Saida followed her as she descended the stairs into the cabin. “If that is true, then how do you intend to man a boat on your own?”
“It’s tiring for weak young girls,” Elmerah muttered, groping about in the darkness for the oars. “Not for me.”
Saida stomped a few paces past her, reached into the darkness, then handed Elmerah an oar. Her elven eyes glinted in the near dark. “There’s no need to be difficult. We’re all in this together. Surely once we reach Galterra we will be offered aid.”
Elmerah raised an eyebrow at her. “Have you ever been to Galterra?”
Saida lifted her nose into the air. “Once, with an envoy. My clan was signing a new trade agreement.”
Elmerah held out her hand expectantly for another oar, which Saida soon offered her. “You saw the Capital on its best behavior,” she explained. “I advise you to don a hood as soon as you reach shore. Keep your hair and ears covered, and don’t let anyone see your eyes at night.”
Saida’s dainty jaw dropped, but Elmerah had no more time to explain things to her. She herself would wear a hood if she decided to enter the Capital. While she might not stand out quite as much as an elf, her height and coloring would give away exactly what she was, a pure-blooded Arthali, not the half-breeds still allowed in the Empire. Many would steer clear of her, but others would view her as a challenge. Oars in hand, she turned and walked back up the stairs.
She heard the clatter of oars behind her, then thunks coming up the stairs after her, but didn’t turn to look. If the girl wanted to carry oars and make herself responsible for the other women, that was her choice.
Her own oars in hand, she strode toward the side of the ship, then stopped in her tracks. She would have palmed her face if she had a free hand. She’d need someone to help her lower her boat down to the sea.
She turned back with a huff to see Saida handing out oars to the other women. A few of the men still alive had come to, and were groaning and pleading to be set free. She would have kicked them into silence if she had the energy. Cursed Ilthune her limbs were tired.
“Hey elf girl!” she called out. “Why don’t you let the others row into Galterra to report what has happened, and you and I can find some quiet place far from the docks from which to disappear.”
Saida approached, her brow furrowed. “I thought you wanted to go alone.”
Elmerah shifted her oars to lean against the deck, then brushed a clump of salt-saturated hair from her face. “If you’d like to take your chances in Galterra, be my guest. I’m just trying to help you.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Show me how to lower a boat for the other women, then I’ll go with you, but only to the shore. After that I’ll head toward Galterra to send word to my mother.”
Elmerah fought her shoulders as they threatened to slump in relief. Saida was a bit scrawny, but she could still help her row . . . not that she’d ever openly admit to needing the help.
“Please,” a nearby man groaned. “Just untie us. We can help you lower the boats.”
Elmerah found she suddenly had enough energy to land her boot against his ribs.
After a pained oof, he kept his mouth shut.
“Let’s go. I want to reach the shore before the storm hits.”
Saida nodded, then moved past her toward the waiting women.
Elmerah watched her go, though her thoughts were no longer on the elf girl. Rather, her thoughts were on what in the name of Arcale she was going to do when she reached shore. Without the use of a ship, it would take her weeks to reach home again. She had no food or travel supplies, and no time to search the ship for such things if she didn’t want to get stuck in a tiny boat in a storm.
She patted her belt pouch. At least she had coin, and if she could find a place to rest, she could regain enough energy to protect herself. She just needed to get through a single night, then she’d be fine . . . At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
Saida
Saida’s arms pumped rhythmically, propelling the small boat across the choppy water. Her shoulders were already aching, but she was quite sure she was their only hope of reaching shore.
Elmerah slumped against the bow, her eyes half closed, her long legs stretched out across the wooden plank where Saida perched. She’d spent the first leg of their journey reading through the rolled parchments she’d found in the pirate’s cabin, before eventually tossing them overboard. She hadn’t commented on anything she’d learned.
Saida paused her rowing to wipe the sweat from her brow.
One of Elmerah’s eyes opened. “If you don’t keep rowing, we’ll not beat the storm.”
She was right, an angry black storm was right on their tail. She hoped the other women would make it to Galterra safely, though they’d likely have little trouble with six of them to take turns rowing. It was probably foolish of her to leave with the Arthali witch, but she hadn’t been sure of the mechanism to lower the boats. She’d needed Elmerah’s help, and this was the price.
“You could always help,” she chided.
Elmerah’s eye fluttered closed. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired from saving your bony rump.”
Saida sucked her teeth in irritation, but continued rowing despite her body’s protests. “I’ve never seen someone summon lightning like that. Not even the high priests of Faerune are capable of such a feat.”
“Well you’ve clearly never met one of the Arthali. My magic is a flickering spark compared to some.”
Saida suppressed a shiver. Elmerah was right, she’d never met one of the Arthali before, and she’d never hoped to. The Arthali were beyond brutal, feared pirates who’d conquered entire nations. It was only through the treaties of the elves with the Empire that the Arthali were finally pushed back, exiled to terrorize distant lands instead of this one.
Of course, this had all happened long before Saida was born. Given Elmerah appeared only a bit older than her, she doubted the witch had ever seen the Arthali at their full power.
“So you know others of your kind?” Saida pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her.
One eye cracked open again. “Not for a very long while.” The eye shut again.
With a huff, Saida focused on her rowing. She had half a mind to toss the witch overboard, but quickly dismissed the idea. Though Elmerah seemed exhausted now, her lightning had been quite the sight, as had her swordwork. The cutlass was still strapped to the witch’s belt, and she’d have trouble wielding an oar to protect herself in the small vessel.
She breathed a sigh of relief as a sandy inlet came into view, leading back to ancient trees taller than the temples in her homeland. She aimed the boat toward it, just as the first raindrops tickled her cheeks.
Finally, both of Elmerah’s eyes opened. She gazed past Saida’s head toward the storm, then sat up enough to peer over her shoulder at the inlet. She seemed to scan the trees for several long moments, then turned back to Saida. “If we’re lucky we’ll find an inn along the Emperor’s Path. I’ll cover the cost of a room,” she glanced at Saida’s trembling arms, still working the oars, albeit slowly, “to show my thanks,” she finished. “We can part ways in the morning.”
Saida wasn’t about to argue with her. Her arms felt like sweet plum jelly, and her belly was cramped and empty. Not thinking properly, she’d given the third coin purse to the other women, not bothering to take a few coins for herself. Elmerah still had the other two strapped to her belt.
Greedy woman.
“Is there a problem?” Elmerah questioned.
Thinking once again of the lightning, Saida shook her head. She’d let the witch buy her a room, then in the morning she’d head for Galterra. There she’d send word to her mother, who’d surely deploy an envoy to rescue her. Of course, then she’d have to explain to her mother what she’d been doing so far from home, but she could easily cover up her actions. Given her satchel—stuffed with a change of clothes and enough food to last a week—had been taken by the pirates, she could simply tell
her mother she’d been out gathering burrberries when she’d been attacked, not running away from home.
Realizing Elmerah was still watching her, she shifted uncomfortably, giving a final painful heave of the oars to send them into the rolling surf.
The bounce of the boat finally prompted the witch to give up her lounging. She moved to the small bench beside Saida and took one of the oars. “Try and keep the bow pointed straight toward shore,” she instructed. “If we get too far misaligned the waves will capsize us, and we’ll be wet enough with the rain as it is.”
Saida did as instructed, working her oar whenever the boat drifted a bit too far to the left. Her stomach lurched every time they crested a wave, then dropped back down to her feet as she was pelleted with sharp droplets of seawater.
The boat hit sand with a dull thud, eliciting a sigh of relief.
Before she could react further, Elmerah dropped her oar and hopped out the boat, wetting her boots as she tugged the vessel more firmly ashore.
Saida hopped out after her. She stumbled as her boots sunk into the sand, landing on her rump at the edge of the water. Though she’d mainly been using her arms, it seemed the effect of bracing herself had taken a toll on her legs as well. She was utterly exhausted, and now the damp sand was soaking through her thick tights.
Elmerah stood over her, hands on hips, her head blocking out the last rays of sun that would soon be swallowed up by the storm. “Can you stand?”
A flurry of stinging rain drops whipped across her cheeks. She nodded, though she wasn’t sure. She’d try in a moment . . .
“We need to head inland,” Elmerah pressed. Though her face was in shadow from the blinding sun rays hitting the back of her head, Saida imagined Elmerah was raising an eyebrow and smirking at her, the weak little elf girl.
Elmerah’s hand extended downward.
With an internal cringe, Saida took it. She could not wait for this day to end. If she ever made it home, she was quite sure she’d never leave again.
The rain pelleted down around them, splashing across the puddles formed in ruts on the road, and ricocheting off tree branches to fall in all directions. Saida’s hair was plastered to her head, and her ear tips had long since gone numb. Her boots were heavy with water and mud.
Elmerah marched on beside her, her longer legs setting a brisk pace. Her black hair was thick enough to not look limp, though it was as soaked as Saida’s.
“Do you smell that?”
Saida sniffed the air, catching the scent of woodsmoke a moment later. They’d been traveling down the Emperor’s Path, the main route leading into and away from Galterra, for roughly an hour, heading away from the city rather than toward it.
Elmerah had claimed the inns further from the Capital would be safer for both their kinds, though they’d also likely be rickety dung heaps. At this point, Saida didn’t care either way as long as she had a roof over her head and a meal in her belly.
They rounded a bend in the road, and the inn came into view. Perhaps she did care. The inn had an almost . . . evil feel to it, with its dark, uneven planks glistening with moisture. The surrounding fence had eroded in places, overtaken by dense vines reaching out from the surrounding forest. The establishment had no sign bearing the symbol of its name. In fact, the only thing telling Saida it was an inn at all was its location, and the individual stable stalls lining one exterior wall. Only two were filled, one with a shiny black horse that looked just as evil as the inn, and the other with a skinny mule that would likely drop dead at any moment.
“Are you coming?” Elmerah asked.
Saida realized she had stopped in her tracks. “Are you sure this is where you want to stay?”
Elmerah smirked. “Do you see anywhere else, princess?”
Though Saida didn’t appreciate being called princess, she supposed Elmerah was right. It was only one night, and she was beginning to shiver from the rain.
Fully resigned, she followed Elmerah off the road and through the opening in the fence that no longer had a gate. Reaching the inn, Elmerah pulled open the heavy wood and iron door without so much as a knock, striding confidently inside.
Saida scurried in after her, her eyes darting back and forth for signs of danger. When nothing attacked her, she relaxed, soothed by the warmth of a blazing fire in the nearby hearth. Past the hearth was a small, gleaming bar, tended by an elderly man in modest, yet clean clothing. He looked her up and down suspiciously, and remembering Elmerah’s words, she tugged her limp hair over her ear tips.
There was only one other person in the small common room, a seemingly male figure with a deep cowl obscuring his features. His clothing was all muted browns and greens that would easily blend in with the woods outside. He sat in the far corner, a boiled leather mug at his fingertips.
Elmerah approached the innkeep, withdrawing a few coins from one of the purses at her belt. “A room for a single night,” she ordered, “one with two beds, and two meals.”
The innkeep stared long and hard at Elmerah, then down to the coins on the counter, then back up. “Aye, that will cost you double what you’re offering.”
Elmerah snorted. “Really? What did he pay?” she nodded toward the man in the corner.
The innkeep licked his wrinkly lips. “He doesn’t come with the same risks as an Arthali witch and one of the Elderfolk. It’ll cost me a lot more if my inn gets burned to the ground for harboring your kind.”
Elmerah let out an exaggerated sigh, then placed three more coins on the counter. “Our meals had better come with wine.”
The innkeep snatched up the coins, then nodded toward the vacant tables. “Sit anywhere you like, and keep your heads down if anyone else comes in.”
Saida followed Elmerah toward a table near the hearth. Elmerah slouched into one of the rickety chairs, leaning it back so it rested on only two legs, placing her a bit closer to the fire.
Saida dragged another chair so her back would be to the wall, then sat. She leaned across the table, closer to Elmerah. “Do you really think someone would burn the inn down just because we’re here?”
Elmerah snorted. “Because of you? Probably not. Me? Well, old grudges tend to cling through generations.”
Saida shook her head. She’d had few experiences with non-elf races, but she could hardly believe Elmerah would be attacked just for the bronze color of her skin.
The innkeep, who’d disappeared into what Saida assumed was the kitchen, reemerged with two steaming bowls of soup. He placed one in front of Saida, then left the other at the edge of the table for Elmerah to pull toward herself. He left, then returned with two boiled leather mugs of wine and a small metal key. “You’d be wise to leave at first light. A few of the militia men often come in for a meal first thing.”
“They patrol this far from the Capital?” Elmerah asked.
The innkeep nodded. “There have been several sightings of Akerri ships in the night, and a few of the nasty mongrels near the gates. There have even been a few attacks. The militia has many new volunteers.”
Saida shivered. The Akerri were a race of elves detested by most. They lived almost entirely at sea, not being overly welcome in any of the cities, and for good reason. Not only did they reek of rotten fish, they worshipped Ilthune, the tentacled goddess of the Underworld. They were blood-thirsty, vile creatures.
The innkeep excused himself, retreating back behind the small bar.
Saida looked to Elmerah. “What do you think the Akerri want?”
Elmerah slurped down a spoonful of her soup, then took a hearty swig of her wine. She shrugged. “What does anyone want? Riches or revenge.”
She looked down at the small, hard turnips and grayish meat in her stew, feeling ill. “Well I don’t want either of those things, so perhaps the Akerri don’t either.”
With another shrug, Elmerah drank more wine. “Well you’re the elf here. You tell me what the Akerri want.”
She frowned. Her people were nothing like the Akerri, but she imagine
d arguing the point would do little good with Elmerah. “So what was on those parchments you found in the captain’s quarters? Why did you toss them in the ocean?”
Elmerah’s mug paused halfway to her lips. “What does it matter to you?”
“Simple curiosity?”
She sighed. “They were the acquisition orders. Someone was looking to buy foreign races of slaves along with the normal shipment. You and I would have fetched a pretty penny.”
Saida stirred her stew, debating testing it. “But why?”
“Who knows?” She smirked. “Who cares? We’re free now, and I’m sure the militia will be heading out in the morning to fetch some very wet, cold pirates.”
Saida finally braved the stew, then wished she hadn’t. The meat had the texture of tree bark, and the underripe turnips were incredibly bitter. “Did you at least learn who placed the order for us? Who would want an Arthali witch?”
Elmerah lifted her brow. “Am I meant to be insulted now?”
Saida dropped her spoon, panic lancing through her. “I didn’t mean to insult,” she blurted. “I only meant anyone would be a fool to think they could keep one of the Arthali as a servant.”
“In that case, you are correct. And keep your voice down. Our friend in the corner is eavesdropping.”
She whipped her gaze to the side without thinking, but the cowled man’s face was turned away.
“How very subtle you are,” Elmerah chided. “Now finish your stew so we can get some rest. You’ll want to leave first thing in the morning to reach Galterra by the evening without a horse.”
With a nod, Saida forced another bite of stew into her mouth, washing it down with wine almost as bitter as the turnips. She glanced a few more times at the cowled man as she ate, but seemed to be paying them little mind. She wasn’t sure why Elmerah thought he was eavesdropping, but she supposed it didn’t matter. In the morning she would make for Galterra to send word to her mother. Within one moon cycle, she’d be home. Far away from pirates, Akerri, and disgruntled swamp witches.
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 2
