He could hear Malon struggling against Hotrath, though the High King would not be as easy to escape as his smaller counterparts. The Valeroot elves charged, a volley of arrows leading the way. A few Akkeri on the edge of the group went down screaming, but their screams were soon drowned out by the sharp clangs of steel on steel.
Seeming to forget him in their bloodlust, Alluin’s captors fell away, fearlessly meeting the Valeroot elves on the battlefield.
“Fools!” Hotrath roared.
Alluin turned in time to watch Hotrath throw Malon at him, but not in time to avoid the hurtling elf. Malon slammed into him, stealing his breath and knocking him into the mud. The blossoming sunlight danced over his eyes for a moment as he struggled to relearn how to breathe. Malon rolled off of him with a groan, then crouched at his side. Suddenly they were alone as the Akkeri all ran toward the battle, save their High King who’d retreated in Saida’s direction.
Malon straightened and went after him, leaving Alluin lying in the mud.
Cursing the pomposity of Faerune, Alluin stood, then hesitated. In one direction his kin, possibly even Vail, fought the ruthless Akkeri. In the other, Hotrath might very well be dragging Saida toward his ship where more Akkeri waited to steal her away forever.
He clenched his fists and ran after Malon. He’d promised Saida’s parents he’d keep her safe, and he had to have faith the Valeroot elves could defend themselves in battle. The sea came into view as he ran. Hotrath’s broad back blocked any view of Saida, but she had to be in his arms considering he was marching toward a rowboat heading in to carry him to the larger ship. Malon was hot on his heels. There was another blue-sailed ship far in the distance, whether Akkeri or someone else, he could not tell.
Alluin might not have noticed the three Akkeri lying in the sand to his right, if one hadn’t groaned in pain. He looked them over quickly, assessing the threat. One lay dead with a sword in his back, another unconscious or dead was sprawled beside him, and the third, badly beaten and bloody, was Merwyn. A few more Akkeri lay further down the beach.
“He took Saida!” Merwyn groaned. “Stop him!”
“I’ll come back for you!” Alluin assured, then ran after Hotrath. He watched Malon intercept him near the tide, blocking the giant’s path to his ship. Hotrath tossed Saida’s limp body onto the sand, then held up a meaty hand toward the Akkeri in the rowboat. The Akkeri halted halfway into the water, then climbed back into their rocking boat.
Hotrath’s head angled down toward Malon. “I will enjoy killing you with my bare hands, elf.”
Alluin slowed his pace as he approached Hotrath’s back. The High King had not yet noticed him. Malon caught Alluin’s eye past Hotrath, and gave the barest of nods toward Saida.
Alluin nodded, then changed course toward Saida’s unconscious form. He knelt beside her as Malon leapt into the air, aiming a well practiced kick toward Hotrath’s jaw. Hotrath took the blow without flinching, grasping for Malon as he landed on his feet in the sand.
Alluin looked back down to Saida. Her face was purple with bruises, and her long blonde hair streaked with blood. Alluin lifted her carefully into his arms, fearing the worst. Before he could slip away with her, the Akkeri on the rowboat started shouting, gaining Hotrath’s attention.
Hotrath took a fist to the gut from Malon without so much as a grunt. With a growl of rage he grabbed Malon’s arm, using it to lift the elf over his head. He spun on Alluin and Saida, throwing Malon at them as if he weighed nothing. The three tumbled into the sand, pinning Alluin on the bottom. Malon was up quickly, but Alluin had to roll Saida gently aside before he could move.
Driven more by their instincts than the command of their High King, the four Akkeri dove off the rowboat into the water and splashed toward shore. Alluin rose shakily to his feet next to Malon, facing Hotrath, for what little good it would do. The High King seemed impervious to attack, and sounds of battle could still be heard in the distance. Were the Valeroot elves falling to the blind bloodlust of the Akkeri?
Arms splayed to catch the next attack, Hotrath approached. “You will die by my hands, elves. Not just you, but all of your kin. Once our curse is lifted, we will come for you. We will bathe in the blood of elves as we desecrate your temples, just as you desecrated ours. We will—”
A massive boom sounded toward the north, near Faerune. An explosion. The four Akkeri who had reached the shore froze, peering in the direction of the distant city. Shouts could be heard from the Akkeri ship, but Alluin soon realized they weren’t shouting about the explosion. The ship with blue sails was closing in. As it was absent an insignia, Alluin had no clue about its occupants, save one. There was a growing storm overhead. Dark clouds rolled in, thunder rumbling in their depths. Had Elmerah escaped Egrin? If she had, she would have returned to Faerune. It was a possibility. His heart filled with elation, far more so than he had expected.
Hotrath growled again, turning his sights away from the ship toward Saida where she lay forgotten in the sand. “You were lucky this time, elves.” As he reached for Saida, lightning struck the shore, tossing him back. He landed with a heavy thud in the sand, but quickly got to his feet.
Alluin seized the opportunity to rush toward Saida. He lifted her into his arms with Malon at his back. Lightning rained down upon the shore, striking at the Akkeri from the rowboat before they could reach them. The lightning next turned toward the Akkeri ship, accompanied by harsh winds which caught the Akkeri sails, rocking the ship violently. The sharp twang of ballistas preceded a flaming volley of projectiles launched at the Akkeri ship.
The scene was so brilliant, Alluin nearly forgot Hotrath at his back. He whirled around, only to catch sight of Hotrath’s broad back growing smaller in the distance, leaving his fellow Akkeri dead and injured on the beach. The assault of fire and lightning continued until the entire Akkeri ship was aflame despite the rain now pattering down across the sea. Flaming Akkeri screamed and leapt from the ship into the water.
Clutching Saida protectively in his arms, he turned toward Malon. “Care to rethink your opinion of the Arthali?”
Malon frowned. His right arm was limp at his side, and he leaned more heavily on his left leg, but he seemed otherwise uninjured. “I’ll rethink it if we survive this oncoming encounter.” He pointed toward the blue-sailed ship, and the large rowboat now headed toward shore.
He realized with great disappointment that it was not a Faerune ship with Elmerah on board, it was a ship entirely occupied by Arthali. Judging by the lightning, Rissine was the tall woman he could see standing at the bow of the rowboat.
“Alluin!” a familiar voice called.
Alluin turned, receiving yet another shock as he beheld his sister, Vessa. She was roughed up, her short hair, the same rich brown as his, dappled with Akkeri blood. She jogged toward him, a tight-lipped smile making her young features seem old and tired.
Reaching him, she glanced toward Malon, then out toward the Arthali ship, before returning her gaze to Alluin. “When we picked up that Akkeri trail I never thought I’d find you at the end of it.”
“Are they all dead?”
She nodded. “Them, their nasty hounds, and many elves along with them,” she bowed her head slightly before adding, “I’d love to hear your side of the tale, along with an explanation about the Arthali rowing toward us, but it will have to wait. I think Faerune is being attacked.”
Her words were echoed by another explosion. He imagined the crystal walls toppling beneath the force of Dreilore fire and brimstone. “I believe Elmerah’s sister is leading the Arthali,” he explained. “Gather the remaining elves. We will reach Faerune faster by ship, I can only hope we are not too late.”
“You will truly rush to Faerune’s aid?” Malon balked.
Alluin glared at him. Even after all they’d been through, he still viewed the Valeroot elves as lesser. “The only way any of us will survive is to protect each other. I only hope that Faerune can muster the same honor as Valeroot when the time comes.�
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The Arthali boat reached the shore, carrying Rissine and three male Arthali. Alluin transferred Saida to Malon’s arms, hoping she had nothing more serious than a concussion, then went to meet Rissine. He felt a little guilty making Vessa return to the field of their fallen kin, but he could not stand the thought of seeing them. Visions of the slain elves back in Galterra danced through his mind as he walked across the shore. Would the bloodshed never end?
Rissine eyed him with a smug smile as he approached, her boots and breeches wet from hopping out of the rowboat and helping her men drag it onto the sand. “I’m disappointed you let that giant Akkeri escape. I’ve never seen one so big.”
He glanced in the direction Hotrath had fled, further south, away from Faerune. “Then you’ve never met their High King.”
“Where’s my sister?”
“I’ll explain everything soon. Do you have more rowboats? We have more of my people heading toward shore, and we need to reach Faerune.”
Rissine didn’t move. The three male Arthali stood at her back, tattooed arms crossed. “Where. Is. My. Sister?”
They didn’t have time for this. Faerune would still fall without aid from the Arthali. “She was taken by Egrin Dinoba. If I know anything about him, he will be there to watch Faerune fall.”
Rage washed across Rissine’s face. “Gather your elves quickly, we have no time to waste.”
Elmerah
A warm wind sifted through Elmerah’s hair, bringing with it the scent of smoke and ash from the explosions. To her right stood Egrin, and to her left Isara. Surrounding them were a bevy of Dreilore warriors, watching from a high hill as Faerune was assaulted by a mixture of magic and might. The magnificent crystal walls were chipped and cracked, but had not yet fallen, not that they needed to fall. The main assault had taken place at the gates, for all their might, they were weaker than their crystalline counterparts.
Elven archers rained arrows down upon the Dreilore warriors, and others dumped cauldrons of hot oil, but it would not be enough. Rows upon rows of Dreilore warriors marched onward. Elmerah wouldn’t have guessed so many Dreilore existed in all of Salisfait, let alone hiding in the woods between Galterra and Faerune . . . yet, as many as there were, there would not be enough to easily overcome Faerune, a city nearly as large as the Capital. The Dreilore would be outnumbered by the elves twenty to one. They must have known something she didn’t, because she did not for a moment believe they would attack unless they could win.
Egrin took a deep, satisfied breath, then slowly let it out. “You see, witch, this is what happens to those who stand against the might of the Empire.”
Elmerah snorted, straining her hands against her shackles. “Don’t you mean this is what happens to the Empire’s allies? Faerune never stood against you. They supported the Empire since the Great War.”
She sensed Dreilore warriors behind her, shifting at her words.
Egrin merely laughed. “They would never have willingly given up their moonstones. It’s as good as standing against me. Just as you are doing by not divulging the secret to your magic.”
“It’s not my fault you’re not smart enough to figure it out.”
He casually backhanded her. Her body rocked back, but she managed to brace herself and not fall. Her cheek stung, and she tasted blood on the inside of her mouth. Egrin was thin and not overly muscled, but he’d hit her with the strength of a young troll.
The Dreilore down below hurried away from the iron gates, their alchemical explosives set at the base. Elmerah held her breath as the explosives erupted in a wave of blue and purple fire. The entire city of Faerune seem to shake, and the ground beneath her boots rumbled. A gust of wind cleared the smoke, revealing the ruined gates, no longer offering any protection to the elves within.
The Dreilore marched onward, over the corpses of their fallen kin.
Though they were surrounded by Dreilore guards, she could wait no longer. She subtly turned toward Isara and nodded.
She felt it as the enchantment on her shackles was restrained. She’d have to make this quick. She sucked in magic from the air around her, faster than was wise, so fast it made her dizzy.
Egrin turned toward her. She managed to gasp to Isara, “Keep going!” seconds before Egrin stole the air from her lungs. She called her lightning down, aiming it not toward Egrin, but the surrounding Dreilore. She felt the pulse of electricity at her back, heard the grunts of the stricken Dreilore, then her magic cut off. She gasped as air returned to her lungs, courtesy of Isara shifting her focus from the shackles to Egrin.
She took another deep breath as one of the Dreilore recovered and grabbed her shoulders from behind. She tossed her head back, breaking the Dreilore’s nose. The Dreilore fell away, only to be replaced by another. She began to call out to Isara to nullify the shackles, when suddenly her magic returned. She spun toward the remaining Dreilore, summoning an erratic wave of flame ahead of her, then aimed a second burst at her shackles. The Dreilore fell back, rolling across the grass to put out the flames on their hair and clothing as the hot metal of her shackles scalded her wrists. The locks in the shackles broke under the heat and dropped to the ground. She tried to take another deep breath, but no air came in.
Isara tried to scurry toward her, but another Dreilore came up behind her and held a blade to her throat. “No more magic,” he hissed in his thick Salisfait accent.
Isara nodded, her spectacles amplifying the terror in her eyes. Yet, Elmerah still had breath in her lungs, so she must not have obeyed.
“Clever witch,” Egrin said as he stepped back between the two remaining guards. “Try that again I’ll crush you so fully that your heart stops.”
Ah, so Isara wasn’t saving her, Egrin just wasn’t attacking. She could attack now that her shackles were off, but that magic would do her little good now that Egrin was aware of it, and could deflect her attacks. She could attack the Dreilore holding Isara, but she’d risk harming Isara in the process.
She was fast running out of options, and Faerune was falling behind her. She did the only thing she could think to do. She put her weight on her left leg then used the right to kick a rock near the toe of her boot. The rock sailed straight toward Egrin’s face. In the split second it took him to reach out and catch it, she launched herself toward him, tackling him between the two Dreilore. The momentum was enough to send her and Egrin rolling down the grassy hill.
Egrin held on and they toppled over each other. She knew he could use his magic to halt their momentum, but he didn’t. Was Isara helping her from up on the hill? She hoped so. The Dreilore yet with her wouldn’t be able to tell unless Egrin informed them.
Egrin rolled over her, then she atop him. She thrust her elbow forward, slamming him in the jaw. He grabbed her hair at the back of her skull and yanked, wrenching her neck painfully as he toppled back on top. She cried out, but managed to take the opportunity to knee him in the groin.
With an oof, he lost his grip on her and went tumbling down the hill at a faster rate. She managed to right herself, digging her boot heels into the grass so she could slide the rest of the way down on her rump.
She didn’t waste any time. The Dreilore would come running after them soon. She launched herself to her feet and landed a running kick to Egrin’s jaw. He skidded across the grass at the bottom of the hill, blood flinging from his nose and mouth. She lined up for another kick. She knew Isara could be distracted from nullifying his magic at any moment, and she needed him dead or unconscious before that could happen.
Searing pain lanced through her left shoulder. She reached around and felt the hilt of a dagger sticking out of her back, piercing her dirty coat and the flesh underneath. The rest of the Dreilore, all but the one guarding Isara, reached the bottom of the hill and surrounded her.
“Don’t kill her,” Egrin groaned.
His words surprised her. She’d thought for sure she’d earned a death sentence from him by now.
The earth shook at her feet. At f
irst she thought it was another Dreilore explosion, then a male voice yelled, “Down Ellie!” She dropped to the ground as a wave of arrows whooshed over her head. No, not arrows, she realized, but darts. Tiny darts, the type most commonly used in blow guns imported from the Helshone Desert, landed with light thunks into Dreilore flesh.
Her heart thundered in her ears as the Dreilore fell around her. The darts had to be tipped with a sleeping concoction, though she hoped it was something more toxic. She propped herself up on her elbows and nearly cried to see Celen running toward her. The protruding dagger made her shoulder feel icy and scalding hot at the same time.
Celen approached alone, but more Arthali stood near the tree line.
Though her adrenaline was waning, she forced herself to her feet, stealing a rapier from one of the downed Dreilore on her way up. Celen reached her as she reached Egrin. Egrin blinked up at her, his pale eyes vibrant against the blood coating his face.
With trembling hands she poised the rapier over his heart.
He smiled, revealing blood-coated teeth. “You’ll come to me yet, witch.”
She drove the rapier down to pierce his heart, driving its tip into the grass as Egrin seem to evaporate in a cloud of darkness. The darkness swirled for a moment, then was gone.
“Son of a Dreilore wench!” She snatched the rapier from the grass. “That bloody demonic bastard!”
Celen stared at her from across the space where Egrin had been. “So I guess he really is a demon?”
Elmerah wanted to cry, partially from frustration, but partially because she was so bloody glad to see Celen. She assured herself the tears had nothing to do with the dagger in her back. Reining in her emotions, she answered matter of factly, “Yes, we’ve established that.” She looked up toward the hilltop as the Arthali approached from the tree line. Though her legs felt like thistle jelly, she started up the incline to find Isara. If Egrin had swooped in and taken Isara with him, she’d . . . well she didn’t know what she’d do, but it would be rather unfortunate.
Curse of the Akkeri Page 16