The Arthali who’d attacked Tunisa stood back from the chaos as his hair flowed from black to red, then fox ears appeared.
It was bloody Killian! Elmerah slumped into the dirt, unable to do anything but watch. How long had Killian been waiting in disguise amongst the Arthali?
Isara moved to her side, then knelt. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep their magic at bay.”
Elmerah kept her eyes glued to the docks. Rissine evaded another Arthali grabbing for her, then kicked him in the back as he barreled past. Another charged her, his sword held high, but received an elven arrow in his chest. Down he went into the sea.
“Leave her!” an Arthali shouted. “Without magic, we’ll be shot down!” One of the men picked up Tunisa and tossed her over his shoulder, and together the Arthali fled back toward their ship, leaving their prisoners behind.
Vessa knelt to check on Celen, who’d slumped over after throwing that Arthali off the docks. Others attended Zirin.
The nearest elven archers glanced back to Elmerah. “Do we go after them?” one asked. “Stop them from sailing away?”
Elmerah hunched her back, pressing her knees into the dirt as relief flooded through her. The Arthali were leaving. With their magic suppressed, they’d not face armed elves.
She shook her head, feeling numb. “No, let them flee. Let us be done with killing this day.” She could still smell burnt flesh on the wind. It was only a matter of time before Isara surveyed the bodies, and realized her brother was amongst them.
She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry, or curl up in the dirt and just die right there. Somehow, Alluin and Rissine were both safe—no thanks to her.
Elmerah looked up to Isara, but she had already turned, her gaze on something in the distance.
Elmerah turned too. The smoke had cleared, and in the center of charred bodies, a blond-haired figure dressed in velvet was staggering to its feet.
Daemon stood amongst the bodies of his Dreilore soldiers. The arrow still protruded from his chest, staining his garish brocade tunic with blood.
“Cut him down!” one elf shouted.
“No!” Isara screamed, rushing toward him. She stumbled across bodies, her tattered cloak whipping wildly behind her.
“You foolish girl!” Daemon gasped at his sister as she reached him, his hushed but sharp words echoing across the crashing tide.
Alluin returned to Elmerah’s side and helped her back to her feet.
She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, her gaze on Daemon and Isara. “You missed his heart.”
“You promised Isara you would not kill him.”
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh of cry. “He’s still wounded, he may yet die.”
He held her waist tightly, steadying her as she swayed. “He was about to kill you. I did what I could.”
She smiled, but it soon wilted. He’d done better than her. She’d obliterated everyone in her path. It wasn’t like she hadn’t killed before, and she held no love for Dreilore, but . . . they hadn’t stood a chance. Killing in such a way wasn’t natural. Magic like hers shouldn’t exist.
“Zirin and Celen?” she asked breathily. “Are they well?”
Alluin nodded. “The Arthali will think twice before attacking again after having their magic nullified. On equal footing, my people are better fighters than yours.” His gaze drifted to Isara as she helped Daemon to lie back on the ground. “What do we do?”
She ignored the subtle insult. He was right regardless. Staring at Daemon, she shook her head. “Well, at least he’s still alive. I’m still trying to decide if that’s a good or bad thing.”
“The Dreilore may return to fetch him.”
She licked her cracked, burnt lips, glancing back at her sister kneeling and hitting her shackles on a rock. Killian and two elves had Celen on his feet, and Zirin had been moved off the docks onto the ground.
“We need to get out of here,” she decided. “We should board Rissine’s ship for now. Get out to sea before the rest of the Dreilore return.” She glanced back. The Arthali ship was making great progress, probably Tunisa’s doing, since she was of the Winter Isle’s clans. She worried for a moment that they might return with their magic no longer nullified, but the ship grew smaller and smaller, heading northwest. Of course, with Isara around, they’d probably made the right choice. She turned her attention back to Alluin.
“What about them?” He nodded toward Isara and Daemon.
One of the elves approached before she could answer.
Elmerah glanced at her, then had to glance again. It was Vail, the healer they’d left behind in Faerune.
Vail looked Elmerah over with calm assessment, her green tunic and darker green breeches neat and unstained.
“I didn’t see you with the others,” Elmerah observed, suddenly feeling awkward with how she was clinging to Alluin.
Vail pushed a lock of rich brown hair behind her pointed ear. “I am not a fighter, Elmerah. I waited out of sight. I joined Rissine’s crew because they needed a healer.” She glanced down at Elmerah’s limply hanging hand, then up to the other near Alluin’s shoulder. “Hold out your hands please, I must assess the extent of your injuries.”
Elmerah shook her head. “Tend Daemon’s arrow wound first.”
Vail’s eyes widened.
“He wants us all dead!” Vail argued.
“Yes, he does, but we don’t have time for big decisions right now. We’ll take him out to sea. Isara claims he has no magic, so he won’t be able to harm anyone.”
Vail hesitated, then nodded. “We have two of your mounts. We can use one to transport him to the ship. We can make a stretcher to hoist him on board.” She glanced at Alluin, then turned and walked away.
Elmerah sighed. Everything hurt, but what she wanted now most of all was rest, and to wipe away the images of all the burnt corpses she’d created. She looked to Alluin. “Take me to my sister, please.”
Not commenting on her choice to kidnap Daemon, he helped her turn and walk toward Rissine, still struggling with her shackles.
Rissine stopped clanging her shackles as they reached her. Her dark eyes raised and landed on Elmerah.
“Is your ship ready to sail? I’d like to leave land before the Dreilore return.”
Rissine watched her for a long moment, unsaid words passing through her calculating gaze. “Your fire—”
“Later,” Elmerah cut her off. “Plenty of time to talk about that later.”
Rissine’s gaze flicked to Alluin, then she nodded. She climbed to her feet, extending her shackled hands. “I can’t get these off without my magic.”
Elmerah glanced back toward Isara, now kneeling beside Vail, who had removed Daemon’s arrow. Her instinct warred with compassion. Daemon needed to die, but Isara needed him to live. “Isara can nullify the enchantment long enough to damage the shackles, but it will have to wait awhile.” She looked back to Rissine. “Your ship?”
Rissine scowled, but nodded. “The elves can sail . . . well enough.”
Aided by Killian and an elf, Celen hobbled toward them. Killian’s face was pinched with the effort of keeping him aloft. The elf struggled just as much, judging by his shuffling steps, but he attempted to keep it off his face.
“Sorry, Ellie,” Celen said, winding his arm around Killian’s neck to wipe a trickle of blood from his hairline. “I wasn’t much help in a fight with water beneath us. No earth to raise.”
“Not your fault,” Elmerah said, looking to Killian. “You, on the other hand, how did you manage to infiltrate the Arthali?”
Though his shoulders were hunched with Celen’s weight, Killian beamed and lifted his chin. “When the fight broke out, I saw Celen throw one of the Arthali off the docks. I just made myself look like him.”
“But we told you to leave,” Alluin argued. “We saw you leave with the others.”
Killian grinned. “I didn’t go far.”
Vessa hurried toward them, her features slick with sweat and sagging with fatig
ue. She stunk of the burnt corpses she’d passed. “Saredoth will survive. We should leave while we still can.”
Elmerah glanced back. Isara and a male elf were trying to help Daemon onto a horse, but even in his injured state, he fought them.
Isara, her expression uncharacteristically stern, tugged Daemon’s arm around her shoulder then dragged him along past the horse. He stumbled, too weak to fight her much, though he cursed all the way.
“You can’t take me onto that bloody ship!” he winced, gasping.
“Quiet now,” Vail soothed, trailing behind them. “You’ll reopen the wound.”
Daemon hung his head, matted blond hair covering his features, and allowed himself to be guided toward the ship.
“Can you climb the ladder?” Isara asked Daemon as they passed.
“I will not.”
Isara’s next words were lost on the wind as she and Daemon made way down the docks, followed by Vail, who glanced again at Alluin as she passed.
Elmerah leaned more heavily on Alluin, the gravity of all that had transpired catching up to her. “Take me to the ship, will you?”
He nodded to the others present, then helped her walk onto the docks. Daemon, Isara, and Vail had already reached the ship, and to Elmerah’s surprise, Daemon was willingly climbing the ladder, with Isara scowling up at him from the docks.
Elmerah glanced at Alluin’s profile as he silently supported her, curious about his thoughts. He’d been the one guarding her back against the Dreilore, the only one not too consumed in battle to see what had happened from start to finish. What must he think of her now?
He’d never looked at her as a monster, not even from the moment they first met. She hadn’t realized such a fear was on her list until that moment. Her list of fears was growing longer by the day.
Number one: Egrin Dinoba.
Number two: losing those she cared for—also a growing list.
Number three: no longer having Alluin to watch her back.
Number—
Well, there were many more fears, but they had reached the ship, and the pressing fear now involved how she would board it. She peered up at the daunting climb. Isara, Vail, and Daemon had all gone up, so at least there were three less people to see her should she fall. A larger ship would have had a plank to embark upon, but it seemed her lack of luck would continue.
“Don’t worry,” Alluin said as she removed her arm from around his shoulders. “I won’t let you fall.”
They were just the words she needed to hear . . . in so many ways. Her legs trembling, she grasped the ladder and hoisted herself up. With a steadying inhale of salt air, she took it rung by rung, one step at a time.
* * *
Egrin
Egrin waited north of the port, down on the coast with a view of the docks above. He stood utterly still, feeling centuries of work crashing down around him, swirling away like the sea foam eddying near his boots.
If he’d been asked a year ago who could thwart him, Isara Saredoth would have been the last person to cross his mind. He’d watched her grow up, always a timid little thing, never arguing with her father or brother. Having realized her particular gifts early on, he’d always wondered at them, as she was not his true kin. In all his years in this realm, he was never once tempted to sully his blood with the weakness of humanity.
Now Isara, with the help of the cursed Volund Sisters, had become a true threat. He’d seen Elmerah’s fire. It had shocked him. He wasn’t sure he had ever been truly shocked. She was another threat, and with Isara’s gifts able to nullify his magic . . .
He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t lose centuries of magic gathered from near and distant continents, almost enough to sustain his true power in this realm.
Now that he was so close to regaining his love, he could not lose her again. He would have those circlets, and he would devise a way to use Elmerah’s power. Once it all was within his grasp, he’d tear his true love free from the realm of death, and all in the land would cower.
There was no room for humanity in the empire he would create with her. A new land of demons, ruled by their king and queen as they once were, so very many centuries ago.
Rissine
The ship swayed gently far out on the calm sea, lulling Rissine to sleep. She almost felt guilty for maintaining the captain’s quarters while the others slept like fish piled into a barrel. She smiled softly. She didn’t really feel guilty, it was her ship after all. They sailed south, and slightly west in no direction in particular, though they’d eventually reach a chain of small isles if they continued on. For now, this direction would buy them time to decide what would come next.
Flat on her back, she watched her lantern swaying from a hook on the ceiling. Normally she’d douse the wick when it was time for sleep, but tonight . . . tonight she needed light. She’d lived in darkness for far too long.
But Elmerah . . . she let loose a long inhale. Elmerah had seen her lightning in the distance, and she had come for her. Well, she chuckled, she had come for Celen and that Nokken, but when it really mattered, Elmerah had been there, refusing to let her big sister be taken away.
A knock on her cabin door made her jump.
“Come in!” she called out, knowing the visitor was unlikely to be an elf, for none would dare disturb her. Probably Zirin, though the fool should be resting after the injuries he’d sustained.
Her head turned as the door opened, revealing Elmerah. The lantern overhead swayed, for a moment harshly illuminating her burnt hair and red, welted skin. White bandages wrapped her hand clutching the door, winding down her wrists to disappear beneath the sleeves of a fresh tunic.
Rissine looked her over, ending on her face. “You should have the healer tend you. Those welts will scar.”
Elmerah entered the cabin and shut the door behind her. “Vail gave me a salve.” She tugged at the end of her burnt locks, now barely reaching her shoulders. “Nothing to do for this though.”
Rissine sat up, leaning her back against the cabin wall abutting her bed. “You should be resting.”
Elmerah walked across the cabin, then plopped down on the bed, elbows on knees, her back to Rissine. “My fire,” she began after a moment.
“I saw but a flash of it, but we could all see what it did.”
Elmerah’s head hung further. “I could barely control it. It overwhelmed me.”
“I thought as much, judging by the burns.”
Elmerah turned a scowl her way.
Rissine sighed. “I was not being critical, I just don’t know what you want me to say.” In truth, she didn’t understand how Elmerah had summoned so much magic, and why it had burned her.
“I want you to tell me I can control it. In the end—” she hesitated. “It was like a wildfire. I could not have quenched it even had I wanted to. The only thing I could do was set it free.”
Rissine watched her back for a moment. It had been so long since her sister had talked to her in this way. After their mother died, Elmerah had shut her emotions away. She’d acted like she blamed Rissine even before she learned that to blame her was justified.
Rissine came to her knees and edged across the bed, swinging her legs over the side to sit beside her sister. Gingerly, she placed a hand upon her shoulder. “I cannot say what will happen. I cannot guarantee that you won’t lose control of your magic, but you cannot hide from it, and you cannot run away. To do so would be the surest guarantee that it will overwhelm you.”
Elmerah smiled softly, though her red-rimmed eyes drooped with fatigue. “You never were one for comforting words.”
“You are strong. You don’t need my lies.”
Elmerah’s expression shut down at that, and Rissine realized she’d said the wrong thing. For it was a single lie the drove Elmerah away in the first place. One she would never forgive.
“I cannot believe you allowed Daemon Saredoth on my ship,” she sighed, hoping to quickly change the subject.
Elmerah snorted, a bit
of emotion returning to her expression. “He’s Isara’s brother, and we need Isara on our side.” Her shoulders slumped so far forward, Rissine worried she might fall over.
“Lie down,” she instructed, rising to help Elmerah down onto the bed.
“I’ll return to my cabin,” she yawned.
Rissine pressed Elmerah’s left shoulder until the right fell to the mattress, then she took her boot-clad feet and lifted them onto the bed. “Stay here, I’ll fetch the salve for your burns.”
Elmerah didn’t answer.
She went for the door, stopping to don her boots along the way. Her laces knotted, Rissine turned back to find Elmerah had wiggled her way up to the single pillow, and had clutched it greedily beneath her head and shoulder.
She reached for the door, but paused to watch as her sister drifted off to sleep. Her heart hurt with how badly she wanted to protect her. It had been the one task her mother had given her that morning, so long ago, when she knew she’d be saying goodbye to her two daughters forever. Protect your sister. She may lack power now, but give her time. When the time comes, she will burn entire empires to the ground.
The words now held new meaning to Rissine. At every Arthali’s birth, the stars were charted, giving clues to what that witch would become, and what he or she would accomplish throughout their lives.
Her mother had never told them what the stars held for Elmerah, not until that fateful day. Rissine realized now why Elmerah had been kept in the dark. Even as a girl, she wasn’t keen on responsibilities, and would have fought her fate with every step.
With a sigh, she left the cabin and shut the door. For tonight, all she could do was fetch the healer’s salve and tend her sister’s burns.
As her boots echoed down the narrow hall toward the few other cabins, she realized that she didn’t mind it. She didn’t mind that her sister was more powerful than her, and she didn’t mind that she’d found loyal allies who would die for her. Elmerah could burn down every city on the continent for all she cared. She only hoped that her beloved sister would not be reduced to ash in the process.
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