She had to shield her eyes from the reflected sunlight as she looked up at the massive cracked and shattered crystals. “Let’s go, princess,” she said to Saida. “A little fresh air will do us both good.”
“Yes,” was all Saida said as she walked past her toward the horses, her long, white-blonde hair flying free in the breeze.
Her mood souring by the moment, Elmerah followed. She knew she’d need to have an important conversation with the elven priestess soon. This malaise could not continue. It was selfish to avoid it, but she’d struggled to find the time . . . No, that wasn’t right. She’d struggled to find the motivation, for speaking of Saida’s murdered mother would surely lead to talk of her own.
They reached the horses. Rissine had already chosen the horse she’d been stroking, a sleek silver beast with wild eyes. The other three were varying shades of brown, tamer, the depths of their eyes more serene. Alluin had untethered them, and handed one set of reins to Saida.
“Where’d you find the horse?” Elmerah asked Rissine. She took the remaining set of reins from Alluin and mounted the darkest mare.
“The stables. The elves have been too afraid to saddle her.”
Elmerah smirked, then tapped her heels, guiding her horse toward the gates. As far as she could remember, Rissine didn’t get along with animals. She looked back. “And you’re a beast charmer now?”
Her sister’s silver mare fell into step beside hers. Rissine lifted her nose. “Mireldah helped.”
Elmerah sucked her teeth. She’d briefly met Mireldah, but had not been informed from which clan she hailed. Now she knew. The Silver Leaf clan could charm any manner of beast. She’d long wondered if they’d been a part of her mother’s murder. On that fateful day when Rissine took her out in their small boat, the fish had been plentiful, swarming and splashing in the waters around them—almost as if they’d been summoned. The excitement had kept her and Rissine out past nightfall, leaving ample time for their mother’s murder.
A horse’s snort brought Elmerah back to the moment. They were already riding through the opened gate, past glaring elven sentries. Soon they were on the road heading east toward Skaristead. It was early enough they’d make it there by nightfall . . . if they didn’t encounter any dangers along the way.
She almost wished for a bit of danger. If they ran afoul of witch hunters, she could give Rissine to them.
She tilted her eyes up toward the sky, letting the faint surrounding birdsong wash over her. No, she could not sacrifice her sister just yet. Not until she rallied more Arthali to aid the elves.
And not until she finally admitted out loud what she’d done.
The tavern attached to Skaristead’s small inn bustled with activity, but the Valeroot elves had not yet arrived. After stabling the horses, they’d been met by Alluin’s sister, Vessa, a concerned expression wrinkling her narrow brow. Now they waited at a round wooden table in the tavern, considering there was nothing better to do. Rissine sat to Elmerah’s left—yet to go off in search of flour and grain—and Alluin to her right. Across the table were Vessa and Saida. If Saida sensed the mass amounts of sibling tension at the table, she did not show it. Perhaps she just didn’t understand, being an only child herself.
The elven barmaid arrived with a tray of boiled leather mugs, the honey-scent of the mead almost overwhelming. The elves loved their flowery and sweet drinks. Elmerah didn’t really care about flavors, as long as they were alcoholic. If she were to survive a full evening with Rissine, she’d need to be at least a little bit fuddled by spirits.
“You’re worried,” Alluin said to his sister as the barmaid placed a mug in front of each of them.
The barmaid cast a final wary glance at Rissine and Elmerah, then hurried away without waiting for payment. Perhaps she was leaving it up to the witches whether they would pay, or destroy the inn with their Arthali magic.
Vessa glanced at Rissine, then turned her green eyes back to her brother, raking nimble fingers through her brown shoulder-length hair. “Even if the clans were delayed, they should have at least sent scouts ahead by now. Someone should have been here. I’m worried they were attacked.”
It was a sensible worry. With Dreilore, Nokken, and Akkeri roaming about, the dangers for a few small clans of Valeroot elves were countless.
Alluin’s jaw tensed. He took a long breath, then answered, “All we can do now is wait. If they do not arrive by morning, we will return to Faerune and send trackers to find them.”
“You and I are the best trackers around,” Vessa pressed.
Alluin didn’t reply right away, but Elmerah knew he was warring with that fact. If he didn’t have other responsibilities, he’d search for the missing elves that night. But the demon emperor had to be their primary objective, and they’d already wasted too much time. Time they no longer had. The High Council had to be convinced to act now.
Elmerah swilled half her drink in one go, and was about to ask Saida for a talk—the talk—when the inn’s double doors burst inward, rattling with a gust of cool wind. A panting, sopping wet Valeroot elf fell to his knees on the floorboards just a few paces from their table.
“Demons!” he rasped, then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he promptly fell over.
Elmerah was the first to reach the elf, with Alluin right behind, followed by Saida and Vessa. The entire tavern had fallen silent, except for short bursts of frightened whispers. Elmerah peered out the doorway into the still dusk, then down at the elf, face down. The poor sod had a sleek black spike sticking out of his back, impaling him.
She knelt by his side, checked his pulse—or lack thereof—then turned her attention to the strange weapon, stretching her fingers toward it.
“Don’t touch it!” Rissine hissed.
Elmerah stopped mid-motion to glare up at her sister. “Why not?”
Rissine knelt beside her, too close. Elmerah shuffled away as her sister replied, “The elf said demons. If this is a demonic weapon, it may contain a . . . residue.”
“It looks like a spine from a bristlepig,” Alluin observed, “only larger.”
The whispers were growing louder in the tavern. There would be limited time to observe the body before the patrons started cutting past them to escape into the night.
Only the night might hide demons, Elmerah’s thoughts whispered. Demons like the Ayperos, and like Egrin Dinoba.
“I don’t know him,” Vessa blurted, her eyes wide and features tense. “But he must be from one of the three clans meant to arrive here. We need to search for the others.”
Rissine stood, done observing the victim, then turned her back to Elmerah to face Alluin, Saida, and Vessa. “You three search his pockets, see if you can find any other clues of who he is and from whence he came. Elmerah and I will check outside.”
Her voice was loud enough for the entire tavern to hear, and no one was fool enough to argue with an Arthali witch.
Elmerah rose with a sigh, nodded to Alluin that she agreed with this plan, then turned to follow Rissine as she led the way outside.
Fingers on her shoulder stopped her. She looked back at Saida, for the first time in a while seeing true fear in the priestess’ eyes.