Curse of the Akkeri
Book Two of the Moonstone Chronicles
Sara C. Roethle
Copyright © 2019 by Sara C. Roethle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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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
Epilogue
Elmerah
Elmerah was entirely sick of elves. She leaned against a thick post holding up one side of an antlioch pen, waiting with Alluin and Saida for the healer to emerge from a nearby hide tent. She didn’t know what Alluin and Saida were hoping to hear. It would be the same news as yesterday. Merwyn’s wound had healed, but his health was not improving. The healer suspected the Dreilore arrow had been poisoned, but with what, no one knew. The Akenyth Province in which the Dreilore dwelt was foreign to most. Few knew of their weapons and magics. Now the sun was beginning to set on another worthless day, and tomorrow promised to be no different.
She shifted her stance, stretching her long legs beneath thick black breeches and a long black coat, slit at the sides, leaving her cutlass in plain view. She was tired of inaction. Rissine had likely already rallied the Arthali to stand against the emperor. She’d venture back to the continent with an army in tow to find her inept younger sister had accomplished nothing.
“We’ll have to leave him if his condition remains the same,” Alluin muttered, his green eyes on the dirt at his feet. His rich brown hair was tied back from his face, the ends draping over his deep green tunic and brown breeches.
“No,” Saida snapped, brushing a strand of long white hair aside. In her forest hued outfit she almost blended in with the Valeroot elves at the small settlement, and she was just as crabbish.
Elmerah had suffered through more than enough of bad elven attitudes. “Look, we have to make a choice. Either we sacrifice the fate of an entire continent to sit beside one ill Akkeri, or we move on. I didn’t enlist with you lot only to live in an elven settlement for the rest of my life.”
Saida glared at her, though her expression lacked a certain conviction. Deep down she had to know she couldn’t wait on Merwyn indefinitely, but her deeply ingrained morals were holding her back. At least, that was how Elmerah saw it.
The healer, Vail, emerged from Merwyn’s tent and approached, breaking the tension. She smoothed agile hands over her loose green dress as she reached them. In appearance, she could have been Alluin’s younger sister, though the way she looked at him was definitely not . . . sisterly.
“Nothing has changed,” Vail explained, speaking directly to Alluin, though Elmerah and Saida were right there. “He is conscious, but weak. His fever will not break. I fear this unknown poison will kill him in time.”
Alluin and Elmerah both looked to Saida, whose face had turned a frustrated shade of pink. “No. That’s just not good enough. We’ll take him to Faerune where he can be treated by the best healers on the continent. Our scholars know more about the Dreilore than most. Perhaps they even know of an antidote.”
Alluin shook his head. “He would slow us down and make us vulnerable. We don’t need an extra life to protect.”
Elmerah snorted. “At least we’d be moving. If he dies on the road, well, at this rate he’s going to die anyhow.”
Alluin turned his attention to her. “And when we’re attacked, and Saida sacrifices her life to protect him? What then?”
She glared. “Well that would be her stupid choice, now wouldn’t it?”
Vail watched them all with her jaw slightly agape. “I do not think he should be moved,” she said finally. “He needs his rest.”
Elmerah turned her glare to Vail, who wilted like a fragile flower. She held her hands up defensively. “That is simply my opinion as a healer.”
Alluin gripped Elmerah’s arm. “Leave her alone. She’s done more to help him than any of us.”
Elmerah begged to differ, considering they’d carted the sickly Akkeri all the way from the coastal inn to this remote southern settlement, but she chose to keep her mouth shut. Alluin was kind of on her side in the matter, and she wanted to keep it that way.
“Can I go in to see him?” Saida asked, her attention on Vail.
Vail nodded, but cast a wary glance at Alluin, then Elmerah, before gently touching Saida’s arm. “I’ll go with you.”
Elmerah kept her gaze on Vail and Saida as they headed back toward the tent, not thrilled at the notion of another argument with Alluin in their absence. There had been many in the days prior.
She nearly jumped out of her skin as something bumped her back, then calmed as a fluffy antlioch head lowered over her shoulder. “I don’t have any treats for you,” she sighed, patting its head between the deadly, spiraling horns. She liked the antlioch. They were useful—not only could they be ridden, but they provided milk and wool—and they were fluffy and cute. Perfection in animal form, really, though she wouldn’t admit her adoration of them out loud.
Alluin moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, ending her nice moment with the antlioch. Together they watched in silence as Saida and Vail entered Merwyn’s tent.
“It’s not that I don’t want to save him,” she sighed. “He’s a decent enough little fellow . . . for an Akkeri.”
Alluin nodded. “I know. We are not healers, and I doubt even if we made it to Faerune they’d see fit to aid him. They’ll likely be too busy throwing stones at the two of us.”
Elmerah smirked. “Hopefully stones are all they throw.”
He smiled softly, though it didn’t reach his vibrant green eyes. “We need to depart come morning. If anyone can convince Saida, it’s you.”
She shifted her stance, spotting Vail re-emerging from the hut. “Were you just in the same conversation as I? We’re going to have to drag Saida out of here kicking and screaming. She won’t leave that bloody Akkeri behind, though I’m not sure why.”
“Saida is loyal, something you would know little about.”
She gritted her teeth, trying to remember why she’d embarked on this unrewarding adventure to begin with.
Vail rejoined them. “If you think that is Saida’s issue, you do not know her well.”
Elmerah and Alluin both turned raised brows to her.
Vail glanced at the distant tent, then back to them. “Saida feels like a failure to her people,” she explained, “and a failure to her fierce friends.” She looked them both up and down. “She feels Merwyn is her last chance to prove herself of worth. Leaving him behind will take that away from her.”
Elmerah sucked her teeth. “And she told you all of this?”
“She did not have to. Some of us choose to be at the center of things. Some choose to observe. I am of the latter ideology.”
She wasn’t quite sure, but she thought the elf might have just insulted her. “Alright, oh wise one. Since you seem to know so much, tell us how we can convince Saida to leave.”
“That is Saida’s choice,” she replied. “If she is ever to take her place on the High Council of Faerune, she must learn what it means to lead. To sacrifice one for the good of many.” With that, she turned and walked away.
Alluin stared after her approving
ly.
“Bloody stupid elves,” Elmerah muttered. She kicked a rock near her feet, then walked past Alluin, prepared to sulk alone in the woods beyond.
Alluin touched her arm before she was out of reach.
She turned toward him.
“I apologize. I should not have laid the issue with Saida on your shoulders. I’ve been—” he hesitated, “a bit on edge.”
Yes, having half your kin slaughtered will do that to you, she thought. He had not mentioned his uncle, nor any of the other slain elves, since the night he’d found her during the storm, his hands still stained with the blood of his kin.
Her expression softened. “You would do well to focus on the present. Just focus on what needs to be done today. It helps.”
He nodded, seeming to understand what she meant. Focusing on the past, on those who were lost, was a sure way to become utterly ineffectual in the present.
He dropped his hand from her arm. “I’ll try speaking with Saida.”
She clenched her jaw. “No, I will. Finish conferring with your people. Rissine will be one angry viper if she finds no army of elves awaiting her return.”
With a small smile, he turned away.
She watched him go, then glanced at the tent from which Saida was yet to emerge. She had no idea what she would say to convince her to leave. Maybe she could convince Vail to speak with her, since she understood what Saida was feeling.
Elmerah spat on the ground as she thought of Vail looking all twinkle-eyed at Alluin.
Bloody stupid elves.
Saida
Saida leaned forward in her wooden chair, looking down at Merwyn’s sleeping face. His normally mottled skin was paler than usual, and glistened with a sheen of sweat. He looked like a Faerune elf that had died a week prior and had been left to rot in the sun. The strong fishy smell emanating from him helped the image along. The rough brown blanket pulled up to his chin prevented her from seeing if he’d grown thin with illness, though he was practically skin and bones even when healthy.
“I’m sorry,” she said, though he likely couldn’t hear her. If she hadn’t been so intent on tracking down the emperor after spotting him in the woods, none of this would have happened. It was her own foolishness that had landed perhaps the only Akkeri with kindness in his heart in such a dire situation.
The final rays of sunlight cut across the dim space as the hide flap over the entrance shifted, making Saida’s lone candle flicker. She turned to see Elmerah poking her head in, her thick black hair draped over her shoulder.
Saida steeled her expression, preparing for whatever insensitive thing the witch had to say next.
Instead of speaking, Elmerah moved into the shelter and stood beside Saida’s chair. Her dark eyes peered down at Merwyn. “Any other creature would likely be dead by now.”
Saida glared up at her. “He’s not a creature.”
“You know what I mean.”
Her shoulders slumped. She did know what she meant. Until she’d met Merwyn, she’d viewed the Akkeri as vile monsters. Truly, she still did. Merwyn was an exception—and she’d nearly gotten him killed.
“You know,” Elmerah began, seeming oddly hesitant, “the elves will continue to care for him whether we’re here or not.”
“And when the war begins?” Saida questioned. “You promised Rissine that the Valeroot elves would fight alongside the Arthali. When the elves go to war, what of Merwyn then?”
Elmerah was silent, but Saida knew exactly what she was thinking. Merwyn would probably be dead by then.
“You know it’s not your fault,” Elmerah blurted suddenly. “Just as it’s not Alluin’s fault his kin were murdered,” she added, “though I know he blames himself.”
Saida braced her elbows on her knees, then leaned her chin in her palms. “It is my fault though. Merwyn begged me not to follow Egrin, and I ignored him.”
“Merwyn knew he was risking his life from the start. It was his choice.”
She shook her head slightly. She had no more arguments to offer, though deep down, her feelings would never change.
Elmerah’s hand alighted on her shoulder. “I know it’s unfair, but more lives depend on you than just Merwyn. In placing his life first, you are risking the lives of all in Faerune.”
Saida straightened and blinked up at her, tossing her hand aside. “How dare you speak so callously!”
Elmerah rolled her eyes. “Look, princess, I tried being nice, now we’ll try the truth. There comes a time when we all must accept that life is a big heaping pile of dung. We cannot waltz through it without getting our boots a little dirty.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re going to have to do things you regret, but you just have to live with it.” Elmerah turned her gaze back down to Merwyn. “You will recover from this regret, but if the Dreilore attack Faerune before we can warn them . . . ” She shook her head and met Saida’s waiting gaze. “You won’t recover from that. You won’t recover from hiding away in fear while your people fight for their lives. Trust me.”
With that, Elmerah turned and marched out of the tent, giving Saida a brief glimpse of the coming night. She stared at the doorway long after the witch left. She hated to admit it, but Elmerah’s words were just what she’d needed to hear.
Thera
Thera shifted on her cushioned seat. She far preferred these meetings within the castle to those at the Crimson Jewel. A golden goblet of wine was at her fingertips, and a robust fire crackled nearby. It would have all been terribly comfortable if it weren’t for her present company. The emperor, Egrin Dinoba, she did not mind. Nor did she mind his advisor, Daemon Saredoth. It was the Dreilore Lord, Orius, who made her skin crawl beneath her emerald silk dress.
Egrin tapped his jeweled fingers on the table, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He turned his pale eyes to Thera. “You’re sure she’s no longer in the Capital?”
Thera nodded, pushing a lock of white-blonde hair behind her pointed ear. She wasn’t quite sure why the emperor was so obsessed with Rissine. She wasn’t that impressive. “The last I saw of her was the night I led Elmerah to the slums. I informed Rissine she was there, just like you requested.”
“Yes,” Daemon observed from his post behind the emperor’s chair, “then she rescued her sister, and just . . . disappeared.” He waggled his bejeweled fingers in the air, the gems almost as shiny as his straight blond hair.
Thera bit her lip. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened with the Nokken. Those stupid creatures had tied her up and left her alone in a storehouse while they did who knew what to Rissine and Elmerah. She hadn’t seen those particular Nokken, nor Rissine, again. She debated telling the emperor exactly what had happened—he obviously suspected her of deceit—but she needed to remain useful. If the emperor thought she secretly knew where Rissine had gone, he had reason to keep her around.
Egrin waved her off, then turned to Lord Orius. “Never mind the witches, I’m sure they’ll turn up sooner or later.”
“Yes,” Orius agreed, a frown on his blueish gray lips. “Let us focus on why my people are still hiding in the woods. Why have we not begun our assault on Faerune?”
“All in good time,” Egrin purred. “Soon Faerune will be perfectly primed for attack, and our victory will be ensured.”
Orius smiled, his reddish eyes seeming to flicker with tiny flames, echoing the firelight dancing on his pure white hair flecked with tiny clear jewels.
Thera resisted the urge to clutch her twisting gut. She’d thought allying herself with the emperor the only way to ensure her continued survival in the Capital, but now she wished with all her heart she’d had the chance to flee with Rissine. She’d face a hundred Arthali if it took her away from the Dreilore.
Although, once her actions came to light, she’d rather face a hundred Dreilore than one Arthali in particular, once she realized her long-time associate had betrayed her . . . if she hadn’t realized it already.
Merwyn’s arms trembled as he pulled himself atop the antlioch. It had been difficult to remain awake as night fell. His fever plagued him so, and his joints were stiff and swollen. Even worse was his sadness to leave Saida behind, yet, he knew he must. She would not leave the Valeroot settlement until he was well, and he would never be well. The Dreilore poison would see to that. If he was anything other than Akkeri, he would have already been dead.
If he left, Saida would finally be forced to act. She would find Isara Saredoth, and with Alluin and Elmerah, she would save Faerune from the Empire. There was nothing more he could do for her now, and nothing she could do for him.
Settling himself onto the antlioch’s fluffy wool, he guided it out of the pen. He hadn’t the strength to dismount again and close the gate, but the other loyal creatures would not likely go far without riders.
He readjusted the supplies he’d pilfered, wishing he had the strength to end his burdensome life. Perhaps in doing so he might have ingratiated himself to the sky god Arcale. Instead, he’d stolen from those who’d helped him, and was escaping in the night. The Goddess of the Underworld would be quite pleased when she finally came to claim him.
Saida
Saida sat up in bed with a sigh. Though the first trickle of sunlight had only just crept beneath the hide flap covering the entrance to the small tent, she’d been awake for hours. She glared at the mat across from hers where Elmerah lay on her back, long legs sprawled on top of her blankets, snoring loudly. She wouldn’t wake until she smelled the cooking eggs and smoked trout the Valeroot elves enjoyed for their morning meal.
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