Curse of the Akkeri

by Sara C. Roethle

  Alluin

  Alluin stepped aside as the newly arrived Arthali approached, though the man only had eyes for Elmerah. He walked right past Saida, and to Alluin’s surprise, reached out and gripped Elmerah’s arms. Alluin’s hands hovered near his daggers, then the man let out a throaty laugh.

  “Is it really you Ellie? At first I thought I was seeing a phantom.”

  Elmerah grinned a highly uncharacteristic, toothy grin. “When Yahir mentioned your name my heart nearly stopped. What in the name of Urus are you doing here?”

  Alluin guessed the man was Celen, and clearly not an enemy, though he was previously under the impression Elmerah didn’t have friends.

  Letting out another deep laugh, Celen wrapped an arm around Elmerah’s shoulders, an easy position since he was nearly a head taller than she or Alluin. “You should not invoke the God of War’s name so lightly, Ellie. Let us find some food and whiskey and I will tell you my long, sordid tale. Although,” he looked both Alluin and Saida up and down, “I’m daring to bet your tale will prove far more interesting.”

  Imra and Yahir waited behind Celen, who finally glanced at them. “What do you want?”

  “We found them at the border,” Imra explained, “she insisted we bring the elves.”

  His arm still around Elmerah’s shoulders, he waved them off. “You were lucky this time. Bring elves here again and it will be both your heads.” He glanced at Alluin and Saida and added, “No offense meant, you understand.”

  With that, he turned, guiding Elmerah deeper into the settlement while ignoring the stares of those who’d come out of their small wooden huts to assess the commotion.

  Saida fell in to step beside Alluin as they followed closely behind Elmerah and Celen. She leaned in toward his shoulder and whispered, “Ellie?”

  Though he was in an encampment full of both halfblood and pureblood Arthali, he couldn’t help his snicker.

  Elmerah glared at them over her shoulder, then whipped back around as they reached a wooden structure three times larger than any of the individual huts. Double doors were braced open, revealing a long row of cookfires beneath heavy iron pots. Two young Arthali tended the contents in the pots while an elderly woman chopped vegetables on a rough-hewn oak bench. Several more oaken benches stood outside the makeshift kitchen, though only one or two Arthali sat upon them with wooden bowls of cooked meat and root vegetables in their laps.

  Celen signaled to a young man stirring one of the pots, then gestured for Elmerah to sit on a vacant bench.

  Elmerah obliged, stretching her arms over her head. “I must admit, this is far from what I’d expected when Imra led us here.”

  Standing in front of Elmerah, Celen flicked his gaze to Alluin, then back down as he ran a palm across the scarred portion of his face. “You came to see if there were any Northspire witches, didn’t you?”

  Elmerah glanced back at Alluin and Saida, then back to Celen. “Yes, but there’s no need to discuss that now that you are here. I know you would not ally yourself with certain Arthali.”

  Alluin wondered at their exchange as Celen smirked down at Elmerah. “You would still trust my loyalty after all this time?”

  A girl in the makeshift kitchen emerged with four full bowls on a thin wooden platter. She silently offered a bowl to each of them, her gaze hidden behind her dark wavy locks. With a quick bow to Celen, she scurried away.

  Alluin and Saida sat themselves on another bench. Judging by the way Celen boxed them out with his back, they were unwelcome in the conversation.

  Elmerah set her bowl aside on her bench, watching Celen sit on the opposite bench, facing her.

  “You’d not speak so easily with me now if any of those I seek were here,” Elmerah replied to his earlier question.

  Celen laughed. “No, I’d be hurrying the women and children away to avoid the destruction you would soon wreak. Now tell me,” he shifted in his seat to encompass Saida and Alluin in his gaze, “what are you doing so near Dracawyn Province?” His eyes turned to Elmerah. “You know witch hunters roam the borders.”

  Elmerah snorted. “You don’t seem too worried about that.”

  Celen shrugged. “The edge of the Illuvian forest is a good place to hide. We are far from the Capital, and just far enough from Faerune. The witch hunters stay on the other side of the forest, lest the Fossegrim and sun wyrms thin their numbers.”

  Elmerah picked up her bowl. “Speaking of the Capital, I should probably warn you—”

  “Elmerah,” Alluin hissed, unsure of just what she was about to give away.

  She cast a glare at him, then turned back to Celen. “I was only going to say to be wary of Dreilore . . . and the Nokken for that matter.”

  Celen’s strong jaw fell open. “The Dreilore?”

  Saida darted a cautious look toward Alluin, her bowl of steaming meat seemingly forgotten in her hands.

  He met her gaze with a frown. It was unlikely these Arthali were part of the emperor’s schemes—they were hiding from the Empire after all—but Egrin had enlisted Rissine. There was no saying how far his reach went.

  Elmerah lifted a hunk of meat with her fingers, tore off a bite with her teeth, chewed, and swallowed before plopping the meat back in her bowl. “Yes, they are hiding in the deep woods to the north, and also within the Capital. If it is possible to move further from the border of Faerune, I would.”

  Alluin shifted in his seat, now uncomfortable for another reason. While he instantly disliked Celen, Faerune still needed allies, and these Arthali were much closer than any Rissine might gather.

  Saida cleared her throat, looking over at Celen. “Celen,” she straightened her back and lifted her nose, “what are your thoughts on the Empire?”

  Celen narrowed his eyes as Elmerah turned a glare at Saida. “Now is not the time to discuss that.”

  “No no,” Celen soothed, leaning forward toward Saida. “Why would a Faerune elf, an ally of the Empire, want to know? Surely the opinion of a lowly exile does not interest you.”

  Elmerah sighed loudly. “Just answer her question, Celen. She won’t relent until you do.”

  Celen addressed both Alluin and Saida. “I hope every day the Empire crumbles into ruin, taking any cowardly enough to accept Egrin Dinoba’s protection with it.”

  Alluin sucked his teeth. “Easy for an Arthali to say. You had a choice other than death.”

  Celen straightened. “Far better to die, than to live like rodents in the Capital.”

  “Leave him be,” Elmerah growled, her gaze on Celen. “You know nothing of his life.” She nodded toward Saida. “Or hers.”

  Celen’s anger seemed to melt away at her words. “I suppose I must trust your judgement, Ellie.” He turned to Saida and Alluin. “Regardless, I believe you now know just what I think of the Empire, so perhaps you should answer a few questions of mine. What are you doing here, so far from your clans, and with an Arthali witch of all people? Though there is love in my heart for Ellie, I know she’s not terribly agreeable.”

  Love in his heart? Alluin glanced again at Saida.

  “Celen,” Elmerah began, “can the other Arthali here be trusted? We have some . . . sensitive information, and I fear it is the only way to explain why the three of us are here together.”

  “I would never do anything to endanger you,” he answered instantly. “You know that. Tell me your tale, and I’ll decide if any of the others should know.” As if on cue, the two nearby Arthali silently eating their meals stood and hurried away.

  Alluin wondered if Celen was another Shadowmarsh witch, considering how the others seemed to fear him . . . though it was the females of the Shadowmarsh line who were the most powerful.

  Elmerah leaned toward Celen. “I suppose I should begin my tale with meeting an elven priestess on a pirate ship, though there are certain parts later on that Alluin must choose to tell you.” She turned back toward him.

  Meeting her gaze, he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded for her to go on. The
re would come a time in this tale where his kin would need to be discussed, along with his deceased uncle’s plan. He’d simply have to trust Elmerah’s judgement in trusting Celen with this information.

  He found, to his surprise, that there was no one left alive he trusted more.

  Elmerah

  Elmerah tightened the rough blanket around her shoulders. She, Saida, and Alluin had been granted a hut for the night by Celen, but she’d requested the other two retreat before her. She needed to speak with Celen alone.

  Now she sat at his side on the straw mat serving as his bed in the privacy of his small hut. They sipped from boiled leather cups of whiskey, though Elmerah’s head had long since begun to spin.

  “Are you sure you must depart come morning?” Celen asked yet again.

  She emptied her cup in one long swill. “You heard our tale. You know I must.”

  “But to ally yourself once more with Rissine, after what she did to your mother?”

  She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Celen was one of the few who knew the details of her sordid tale. When she’d found out what Rissine had done, he’d been the person she’d run to for help. He was the only reason she managed to escape Rissine’s clutches with enough coin to survive on her own.

  “The choices were limited,” she explained. “After Alluin’s kin were slaughtered, we needed a powerful ally. There are few in this land more powerful than Rissine, except perhaps the emperor.”

  “Yes,” Celen breathed, resting his shoulder against hers. “For the emperor to have magic . . . ” he trailed off. “You know he was spotted in Dracawyn Province last season? Several times.”

  Her back straightened as she twisted her shoulders toward him. “And you just thought to tell me this now?”

  Angling his body toward her, the corner of his lip lifted in a half-smile. “Forgive me, I was a bit taken aback after learning the Dreilore would soon march on Faerune, but yes. As our nearest enemies, we keep a close eye on both the Nokken and Faerune. On several occasions my scouts claimed to have spotted a human man with jet black hair and pale eyes meeting with the Nokken. Some believed him to be the emperor, but I thought it mere speculation . . . especially once they started claiming that he disappeared into thin air at the end of his visits. No one ever saw where he came from, or where he went, and he most certainly did not pass through this forest.”

  Elmerah chewed her lip. Just who—or what—exactly, was Egrin Dinoba? “I’d say it likely was him. Though Alluin claimed he was seen traveling out of the Capital on many occasions, so I don’t know about vanishing into thin air.”

  “Speaking of Alluin . . . ”

  Setting her empty cup on the hard-packed dirt near her boots, she waved him off. “Oh don’t start.”

  “But to trust a Valeroot elf?”

  Her shoulders slumped. She still was not entirely sure how she’d gotten herself into this mess to begin with, let alone how she’d come to trust Alluin and Saida almost as much as she trusted Celen . . . perhaps more.

  “I’m tired of being treated like scum,” she sighed. “As I imagine you’re tired of hiding here.” She gestured around the small, lantern-lit space. “The elves are worthwhile allies, and if we can convince Faerune . . . ”

  “You may have convinced a single young priestess,” he scoffed, “but I think your hopes are too high for the others. The Council leaders are old and closed-minded. They’ve been cloistered within their crystal walls for too long.”

  “Well one of them is also Saida’s mother,” she countered. “And I imagine the immediate threat to all their lives will help to convince the others.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And what of you?” she pressed. “When Rissine returns to this land with the other Arthali, will you rally behind them?”

  He turned and butted his shoulder back against hers. “You know, when my ship was first destroyed on that cursed hidden coral, I thought my life was at an end. Then when my crew found other Arthali in hiding, I realized perhaps there was another way. There was another life for me away from the sea, and away from Arthali politics.”

  She raised a brow at him. “But this?” She gestured at the hut’s modest interior once more.

  He chuckled. “I imagine your abode in your swamp was no finer.”

  “Perhaps not,” she laughed, “but I do not think I can go back now, not even with Rissine’s blessing. Egrin knows something about Shadowmarsh, and the reason his father ordered our clan to be killed, and I have a feeling it has something to do with why Faerune is next. I intend to see this through.” She met his gaze. “And I’d hoped you’d want to help me.”

  “You know I would do most anything to help you . . . but Faerune? They’re almost as bad as the Empire. They’d kill us on sight.” He looked at her meaningfully. “They’ll kill you on sight.”

  “Are you afraid?” she taunted.

  He wrinkled his nose, tugging awkwardly at the scars littering one side of his face. “Hardly, but most who dwell here are halfbloods. They’re weak. I’d rather not lead them to their deaths.”

  Her head was spinning from the whiskey. She wasn’t even sure why she was trying to lure Celen into this mad cause, but Celen had always made her feel safe, ever since she was a girl. “Then just you, and any other purebloods.”

  He placed a hand on her leg. “If you can convince Faerune to ally with the Arthali, maybe then we can come to terms.”

  “You already expressed your doubts over that notion. Your promise is empty.”

  He grinned, looking a bit eerie in the lantern light. “If anyone can manage such a feat, it’s you.”

  She pursed her lips. “Fine. Once Saida and I convince the High Council, I will send a messenger to these woods, and you will come to meet me.” She held out her hand.

  He seemed to hesitate, then his shoulders slumped. “You know, I’m getting too old for these adventures.” He lifted his palm from her leg and took her outstretched hand.

  She grinned. “You’re hardly older then me. You’ll manage.” Still feeling a little woozy, she dropped his hand and stood, casting aside the blanket from her shoulders.

  He looked up at her. “You know, you could always stay here with me tonight.”

  She snorted. “I think not.” She walked toward the rickety wooden door, then turned back. “But perhaps if you keep your promise, I might grow a little more partial to you.”

  The cool night air refreshed her wits as she let herself out of the hut, leaving Celen to stew on his mat. Really, she was a bit surprised he’d made an advance toward her. She’d always viewed him more as a brother than anything else.

  Shaking her head, she walked through the dark toward the hut where Alluin and Saida were hopefully asleep. They’d need to leave at first light, and she’d rather avoid questions about her private discussion with Celen. The scent of bitterroot drifted out from some of the surrounding huts, increasing her dizziness. She’d never been a fan of the pungent herb, and couldn’t fathom why so many would choose to smoke it.

  “It’s late,” a voice commented as she reached the hut.

  She squinted in the near-darkness, making out Alluin’s silhouette. “My how observant of you. I would have never realized.”

  Pushing away from the hut wall where he’d been leaning, he stepped forward. “Were you able to convince him? Will those here ally with Faerune?”

  “We’ll see,” she said as she walked past him, more than ready to pass out for the rest of the evening.

  He grabbed her arm, halting her. “Can we at least trust he’ll keep all we’ve told him silent? The last thing we need is for the emperor to learn of our plans.”

  A flash of irritation warmed her cheeks. “If I’d thought that was a possibility I wouldn’t have told him in the first place.”

  “We were surprised you did.”

  Oh, so now they were talking about her while she was away? She stepped back and faced him. “So let me see if I understand you. It was fine to blab all our plans to
the other Valeroot elves, and to soon reveal all to Faerune, but we tell one Arthali and we’re suddenly worried about sinking our ship?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he sighed.

  Her jaw clenched. She really wished she hadn’t had so much to drink. It tended to make her a bit . . . fiery.

  She took a steadying breath. “Celen’s scouts claimed to have seen the emperor meeting with the Nokken on multiple occasions. They claim he seemed to appear out of thin air, and vanished just as suddenly.”

  Alluin blinked at her, his face near enough for her to see his irritation leak away. “When was this? How many times?”

  “Ask Celen,” she said as she continued her advance toward the door.

  She opened it, and he followed her inside. Saida’s outline could be seen on the straw mat furthest from the door. There were two other mats, a pile of their belongings, and a dimly glowing lantern on the dirt floor.

  Wishing she’d had a chance to wash up, but too tired to do it now, she flopped down onto the mat next to Saida’s.

  Alluin latched the door, for what little good it would do in holding the rickety wood closed against invaders, then took the third mat. “Many times my scouts followed Egrin out of the kingdom,” he whispered, “only to lose him quite suddenly on the road. Other times he wouldn’t be seen within the Capital for weeks, but no one had noticed his departure. The only reason we knew he was meeting with the Dreilore was by word from our sentries near the border of the Akenyth Province. They heard whisperings from the local farmers of Egrin visiting the Salisfait mines.”

  Resting on her back, she stared up at the straw roof, the striated shadows shifting with the lantern’s small flame. “So not only can Egrin crush the air from our lungs, form invisible barriers, and hold us immobile, he could also appear in this hut in the blink of an eye. Lovely.”

  “Perhaps the Faerune scholars will have accounts of others with such magic.”

  “Perhaps,” she muttered, slowly drifting off. She was quite sure once they reached Faerune, questioning the scholars would be the last thing on her mind. Staying alive amongst scheming elves who’d hated her kind for centuries would keep her plenty busy.