“Malon—” Saida began again, but Elmerah lifted a hand to stop her.
“I’m used to it,” she sighed, then pulled back her hood.
All three guards stared at her sternly.
Malon cleared his throat. “If she has magic, she cannot come into the city.”
Elmerah clenched her jaw. These elves were even worse than the humans in Galterra.
“I’ll wait with her,” Alluin offered, his eyes on Saida. “You should go to your mother. We don’t have time to waste on petty arguments.”
Saida shook her head, then turned to Malon. “Fetch my father. I’m sure he will see reason.”
Malon’s silver gaze remained on Elmerah. He raised a hand, signaling the youngest guard, who quickly turned and ran back toward the iron gates affixed between two massive crystals.
“My thanks,” Saida grumbled to Malon, absentmindedly tugging at her dirty tan tunic.
Elmerah didn’t comment. This wasn’t the first time some blond muck-dweller looked down on her. It would have helped her ego a tad if it came from fear, but Malon’s brow was free of sweat, his stance casual. The other remaining guard, flushed-faced with a reddish hue to his long blond hair, looked about ready to piss himself.
Muttering curses under her breath, Elmerah dismounted, then stretched her arms over her head, ignoring Malon.
It didn’t take long for the young guard to return with a seemingly middle aged elf—it was difficult to accurately judge an elf’s age, but he seemed older than the guards—whose eyes lit up behind thick round spectacles at the sight of Saida.
He hurried forward, outpacing the guard at his side, then wrapped Saida in a tight embrace, lifting her from her feet. He spun her in a small circle, then set her down.
She laughed, then reached up and straightened his spectacles before patting down his short sandy hair . . . for what good it would do. It seemed to permanently stick out in all directions. “It’s good to see you, father.”
Her father nodded, seeming to have not yet noticed Elmerah and Alluin, though they stood just a few paces from Saida. “And you. While I’d love to hear all about your adventure,” he finally glanced at Elmerah and Alluin, “and your new friends, we must go to your mother at once.”
Saida wrung her hands. “It’s that bad?”
Her father nodded. “The healers are flummoxed. Many others in the city have fallen ill.” He looked again to Elmerah and Alluin. “Forgive me,” he stepped toward them, “I am Ivran Fenmyar, Saida’s father. You have my thanks for returning my daughter home safely.”
Elmerah lifted a brow at Alluin, then turned back to Ivran. “Of course. She’s been an unscrupulous terror. I’m not sure how you deal with her.”
Malon and the other guards openly balked at her response, but Ivran merely laughed. “Very good. Let us all hurry to see Solana, then you can tell us of your journey.”
Elmerah gave Malon a smug look, then sauntered past, fanning out the long hem of her coat behind her. “Be sure to properly tend the antlioch!” she called back. She didn’t look to see his reaction, but grinned as Saida and Ivran reached her side.
A moment later, Alluin joined them. He leaned in close to her shoulder. “Was it absolutely necessary to antagonize them?”
“Yes.”
He sighed, but did not speak further, which was just as well because the crystal walls had once again caught her attention. The sun had shifted from behind the clouds, shining through the pointed crystal tips to bathe the grassy earth ahead in rainbows. It was stunning, and a bit dizzying.
Saida conversed with her father as they walked, and Malon and the other two guards grumbled behind them with the three antlioch, but Elmerah hardly heard any of it. She understood now why the Faerune elves were so protective of their homeland. It was pure magic, and not just visually. She could feel it thrumming up from the earth beneath her boots. She was sure if she closed her eyes, she’d still be able to distinguish each of the crystals butting together by their magical resonance.
Seeming to notice her state of awe, Ivran asked, “Can you sense them? I’ve always wondered if other magical races could sense them.”
She nodded. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, not speaking the second half of her thoughts. It was now quite clear to her why Egrin wanted Faerune to fall. There was unfathomable power here. If he could figure out how to harness it . . .
He would be unstoppable.
Saida
Saida found it somewhat hard to breathe as they waited for the iron-barred gates to open ahead of them. She was terrified of confronting her mother on good terms. Now to hear that she was gravely ill? She could not argue with her in such a state.
Once the gates had opened enough for them to walk through, her father led the way. The two guards whose names she did not know branched off toward the stables with the three antlioch, though Malon, as expected, followed them toward the High Temple. His heavy gaze made her back itch even more than the other elves staring at them as they walked past. Once her back was turned, she could hear them muttering her name.
“Are all the buildings here made of stone and crystal?” Elmerah asked, drawing Saida’s attention.
She glanced at the surrounding buildings bordering the expansive cobblestone street bisecting this part of the city. She’d never really paid much attention to them, but she could imagine how someone who’d never seen them might react. Most were simple stone and brick, but with heavy carved granite, marble, and slate accents. The buildings nearest the gates were all single story, but there were some truly massive temples deeper in the city. The High Temple rose up above all, composed of more white marble than most.
“We don’t have the dense forests of the North,” she explained, “so there would never be enough wood to build a city like Galterra.”
Ivran glanced back at them. “Our stoneworkers are rivaled by none,” he added. “It is something in which the Faerune elves take great pride.”
“It is pride well deserved,” Elmerah replied, being uncharacteristically pleasant.
Saida slanted a look her way, but Elmerah’s attention was on the architecture, seeming to hardly notice all the elves staring at her. Alluin, however, watched everyone they passed like a hawk, entirely aware of any and all dangers.
Saida lifted her brows as Elmerah picked up her pace to walk at her father’s side ahead of them. She began asking more questions about the architecture, the mines, and the crystal gates.
Alluin finally tore his attention from their surroundings to stare in apparent disbelief at Elmerah’s back. Slowly, he turned to Saida. “Are we sure we didn’t pick up a Nokken in disguise along the way?”
“We must have. It’s the only explanation.”
“I can hear you,” Elmerah snapped, interrupting Saida’s father as he explained the process of supporting the heavy stone second floors in some of the buildings.
When Alluin and Saida silenced, she turned once more toward Ivran. “My apologies, please continue.”
Saida glanced again at Alluin as they walked. He watched Elmerah’s back with a small smile, clearly amused by her odd behavior.
Shaking her head, Saida looked up at the High Temple as they neared. Four guards stood on either side of the white-washed doors, one of the few common architectural components most often made of wood in the city.
They reached the steps leading up to the High Temple, where the six members of the High Council dwelt with their families. Saida had spent her entire life there, trapped in a role she did not choose.
Her father and Elmerah ascended the steps, reaching the white doors ahead of her and Alluin. The guards stationed there shifted uneasily, but would not prohibit her father from entering. One guard moved to open the doors, then stood aside while everyone entered.
Saida’s shoulders relaxed as she stepped onto the white marble floors inside. While she was nervous to see her mother, this was still home. She was safe here .
. . at least until the Dreilore attacked.
Her father led them through the expansive entry-room, lit by massive stained glass windows high up in the walls, then down a narrow hall leading to her family’s quarters. He muttered to Elmerah about various aspects of the building, from the white stone pillars, to the carved moonstones embedded in the friezes depicting Cindra and Arcale. There were some smaller depictions of Felan, goddess of the hunt, and Urus, god of war, but they were few and far between in comparison to Cindra and Arcale, the moon and the sun, fated lovers kept apart by their differences.
They reached the door to her family’s quarters where two more guards were stationed. Nodding to her father, they opened the door and stepped aside. Saida instantly felt more comfortable as they stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind them, sealing them inside with her father’s overflowing bookshelves and her mother’s finely woven tapestries. Her mother had insisted she learn weaving from a young age, but she never took to it as much as the books.
Her father, always with an air of distracted energy about him, gathered up a few books that had spilled from the plush furniture to the exotic rug—imported all the way from the Helshone Desert—that was one of her mother’s many prized possessions.
After surveying the room, Elmerah aimed a smirk at Saida. “And here you’ve been denying being a princess.”
Saida glared, then turned toward her father as he tried to fit the fallen books back on a shelf. “Where is mother?”
Giving up and setting the books on the floor beside the shelf, he gestured to the bedchamber he and her mother shared. “She’s in there with the healer.” He glanced at Elmerah and Alluin. “Would you perhaps like some tea? I’m sure Solana would appreciate a moment alone with Saida.”
Elmerah rubbed her stomach. “Perhaps something a bit stronger? And I wouldn’t scoff at a meal.”
Alluin nudged her with an elbow. “Don’t be rude.”
Saida’s father grinned. “I’m sure we can rustle something up.” He approached Saida and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t go running off again until we’ve had time to talk.”
She nodded, her stomach clenched with guilt. Her father had always understood her better than anyone else, and she’d thrown that in his face by running off without saying a word. He’d probably been worried sick, but would never hold it over her.
With a warm smile, he ambled down the adjoining hall toward the well-stocked cellar.
Saida eyed Elmerah. “Don’t steal anything, and be nice to my father.”
Elmerah held a hand dramatically to her chest. “Why dear princess, you wound me.”
Alluin rolled his eyes, then approached one of the bookshelves, running his finger across the aged leather spines.
Saida turned toward her mother’s door. She could put this off no longer.
Ignoring Alluin and Elmerah quietly arguing at her back, she knocked on the door, but received no answer. Feeling ill, she gripped the handle and pushed down, letting herself inside.
The interior was mostly dark, with only a few candles flickering. The window, normally showing a stunning view of the well manicured gardens, was covered by a heavy cloth, blocking out the sunlight.
She shut the door quietly, then approached the large bed in the center of the room. She could see the outline of her mother’s form beneath the white blankets. For her to be resting during the day meant her illness was far more serious than Saida realized. Her mother never slept during the day.
She glanced around the sparsely furnished room for the healer her father mentioned, but saw no one.
“Mother?”
No reply.
Fearing the worst, she approached the bed, then pulled down the blankets with a trembling hand.
Her mother groaned, then rolled over on her side, hiding her face beneath a curtain of shimmering, nearly white hair.
Exhaling in relief, Saida shook her mother’s shoulder. “Mother, wake up. It’s Saida.”
Her mother startled, then sat up suddenly. Her hand shot to her brow, rubbing it as she winced in pain. “Saida? Is it truly you?”
Saida nodded, though her mother wasn’t looking at her. “Mother, how long have you been ill?”
Her mother finally dropped her hand and looked up at her. She blinked, her eyes slowly seeming to come into focus. “It really is you. I thought perhaps I was having a dream. Where have you been?”
Saida shook her head. “We’ll talk about that later. For now, you must tell me about your illness.”
Solana sighed. “It started not long after you disappeared. Many in the city have fallen ill with the same malady. Some have perished.” She fumbled to puff up her pillows.
Saida leaned in and helped her. “Where is the healer? I’d like to know what he or she is doing to help you.”
Her mother waved her off as she rested her back against the pillows. “She went to fetch fresh bedding. She’ll return soon. Now tell me, where have you been?”
Saida wrinkled her brow, though her mother’s eyes were closed again so she didn’t see it. “We’ll talk about that later, once you’re well.”
Her mother cracked one eye open.
Saida met her partial gaze, then sighed. “Fine. I’ve been in Galterra, and we have much to discuss. Mother, I know it will be difficult to believe, but we can no longer trust the Empire. Faerune is in great danger.”
Her mother’s other eye opened. “Saida, we’ve had peace with the Empire since the Great War.”
“Mother, you must believe me. There are Dreilore in the Capital slaughtering Valeroot elves. They will come for us next.”
She turned at the sound of the door opening. The healer, dressed in loose white robes, entered the room with a pile of bedding in her arms, obscuring her face. She used one foot to close the door behind her, then plopped the pile down in a chair beside the bed.
“Oh good,” Saida’s mother muttered. “Meara, my daughter would like to discuss my illness with you.”
Her mother obviously wasn’t taking the threat seriously, but that was the last thing on Saida’s mind. “Mother! That is not your healer. That is one of the Nokken!” She shot to her feet, placing herself between her mother and the female Nokken.
The Nokken’s eyes shifted nervously. Her fox ears twitched.
Her mother sat up. “Saida! What has gotten into you? That’s Meara. You know very well the Nokken are not permitted within the crystal walls.”
The Nokken slowly backed away, eyeing the door just as it burst open.
Alluin entered first, his hand on the dagger at his belt. “We heard yelling.” He noted the Nokken without regard, then relaxed, stepping further into the room.
Elmerah stepped up behind him and resheathed her cutlass in a well-practiced, one-handed movement, then took a bite of the jelly-filled steamed bun in her other hand. “We thought you were being attacked,” she lectured with her mouth half-full. Ivran stood in the doorway behind Elmerah, peeking into the room.
The Nokken had backed herself into the corner, her gaze on the open door.
Saida pointed to her. “Do you not all see the Nokken in the room!”
Elmerah and Alluin both looked at her like she was mad, then Alluin’s expression turned grim. He narrowed his gaze at the cowering Nokken, then back to Saida. “The Nokken on the beach,” he began, “the one impersonating Daemon Saredoth. I remember you telling me you never saw Daemon there, only the Nokken.”
Saida’s father turned to Elmerah. “Fetch the guards. They should be stationed outside the main door.”
With a final curious glance at the Nokken, Elmerah nodded and hurried from the room.
Saida’s mother glanced around the dimly lit room with semi-reflective eyes that seemed unable to fully focus. “Ivran, what is going on?”
Ivran moved toward the bed, his eyes on the Nokken. “Well my dear, I believe your healer is actually a Nokken, and our daughter is able to see through her illusion.”
Finally the Nokken grunted in
frustration, then lunged toward Alluin, who was blocking the door.
Alluin drew the dagger from his belt and pointed it at the Nokken’s throat, halting her. “You are not going anywhere. You have much to explain.”
The Nokken raised her hands in surrender and backed away, then aimed a glare at Saida. “How did you know?” she asked in a thick accent. “How could you tell?”
“I have no idea,” she muttered, and truly, she did not.
Elmerah returned with the guards, who bound the Nokken’s hands and escorted her from the room.
Elmerah stared at the empty doorway as they left. “I hope they’ll properly question her.”
“She’ll be taken to the dungeons beneath the mines,” Saida’s father explained. “You may question her yourself if you like.”
She nodded. “I may just do that.”
Saida turned her attention back to her mother. “Mother, how long has that healer been tending you?”
Solana shook her head. “Since I fell ill. I had no idea what she was.”
Saida approached the bed. “Was she around before you fell ill?”
She shrugged, her too-thin shoulders poking up like snowy mountain caps beneath her white dressing gown. “There are many healers in the city, several living in the High Temple. I cannot be expected to remember them all.”
Saida’s back stiffened. There could be so many more within the city. They might have looked like elves, but the guard, or someone, should have noticed the extra healers. “The Nokken are in league with the emperor,” she explained. “I believe she was sent here to poison you and all the others who’ve fallen ill.”
Her father gasped. “Saida, this is a grave accusation. Why would Egrin Dinoba want to poison your mother?”
She turned toward her father, hoping he’d hear her words more than her mother had. “The emperor has enlisted the Dreilore to launch an assault on Faerune. He has also allied himself with the Nokken, and I believe he sent them here to weaken us by poisoning our officials. He wants to ensure victory for the Dreilore.”
Curse of the Akkeri Page 5