Elmerah screamed again, a hot cry of rage as she continued to slash through the spiders. Blood and other fluids coated her face and hair, too thick to be washed away by the rain.
She barely felt any of it. Barely recognized the danger she was still in. She had promised to protect Saida, and she had failed.
Saida
Saida fought every moment for wakefulness. She remembered the spiders, so many spiders rushing toward her. Then . . . nothing. But her head ached horribly, someone was carrying her, and she needed to wake up. Blessed Arcale, please let me wake up, she thought, but the sky god did not answer.
The person carrying her slowed, then she was handed off to someone else. Finally, she managed to open her eyes, but the night was so dark she couldn’t see who now held her like a child in their arms.
“Don’t worry, priestess,” a young man’s voice soothed. “You are safe.”
She’d feel a lot safer if she actually recognized the man’s voice. Where were Alluin and Elmerah? Where were the spiders?
“Open the door,” a woman said somewhere to her left, another unrecognized voice.
She heard the creaking of a door, then felt a soft cushion beneath her. The arms of the man carrying her pulled away.
Boots stomping. More people getting into the . . . carriage. That’s what it was, she was in a carriage. She groaned, regaining a bit of control over her body. She rubbed her head and tried to sit up.
“Should we give her more?” the woman asked. “She woke more quickly than we expected.”
“No, let her wake,” a new man’s voice replied, this time, one she recognized. “She must have worked at building up a tolerance to bloodflower extraction since we last met. Clever girl.” Silence for a moment, then, “Help her sit up.”
Hands grasped her arms just as the carriage started moving. She weakly shoved them away. He was right, she’d dosed herself many times with weak concoctions of bloodflower extraction to build up a tolerance, though it seemed it hadn’t been enough. The spiders must have knocked her unconscious, then she’d been dosed to keep her that way. Just how long had she been out? How far from Skaristead was she now? For surely, with that voice she recognized, she was no longer in the care of friends.
She rubbed her eyes, leaning heavily against the carriage cushion, then opened them, but it was black as night in the carriage. Even with her superior night vision, it was difficult to make out the shadowy forms—two sitting across from her and one beside. She could see their reflective eyes though. They were all Faerune elves.
A small light came into existence, temporarily blinding her. Slowly, her eyes adjusted and landed on Malon, a small white wisplight hovering over his outstretched palm, swaying gently with the movement of the carriage.
“Hello, Saida.”
She glared at him, not missing the Crown of Arcale upon his brow. “How dare you wear that,” she rasped, her words feeling sluggish. “You are a traitor to our people.”
“Saviors often begin as traitors, in one way or another.”
She glanced at the other elves, the male beside Malon, and the female beside her, though she did not recognize them. They were either exiles, or those who Malon convinced to stand down when the Dreilore attacked.
“Where are Alluin and Elmerah?” she snapped, then reflexively raised a hand to her aching brow.
“They are unharmed,” Malon explained. “As I told you before, I hope that you will not hate me. I would not harm your closest friends, though they are my enemies.”
Tears stung her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was cry, but she’d been holding in these tears far too long. She could not force down the swelling of emotion. “You killed my mother!” she shrieked, lunging for him. “You killed her!” Her voice cracked as the two unnamed elves shoved her back, then pinned her shoulders against her seat. “How dare you?” she gasped. “How dare you ask me not to hate you?”
Malon’s brow furrowed. “I did not kill your mother, Saida. I was not present when that happened. She was supposed to be safe in one of the High Temple’s hidden rooms.”
Unable to use her hands, she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to make it bleed. The sharp pain helped steady her. “You may not have held the blade, Malon, but you killed her. You killed every elf that died that day, and I will never forgive you. I will not rest until you pay for your crimes.”
He leaned back against his seat with a huff. He wore a blue tunic embroidered with silver, the designs evident in the wisplight now hovering freely at his shoulder. Fine clothes for a rebel, she thought, far finer than those worn by his two comrades still pinning her, because knowing him, he believed he was better than them all.
“Why did you enlist into the guard?” she asked bitterly. “With your magic, you could have been of higher station.”
“Not high enough.” He looked to the elves on either side of her. “Let her go. If she attacks again, let me handle it.”
They released her and returned to their seats, neither saying a word. The carriage ambled onward, carrying her farther and farther from her friends, and from her father in Faerune. This loss would be unbearable to him. He’d already lost his wife, she could not abandon him. She just needed to find a way to escape.
“Where are we going?”
Malon lifted a brow. “Does it matter?”
She stared, hoping her eyes conveyed exactly what she thought of him.
“We’re going to our temporary home. You’ll be safe from the Akkeri there, and from Egrin Dinoba.”
He must think her an utter fool to believe he would shelter her from Egrin. “You are working with Dinoba. Could you not barter for my safety another way?”
The first bit of emotion she’d seen from him tugged his lips into a bitter smile. “Dinoba is no better than the High Council. I worked with him as long as I needed, and now with this,” he tapped the circlet, “I need him no longer. You are right, I could have easily attained a higher station within Faerune, but I would not waste my gifts on making the plants grow.”
Just how much magic did he have? If he was able to use the Crown of Arcale to summon demons, what else could he do?
“I see you’re beginning to understand,” he said. “I am stronger than any guessed, and with my new allies, I will create a new Faerune.”
The rocking of the carriage increased. A more primitive road now than before. “What new allies?”
“The Makali of the Helshone Desert.”
Her jaw dropped. Nothing could have shocked her more. The Capital of the Helshone Desert was ruled by the Lukali, a civilized race. They held trade treaties with both Faerune and Galterra. The Makali, however, were wild barbarians, long separated from their civilized kin.
Malon smiled while she processed his words.
The mention of the Makali led her to a single, terrifying thought. “You’re taking me to the Helshone Desert.”
His smile broadened, though the other two elves seemed uneasy with this talk. “Yes, Saida. I daresay, your friends will never find you there. And you will not escape me, for to travel across the desert alone is a death sentence. So you may as will sit back and listen to what I have to say.”
Saida dove from her seat, evading the female elf’s grasp as she landed hard on the floor. She rolled onto her back. The male elf stood as much as the carriage would allow and she lashed out, kicking him in the knee. He fell away with a shout, then she rolled away from the female elf and reached for the carriage door.