Copyright © 2018 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.
Cover Art by Amalia Chitulescu
Created with Vellum
To Christina:
Brainstorming Buddy,
Shield Sister,
Capricorn Queen.
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Elmerah
Elmerah checked the shackles on her wrists for the hundredth time. What a load of dung. How in Ilthune had lowly sea pirates been able to afford magic-nullifying wrist bonds? The ones on her ankles were just simple iron. She would free herself from those easily enough if she had access to her magic…which, she didn’t.
The heavy iron hurt her wrists and squeezed her boots uncomfortably at her ankles, not to mention the steady drip drip of water leaking in from the deck above her head to add to her annoyance. She leaned her back against the wooden wall of the small cabin near the ship’s bow, her temporary prison. Her long legs, clad only in thick tights, erupted in goosebumps.
A few other women shared the space with her, their heads slumped in the swinging lantern light. That her fellow captives were all women, and all young and fairly beautiful, told her one thing. They were on their way to be sold into slavery of the worst kind. Although, how the pirates intended to keep a witch like herself tethered for long was beyond her. The bigger question was, why? She was at least a decade older than the young girls, though she felt herself not horrible to look at. Her black hair and bronze skin hinted at her Arthali heritage, and she was curvy enough to be considered feminine, though her height and well-muscled frame scared off most male suitors.
Not that she’d been looking.
She shook her shackles again. The ship swayed gently, the sound of the choppy sea above muffling the soft weeping of her fellow prisoners.
Elmerah sneered. She’d never been one to weep, and she sure as Ilthune’s lance didn’t consider herself a victim. She was a temporary hostage, nothing more. As soon as she managed to rid herself of these shackles, she’d teach the sea pirates a lesson. They’d rue the day they decided it was a good idea to turn an Arthali swamp witch into a slave.
She glanced at her nearest fellow captive, barely illuminated by the swaying, lone lantern. The girl had long white hair like spider silk, and bony, angular features carved into perfect alabaster skin. Her downcast eyes dominated her small face, and pointed ears jutted out from beneath her hair. She was a Faerune elf, one of the Moonfolk. Elmerah knew that if the girl turned her large eyes upward, they would glint in the darkness. Faerune elves could see just as well at night as they could during the day. They were fast too, with incredibly agile hands that could send a dagger into your chest before you could even blink.
Agile hands, Elmerah thought, glancing once again at her shackles. Perhaps this girl could be of use to her.
“Psst,” she whispered, scooting closer to the girl.
The girl startled and glanced upward, and sure enough, her eyes glinted like moonlight. Her loose white tunic made her look like a ghost.
“Yes?” she asked softly, seeming to regain her composure. Poor girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen.
“Come over here,” Elmerah whispered. “I need your help.”
The girl narrowed her eyes, then clutching her shackled hands to her chest, she scooted along the floor until she was sitting side by side with Elmerah.
Elmerah lowered her head toward the girl. “Search my hair, I should still have some pins left in there.” She hoped she’d had some pins left. Even after the pirate caught her unawares and cuffed her, she’d put up a fight. The man had ripped a clump of her hair out in the struggle. She’d made up for it by kicking out two of his teeth.
The girl’s fingers tugged through Elmerah’s matted hair.
She cringed. She needed a bath.
“You smell like a swamp,” the girl muttered.
“Well you smell like fairy dung,” Elmerah grumbled. Never mind that the girl actual smelled like a crystal clear brook surrounded by wildflowers. Elves always smelled pleasant, except perhaps the Akkeri. The sea-riders smelled a bit like rotten fish.
“There,” the girl whispered, pulling a hairpin free. “Now what do you want me to do with it?”
Elmerah lifted her head, then held out her cuffed wrists. “Get these off me and I’ll make these pirates pay.”
The girl’s eyes widened, as if finally just really seeing her. “You’re Arthali,” she gasped, retracting the pin toward her chest.
Elmerah fought the urge to sneer. Pureblood Arthali had been exiled from the Ulrian Empire over three decades ago, but old fears ran as deep as the Kalwey Sea. “Yes,” she hissed, “so you know I can back up my claims.”
The elf girl met her gaze for several seconds, then lowered trembling hands to Elmerah’s cuffs. “Arcale protect me,” she muttered as she inserted the pin into the keyhole.
The girl’s words inspired Elmerah to take a closer look at her garb. The white tunic, embroidered with little silver moons, topped fitted white pants. Her brows raised in recognition. These pirates really were idiots. They’d not only kidnapped an Arthali witch, but a Faerune priestess. If the elves ever found out about this, every last pirate would surely meet a swift end.
The pin clicked in the lock.
Elation filled her as she pulled off the cuffs, then hurriedly pumped magic into the benign shackles around her ankles, which soon clicked open. She stood, then looked down at the Faerune priestess.
Seeming to sense her hesitation, the girl glared. “You said you’d get us out of here.”
“Actually, I said I’d make these pirates pay.”
The girl’s glare deepened.
She’d be a fool to get involved with the elves, but—she huffed out a long breath, then held a hand out to the girl. “Hold the cuffs away from your body.”
Still staring up at her, the girl obeyed.
Elmerah pushed magic into the cuffs. They fell away from the girl’s wrists, then clattered to the wooden planks, followed by the ones at her ankles.
The girl stood, a full head shorter than Elmerah “Now the others,” she demanded.
Elmerah glared down at her. “Weren’t you just trembling in your boots about freeing an Arthali witch? Are you sure you should be making demands?”
Her glare did not waver.
“Fine,” Elmerah hissed. “They’ll prove a worthwhile distraction, if nothing else.”
She made her way around the small cabin, freeing the other women one by one. There were six in total, eight counting herself and the elven priestess. Some of the women stood, but others remained slumped on the floor, broken.
The elf girl watched her expectantly.
“I’ve freed them,” she grumbled. “If they’re not willing to help themselv
es now, there’s nothing I can do. Now I’m off to murder some pirates.”
After a moment, the elf girl nodded. She marched across the small space away from the lantern’s light and retrieved something from a dark corner, then returned to Elmerah with a long oar in hand, taller than the girl holding it.
“You Moonfolk really can see in the dark, can’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes, now let us go enact our vengeance.”
Elmerah smirked. Perhaps she’d made a wise choice in allying herself with the girl after all. She made her way toward the rickety wooden steps leading up to the deck. A heavy padlock dangled from the trapdoor above.
She made quick work of it, overwhelming the metal components with magic until they snapped. Leave it to pirates to only buy enchanted shackles and not a padlock. They were in way over their heads.
The women had all herded together behind her, those who’d stood on their own now supporting those who’d refused.
“What’s your name?” Elmerah asked the elven girl as she reached her side.
She gripped the oar tightly in her hands. “Saida Fenmyar.”
“Elmerah Volund,” she introduced. “Are you ready, Saida?”
Saida nodded.
Elmerah tossed the trap door open, landing with a loud thwack on the deck above. She rushed up the final steps, angry magic coursing through her veins. Only three of the men were on deck, all turned toward her with jaws agape.
She kicked the nearest one right in his hanging jaw, darting in and stealing his cutlass before he hit the deck.
“I thought you’d use magic to attack them,” Saida said, facing the other two men just a few paces off as the other women ascended behind her.
“I’m saving it for their leader,” Elmerah explained. “Plus, I was really feeling like I needed to kick someone in the face.”
The other two men neared, weapons drawn. Their dirty faces and ragged loose clothing hinted to their status as lowly crewman. “Oi!” one of them called out, “the prisoners are loose!”
More men would be on deck soon. They needed to act fast so they wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Elmerah lifted her cutlass, ready to fight, but Saida was way ahead of her. She launched herself at the men in a graceful leap, swinging the oar like a staff, her white hair streaming behind her. One man tried to counter, but his weapon was effortlessly flicked away, right before the oar swooped back around and smacked him with the broad side on the back of his head. The other man got the narrow side straight in his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Elmerah would have liked to continue watching but more men had swarmed the deck, their legs braced wide against the swaying of the ship. She counted them, weighing their odds before realizing she’d be out of magical energy by the time this fight was over. The other women huddled together near the trap door, their eyes squinted against the occasional gust of heavily salted air. Useless.
She lifted the cutlass toward the cloudy sky, filling it with more of her magic than she should have been expending, but she wasn’t about to risk someone shackling her once more. Her power surged into the blade to the point of bursting as the first man charged her.
A rumble in the sky echoed her guttural growl. She really shouldn’t be doing this, but it was too late to go back now. If she moved the sword, the lightning might be attracted to her instead.
The bolt hit the blade, absorbing into the metal. The man stumbled away, eyes wide. Too late for him as well. She whipped the blade downward, sending a bolt of lightning straight toward his chest. It hit its mark, then bounced to the next man before hitting the far wall of the above-deck cabin where it dissipated.
She spared a quick glance toward Saida, who’d stayed near the women, protecting them with her oar, then turned back as more men charged her. One had a new set of shackles in hand.
“Get them ‘round her wrists!” a finely dressed man shouted from a safe distance.
Her lip quivered with a snarl. She’d found the captain.
Still bursting with energy, she whipped the sword toward the men, tossing them aside with electrical currents. She surged forward, slicing any who’d not fallen with her blade. One man’s cutlass neared her throat, then fell away as an oar thunked down upon his sweaty brow.
“My thanks!” Elmerah shouted, slamming her shoulder into another pirate and sending him overboard.
She turned toward another, brandishing her blade flickering with elemental sparks. She must have looked quite the sight, given a wet spot soon formed on his breeches. He tossed his cutlass aside and willingly followed his fellow pirate into the sea.
Her snarl still in place, she turned toward the captain. He was attempting to unlock the cabin door behind him, but his trembling hands were fumbling the key. She stalked toward him. Saida stood back with her oar in hand and several men lying broken at her feet.
The captain glanced over his shoulder at her approach. His blue eyes widened. With his shiny black hair and clear complexion he was almost handsome. Unfortunately, the stain of capturing slaves made him ugly.
His little metal key clattered to the deck.
Cutlass still in hand, Elmerah knelt to retrieve it. She stood, dangling the key in front of his face. “I believe you dropped this.”
“Please don’t kill me,” he whimpered.
Her smile broadened. “Did you really think it was a good idea to kidnap an Arthali witch? My people are well known for showing little mercy.”
“I was just following orders. Please, I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you who hired me and you can go after her.”
Her? Now that was interesting.
“I’m guessing any information I might want is contained in the cabin behind you,” she gestured to the locked door with her cutlass. “I’m not seeing any reason to spare you.”
Footsteps sounded behind her, then Saida appeared at her side. “We’ll take him back to my people. He will stand trial for his crimes.”
Elmerah snorted. “I’m not going anywhere near the elves.” She turned back to the captain, offering him the key. “Unlock it. Let’s see what you have inside.”
The captain snatched the key, then unlocked the door with still trembling hands. “Thank you,” he muttered. “Thank you for not bringing me to the elves.” He pushed the door open.
His thanks sent a disgusted shiver down Elmerah’s spine. She turned and gave Saida a subtle nod.
The oar came down. The captain crumpled.
Elmerah glanced back at the waiting women, then to Saida. “Have them tie up any who still live. I’m going to take a look around.”
Saida nodded, then returned to the women as Elmerah stepped over the prostrate captain into the office.
The furnishings were sparse, but high quality. A heavy oak writing desk dominated the far wall, stationed next to a bed with a proper mattress topped with vibrant silks and fluffy feather pillows. While the bed appealed to her tired body, she was more interested in the desk, and what information its drawers might contain.
She marched across the room, fighting her sluggishness as her adrenaline seeped away. She’d used far too much magical energy calling lightning to her new cutlass. It would have been easier with an enchanted sword, but her weapons had been left behind when she was kidnapped.
Swapping the cutlass to her left hand, she opened the middle drawer. Ink, bitterroot with a pipe, and blank sheets of parchment. Useless. She opened the next drawer. Empty. Why even have a desk? When the third drawer revealed only a few clean handkerchiefs, she turned back to the rest of the cabin. She could hear Saida outside directing the other women to bind all the men, but she still wanted to act fast. She’d like to be far away on one of the smaller boats long before the ship reached shore. If it reached shore. She would be highly surprised if any of the women actually knew how to sail.
She narrowed her gaze at one of the floorboards near the bed. It was slightly raised from the others.
She stepped toward it, then halted, feeling dizzy. She’d used far too
much power. She’d be lucky to make it to shore on her own at all.
“Are you well?” a woman’s voice asked.
She turned to see Saida peeking into the cabin.
“All the men are bound, but we should decide what to do soon. If I’m not mistaken, we are headed toward Galterra.”
“The Capital?” Elmerah balked, swaying on her feet. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Could you check that floorboard?” she pointed. “I’ll take whatever is hidden down there and depart on one of the smaller boats.”
Saida marched across the room and knelt, easily prying up the floorboard with her fingertips. She withdrew a stack of rolled documents, set them aside, then withdrew three large leather pouches of coin.
Elmerah stepped forward, then snatched two pouches of coin from Saida’s hands and affixed them to her belt. Next she retrieved the folded documents from the floor and placed them under her arm. After a moment of debate, she tossed her new cutlass aside with a dull clang, then approached the unconscious captain in the doorway. Sure enough, a far finer cutlass was at his hip. She slid it from his belt, considering skewering the man with his own blade, but walked out into the open air instead. A storm was brewing further out to sea, and she really wanted to start paddling before it was too late.
Saida hurried out after her, then past her. “There are four extra boats,” she explained. “We should all be able to reach shore easily enough.” She retrieved her oar from one of the women, then turned back to Elmerah. “It would be best to have four women per boat, everyone can row.”
Elmerah stalked past her toward the lower cabin where they’d been held prisoner, the pouches of coin jangling at her hips. “I told you, I’ll be leaving on my own. The rest of you would be wise to take only one boat, and take turns rowing. It is more tiring than you think.”
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 1
