The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Elmerah

  Elmerah woke with the dawn. While she didn’t feel fully recharged, she was sure she’d at least be able to protect herself during her first day of travel . . . unless she ran into any witch hunters. Enchanted armor and weapons could be used to nullify her magic, and many of the witch hunters had both. Ironically, such technology had been stolen from her own people to be used against them. Without it, the Arthali would likely be ruling the Ulrian Empire, not that snake-tongued criminal, Egrin Dinoba.

  Shaking away her thoughts, she climbed out of her rickety bed, glancing across the room at Saida’s still sleeping form. It didn’t matter who was emperor. Soon Elmerah would be back in her swamp, far from the politics she so detested.

  She tugged her dirty loose blouse over the hips of her thick black tights, then padded barefoot across the floorboards toward the few remaining embers in the hearth. The room’s small window was foggy from the chilly, damp morning air. She shivered, not looking forward to leaving behind the warmth of the inn. At least she had plenty of coin should she happen upon another establishment before nightfall. Coin that had paid for her capture, and Saida’s.

  More disconcerting still was the signature at the bottom of the contracts she’d found. Rissine Volund was a despicable woman. Cruel, cold, and selfish. Truly, she was utter pond scum.

  She was also Elmerah’s older sister.

  Yes, Rissine had orchestrated her kidnapping, and Saida’s. They were the only two women on the ship requested by name. The others had likely just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  She glanced over her shoulder again at Saida. Why would Rissine want her? Just who was this brazen little elf girl?

  As she watched, Saida sat up in bed. She started to lift her arms over her head, then winced and brought them back down.

  Elmerah almost felt guilty about making her do all the rowing . . . almost. “What is your standing amongst your clan?”

  Saida paused halfway through a yawn, blinking bleary eyes at her. “What?”

  “Your standing,” Elmerah repeated. “I’m wondering why the pirates wanted you.”

  “Perhaps they just wanted an elf.”

  She narrowed her gaze. She wasn’t willing to reveal what had been on the contracts, not yet. “Pretty as you may be, I think there’s something more. Why you out of all the other elves? You wear the garb of a priestess, and you know how to fight. I imagine one of your lowly surfs would have been much easier to acquire.”

  Saida’s pale face turned pink. “I am no one special, I assure you.”

  Elmerah crossed her arms. “Is this how you repay someone for saving your neck? Someone who has provided you with a hot meal and a bed?”

  “With money you stole!”

  Her arms still crossed, she tapped her bare foot on the floorboards.

  Saida glowered. “As you’ve already realized, I am a priestess, but a lowly one. I cannot work the magic of crystals like our elders. I am nothing special.” Her cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of pink.

  The girl was clearly lying, but that was all she really needed to know. Saida was a Faerune priestess, but there were many priestesses. Why her specifically?

  “You know,” she began, slumping into a more casual stance, “I’m having second thoughts about fleeing so quickly. Perhaps I will accompany you to Galterra to resupply before my long journey.”

  Saida climbed out of bed, still in her dirty tunic and white pants, then gathered her boots from the floor. “Really? You were quite insistent on running the other way only last night.”

  “I changed my mind.” She watched as Saida hurried toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  “To the latrine if you must know.”

  Elmerah nodded. If the girl was trying to flee, she could find her again. They were going to the same place now, after all, and the fastest way was the Emperor’s Path. She’d need to find a cloak somewhere first though. Perhaps she could search through the innkeep’s belongings while he was busy preparing the morning meal he’d mentioned. In fact, she would be wise to obtain something to conceal herself before then, if militia men would be visiting. While the large clans of the Arthali had been exiled, it wasn’t illegal for a single witch to step foot in the Empire, but most acted like it was. Things would only be worse in Galterra, but if her sister was somehow surviving, she could too.

  Her mind made up, she quickly donned her boots, then left the small room in search of a cloak.

  Saida

  Saida stood at the top of the stairs, wondering if what Elmerah had said was true. She could hear the militia men below, taking their morning meal while speaking amongst themselves. If the innkeep was to be believed, they were on the lookout for the Akerri . . . but the innkeep had also warned her and Elmerah against being seen. Would these men truly attack her for being a Faerune elf? Her people had been welcomed in the Capital just three seasons prior. Was it all an act to ensure the trade treaties were signed?

  Clinging to the hem of her white tunic, she shook her head. The moon embroidery would give her away as a priestess. Surely these men wouldn’t dare harm one of her status.

  She took a step down the stairs.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  She whipped around to find the cloaked man from the night before. “W-what do you want?” she gasped, her heartbeat strangling her words.

  “Nothing,” the man replied. He still wore his cowl, though with daylight streaming in through the window below, she could see the outline of his strong jaw, a well-formed nose, and light colored eyes.

  With a smirk, he walked past her. “Just cautioning you. I’d find a hood to wear, and keep your head down. Your kind might be welcomed down South, but old hatreds linger in the Capital.”

  With that, he was gone, disappearing into the common room. A moment later, the front door opened and shut. After a momentary silence, the militia men resumed their conversation.

  Something plunked on her shoulders and she nearly screamed.

  “Wear this,” Elmerah instructed, straightening the cloak she’d unceremoniously tossed upon her.

  She turned to see Elmerah already hidden within her own stolen cloak. It was charcoal gray, and in far better condition than the ratty tan fabric she’d given her. “Will they truly attack us?”

  Elmerah shrugged. “Perhaps. You, they would hold for ransom. Me,” she smirked, “they would beat into a bloody pulp just to prove their breeches aren’t filled with empty space. Well, they would try at least. I, however, would prove that’s exactly what their breeches are filled with.” She tugged Saida’s hood over her head. “Now let’s go.”

  Saida’s stomach growled. “What about food? We’ll need supplies if we are to survive.”

  Elmerah patted a satchel hanging from her opposite shoulder. “This will see us to the Capital. After that, you are on your own.”

  She glared at Elmerah’s back as she flounced down the stairs, then at the pause in the militia men’s conversation, quickly hurried after her.

  She reached the common room to find two of four men had risen from their seats, and were moving to block the door.

  “I told you,” the innkeep grumbled from her left, “you should have left before the sun.”

  A few paces ahead of her, Elmerah placed her hands on her hips, draping her cloak like the wings of a raven. “Can I assist you, gentlemen?”

  Saida wasn’t sure how the innkeep knew they were militia men. They wore no uniforms, just clean breeches and linen shirts, topped by heavy coats. Perhaps it was the weapons at their belts that gave them away, short swords on the right, and sword-breakers on the left.

  “We’re looking for the Akkeri,” one of the men near the door stated. “Now kindly remove your hoods and we’ll allow you to be on your way.”

  “First,” Elmerah said, lifting a finger into the air, “you know very well we are not Akerri.” She moved her hand toward her face, “my skin is far from sickly and mottled like the underbelly
of a wyrm, and as you see, I am diurnal.”

  “Remove the hood,” the man said again, “and you can be on your way.”

  “You didn’t make that other traveler remove his hood,” Saida accused, stepping forward. “Why hinder us?”

  “Two of my men went after him,” one of the men still seated explained. He leaned back in his chair, clearly bored.

  “Is that my cloak?” the innkeeper asked from behind them. “Hey!”

  Her face burning with a blush, Saida walked toward the door past Elmerah.

  “Hey!” the innkeep said again.

  “Oh bloody pig filth,” Elmerah growled, tossing back her hood.

  The innkeep had come around the bar, and now tugged at Saida’s cloak.

  “What do we do?” she hissed, bunching her hands around her cloak at her shoulder and tugging back.

  Elmerah whirled on the four men, now all on their feet and slowly approaching.

  “I’ll need to see your papers,” one of the men said, his eyes on Elmerah. “You look a bit dark to be from the Capital.”

  “And you look a bit stupid to be carrying a sword,” she spat. She hooked a nearby chair with her foot and flung it at the man who’d spoken.

  He shrieked and dove aside, and the chair thwacked against the front door before clattering to the floorboards.

  She crossed her arms like she hadn’t just flung a chair with enough force to knock a man unconscious. “And it’s no longer illegal to be Arthali.”

  The innkeep had loosened his hold on Saida’s cloak and backed away. “Take what you stole,” he grumbled, “just don’t destroy my inn.”

  “Stole?” the man who’d lounged so casually asked. “Why thank you for such a lovely excuse.” Stalking toward them, he drew his sword.

  “Why does this always happen to me?” Elmerah sighed, then withdrew her stolen cutlass.

  Things were about to get ugly. Saida glanced around for a weapon. While she was trained in hand to hand combat, with her size she was much more proficient with a staff. The room erupted into motion around her.

  She raced toward a table, grabbing the only weapon she could see, a pewter mug, then flung it at the militia man who’d lunged for her. It hit him right between the eyes, causing a rather stupid expression moments before he hit the ground.

  The next thing she knew, a full satchel was sailing toward her. “Get outside and meet me on the road!” Elmerah shouted.

  She caught the satchel and hurried toward the door, sparing a glance for Elmerah fighting off three men at once. She debated assisting her, but she’d proven the previous day she could fend off a few armed men all on her own. She kicked the door open and hurried outside, clutching the satchel against her chest.

  She almost instantly skidded to a halt.

  The cloaked man was standing right in front of her. He leaned around her, peeking into the inn as something slammed against the wall. Before she could react, he grabbed her shoulder and tugged her aside. A chair shot out the door and bounced across the dirt path.

  “Do you think she needs any help?” he asked, his hands still on her shoulders.

  “No,” she muttered, tugging away from him. She hurried past the broken chair toward the main road. She’d wait in the woods for Elmerah, and if she didn’t show up . . . well, she was probably better off continuing toward the Capital on her own.

  Luckily, the man didn’t follow her.

  Elmerah

  “I didn’t need your help,” Elmerah grumbled to the man beside her. She limped down the rutted dirt road, favoring her left ankle. Now where was that blasted elf girl with her supplies?

  “Yes,” the man replied, “I imagine you had them right where you wanted them.”

  She glared at him, though the side of his cowl obscured his line of sight toward her. He’d walked in just as one of the militia men had his sword at her throat. She’d underestimated their training, and had overestimated her level of recovery from the previous day’s escapades. She hadn’t been able to summon a lick of magic.

  “Why would you help someone like me anyway?” she muttered. “Most men would rather fight me, or run the other way.”

  “Arthali may not be overly common in the Capital, but I’ve run into them further north. Some regions have put old prejudices aside more than others.”

  She hadn’t been north to the Draiderin Province in ages. Perhaps that was where Rissine was hiding, running slaves through the Capital to be shipped to other areas of the continent. “Well you have my thanks, but I’m fine now, so you can be on your way.” She scanned the tall pines for signs of Saida. By now, she was quite sure the little whelp had made off with her supplies.

  “I am on my way,” he gestured to the road ahead. “I’m traveling to the Capital to meet an old friend.”

  “Of course you are,” she sighed. She narrowed her gaze to the distance where three men had come to view, short swords on their right hips, and sword breakers on their left.

  “Ah,” the man walking to her right observed, “I imagine they’re on their way to check in with the other patrol. You know, the ones you left bloody and beaten on the floor of that inn.”

  “Well you beat one of them,” she growled, “and two others were allegedly sent after you.”

  Not waiting for a response, and hearing the men ahead shouting their way, she darted off the road and into the woods. She ran through the trees, hoping to escape questioning.

  She sighed loudly as the annoying man caught up to her, casually weaving around trees as he jogged at her side. That blasted cowl was still up, obscuring his face from her.

  He smirked at her as they ran. “Are you a wanted criminal or something?”

  She darted around a tree, careful to not slip on the slick moss covering the loamy earth. The men wouldn’t bother chasing them far into the deep woods. Most men wouldn’t risk running into Fossegrims or Trolls. It was safer on the path.

  “You know very well why I must run,” she panted.

  “They probably would have let you pass if you would have simply removed your hood.”

  She skidded to a halt. The men were shouting for them to come back and show themselves, but were not following.

  Cowards.

  She turned toward her stalker. “How long were you watching me?”

  His gaze on the surrounding woods, he shrugged. “You came downstairs just moments after I did. I was still outside when you decided to challenge those men with your charming bravado.”

  Now she really wanted to see his face, if only to slap it. “I will not be treated as inferior simply because a man thinks he can order me about.”

  The sunlight hit his face enough to reveal his smirk, though his eyes were mostly shadowed. “They are the Emperor’s Militia. They treat everyone as inferior. Now we should continue on before those men realize their cowardice is showing.”

  “There is no we,” she growled, stalking further into the woods. She’d traverse the border of the deeper forest for a time, then make her way back to the Emperor’s Path. With Saida missing, she’d be a little hungry by the time she reached the Capital, but she’d survive.

  Not long after she’d made her choice, she caught sight of something white through the trees.

  “There you are!” Saida called out, hurrying toward them.

  Elmerah winced at the volume of her voice, but waited patiently for Saida to reach them. “I was waiting further up the road, but when I saw more militia men I thought it best to hide—” she turned her gaze to the man standing a few paces behind Elmerah, as if just realizing his presence.

  Elmerah held her hand out for the satchel. “You shouldn’t go running and shouting around these woods, girl. You might get eaten.”

  Her expression now wary, she handed Elmerah the satchel. At least she’d kept her hood over her ears. The ugly tan fabric made her look even paler than usual.

  Elmerah slung the satchel over her shoulder then started walking, her boots hissing across lichen and soggy pine needles.


  Saida hurried to her side, leaning in toward her shoulder. “Why is he following us?” she whispered.

  She shrugged. “Maybe he’s looking for new friends.” She pulled a shriveled apple from the satchel, offered it to Saida, then withdrew another for herself.

  “Don’t I get an apple for saving your life?” the man behind them questioned.

  “No.” She took a bite of the mealy apple, giving it a few light chews before forcing it down her throat. There hadn’t been much else in the storeroom she’d raided, other than some rock-hard bread and more of the turnips they’d enjoyed in their soup the previous night.

  “What is your name?” Saida questioned, glancing back at the man.

  “Don’t engage the madman,” Elmerah lectured.

  “Alluin,” he replied, ignoring her comment. “And I must say, I’m quite surprised to see one of the Moonfolk traveling on her own, and a priestess no less.”

  Elmerah glanced at Saida covered fully in her cloak, then realized Alluin had seen them the previous night, though they were yet to really see him.

  She whirled on him, hand on the pommel of her cutlass, partially hidden under her gray cloak. “You’ve made it clear you know what we both are, now either tell us what you want, or be on your way.”

  Finally, he removed his cowl, revealing rich brown hair well past his shoulders, vibrant green eyes, and artfully pointed ears.

  “A Valeroot elf?” Saida questioned.

  Of course he was one of the Forest Children, Elmerah thought. What was one more elven thorn in her side?

  He nodded in response to Saida’s question. “Yes, and if the two of you hope to enter the Capital, you’ll need my help.”

  “We do not need, nor want your help,” Elmerah snapped.

  “Oh?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. “Then you have traveling papers? You know the militia will ask for them at the gates.”

  She glowered. It had been so many years since she’d been to the Capital, she’d forgotten she’d need papers until the militia man had asked for them.