Her blade connected hard enough that her rapier flew from her hand, but the Dreilore lost his grip on his sword too. The Dreilore reared away from her, then a bolt of lightning struck him in the back. His body went skidding past her across the tiles, propelled along by Solana’s blood.
“Elmerah move!” Rissine charged into the room, leading with her cutlass sparking with electricity.
Blood-smeared and with static in his hair, the Dreilore climbed to his feet, let out a frustrated growl, then disappeared in a cloud of black.
Elmerah raced back across the room, then knelt beside Alluin. His shoulders shook with a rasping breath.
Tension eased out of her body. She put her hand on his shoulder as he panted. Finally, he looked up at her, then past her toward the rest of the room.
Isara still lay splayed across the floor near Solana. Ivran knelt beside her, clasping the velvet box, his head bowed. His shoulders shook with tears.
Celen and Malon followed Rissine into the room.
Celen glanced at Ivran, then approached Elmerah and Alluin. “We would have come sooner, but we found the other Dreilore.”
“Dead?” she asked, her throat feeling oddly tight.
He nodded. Beyond him she could see Malon gently taking the velvet box from Ivran. As soon as his hands were free, he gathered his dead wife into his arms and slowly rocked her back-and-forth. To him, at that moment, no one else existed.
Rissine sucked her teeth. “Well this was an utter disaster, though I don’t see any other bodies around here, so the priests and priestesses must still be hiding somewhere. We should head toward the mines.”
Elmerah nodded. She wanted more than anything to escape Ivran’s gentle sobs. Saida was going to be crushed. She would never forgive herself for not being there—for leaving Faerune.
Celen clasped her shoulder. “You did all that you could.”
“Yes—” Alluin began to agree, but cut himself off. He glanced around the room. “Where is Malon?”
Elmerah whipped around. Ivran was still on the floor, rocking his wife, but Malon was gone . . . and so was the velvet box Solana had been willing to die for.
She ran toward the door and careened outside, finding only rows and rows of undisturbed books. She raced through the rows to the next room, then went down the hall and out to the steps, but Malon was gone.
Alluin reached her shoulder, gently panting. All of the pieces fell into place in her mind as she stared out at the slowly clearing rain.
She shook her head, feeling like a fool. “It all makes sense. All of it. Over half the guards left their posts and did not defend the city against the Dreilore. Malon arrived at the Akkeri Temple just after the witch hunters. Inside, he knew all about the Ayperos. He knew all about demons, and I saw in his eyes how much he wanted that circlet. I thought he just wanted to be the one to return it to Faerune, but I was wrong. He was the traitor. He was the reason the guardsman did not defend their own city. He was the reason the Dreilore knew just where to go. And he was the one who hired the witch hunters to take me. Who knows what he would have done with me had they succeeded.”
Alluin’s breath fogged the cool damp air beside her. She could hear the others approaching at their backs.
“But why?” Alluin breathed.
“Because who would want to be a lowly guardsman kissing the feet of high priests when he had it in his power to change everything?”
She was shocked to feel a hot tear rolling down her cheek, but felt too numb to swat it away.
She turned at the sound of sniffling. Ivran had joined them in the Great Hall. His eyes were red rimmed, his spectacles missing. “They took them all, all of our powerful artifacts. There may be some unrefined moonstones left in the mines, but it’s not enough. The magic of Faerune has been stolen from us.”
He didn’t need to say anything else for Elmerah to understand. Not only had Faerune’s magic been stolen, but it had been given to the demon who would destroy them all.
She rubbed her throbbing brow. “What was in that box, Ivran? What was Solana willing to die for?”
Ivran stared outside with hollow eyes as the sunlight slowly returned, chasing away the last of the rain. “It was the crown of Arcale. The most powerful artifact that has ever existed, guarded by Faerune elves since before Faerune even existed.”
She looked to Alluin again, who nodded. They had been dealt a near-fatal blow, but at least they were alive. And as long as she was alive, she would find Malon. She would find him and reclaim the crown from his cold dead hands.
Elmerah
Smoke from the funeral pyres blotted out the evening sun. Elmerah stood next to Saida, who stood next to her father, saying their final goodbyes to mother and wife. Saida had awakened on the ship to Elmerah standing over her, the only one brave enough to explain what had happened.
Elmerah had assumed that someday she and Saida would find something in common. It was unfortunate that that thing was dead mothers, brutally slain.
The remaining members of the High Council and their families had been hiding deep within an underground vault beneath the High Temple. Solana and Ivran should have been there too, but they’d gone after the crown, hidden in a separate vault. Sadly, the crown might not have been found had they remained in safety, but Solana felt they could not risk it. It had cost her her life.
Though the casualties were heavy, many had escaped to the safety of the mines. The Valeroot elves and Arthali had arrived before the Dreilore could break through, but Nokken in disguise, allowed through by the traitorous guardsman, had cleared out many of the moonstones before the battle began. Other survivors had emerged from hiding places throughout the city once it was clear the battle was over. The survivors now moved the littered bodies outside what remained of the crystalline walls where they could be burned.
Elmerah spotted Rissine carrying a body toward the pyres with the help of a male Arthali. She didn’t know the Arthali man’s name, nor did she desire to. While they needed the Arthali’s help, any of them could have been involved in her mother’s death. She could never fully trust them.
She squeezed Saida’s shoulder, then walked around the gathered elves toward Rissine as she and her cohort tossed the body into the fire.
Spotting her, Rissine nodded to the other Arthali, who walked past without sparing Elmerah a second glance.
Rissine wiped her hands on her breeches, then wrapped her arms around herself, sealing her fur-lined coat close to her body, as she stood shoulder to shoulder with her sister. “So many would not have died if they’d let us into the city when we arrived.”
Elmerah’s eyes slid her way. “Watch your tongue.” Her brow furrowed, she shifted her stare to the nearest fire. Her own coat had a hole where her back had caught the dagger, and the garment was torn and tattered besides, letting plenty of cold evening air through to chill her bones. “They have been punished for refusing you tenfold. They do not need to hear any more of it.”
Rissine looked side to side, then turned to her with a raised brow. “Am I to understand you’ve developed affection for these elves? More than just for your handsome Valeroot companion?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “No one deserves to die like this.”
Rissine laughed softly. “No, I suppose they don’t, but this bloodshed will not end until Egrin is slain.”
She spotted Isara with a group of elves gathered in front of another pyre. The stench of burnt flesh was growing thick, but it was customary to wait while the bodies burned to see their souls off to Arcale. “With Isara’s help, I think it’s possible. She can suppress his magic.”
“So I’ve heard.” Rissine turned toward her. “Oh don’t look so affronted. I’m not spying on your conversations with your elves. Celen told me.”
Elmerah’s shoulders relaxed. “She doesn’t want to kill her brother, but he’ll need to die too if we’re to make her empress.”
Rissine huffed. “We’ll decide who should be empress when the time comes.”
/>
“No one on this continent will accept you as ruler.”
Rissine’s laugh drew glares from the nearest elves.
Elmerah elbowed her in the arm. “You definitely won’t be empress if the elves kill you here and now.”
Rissine laughed again, more quietly this time. “Do not fret, dear sister. I have no intention of becoming empress. I only meant that Isara seems a bit . . . fluff-headed to rule over the Ulrian Empire.”
Elmerah shrugged. “She’s smarter than she seems, very smart in fact, and she has a good heart. She tried to save me when we were trapped in the Dreilore camp. She could have taken Egrin’s protection, but chose to save me instead.”
Rissine watched Isara, who didn’t seem to notice the staring. “I suppose that does have to count for something. She’s better than an elf, at least.”
Celen approached, bringing their conversation to an end. He’d found a fur-lined coat somewhere, much warmer than Elmerah’s dirty and torn black coat. She’d need to find a replacement soon enough, as well as another weapon. The loss of her jeweled cutlass, stolen from a pirate captain, still stung. The Dreilore rapier was still at her belt, but she wasn’t accustomed to rapiers only sharpened at the tip. She liked her blades sharp all the way down.
Celen leaned his elbow on top of Elmerah’s shoulder. He was one of the few people around who could make her feel small. “You’ll need to get that wound in your back properly tended, Ellie.”
Rissine snorted at the affection between the two, then walked away toward a small gathering of Arthali.
Celen watched her go. “I see your sister is still just as prickly as ever.”
“That she is.” His weight was beginning to feel heavy on her shoulder, but she had to admit, it was nice to have him around. “Most would say the same about me,” she added.
“Oh not at all. I’d say you are far less prickly these days.”
She sneered.
“Especially toward Valeroot elves,” he added. “Or at least, toward one Valeroot elf.”
She side-stepped out from under his elbow. “Don’t you start too.”
He let his arm fall with a laugh. He looked past a few elves to where Saida and Ivran stood, now joined by Alluin. “I suppose they’re all nice enough. It might have taken them awhile, but they’ve welcomed us into the city while they rebuild. Together, we will all be stronger.”
She nodded. “We’ll need that strength. Egrin may back off for now, but the Akkeri still want Saida. I don’t think we missed our only opportunity to meet their High King.”
He turned back to her. “Don’t worry, Ellie. Our blades will not discriminate between Dreilore flesh and Akkeri.” He extended his arm, this time wrapping it around her shoulders. “Now let’s find you a healer. They are set up with the injured, including your Akkeri friend, at the main inn.”
She smiled softly. She’d been mostly indifferent to Merwyn, but he very well may have been the sole reason Saida wasn’t taken aboard the High King’s ship. While he’d not fully recovered from the Dreilore poison, and likely never would, she was glad he was still alive.
“Just a while longer,” she said, her gaze back on Saida and Ivran. They both silently wept, overcome by their grief. She knew exactly how they felt.
Celen gave her uninjured shoulder a squeeze. “Take as long as you need.”
She watched Saida for a few moments more, then looked up through the smoke toward the high hill where she’d stood with Egrin. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, she made a solemn vow. She would make Egrin pay, and she wouldn’t be doing it for herself, or for the Arthali, or even for the Valeroot elves. She would do it for Ivran and Solana, and for their daughter, who had unexpectedly become one of her dearest friends. Because vengeance for any other reason would be a hollow victory, while vengeance for those dear lives lost meant . . . she grasped for the proper word, then found it deep in her heart. Everything. It would mean everything.
Elmerah
Later that evening, Elmerah, Alluin, Saida, Ivran, and even Merwyn sat near a fire in the living room of Ivran’s home. They drank burrberry brandy and told stories of Solana’s life. Well, Saida and Ivran told stories, often interrupted by tears, while Alluin and Elmerah listened quietly side by side. Elmerah was pretty sure Merwyn had fallen asleep in his chair, the one nearest the fire.
Eventually the stories faded into silence, until Saida raised her gaze to Elmerah.
She’d been about to refill her cup, but remained seated, watching Saida instead.
Saida looked down into her cup, then back up, this time encompassing Alluin in her gaze. “I should have realized what Malon was planning. He saved me once when I was younger. He spoke about one day no longer being a lowly guardsman, but I didn’t remember. I didn’t realize it was him. I should have known.” She hung her head.
Ivran rose from his seat and walked toward Saida, then placed his hand on her shoulder. “It was not your fault, none of this was, so do not blame yourself. Everything that happened here today was the fault of one man alone. Egrin Dinoba.”
Saida wiped the tears from her eyes with her free hand, then nodded. “I have something to show you, father. Perhaps it will be of some value now that all of our other artifacts have been stolen.”
Her father had to help her to stand. She was still injured from her run in with the Akkeri, and bone-tired besides. She really should have been in bed. Elmerah was glad they’d all be staying in Ivran’s home, where she could protect Saida.
Saida hobbled toward her small pile of belongings brought in from Rissine’s ship, just a large belt pouch, more of a satchel, really, and her torn shirt which had been replaced by one of the Arthali’s while she was on the ship. She knelt, then reached into the pouch and withdrew the circlet they’d found in the Akkeri Temple.
Elmerah looked to Alluin. They’d both assumed it had been taken by Hotrath, and hadn’t had the heart to ask Saida about it.
She handed it up to her father.
He took it in hand and examined it closely, then gasped. “My girl, where on earth did you find this?”
She stood, then hobbled back to her seat. “We found it in the Akkeri Temple. The High King of the Akkeri had it hidden there, guarded by Ayperos.”
Ivran walked back toward the fire, then examined the circlet. The moonstones glinted in the warm yellow light.
“Do you recognize it?” Elmerah asked, unable to contain herself.
Ivran nodded, his gaze on the circlet. “If I’m not mistaken, this is the crown of Cindra. It is meant to be paired with the stolen crown of Arcale. This is extremely old, and extremely powerful.” He blinked back tears. “If only Solana could have seen it.”
Elmerah looked to Alluin, knowing his thoughts would mirror hers. The circlet would be something Egrin would want above almost anything else. She had no doubt the primary item he’d been after was the crown of Arcale, a task he’d entrusted to none other than the High Lord of the Dreilore.
Yes, he’d want this circlet badly, but she’d be cursed, drawn and quartered before she’d ever let him have it.
Saida
Saida woke panting and drenched in sweat. She sat up in her bed, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her dream still clung to her skin like oil, a pleasant memory turned dark. She touched her hot cheeks, expecting them to be cold from the freshly fallen snow in her dreams. She’d dreamed of that night, where she’d first met Malon, but she’d never learned his name. He’d seemed so kind. He’d protected her and kept her warm.
He’d saved her life.
She tossed her blankets aside and padded barefoot toward her window. Smoke still hung in the air from the funeral pyres. Her heart ached for her lost mother. If only she’d remembered Malon sooner. If only she’d remembered his words that night, and had noticed the bitterness beneath them. Maybe she could have stopped him before he’d turned half the guard against the city. Maybe her mother would still be alive.
She leaned her hands heavily against th
e windowsill. Why her? Why had Malon deemed her important? Why had he asked her not to hate him? There was no way she could not hate him now.
She clenched the edge of the windowsill until her fingers ached. She supposed she would find out eventually. He hadn’t kept her alive without reason. He’d said she was important.
She’d wanted her whole life to be important. She’d need to learn to be more careful what she wished for.
Elmerah sat at the edge of a balcony jutting out from the High Temple, her legs hanging through the railings to kick back and forth in the cool morning air. The breeze was scented heavily with the first blossoms of spring, blossoms normally helped along by elven magic. It was odd, that spring would still come after all the darkness of the previous weeks. The seasons didn’t care about demons though. Nor did the trees, nor the sea waiting to carry her sister away in search of more Arthali, leaving most of those she’d gathered behind.
In the streets below, the elves were rebuilding the city, not just Faerune elves, but Valeroot as well, and a solitary Akkeri, who ignored the glares he received. More Valeroot elves arrived every day, sought out by Alluin and Vessa’s scouts. She’d spotted Vail among the most recent arrivals. The healer from the Valeroot settlement hadn’t bothered to greet her, though she knew she saw her. Not that Elmerah had particularly wanted to speak with her either.
The door behind her, heavily adorned with blue and yellow stained-glass, opened. Alluin walked outside and seated himself beside her, draping his legs through the railings. The bruises on his face had begun to heal, and he looked more rested and less thin than when they’d first been reunited. The deep green silk shirt and deeper green linen breeches, so deep a green they were almost black, suited him, though more rustic Valeroot garb suited him better.
Curse of the Akkeri Page 19