Curse of the Akkeri

by Sara C. Roethle

  While he writhed on the floor, the female fell to her knees, plunging her dagger down toward Solana, who managed to lift a foot and kick the elf’s hand where it held the blade. The main door echoed with a thud, rattling the chair braced under the handle. Whoever was trying to enter would not make it in time.

  Elmerah hurtled across the room. Her bare foot connected with the attacking elf’s cheek.

  The elf fell aside, then something crispy and acrid smelling leapt upon Elmerah’s back. The male elf. A dagger flashed near her face, then Solana was there, battering her attacker with a heavy vase.

  Just as her attacker fell away, the door burst open, and three elven guards along with Ivran rushed in. The attacker who hadn’t been lit on fire then battered with a vase tried to flee, but Elmerah chucked her fire-poker at her back, knocking her down before she could push past the confused guards. The male elf, singed and groaning in pain, curled up on the floor.

  Solana swayed on her feet, but Elmerah caught her before she could fall. They both looked down to the singed elf at their toes. Russet hair flowed outward, replacing blonde, and his features slowly went . . . pointy. Where before was the serene, alabaster visage of a Faerune elf was now a sharp nose, thin lips, and pointed teeth.

  Two guards hurried forward, tugging the injured Nokken to his feet, while the third aimed a gleaming spear at the Nokken Elmerah had knocked down with her poker. She recognized the third guard. It was Malon, the irritating elf they’d met at the gates.

  Ignoring them all, Ivran approached his wife. “What happened? When I returned the door wouldn’t budge. I heard the commotion, but the guards said none had entered.”

  “The window,” Solana panted, pushing away from Elmerah to lean against her husband. “They came in through the window.” She gestured across the room toward the strawberry-haired healer lying motionless on the floor. “Someone check on Nila.”

  More guards had come into the room to drag the two Nokken away. One of them branched off to check on Nila, though Elmerah was quite sure she was dead. Her chest did not rise nor fall with breath.

  Solana cleared her throat, drawing Elmerah’s attention. “You saved my life,” she accused.

  Elmerah furrowed her brow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  Solana shook her head. “No, I am simply surprised. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

  “I get that a lot.” She spotted Alluin and Saida as they appeared at the end of the exterior hall, jogging her way.

  “Mother!” Saida gasped as she entered the room. She rushed past Elmerah and the guards, fretting over her mother like an old hen.

  Malon watched the scene coolly as his comrades bound the hands of the uninjured Nokken, now no longer bothering with her disguise.

  Alluin stopped beside Elmerah. “What happened?”

  Elmerah turned to answer him, but his gaze was on her thin robe, which had gaped open a bit during the tussle.

  She tugged the fabric tightly around her, clutching the hem up near her neck. “More bloody Nokken of course. They came in through the window. Likely wanted to finish the job the poison was supposed to do.”

  Alluin’s shoulders slumped, his gaze now on Saida and her parents. “This is our fault, we should have been more careful.”

  Elmerah rolled her eyes. “They were mad to come here again, now that we know their plan. They’ll be executed.”

  He sighed. “Yes. It seems they wanted Solana dead enough to sacrifice their own lives to that end. They were in a hurry.”

  Neither had to speak what that might mean. If the Nokken needed Solana dead now, Egrin would soon act. He was trying to eliminate the High Council before the main attack, so there would be no one to guide the generals when battle ensued. With no one in charge, arguments would surely arise. It would be chaos. Elmerah watched the remaining guards as they ensured Solana was alright, then followed those carrying Nila’s limp body out the door.

  She sucked her teeth. No one seemed to care that Nila was dead, as long as the High Priestess was well. “We need to get out of this blasted city.”

  Alluin nodded, but did not speak, his gaze still on Saida.

  Elmerah watched her too. She seemed . . . young, fretting over her mother. She had never really considered the fact that Saida was barely even an adult, and the weight of Faerune’s High Council was already on her shoulders.

  Thinking of the Valeroot elves depending on them, it was a weight she was beginning to understand all too well.

  Saida

  The High Council chambers echoed with every groan of wood and hiss of footsteps. Saida sat at the front of the main chamber, awaiting the arrival of Cornaith and Immril. They would be the only two members of the High Council to hear her plea, along with three scribes, and a handful of priests and priestesses. Alluin and Elmerah sat together off to one side, intentionally distanced from the Faerune elves in the room.

  As Saida’s gaze landed upon Elmerah, the witch tossed a lock of black hair aside and gave her an exaggerated wink.

  Scowling, Saida turned to face forward as Cornaith and Immril entered and walked down the crimson rug spanning the center of the room. They walked past her, then climbed atop the raised platform and behind the lectern. They wore matching ice blue robes, as was customary for the High Council.

  Cornaith straightened, fitting her silken blue robes regally across her strong shoulders. The tight braid cinching her white hair made her lightly lined features appear harsh, and there was no kindness in her watery gray eyes. “Saida Fenmyar, you have caused quite a stir as of late. First with your abrupt disappearance, and now with your . . . ” she aimed her gaze past Saida, “companions.”

  Saida gritted her teeth. She was here about neither of those things, and Cornaith knew it, but she’d likely try to focus the entire exchange on Saida’s shortcomings.

  A smug smile curled Immril’s lips. She was a decade younger than Cornaith, though she looked no less severe with her golden hair plaited away from her face, leaving the back portion to cascade down the back of her robe. “Yes, and not only that, but you expect us to believe our closest ally has turned against us. Forgive me child, but we can hardly trust your judgment when you galavant around with Arthali witches.”

  Saida pursed her lips. Could anyone truly blame her for not wanting to join this antiquated council?

  She stood. “I’m well aware of how my actions are viewed by some. Regardless, the threat to Faerune is real. It cannot hurt to prepare ourselves. Even if you think me a liar, we have nothing to lose in bolstering our defenses.”

  Cornaith scowled. “Nothing to lose in allying ourselves with Valeroot and the Arthali? Child, you’ve gone utterly mad. The Valeroot elves are one thing, but the Arthali are our enemies.”

  Saida clenched her fists, silently praying Elmerah would keep her mouth shut. Her temper would surely not help matters. “Decades have passed since the Great War. The Arthali may be enemies of the Empire, but not of Faerune.”

  “Enemies of our allies are enemies of Faerune,” Cornaith countered.

  Saida shook her head. She was a fool to even try. They would never listen to her.

  The double doors at the back of the room creaked open. All turned to observe the newcomers.

  Saida inhaled sharply when she realized she’d stopped breathing. Her mother, accompanied by her father and three guards, entered the room. Solana leaned heavily on Ivran, her face pale and coated in a sheen of sweat.

  Her heart thudding in her ears, Saida waited for her mother to reach the front of the room.

  Once she did, she pushed away from Ivran to stand on her own. Saida could tell how much the effort to hold her shoulders straight and head high cost her. She cleared her throat. “High Council member Cornaith, and High Council member Immril, I implore you to hear my daughter’s words. Just last night another attempt was made on my life. And this Arthali,” she gestured back at Elmerah, “our enemy, as you would name her, risked her life to save me. If not for her, I would be dead,
and Saida would assume her seat amongst you.”

  Both High Council members wore matching scowls. “Solana, your illness has made you brazen. Surely you cannot expect us to heed the wild ramblings of a child.”

  Solana smiled smugly. “You will heed them, as the fourth currently active member of the High Council has heeded them. Maedainn was slowly poisoned by the Nokken, just as I was. He believes the threat is real, and so do I.”

  Saida lifted a hand to hide her smile. With only four members of the High Council currently active, Solana and Maedainn accounted for half the vote. With half the vote on her side, the deliberations would at the very least proceed. There was hope. She couldn’t quite believe her mother had been the one to give it to her.

  Ivran helped Solana take another step forward, each placing a comforting hand upon one of Saida’s shoulders. She lifted her gaze up toward Cornaith and Immril, awaiting their reactions.

  The room fell utterly silent, save the distant sounds of the streets.

  Finally, Cornaith cleared her throat. “The children of our two departed members, Seamonn and Illmadia, will be given a vote. If we are still divided at that point, we will review any evidence the Fenmyars are able to provide.”

  Elation zinged through her. Had she actually managed to achieve . . . something? Truly, she hadn’t thought it possible. She’d run from this life because she believed it would be a life of never being heard.

  “We will reconvene at midday,” Immril announced, aiming a glare toward Solana. “If the votes cause this insanity to continue, we will hear from the Arthali witch and Valeroot hunter.”

  Saida’s elation faltered. They wanted to hear from Elmerah?

  She retracted her previous thoughts.

  They were utterly doomed.

  Elmerah

  Later that day, Elmerah fidgeted in the seat Saida previously inhabited. Another chair had been pulled up to her right for Alluin. She felt small and insignificant surrounded by elves, their expressions ranging from disdain to mild curiosity. They’d had a brief reprieve while the children of the deceased council members were sought out. The vote had come back one to one. Half of the High Council believed their tale, or were at least willing to learn more, while the others would sooner see her and Alluin crushed like insects beneath their silken slippers.

  Ivran and Solana had both instructed Elmerah on just what to say, but she’d already forgotten half of it. Not that she was keen on taking their advice regardless. She’d swallow a venomous stingfish whole before she’d bow down meekly before elves.

  With that thought in mind, she sat up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders toward the vacant lectern. She resisted the urge to look back in the crowd for Saida.

  Alluin leaned in toward her shoulder, seemingly unaffected by the heavy gazes of those seated behind them, nor of those standing lined up against either wall. It seemed putting an Arthali witch on trial had gained the proceedings some attention.

  “Are you nervous?” Alluin whispered.

  “No.”

  “You can admit it if you are.”

  She tilted her head. “Now why in the name of Ilthune would I ever admit it?”

  The mention of Ilthune brought on a chorus of whispers, and she realized she’d spoken too loud. Mentioning the tentacled goddess of the underworld would gain her no supporters here. Perhaps in a den of Akkeri, but not here.

  The groan of an ancient door probably as old as Faerune itself signaled the arrival of Cornaith and Immril. Solana had returned to her chambers, too fatigued to aid them any further.

  Cornaith and Immril walked toward the lecturn with their noses in held high, an air of sameness surrounded them despite the large gap in their ages . . . not that age mattered much to the long-lived elves.

  It was Cornaith who acknowledged Elmerah. “As it seems the High Council of Faerune is equally divided on this matter, we will keep this short. Bring Isara Saredoth to us. If she supports your claims, we will consider an offer of allegiance with Valeroot.”

  Elmerah sucked her teeth. It was more than they’d expected, and it seemed she might get off without speaking, but the insult was just a bit too blatant. “And what of the Arthali? Surely you will not cast aside your most powerful potential ally against the might of the Dreilore?”

  The chamber fell utterly silent at her words.

  Cornaith glanced at Immril, who steeled her expression and leaned forward, spreading her palms across the smooth surface of the lectern. “We would have to be utterly mad to ally ourselves with the Arthali. Do not mistake me, we are grateful for your service to the Fenmyars, but that gratitude only buys you so much lenience.”

  Alluin had turned toward her, his eyes pleading that she not speak out of turn.

  She stood and met Immril’s judging expression with one of her own. “Truly? For it seems to me I could save a thousand elves and you’d still look at me like a crusting of sheep muck on your boots, though I doubt you’ve worked a field nor cared for livestock a single day of your pampered life. You would offer Valeroot a consideration if we bring you Isara?” She stepped out of Alluin’s reach as he grabbed for her, walking as close to the lectern as the ornamental wooden divider would allow. “I’d like to make an offer of my own instead. When the Arthali return to this continent, they can stand with you, or against you. I don’t really care which you choose, all I know is that when this war begins, my people will not be the first to fall. Can you say the same?”

  Immril and Cornaith both blinked at her, probably wishing they’d granted her a private audience instead of dragging her out for the elves to gawk at. Alluin had slumped down in his chair, defeated.

  Cornaith tilted her head, observing Elmerah. “Very well. Bring us Isara, convince us the Dreilore are a threat, and we will consider the alliances of both the Arthali and Valeroot.”

  “Cornaith,” Immril hissed. “That is not a decision you can make on your own.”

  Cornaith turned and lifted a brow at her. “Were you alive during the height of Arthali power? Can you say you’ve seen the destruction of their race firsthand?”

  Elmerah’s jaw dropped. Cornaith was much older than she would have guessed if she’d been alive when her people were at their most powerful. She knew elves were long-lived, but Cornaith had to be absolutely ancient.

  Immril’s jaw opened and closed, like a beached fish gasping for air. “You cannot mean it,” she finally gasped. “You cannot mean to ally us with witches.”

  Cornaith smirked. “I only said we’d consider it.” She turned toward Elmerah. “Does that work for you?”

  She nodded. “Something tells me that’s the best offer I’m going to get.”

  Cornaith turned next to Alluin. “And for you, Valeroot hunter? We’ve yet to hear you speak.”

  He stood, then bowed. “We will bring you Isara. My only request is that you make preparations to defend Faerune against the impending attack. I assure you, it will come, and soon.”

  Cornaith responded with a curt nod. Immril looked like she’d been kicked in the gut, or else she’d eaten some rotten fish. Elmerah couldn’t help her grin. The Faerune elves were a lot of antiquated idiots, but she’d gladly save their hides if it meant redemption for the Arthali. She’d come to the conclusion long ago that it didn’t matter how people saw her, how they judged her with a single glance, but now that the opportunity to prove them all wrong was within her grasp . . . well, she enjoyed proving idiots wrong almost as much as she enjoyed beating them senseless. The Faerune elves were wise to choose the former.

  Saida

  In her family’s sitting room, Saida sat rigidly in a chair. It was finally time to leave Faerune, and she felt sick with worry. Though proper healers were tending her mother in the next room, and she seemed to be on the mend, there was no telling if the poison would have lasting effects, especially because it could not be identified. The captured Nokken claimed ignorance on the matter, and would not reveal who’d supplied it . . . yet. Saida had no doubt her kin wo
uld beat it out of them eventually, but by then it would be too late. Maybe it already was.

  Saida looked to Elmerah and Alluin, muttering to each other as they packed their satchels full of supplies they’d gathered from her family’s cellar. They would not be traveling far that day, just to a neighboring village where Isara was rumored to have gone on her way to the nearest Akkeri temples.

  She glanced at the closed door to her parent’s bedroom. She’d already said her goodbyes to her mother . . . though her mother had not said them to her. Despite her support of Alluin and Elmerah, she believed it Saida’s duty to remain in Faerune. Should she need to take her mother’s seat on the High Council, she’d be needed . . . but staying in Faerune was like admitting her mother would die. She would not let herself believe it.

  And so, she would, yet again, leave behind someone she cared about. Another victim, poisoned by the actions of Egrin Dinoba. She startled when she realized Elmerah was staring at her.

  “Are you sure about this? It is not too late to stay behind.”

  Saida sealed her lips into a tight line and nodded. They all knew the Dreilore might attack while she was away. Her mother’s life was not the only one in danger. “I will not be of use here.”

  Elmerah pursed her lips. Her freshly laundered black coat, draped with her black hair, clung to her well-muscled curves. She didn’t need the cutlass at her hip to look the part of an adventurer. “Your mother seems to think otherwise, and I know your father would like you to stay.”

  She clenched her fists. She might be small, and young, but she was skilled with a staff. She might not be as courageous as Elmerah, but she could hold her own. “You know nothing of my parents. Do not presume to know what they want, and why.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but she was tired of people telling her to stay. She was old enough to make her own decisions.