The Elven Apostate

by Sara C. Roethle

  For that was a fate she could not control, as much as she would most certainly try.

  * * *

  Alluin

  Alluin waited in the cabin he shared with Celen, Merwyn, Killian, and two other male elves. Elmerah, Vail, Vessa, and the other females shared another cabin. Daemon was locked in the brig, and Isara refused to be anywhere else but with him. The elves and Celen had lain to rest, while Merwyn sat hunched on his straw mat, gazing at his lap as if deep in thought. Alluin paid him little mind, as he had many thoughts of his own to contend with. Elmerah was supposed to come fetch him after she’d spoken to her sister, but he supposed the talk they needed to have was not one to happen quickly.

  With a heavy sigh, he looked to Merwyn. “Are you feeling alright? Will you get sick without your treatments?”

  Merwyn jolted as if startled, then turned wide eyes to him. “Treatments were to make me better, but damage is already done. My organs are damaged, but I do not think they will get worse.” His gaze drifted back downward. He was silent for a long moment, then asked, “Where do you think Saida is?”

  He’d known Saida was the only reason Merwyn had journeyed with Rissine. He’d probably hoped to find her somehow miraculously rescued by Elmerah. “Somewhere with Malon. We can only hope she is safe. Can I ask—” he hesitated. “Can I ask why you care so much for her?”

  Merwyn shook his head, still looking down at his lap. “She is in danger. Hotrath will come for her. He will not give up so easily, and he has dark magics to guide him.”

  Truly, Alluin had not spared many thoughts for the Akkeri’s High King since they’d escaped his clutches. “He wants her that badly?”

  “He hopes to lift Akkeri curse. He will not give up. Ever.”

  Alluin laid back atop his straw mat. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was better than hard ground. He stared up at the lantern swaying overhead. “Add him to our list of worries, then, but do not worry too much about Saida. Something tells me she is in less danger than any of us. Hotrath may hunt her, but Egrin hunts Elmerah. All near her are in great peril.”

  “Then why stay with her?”

  He turned his head, but could only see Merwyn’s hunched back. “What do you mean?”

  “Why stay with her, when she puts you in peril? Perhaps better way could be found to defeat Dinoba.”

  Alluin opened his mouth, then closed it. “She is my—” he cut himself off. Friend wasn’t the right word. Friend didn’t cover the trust that had grown between them, nor the depth of their unlikely partnership. “I cannot explain it, not really, but I cannot abandon her, and I believe she feels the same for me. Even if there was a better way to defeat Egrin—which I do not believe there is—she gives me the strength to try.”

  Merwyn bowed his head further. “Then you understand why I care for Saida. Why I boarded this ship.”

  He turned his gaze up to his lantern, hoping Elmerah had found solace with her sister, and not a fight. “Yes, I suppose I do understand.”

  “Will you both shut your gaping mouths?” Celen groaned from a nearby mat. “Some of us incurred heavy damage today during a great display of heroics.”

  Alluin grinned. “Really? All I can remember is you being held prisoner by those Arthali.”

  “Held prisoner, heroically,” Celen countered.

  Alluin’s grin broadened. He still found Celen a bit insufferable . . . but he wasn’t the worst to have around. Not that he’d ever tell him that.

  “Goodnight, Celen. Let us hope you prove more heroic tomorrow. I’m sure Rissine will give you a task on the ship befitting your station.”

  “Bloody elves,” Celen laughed, “worse than even the sharpest-tongued Arthali.”

  Still smiling, Alluin closed his eyes. He and Elmerah would survive to see another sunrise, and for now, that was enough.

  * * *

  Saida

  Dawn’s light found Saida still in terrible pain, but she was alive, and she was riding in the direction of home. It would be a long journey with too few antlioch, but at least they had Brosod to guide them. She rode next to Saida, her eyes keen on the passing sand, scouting the ingredients she needed for her curse. They’d cast it once they reached the edge of the desert, and Saida would know where to find her friend.

  Malon rode at her other side, having already taken a long turn walking in the hot sand. He wouldn’t allow Saida to do the same, and if she was honest with herself, she likely wasn’t capable. Her body ached from the beating Urali had bestowed upon her.

  As she watched, Malon’s brow furrowed beneath his head wrap. He glanced over his shoulder, his silver eyes locking on something in the distance.

  She followed his gaze, then gasped. “The Makali.”

  Tan-clad figures on foot crested the horizon at their backs, their shapes hazy in the sharp sunlight. She could recognize no faces beneath the head wraps in the distance, but their numbers were vast.

  “My clan,” Brosod rasped.

  “Saida,” Malon said cautiously, “you stay here. I’ll see what they want.”

  “I’m coming with you.” She turned her antlioch, then pressed her heels into its sides and rode toward the Makali before Malon could stop her. With the circlet at her belt, she should be safe.

  Malon’s antlioch caught up to her a moment later. The other elves waited behind with Brosod.

  “Will you at least let me do the talking?” Malon sighed.

  “Maybe, if I like the words you choose.”

  He laughed tiredly. “This is going to be a very long journey, isn’t it?”

  She had no time to answer as they reached the Makali together, peering down at those nearest from atop their mounts.

  “Why do you follow us?” Malon asked.

  Saida recognized the male Makali who stepped forward as one who’d been in Urali’s tent the night they first arrived. He held Urali’s staff, the blue stones shining brilliantly in the sunlight. He bowed his head. “The magic of the gods flows through you. You have the power to regrow the desert. We did not know what Urali planned, and for such a slight, we are in your service. We will follow where you lead.”

  Saida looked to Malon, as she had absolutely no idea what to say.

  But he was looking further into the Makali ranks. Far back, the crowd was shuffling. The movement came toward the front line until its source was produced.

  Two young female Makali warriors held Phaerille between them, her hands bound in front of her with thick twine. Her face was badly bruised, her once-shining hair matted and dull.

  The Makali who’d first spoken gestured to Phaerille. “Your traitor. We bring her to you for judgement.”

  Malon looked down at Phaerille’s bruises in distaste. “It seems you have already passed judgement upon her.”

  Phaerille’s gaze was all for Malon, her eyes pleading. “Malon—”

  He lifted a hand to cut her off. “You tried to have Saida killed.”

  “I only—” The Makali holding Phaerille shook her.

  Malon looked to Saida. “What would you have me do?”

  Beneath her head wrap, Saida’s mouth fell agape. He wanted her to decide?

  “She betrayed you most of all,” Malon pressed. “It is your choice.”

  She looked down to Phaerille, but couldn’t quite meet her eyes. Was this what it meant to be a leader? Had her mother, as one of the six members of the High Council, dealt with such decisions every day?

  The Makali waited silently for her judgement. Her gaze still on Malon, Phaerille quietly wept.

  Saida hands balled into fists in her lap. Her mother had always taught her that leaders must be strong, and fair. Yet she was learning that the High Council had not always been fair. Far from it.

  Had Faerune’s treatment turned Phaerille into what she’d become?

  “Bring her,” she decided. “Keep her hands bound, and I do not want to hear a single word from her.”

  “You would have us lug her all the way across the desert?” Malon asked.
>
  She smiled, though he could not see it. “No, Malon, I would have your army lug her across the desert.”

  He tugged the lower half of his head wrap loose to reveal a crooked smile. “You mean, we get to keep them? Surely you jest.”

  She laughed, feeling emboldened by her decision. If she was to lead, then she would lead. “Egrin wrote his fate when he attacked my people and had my mother killed,” She cast her gaze across the rows of waiting Makali, “so no, I do not jest. Now is not the time for jokes. Now it the time for war.”

  Days passed by, and slowly, they all could feel it. That shift in the wind, a sick feeling in the gut. More demons were pouring into the realm, more magic being stolen.

  Upon the deck of a ship stood an elf and a witch, their sights set on the single death that would lead to a better future. Accompanied by kin and kith, they would find a way . . . together.

  Sailing secretly behind them was an Akkeri ship, shrouded in mist. Few Akkeri possessed magic to summon an unearthly fog, but High King Hotrath was not just any Akkeri. He sensed Cindra’s circlet very far off. He’d not relinquished hope on attaining the ornament, nor the one who bore it.

  Far south at the desert’s edge, rode a small party of elves with a mighty army at their heels. An army which had grown as word spread across the sands. Word that the magic of gods had returned to save them all.

  And in the greatest city, a demon devised a plan. He could not confront his enemies directly, but he’d been alive long enough to understand mortal nature. He knew without doubt, that the best way to destroy a witch was to turn those she trusted most against her. For her power may be mighty, but deep down, her faith was weak.

  Elmerah was the keystone. She had raised his enemies up against him, and she would be the one to make them fall.

  Stay tuned for book four, coming Fall of 2020! In the meantime, please consider checking out one of my other series:

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