Beyond the flames she could barely see the waiting Dreilore, enchanted blades raised to protect them from her magic. She couldn’t sense Alluin behind her, nor could she hear Rissine and the others.

  But she couldn’t let her fire go out. If it went out, the Dreilore would take her, and they would kill Alluin.

  She inhaled, scalding her lungs. Her skin burned. She inhaled as deeply as she could manage, then like a fiery hurricane, her magic thundered outward toward all who stood before her, leaving her gasping in its wake.

  Screams. All she could hear were screams, but there was no pulling back now. She continually forced more magic outward until her fire exploded in a final current. She smelled burnt hair and burnt flesh. The screams intensified, and she collapsed to the ground on all fours, her eyes seared with afterimages of fiery orange. Her right hand pinned her cutlass to the earth, but she was too weak to lift it. Someone was grunting in pain, and she realized distantly, it was her. The smell of burnt hair was overwhelming, and her skin felt as if it might melt from her bones. Her lungs cried out for cool air, but none seemed to come.

  Tears stung her eyes like molten metal as she opened them and beheld the sight before her. Charred bodies were strewn all around her, too much smoke to see beyond them.

  The smoke swirled with movement, then someone stepped forward. Daemon Saredoth held a cloth over his mouth and nose, his eyes crinkled in disgust. He stopped before her, rapier drawn. “Quite the feat, witch, but I doubt you could do it again without rest. Unfortunately, I simply do not think it wise to leave you alive when you possess such power. Egrin will have your sister, and that will be enough.”

  He lifted his rapier.

  Still on her hands and knees, she tried to summon her magic, but it was like grasping frayed ends of string. Her cutlass was useless pinned beneath her right hand. She’d given everything she had to defeat the Dreilore.

  Daemon poised his rapier’s tip downward, ready to plunge through her back and into her heart.

  She forced her gaze upward, prepared to look death right in the eye.

  Daemon smiled, then his body reeled backward like an invisible force had hit hi
m, but it wasn’t an invisible force. An arrow protruded from his chest.

  Gripping the arrow shaft, he blinked down at in shock, then toppled over and did not move.

  Elmerah knew she should try to rise, but the smoke had cleared beyond Daemon, and she could behold what she had done. So many. She’d killed so many of them. Far off, the rest of the contingent fled. Their enchantments had not held up to her fire. The nearest buildings burned. Any innocents in the port were either hiding or dead, because other than the fleeing Dreilore, nothing moved.

  Nothing moved?

  “Rissine!” she gasped, coming up to her knees. There was no lightning, no thunder, only smoke and slowly clearing clouds. How much time had passed since she started summoning her fire? She couldn’t seem to make sense of things.

  She stumbled to her feet, grabbing her cutlass with her less-burned left hand. Alluin was there, helping her. She realized dizzily that he’d saved her from Daemon. It had been Alluin’s arrow protruding from his chest.

  He held her gingerly. “You’re badly burned, you shouldn’t move.”

  She looked down at her wrists. Her coat sleeves had burned away, leaving angry red skin, charred and weeping. “Rissine!” she rasped. “My sister!”

  She turned her head toward the docks, but there was too much smoke in her vision, she could see nothing in the distance. She hadn’t even realized how far she’d charged into the Dreilore ranks until that moment, leaving her sister behind to face the other Arthali.

  She wrapped her right arm around Alluin’s shoulder, flaking pieces of charred fabric from what remained of her sleeve. He braced her with his arm around her waist, which was the least damaged part of her body, still covered by her clothing and coat.

  She staggered toward the sound of the ocean with Alluin’s strong arm keeping her upright. “Could you see what happened to them?” she rasped.

  “No, I was watching you, but the sky went still not long ago.”

  The sky went still. The words pierced her heart. If the sky was still, then Rissine was—

  They came out on the other side of the smoke, where the enemy Arthali waited, roughly twenty paces away at the edge of the docks.

  Elmerah’s breath caught in her throat. Celen was on his knees, head hung, each wrist cuffed with what had to be magic-nullifying shackles. Zirin lay on his side, unmoving, but since he too wore shackles, he must be alive.

  Then there was Rissine, shackled but still standing, with Tunisa’s bone-hilted dagger at her throat. The rest of Tunisa’s men and women stood behind her, waiting patiently.

  Tunisa’s eyes met Elmerah’s as she forced Rissine a few steps forward toward the final planks of the dock where they met land. “Be a good girl and come here. Let us shackle you and perhaps I’ll let your sister live.”

  Elmerah tried to stand on her own, but found her legs unable to hold her, and was left leaning heavily on Alluin. She couldn’t let them shackle her. She’d not go back to Egrin, but Rissine . . .

  Tunisa smiled. “We only need one of you, Elmerah. Either you come to me willingly, or I’ll slit Rissine’s throat and take you by force. You are clearly too weak to fight.”

  “Don’t—” Rissine’s words were cut off by the blade at her throat. She bared her teeth.

  Her words weren’t needed. Elmerah knew Rissine would never want her little sister to trade her life away.

  She lowered her chin, glaring at Tunisa through burnt locks of hair. “Release my sister, or I will kill all of you where you stand.” She gestured with her free arm to the charred corpses littering the ground behind her.

  Tunisa laughed, her long curls whipping about in the coastal wind. “I think you’re quite burned out right now. You can hardly stand.”

  Elmerah searched for her magic, finding a weak, flickering flame inside her. She reached for it, but suddenly, it went out.

  Her brow furrowed. That wasn’t right. Though she was out of energy, and unable to summon her magic outwardly, inwardly she should be able to feel it. Had she completely burnt herself out? Was such a thing even possible?

  Tunisa watched her with a smug smile. Elmerah was out of options.

  She didn’t want to go to Egrin, she couldn’t. She couldn’t be caged and subjected to his torture again. But Rissine . . . “Alluin,” she breathed. “Leave me here. Let them take me.”

  “No.”

  “I will not let her harm Rissine. If I go to Egrin now, you can still save me, but if I don’t go, we’re all dead. Leave me here and flee. Find Vessa and the others.”

  His arm tightened around her waist. “I will not leave you, Elmerah. If we go down here and now, we go together.”

  “We haven’t got all day!” Tunisa taunted, raising her voice over gusting winds. “Wait too long and more Dreilore will come to claim you!” She nodded to an older male Arthali beside her. “Go and fetch her, would you?”

  He stepped forward from the group, flexing bare arms tattooed with designs almost identical to Celen’s. He stepped off the docks and onto solid land.

  Elmerah tensed. “Brace yourself,” she muttered to Alluin. “He can move the earth.”

  The Arthali male splayed his meaty hands before him and smiled.

  Elmerah waited for the earth to tremble, but nothing happened. The only movement was the gently gusting wind.

  “What is the issue?” Tunisa hissed.

  The Arthali male’s smile wilted around the edges. He glanced back at Tunisa. “I can’t summon my magic. Something is wrong.”

  Elmerah was so relieved she could have cried if her eyes weren’t burning and bone dry. She hadn’t used up her magic, someone was nullifying them all, and the only person who could do that was Isara. From a distance, she likely could not be accurate, and so had suppressed all magic.

  “Do you think Isara is near?” Alluin whispered.

  She gave the slightest of nods. “It makes sense. She was with Daemon. Perhaps he had her under guard somewhere nearby while he came here with his Dreilore.” She licked her cracked lips. “But Daemon—”

  She’d promised Isara she wouldn’t harm Daemon, and now he was dead.

  Tunisa and the other Arthali muttered amongst themselves, glancing around for the source of what hindered them. It was clear none of them could summon magic . . . though that didn’t remove the blade from Rissine’s throat. Celen had lifted his head to watch them all, but seemed unable to stand.

  Her face red and pinched with frustration, Tunisa gestured to those standing behind her. Two male Arthali with blades unsheathed, and one female aiming a bow approached. The arrow’s tip was aimed at Alluin, not Elmerah. He unsheathed a dagger with his free hand, but it would do him little good against a bow.

  Elmerah clung to him, too weak to flee or do anything else. Her cutlass hung loosely from her left hand. Isara might have nullified everyone’s magic, but they were still outnumbered.

  The female with the bow grinned as she and the others neared. “Prepare to lose your elven lover.”

  Her words left Elmerah a heartbeat to act. The Arthali drew back her bowstring.

  Elmerah screamed at the sound of an arrow flying free. Alluin tried to spin her behind him, but she threw herself against his body, taking them both to the ground. Her charred arms and face were pure pain, both icy and burning at once. She’d landed on top of Alluin, spreading her body over his to shield him from incoming attack.

  “Are you hurt?” she rasped. “Are you hurt!”

  She glanced toward the woman with the bow, sure the next arrow would soon come, but the woman lay dead on her side, blood pooling onto the hard-packed earth beneath her. The bow and the arrow she’d drawn lay useless near her fingertips.

  “Elmerah,” Alluin groaned. “Elmerah I need you to move so I can rise.”

  She rolled off him, and looked up to find Vessa aiming an arrow at the other two Arthali. Beside her stood Merwyn and Isara. More elves approached, panting and sweaty, from where they’d hidden behind smoldering buildings.

&
nbsp; “My thanks for the horses, brother,” Vessa said, her gaze and bow unwavering from the Arthali. “Though we could have used more than two.”

  Elmerah struggled to sit up, then let Alluin help her to stand.

  Alluin replied to his sister with an uneasy nod as Elmerah looked to the docks, her eyes searching for Rissine.

  Tunisa, her face puckered with ugly rage, still held her near the edge of the docks.

  “Stupid elves!” Tunisa growled. Elmerah barely heard her words over the wind. “We’ll take Rissine and the others on board. Leave Elmerah for the Dreilore.”

  “No!” she cried, lunging forward, but stopping short as Alluin held her back.

  “You’re too weak to fight!” he grunted, his arms locked around her waist. “The rest of you, go!”

  The elves hurried past them, toward the docks with bows and weapons raised.

  Elmerah tugged against Alluin, too weak to struggle as Tunisa forced Rissine toward the ship at knifepoint. Rissine’s throat trickled blood around the blade’s tip, seeping down onto her emerald coat.

  Tunisa eyed the approaching elves wildly, shielding her body behind Rissine. “One more step, one arrow fired, and I will slit her throat!”

  The elves hesitated.

  As Elmerah watched on helplessly, one of the Arthali at Tunisa’s back hefted a gleaming axe, dull side turned downward, then clobbered Tunisa on the back of the head. She fell like a sack of manure, freeing Rissine to spin around and kick the nearest Arthali in the face.

  Vessa, Merwyn, and the other elves rushed onto the docks.

  Elmerah pulled away from Alluin. “Help them!”

  But he was already releasing her. He ran toward the docks while the other Arthali were still trying to figure out what had just happened. The elves darted forward with weapons raised. Celen’s face scrunched with pain as he grabbed the smallest Arthali by the legs, yanking his feet out from under him before throwing him off the dock into the sea well below.