“Have it your way,” Elmerah grumbled, lifting the leather strap of the stuffed satchel to her shoulder. She turned to Alluin as he did the same.
He straightened his freshly laundered tunic before lifting his forest green cloak from the nearby chair. “With that decided . . . again, we need to get moving. We should be able to reach Skaristead before nightfall.” His gaze shifted to Saida’s father, who entered through the main door behind them, several small glass bottles in hand.
Her father stopped beside her, then offered her the corked vials of liquid.
She took them, fearing he’d soon fumble and drop them. She’d definitely not inherited her fighting grace from her father’s side. “What are these?”
Her father straightened his thick spectacles. “Medicines and a few antidotes.” He pointed to her hands clutching the small vials. “The black one can be used if it someone’s heart has stopped. It may revive them, but can also do more harm than good. Only use it in the direst circumstances. The clear is the best our alchemists could come up with as an antidote to several well-studied Dreilore poisons, should the same fate befall one of you as it did your Akkeri friend. The green and brown ones you should already know.”
She lifted her brows.
“Well, you should know them if you paid attention when I taught them to you.”
Her eyebrows remained hopefully raised.
He laughed, glancing at Elmerah and Alluin. “If either of you ever have children, I hope they’ll listen better than mine.”
Elmerah snorted, while Alluin remained preoccupied double-checking his supplies.
Her father turned his attention back to her. “The green are strong herbs for illness caused by tainted water or food, the brown is silverleaf sap for treating wounds, though I should hope none will be incurred.” He fished around in his pocket, then withdrew small vial with red liquid. “Store this one separately. A single sniff of this will knock someone unconscious for hours.”
“Thank you, father,” she said with a smile, moving to gently secure the bottles in her own satchel, sitting forlornly by the door since the previous night. With the bottles secure, she turned back to him. “Will the Dreilore antidote work for older poisoned wounds?”
Her father frowned. “You know that’s not how it works, dear. You can counteract a freshly administered poison, but once they’ve been in your system for too long, they become like a disease, much more difficult to treat.”
She sighed. She knew it was a stupid question when she asked it, but part of her hoped Merwyn could still be saved. “Then what of mother? The healers believe her likely to recover.”
He nodded. “Solana is strong, and as neither her condition, nor Maedainn's has worsened since the Nokken were caught, we have hope they will survive, even if they do not fully recover.”
She glanced again at the closed bedroom door, imagining that her strong, proud mother might not fully recover . . .
Her father’s hand landed on her shoulder. “You saved her life, Saida. Without you, we may not have realized the Nokken were among us until it was far too late.”
She hugged him to hide her tears from Elmerah and Alluin, hoping they didn’t notice them. Neither would be caught crying no matter the situation, especially Elmerah.
Her father embraced her, then patted her back as she pulled away. “Do be careful, dear. I will try to soften the people of Faerune toward the idea of allying with the Arthali while you are away.” He glanced back at Elmerah. “And if your sister comes, I’ll see to it that she is not attacked on sight.”
Her arms crossed, Elmerah replied with a curt nod.
Saida laced her fingers behind her back to hide their trembling. The first time she left home, she had no idea what awaited her. This time, she knew better than to be hopeful of an easy journey. At least with Elmerah around, she wasn’t likely to be kidnapped by pirates.
Elmerah
Elmerah absentmindedly stroked her horse’s russet mane. That morning, they’d left the antlioch behind in well-tended Faerune stables in favor of less conspicuous mounts. After a long day of riding, her rump missed the antlioch’s fluffy wool. At least with the horses, and with hoods pulled up to hide their hair and features, the trio would not stand out . . . unless anyone looked too close. At least Saida would fit in well this near Faerune.
The smell of roasting meat was the first sign she had that the village of Skaristead was nearby. Soon enough the dying light revealed high wooden rooftops stained dark by the elements. She patted her horse again, hoping it would not be stolen. Though horses would draw little attention, such healthy animals would be coveted in any of the smaller villages.
The crunch of their horses’ hooves on loose stones was the only sound as they reached the first buildings of Skaristead. A few curious glances darted their way, mostly elves with the pale coloring of Faerune, but a few humans too.
“That must be the inn,” Alluin observed, pointing to a building larger than the rest, right at the end of the main path. The other homes fanned out around it, edged by what sounded like a blacksmith’s workshop and a small stable with only one horse.
Elmerah hadn’t seen any fields on the way in, so she imagined somewhere to the north or south would be the farms that supplied a measure of Faerune’s crops.
Saida dismounted her sleek black horse, tugging up the chestnut brown hood of her loose traveling coat as it fell back from her head. “Let’s hurry on and ask about Isara. Hopefully someone remembers her passing through.”
Elmerah slid down from her horse, her eyes scanning the small stable for a hand.
Alluin approached and extended his reins toward her.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m to wait with the horses now am I?”
His reins remained extended. “Arthali are rare this close to Faerune. They’ll sooner chase you out of town than give you Isara’s whereabouts.”
She tugged her hood forward with an irritated grunt. It was always the same anywhere she went. Saida and Alluin could call her in if they needed to scare someone.
She took Alluin’s offered reins, then held out her hand for Saida’s.
At least Saida looked apologetic about it.
With a huff she led the horses toward the stables while Alluin and Saida headed toward the inn. She’d wait out of the way and would hopefully catch a stablehand at some point. Their supply of coin had been restocked by Saida’s parents at least, so they’d be able to afford a room at the inn that night.
She spat in the loose dirt turned up by horses coming in and out of the stables as she walked. Alluin would probably make her sneak in through a window.
Reaching the entrance to the stables, she let the horses have the full length of their reins to snuffle at sparse shoots of dead grass. Keeping the ends of the reins looped around one hand, she leaned her back against the tack room wall, crossed her arms, and waited. The sky overhead was a dreary gray, promising rain that hopefully wouldn’t make the marshlands impassible the next morning. According to Ivran, that was where they’d find the first of the Akkeri temples Isara had gone to explore.
She scanned the few elves in the streets, going about their daily lives and never once glancing her way directly.
“Stupid elves,” she muttered, sucking her teeth. She almost looked forward to the Akkeri temples, though she wished they still had Merwyn along. He’d know more than anyone else what sort of traps might lie in wait.
Her gaze stopped on a black-clad form standing between two homes across the wide dirt road. He was the only person in the village looking her way, and also the only one standing still. He seemed to be staring right at her, though his face was shrouded by a hood. He was big too, nearly Celen’s height, and he probably weighed near as much as one of their slender Faerune horses. As she watched, his black-gloved hands clenched into fists.
She straightened, pushing away from the wall to place her free hand near her cutlass. The hairs at the back of her neck prickled in anticipation.
The d
istant inn doors creaked open, momentarily drawing her eye as Saida and Alluin emerged. She quickly darted her gaze back to the cloaked man, but he was gone.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Saida observed as they reached her.
She searched the area where the man had been for a moment more, then turned to Saida. “Perhaps I have.” An uneasy feeling washed over her. “What of Isara?”
Alluin shook his head. “They remember her passing through, but that was last winter. The last they saw of her, she was heading toward the temple not far south of here. We’ll stay here for the night, then head that way in the morning.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought of going to sleep with that black clad giant in the village, but with the storm coming in, they’d need the shelter. “Am I allowed to enter the inn now?” she asked caustically.
Alluin nodded. “We have the information we need, and there are just a few elves and humans inside, I don’t imagine any will bother us. The innkeep instructed us to stable the horses ourselves. A guard stands watch at night.”
She nodded, barely hearing his words. She scanned the village once more, but saw no sign of the black clad man. Perhaps he’d been a ghost after all, but the chill deep in her bones said otherwise.
Elmerah peered out the second-story window of the modest room she shared with Saida. Her icy fingers rested on the sill as she watched the darkness below. The window had no glass—not uncommon in smaller, poor villages—but it had shutters to ward away the cold. Said shutters were braced open, despite Saida’s silhouette huddled in a ball beneath her blankets. For some reason, she expected the black clad man to appear below her window at any moment . . . she’d spot him right before he sent an arrow between her eyes.
She hadn’t expressed her worries to Alluin or Saida—they’d think her mad—but she’d learned throughout her hard life to always trust her instincts. Now, they were telling her she was in danger.
A resounding thud sounded from downstairs, making her instinctively jump back from the window and reach for her cutlass. She waited perfectly still for several heartbeats, listening to the echo of heavy footsteps on the wooden floor of the common room. Her arms erupted in goosebumps beneath her coat.
Hearing the footsteps nearing the interior stairs, she tip-toed toward Saida’s bed and gently shook her awake.
Saida pulled back her blanket and blinked up at her, her reflective eyes narrowed to mere slits.
Elmerah hovered over her, her focus on the footsteps. “Get dressed, then hide out of sight.”
Saida didn’t question her. She rolled out of bed, then crept across the room, her bare feet utterly silent on the floorboards.
Watching the door, Elmerah withdrew her cutlass with a dull hiss. If it was just an elf coming into the inn, she could feel like an idiot later. Better an idiot than dead.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs, then echoed loudly down the hallway. Whoever was coming her way was big, just like the man she’d seen earlier. She wished Alluin was in their room so she could at least warn him, but he’d have to fend for himself.
She barely breathed as the footsteps stopped right outside the door. She didn’t dare glance away to see if Saida was prepared. A gentle clicking sounded in the lock. One would think he would have made an effort to hide his footsteps if he planned on picking the lock, but she supposed footsteps wouldn’t alert anyone else in the inn, a door crashing down would. She gripped her cutlass. Her flames were only a thought away, but for now, darkness would play to her advantage.
The lock clicked, then the door creaked open. A hulking dark form stood framed in the doorway for a brief second, then lunged into the room almost too fast for her to follow.
She hopped aside and lit her cutlass, hoping to stab the man in the back as he passed, but he was too fast. She’d hoped he would assume she was fast asleep in her bed, but he’d somehow known she’d be waiting for him.
He whirled around like a dancer, deceptively graceful, meeting her cutlass with a dully glowing blue blade.
She caught a flash of a badly scarred face before her flames went out. His blade had to be enchanted. Wonderful.
She threw herself backward and rolled across the floor, out of the path of that glowing blue blade. He’d surprised her again with his speed. No one that size should move so quickly. She led with her cutlass as she came to her feet, aiming to shove it upward through his belly, but he pivoted back.
The tip of her blade sliced through his shirt, missing the skin below.
“Down!” Alluin’s voice shouted from behind her.
Ignoring the possibility of an oncoming attack, she dropped to the floorboards, distantly registering an arrow whizzing through the air. A grunt drew her eyes upward. Her attacker’s shadowed form, dully illuminated by his glowing blue blade, rocked back with the force of the arrow striking him in one shoulder, just as a flash of white leapt over her, preceding a staff blow right to his face.
Saida threw herself toward Elmerah as their attacker reeled backward, but no attack came. The intruder turned and ran past Saida toward the open window. Enchanted blade in hand, he dove through the opening.
Elmerah scrambled to her feet as Alluin rushed past her, bow still at the ready.
Together they braced themselves against the windowsill and looked downward, but Elmerah saw only darkness.
Saida shoved her way between them, looked down, then shook her head. “Gone. We might be able to follow the blood trail.”
Elmerah leaned back. A fine trembling had overcome her entire body. “No. We’ll let him go for now. If we leave this place quickly, we might be able to avoid any more of them.”
“Any more of who?” Saida asked.
“Witch hunters,” Elmerah breathed. “That man is surely one of many, and they’re not just hunting witches. They’re hunting me.”
Saida’s reflective eyes flickered as she met Elmerah’s gaze. “Do you think—”
She nodded. “Yes. I think Egrin sent them. That man had a set of shackles at his belt, and I’d bet my life they were enchanted. Witch hunters are trained to kill Arthali on sight. This one wanted to take me alive.”
Alluin continued to peer out the window at her side. “That would mean Egrin knows we’re here, and perhaps even knows whom we seek.”
Elmerah gripped the windowsill tight enough to turn her knuckles white, and took a final look outside. The stars glimmered occasionally from behind clouds heavy with moisture. She imagined the dark streets below filled with witch hunters.
She hadn’t felt much fear in her life, not real fear. She was powerful enough to protect herself . . . but witch hunters? They were the stuff of Arthali nightmares for a reason. Many thought they’d disbanded since the Arthali exile, but now she was beginning to sense the truth.
They hadn’t disbanded. They’d simply been biding their time, growing more powerful in preparation for the day the Arthali would return to this continent. What was more, she’d seen a similar glowing blade before, green instead of blue . . . in the hands of a Dreilore warrior.
Alluin
Alluin glanced over his shoulder, scanning the thin walls of the night-dark stable. The horse before him stomped its front hoof, sensing his unease. There was an elven guard—hired by the innkeep—outside too, but just the fact that he hadn’t seen anything odd when the inn was well within sight made Alluin sincerely doubt his skills.
His nimble fingers quickly fastened the girth beneath his horse’s belly, securing the saddle. With the other two already saddled, he led all three horses outside. They would get drenched traveling through the coming storm, but he’d seen the look of fear in Elmerah’s eyes. He’d never thought to see her so frightened of anything.
Finding Elmerah and Saida waiting outside where he’d left them, he offered them their reins. If they were wise, they would eliminate the stablehand, leaving no one to say which direction they’d gone, but he had no desire to harm an innocent, let alone someone who may become a potential ally o
nce Faerune went to war. The young stable guard in question was leaning his back against the tack room, shoulders hunched beneath his wool coat, seemingly asleep standing up.
Even if they did kill him, there was still the innkeep left to reveal that they’d been asking about Isara and the Akkeri temple.
Not a word was spoken between them as they mounted their horses and rode off into the night. There was no choice but to take their chances and come what may. The scent of rain filled Alluin’s nostrils. The rain would wash away old tracks behind them, but would make new ones far too visible in the mud.
As previously discussed, they would travel east, back toward Faerune, before verging off to the south. Hopefully any witch hunters who tried to follow would assume they’d scared them enough to run to Faerune for protection, not to an old Akkeri temple where they’d be more vulnerable than ever.
They rode in silence well into the night. The first drops of rain hit as they reached a rocky ravine that, according to a map procured from Ivran, should lead them in the general direction of the temple. It was a small blessing the rain chose now to come. The rocks ahead would bear no hoof prints.
As Elmerah’s horse slowly passed his by, he cleared his throat.
She turned toward him, her features darkened by her hood.
“Are you well?”
She tugged on her reins, allowing Saida to ride past. “The Dreilore and the militia of the Empire are one thing. They will always have self-preservation in the forefront of their minds. The witch hunters are like the Akkeri. It doesn’t matter how many we kill, they will keep coming until I’m dead . . . or locked in Egrin’s dungeon, if that’s his intent.”
“We won’t let that happen to you.”
“Then you will die with me,” she breathed. Her boots tapped her horse’s sides, ending the conversation.
He took up the rear, glancing over his shoulder periodically to ensure none followed. The witch hunters with their enchanted weapons and manacles might have Elmerah scared, but he saw no reason to fear them more than the Dreilore.
Curse of the Akkeri Page 8
