The Witch of Shadowmarsh 1st Edition Sara C Roethle

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Copyright © 2018 by Sara C. Roethle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.
Cover Art by Amalia Chitulescu
Created with Vellum
 To Christina:
Brainstorming Buddy,
Shield Sister,
Capricorn Queen.
 C ON T E N T S

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
 Elmerah

E lmerah checked the shackles on her wrists for the hundredth

time. What a load of dung. How in Ilthune had lowly sea
pirates been able to afford magic-nullifying wrist bonds? The
ones on her ankles were just simple iron. She would free herself
from those easily enough if she had access to her magic…which, she
didn’t.
The heavy iron hurt her wrists and squeezed her boots
uncomfortably at her ankles, not to mention the steady drip drip of
water leaking in from the deck above her head to add to her
annoyance. She leaned her back against the wooden wall of the
small cabin near the ship’s bow, her temporary prison. Her long legs,
clad only in thick tights, erupted in goosebumps.
A few other women shared the space with her, their heads
slumped in the swinging lantern light. That her fellow captives were
all women, and all young and fairly beautiful, told her one thing.
They were on their way to be sold into slavery of the worst kind.
Although, how the pirates intended to keep a witch like herself
tethered for long was beyond her. The bigger question was, why?
She was at least a decade older than the young girls, though she felt
herself not horrible to look at. Her black hair and bronze skin hinted
at her Arthali heritage, and she was curvy enough to be considered
feminine, though her height and well-muscled frame scared off most
male suitors.
Not that she’d been looking.
She shook her shackles again. The ship swayed gently, the sound
of the choppy sea above muffling the soft weeping of her fellow
prisoners.
Elmerah sneered. She’d never been one to weep, and she sure as
Ilthune’s lance didn’t consider herself a victim. She was a temporary
hostage, nothing more. As soon as she managed to rid herself of
these shackles, she’d teach the sea pirates a lesson. They’d rue the
day they decided it was a good idea to turn an Arthali swamp witch
into a slave.
She glanced at her nearest fellow captive, barely illuminated by
the swaying, lone lantern. The girl had long white hair like spider
silk, and bony, angular features carved into perfect alabaster skin.
Her downcast eyes dominated her small face, and pointed ears
jutted out from beneath her hair. She was a Faerune elf, one of the
Moonfolk. Elmerah knew that if the girl turned her large eyes
upward, they would glint in the darkness. Faerune elves could see
just as well at night as they could during the day. They were fast
too, with incredibly agile hands that could send a dagger into your
chest before you could even blink.
Agile hands, Elmerah thought, glancing once again at her
shackles. Perhaps this girl could be of use to her.
“Psst,” she whispered, scooting closer to the girl.
The girl startled and glanced upward, and sure enough, her eyes
glinted like moonlight. Her loose white tunic made her look like a
ghost.
“Yes?” she asked softly, seeming to regain her composure. Poor
girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen.
“Come over here,” Elmerah whispered. “I need your help.”
The girl narrowed her eyes, then clutching her shackled hands to
her chest, she scooted along the floor until she was sitting side by
side with Elmerah.
 Elmerah lowered her head toward the girl. “Search my hair, I
should still have some pins left in there.” She hoped she’d had some
pins left. Even after the pirate caught her unawares and cuffed her,
she’d put up a fight. The man had ripped a clump of her hair out in
the struggle. She’d made up for it by kicking out two of his teeth.
The girl’s fingers tugged through Elmerah’s matted hair.
She cringed. She needed a bath.
“You smell like a swamp,” the girl muttered.
“Well you smell like fairy dung,” Elmerah grumbled. Never mind
that the girl actual smelled like a crystal clear brook surrounded by
wildflowers. Elves always smelled pleasant, except perhaps the
Akkeri. The sea-riders smelled a bit like rotten fish.
“There,” the girl whispered, pulling a hairpin free. “Now what do
you want me to do with it?”
Elmerah lifted her head, then held out her cuffed wrists. “Get
these off me and I’ll make these pirates pay.”
The girl’s eyes widened, as if finally just really seeing her. “You’re
Arthali,” she gasped, retracting the pin toward her chest.
Elmerah fought the urge to sneer. Pureblood Arthali had been
exiled from the Ulrian Empire over three decades ago, but old fears
ran as deep as the Kalwey Sea. “Yes,” she hissed, “so you know I
can back up my claims.”
The elf girl met her gaze for several seconds, then lowered
trembling hands to Elmerah’s cuffs. “Arcale protect me,” she
muttered as she inserted the pin into the keyhole.
The girl’s words inspired Elmerah to take a closer look at her
garb. The white tunic, embroidered with little silver moons, topped
fitted white pants. Her brows raised in recognition. These pirates
really were idiots. They’d not only kidnapped an Arthali witch, but a
Faerune priestess. If the elves ever found out about this, every last
pirate would surely meet a swift end.
The pin clicked in the lock.
Elation filled her as she pulled off the cuffs, then hurriedly
pumped magic into the benign shackles around her ankles, which
soon clicked open. She stood, then looked down at the Faerune
priestess.
 Seeming to sense her hesitation, the girl glared. “You said you’d
get us out of here.”
“Actually, I said I’d make these pirates pay.”
The girl’s glare deepened.
She’d be a fool to get involved with the elves, but—she huffed
out a long breath, then held a hand out to the girl. “Hold the cuffs
away from your body.”
Still staring up at her, the girl obeyed.
Elmerah pushed magic into the cuffs. They fell away from the
girl’s wrists, then clattered to the wooden planks, followed by the
ones at her ankles.
The girl stood, a full head shorter than Elmerah “Now the
others,” she demanded.
Elmerah glared down at her. “Weren’t you just trembling in your
boots about freeing an Arthali witch? Are you sure you should be
making demands?”
Her glare did not waver.
“Fine,” Elmerah hissed. “They’ll prove a worthwhile distraction, if
nothing else.”
She made her way around the small cabin, freeing the other
women one by one. There were six in total, eight counting herself
and the elven priestess. Some of the women stood, but others
remained slumped on the floor, broken.
The elf girl watched her expectantly.
“I’ve freed them,” she grumbled. “If they’re not willing to help
themselves now, there’s nothing I can do. Now I’m off to murder
some pirates.”
After a moment, the elf girl nodded. She marched across the
small space away from the lantern’s light and retrieved something
from a dark corner, then returned to Elmerah with a long oar in
hand, taller than the girl holding it.
“You Moonfolk really can see in the dark, can’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes, now let us go enact our vengeance.”
Elmerah smirked. Perhaps she’d made a wise choice in allying
herself with the girl after all. She made her way toward the rickety
wooden steps leading up to the deck. A heavy padlock dangled from
the trapdoor above.
She made quick work of it, overwhelming the metal components
with magic until they snapped. Leave it to pirates to only buy
enchanted shackles and not a padlock. They were in way over their
heads.
The women had all herded together behind her, those who’d
stood on their own now supporting those who’d refused.
“What’s your name?” Elmerah asked the elven girl as she reached
her side.
She gripped the oar tightly in her hands. “Saida Fenmyar.”
“Elmerah Volund,” she introduced. “Are you ready, Saida?”
Saida nodded.
Elmerah tossed the trap door open, landing with a loud thwack
on the deck above. She rushed up the final steps, angry magic
coursing through her veins. Only three of the men were on deck, all
turned toward her with jaws agape.
She kicked the nearest one right in his hanging jaw, darting in
and stealing his cutlass before he hit the deck.
“I thought you’d use magic to attack them,” Saida said, facing
the other two men just a few paces off as the other women
ascended behind her.
“I’m saving it for their leader,” Elmerah explained. “Plus, I was
really feeling like I needed to kick someone in the face.”
The other two men neared, weapons drawn. Their dirty faces
and ragged loose clothing hinted to their status as lowly crewman.
“Oi!” one of them called out, “the prisoners are loose!”
More men would be on deck soon. They needed to act fast so
they wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Elmerah lifted her cutlass, ready to
fight, but Saida was way ahead of her. She launched herself at the
men in a graceful leap, swinging the oar like a staff, her white hair
streaming behind her. One man tried to counter, but his weapon was
effortlessly flicked away, right before the oar swooped back around
and smacked him with the broad side on the back of his head. The
other man got the narrow side straight in his gut, knocking the wind
from his lungs.
 Elmerah would have liked to continue watching but more men
had swarmed the deck, their legs braced wide against the swaying
of the ship. She counted them, weighing their odds before realizing
she’d be out of magical energy by the time this fight was over. The
other women huddled together near the trap door, their eyes
squinted against the occasional gust of heavily salted air. Useless.
She lifted the cutlass toward the cloudy sky, filling it with more of
her magic than she should have been expending, but she wasn’t
about to risk someone shackling her once more. Her power surged
into the blade to the point of bursting as the first man charged her.
A rumble in the sky echoed her guttural growl. She really
shouldn’t be doing this, but it was too late to go back now. If she
moved the sword, the lightning might be attracted to her instead.
The bolt hit the blade, absorbing into the metal. The man
stumbled away, eyes wide. Too late for him as well. She whipped the
blade downward, sending a bolt of lightning straight toward his
chest. It hit its mark, then bounced to the next man before hitting
the far wall of the above-deck cabin where it dissipated.
She spared a quick glance toward Saida, who’d stayed near the
women, protecting them with her oar, then turned back as more
men charged her. One had a new set of shackles in hand.
“Get them ‘round her wrists!” a finely dressed man shouted from
a safe distance.
Her lip quivered with a snarl. She’d found the captain.
Still bursting with energy, she whipped the sword toward the
men, tossing them aside with electrical currents. She surged
forward, slicing any who’d not fallen with her blade. One man’s
cutlass neared her throat, then fell away as an oar thunked down
upon his sweaty brow.
“My thanks!” Elmerah shouted, slamming her shoulder into
another pirate and sending him overboard.
She turned toward another, brandishing her blade flickering with
elemental sparks. She must have looked quite the sight, given a wet
spot soon formed on his breeches. He tossed his cutlass aside and
willingly followed his fellow pirate into the sea.
 Her snarl still in place, she turned toward the captain. He was
attempting to unlock the cabin door behind him, but his trembling
hands were fumbling the key. She stalked toward him. Saida stood
back with her oar in hand and several men lying broken at her feet.
The captain glanced over his shoulder at her approach. His blue
eyes widened. With his shiny black hair and clear complexion he was
almost handsome. Unfortunately, the stain of capturing slaves made
him ugly.
His little metal key clattered to the deck.
Cutlass still in hand, Elmerah knelt to retrieve it. She stood,
dangling the key in front of his face. “I believe you dropped this.”
“Please don’t kill me,” he whimpered.
Her smile broadened. “Did you really think it was a good idea to
kidnap an Arthali witch? My people are well known for showing little
mercy.”
“I was just following orders. Please, I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell
you who hired me and you can go after her.”
Her? Now that was interesting.
“I’m guessing any information I might want is contained in the
cabin behind you,” she gestured to the locked door with her cutlass.
“I’m not seeing any reason to spare you.”
Footsteps sounded behind her, then Saida appeared at her side.
“We’ll take him back to my people. He will stand trial for his crimes.”
Elmerah snorted. “I’m not going anywhere near the elves.” She
turned back to the captain, offering him the key. “Unlock it. Let’s see
what you have inside.”
The captain snatched the key, then unlocked the door with still
trembling hands. “Thank you,” he muttered. “Thank you for not
bringing me to the elves.” He pushed the door open.
His thanks sent a disgusted shiver down Elmerah’s spine. She
turned and gave Saida a subtle nod.
The oar came down. The captain crumpled.
Elmerah glanced back at the waiting women, then to Saida.
“Have them tie up any who still live. I’m going to take a look
around.”
 Saida nodded, then returned to the women as Elmerah stepped
over the prostrate captain into the office.
The furnishings were sparse, but high quality. A heavy oak
writing desk dominated the far wall, stationed next to a bed with a
proper mattress topped with vibrant silks and fluffy feather pillows.
While the bed appealed to her tired body, she was more interested
in the desk, and what information its drawers might contain.
She marched across the room, fighting her sluggishness as her
adrenaline seeped away. She’d used far too much magical energy
calling lightning to her new cutlass. It would have been easier with
an enchanted sword, but her weapons had been left behind when
she was kidnapped.
Swapping the cutlass to her left hand, she opened the middle
drawer. Ink, bitterroot with a pipe, and blank sheets of parchment.
Useless. She opened the next drawer. Empty. Why even have a
desk? When the third drawer revealed only a few clean
handkerchiefs, she turned back to the rest of the cabin. She could
hear Saida outside directing the other women to bind all the men,
but she still wanted to act fast. She’d like to be far away on one of
the smaller boats long before the ship reached shore. If it reached
shore. She would be highly surprised if any of the women actually
knew how to sail.
She narrowed her gaze at one of the floorboards near the bed. It
was slightly raised from the others.
She stepped toward it, then halted, feeling dizzy. She’d used far
too much power. She’d be lucky to make it to shore on her own at
all.
“Are you well?” a woman’s voice asked.
She turned to see Saida peeking into the cabin.
“All the men are bound, but we should decide what to do soon. If
I’m not mistaken, we are headed toward Galterra.”
“The Capital?” Elmerah balked, swaying on her feet. She shook
her head. “It doesn’t matter. Could you check that floorboard?” she
pointed. “I’ll take whatever is hidden down there and depart on one
of the smaller boats.”
 Saida marched across the room and knelt, easily prying up the
floorboard with her fingertips. She withdrew a stack of rolled
documents, set them aside, then withdrew three large leather
pouches of coin.
Elmerah stepped forward, then snatched two pouches of coin
from Saida’s hands and affixed them to her belt. Next she retrieved
the folded documents from the floor and placed them under her
arm. After a moment of debate, she tossed her new cutlass aside
with a dull clang, then approached the unconscious captain in the
doorway. Sure enough, a far finer cutlass was at his hip. She slid it
from his belt, considering skewering the man with his own blade, but
walked out into the open air instead. A storm was brewing further
out to sea, and she really wanted to start paddling before it was too
late.
Saida hurried out after her, then past her. “There are four extra
boats,” she explained. “We should all be able to reach shore easily
enough.” She retrieved her oar from one of the women, then turned
back to Elmerah. “It would be best to have four women per boat,
everyone can row.”
Elmerah stalked past her toward the lower cabin where they’d
been held prisoner, the pouches of coin jangling at her hips. “I told
you, I’ll be leaving on my own. The rest of you would be wise to
take only one boat, and take turns rowing. It is more tiring than you
think.”
Saida followed her as she descended the stairs into the cabin. “If
that is true, then how do you intend to man a boat on your own?”
“It’s tiring for weak young girls,” Elmerah muttered, groping
about in the darkness for the oars. “Not for me.”
Saida stomped a few paces past her, reached into the darkness,
then handed Elmerah an oar. Her elven eyes glinted in the near dark.
“There’s no need to be difficult. We’re all in this together. Surely
once we reach Galterra we will be offered aid.”
Elmerah raised an eyebrow at her. “Have you ever been to
Galterra?”
Saida lifted her nose into the air. “Once, with an envoy. My clan
was signing a new trade agreement.”
 Elmerah held out her hand expectantly for another oar, which
Saida soon offered her. “You saw the Capital on its best behavior,”
she explained. “I advise you to don a hood as soon as you reach
shore. Keep your hair and ears covered, and don’t let anyone see
your eyes at night.”
Saida’s dainty jaw dropped, but Elmerah had no more time to
explain things to her. She herself would wear a hood if she decided
to enter the Capital. While she might not stand out quite as much as
an elf, her height and coloring would give away exactly what she
was, a pure-blooded Arthali, not the half-breeds still allowed in the
Empire. Many would steer clear of her, but others would view her as
a challenge. Oars in hand, she turned and walked back up the stairs.
She heard the clatter of oars behind her, then thunks coming up
the stairs after her, but didn’t turn to look. If the girl wanted to carry
oars and make herself responsible for the other women, that was
her choice.
Her own oars in hand, she strode toward the side of the ship,
then stopped in her tracks. She would have palmed her face if she
had a free hand. She’d need someone to help her lower her boat
down to the sea.
She turned back with a huff to see Saida handing out oars to the
other women. A few of the men still alive had come to, and were
groaning and pleading to be set free. She would have kicked them
into silence if she had the energy. Cursed Ilthune her limbs were
tired.
“Hey elf girl!” she called out. “Why don’t you let the others row
into Galterra to report what has happened, and you and I can find
some quiet place far from the docks from which to disappear.”
Saida approached, her brow furrowed. “I thought you wanted to
go alone.”
Elmerah shifted her oars to lean against the deck, then brushed a
clump of salt-saturated hair from her face. “If you’d like to take your
chances in Galterra, be my guest. I’m just trying to help you.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Show me how to lower a boat for the other
women, then I’ll go with you, but only to the shore. After that I’ll
head toward Galterra to send word to my mother.”
 Elmerah fought her shoulders as they threatened to slump in
relief. Saida was a bit scrawny, but she could still help her row . . .
not that she’d ever openly admit to needing the help.
“Please,” a nearby man groaned. “Just untie us. We can help you
lower the boats.”
Elmerah found she suddenly had enough energy to land her boot
against his ribs.
After a pained oof, he kept his mouth shut.
“Let’s go. I want to reach the shore before the storm hits.”
Saida nodded, then moved past her toward the waiting women.
Elmerah watched her go, though her thoughts were no longer on
the elf girl. Rather, her thoughts were on what in the name of Arcale
she was going to do when she reached shore. Without the use of a
ship, it would take her weeks to reach home again. She had no food
or travel supplies, and no time to search the ship for such things if
she didn’t want to get stuck in a tiny boat in a storm.
She patted her belt pouch. At least she had coin, and if she could
find a place to rest, she could regain enough energy to protect
herself. She just needed to get through a single night, then she’d be
fine . . . At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
 Saida

S
shore.
aida’s arms pumped rhythmically, propelling the small boat
across the choppy water. Her shoulders were already aching,
but she was quite sure she was their only hope of reaching

Elmerah slumped against the bow, her eyes half closed, her long
legs stretched out across the wooden plank where Saida perched.
She’d spent the first leg of their journey reading through the rolled
parchments she’d found in the pirate’s cabin, before eventually
tossing them overboard. She hadn’t commented on anything she’d
learned.
Saida paused her rowing to wipe the sweat from her brow.
One of Elmerah’s eyes opened. “If you don’t keep rowing, we’ll
not beat the storm.”
She was right, an angry black storm was right on their tail. She
hoped the other women would make it to Galterra safely, though
they’d likely have little trouble with six of them to take turns rowing.
It was probably foolish of her to leave with the Arthali witch, but she
hadn’t been sure of the mechanism to lower the boats. She’d
needed Elmerah’s help, and this was the price.
 “You could always help,” she chided.
Elmerah’s eye fluttered closed. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired from saving
your bony rump.”
Saida sucked her teeth in irritation, but continued rowing despite
her body’s protests. “I’ve never seen someone summon lightning like
that. Not even the high priests of Faerune are capable of such a
feat.”
“Well you’ve clearly never met one of the Arthali. My magic is a
flickering spark compared to some.”
Saida suppressed a shiver. Elmerah was right, she’d never met
one of the Arthali before, and she’d never hoped to. The Arthali
were beyond brutal, feared pirates who’d conquered entire nations.
It was only through the treaties of the elves with the Empire that the
Arthali were finally pushed back, exiled to terrorize distant lands
instead of this one.
Of course, this had all happened long before Saida was born.
Given Elmerah appeared only a bit older than her, she doubted the
witch had ever seen the Arthali at their full power.
“So you know others of your kind?” Saida pressed, her curiosity
getting the better of her.
One eye cracked open again. “Not for a very long while.” The eye
shut again.
With a huff, Saida focused on her rowing. She had half a mind to
toss the witch overboard, but quickly dismissed the idea. Though
Elmerah seemed exhausted now, her lightning had been quite the
sight, as had her swordwork. The cutlass was still strapped to the
witch’s belt, and she’d have trouble wielding an oar to protect herself
in the small vessel.
She breathed a sigh of relief as a sandy inlet came into view,
leading back to ancient trees taller than the temples in her
homeland. She aimed the boat toward it, just as the first raindrops
tickled her cheeks.
Finally, both of Elmerah’s eyes opened. She gazed past Saida’s
head toward the storm, then sat up enough to peer over her
shoulder at the inlet. She seemed to scan the trees for several long
moments, then turned back to Saida. “If we’re lucky we’ll find an inn
along the Emperor’s Path. I’ll cover the cost of a room,” she glanced
at Saida’s trembling arms, still working the oars, albeit slowly, “to
show my thanks,” she finished. “We can part ways in the morning.”
Saida wasn’t about to argue with her. Her arms felt like sweet
plum jelly, and her belly was cramped and empty. Not thinking
properly, she’d given the third coin purse to the other women, not
bothering to take a few coins for herself. Elmerah still had the other
two strapped to her belt.
Greedy woman.
“Is there a problem?” Elmerah questioned.
Thinking once again of the lightning, Saida shook her head.
She’d let the witch buy her a room, then in the morning she’d head
for Galterra. There she’d send word to her mother, who’d surely
deploy an envoy to rescue her. Of course, then she’d have to explain
to her mother what she’d been doing so far from home, but she
could easily cover up her actions. Given her satchel—stuffed with a
change of clothes and enough food to last a week—had been taken
by the pirates, she could simply tell her mother she’d been out
gathering burrberries when she’d been attacked, not running away
from home.
Realizing Elmerah was still watching her, she shifted
uncomfortably, giving a final painful heave of the oars to send them
into the rolling surf.
The bounce of the boat finally prompted the witch to give up her
lounging. She moved to the small bench beside Saida and took one
of the oars. “Try and keep the bow pointed straight toward shore,”
she instructed. “If we get too far misaligned the waves will capsize
us, and we’ll be wet enough with the rain as it is.”
Saida did as instructed, working her oar whenever the boat
drifted a bit too far to the left. Her stomach lurched every time they
crested a wave, then dropped back down to her feet as she was
pelleted with sharp droplets of seawater.
The boat hit sand with a dull thud, eliciting a sigh of relief.
Before she could react further, Elmerah dropped her oar and
hopped out the boat, wetting her boots as she tugged the vessel
more firmly ashore.
 Saida hopped out after her. She stumbled as her boots sunk into
the sand, landing on her rump at the edge of the water. Though
she’d mainly been using her arms, it seemed the effect of bracing
herself had taken a toll on her legs as well. She was utterly
exhausted, and now the damp sand was soaking through her thick
tights.
Elmerah stood over her, hands on hips, her head blocking out the
last rays of sun that would soon be swallowed up by the storm. “Can
you stand?”
A flurry of stinging rain drops whipped across her cheeks. She
nodded, though she wasn’t sure. She’d try in a moment . . .
“We need to head inland,” Elmerah pressed. Though her face was
in shadow from the blinding sun rays hitting the back of her head,
Saida imagined Elmerah was raising an eyebrow and smirking at her,
the weak little elf girl.
Elmerah’s hand extended downward.
With an internal cringe, Saida took it. She could not wait for this
day to end. If she ever made it home, she was quite sure she’d
never leave again.

T he rain pelleted down around them , splashing across the puddles

formed in ruts on the road, and ricocheting off tree branches to fall
in all directions. Saida’s hair was plastered to her head, and her ear
tips had long since gone numb. Her boots were heavy with water
and mud.
Elmerah marched on beside her, her longer legs setting a brisk
pace. Her black hair was thick enough to not look limp, though it
was as soaked as Saida’s.
“Do you smell that?”
Saida sniffed the air, catching the scent of woodsmoke a moment
later. They’d been traveling down the Emperor’s Path, the main route
leading into and away from Galterra, for roughly an hour, heading
away from the city rather than toward it.
 Elmerah had claimed the inns further from the Capital would be
safer for both their kinds, though they’d also likely be rickety dung
heaps. At this point, Saida didn’t care either way as long as she had
a roof over her head and a meal in her belly.
They rounded a bend in the road, and the inn came into view.
Perhaps she did care. The inn had an almost . . . evil feel to it, with
its dark, uneven planks glistening with moisture. The surrounding
fence had eroded in places, overtaken by dense vines reaching out
from the surrounding forest. The establishment had no sign bearing
the symbol of its name. In fact, the only thing telling Saida it was an
inn at all was its location, and the individual stable stalls lining one
exterior wall. Only two were filled, one with a shiny black horse that
looked just as evil as the inn, and the other with a skinny mule that
would likely drop dead at any moment.
“Are you coming?” Elmerah asked.
Saida realized she had stopped in her tracks. “Are you sure this is
where you want to stay?”
Elmerah smirked. “Do you see anywhere else, princess?”
Though Saida didn’t appreciate being called princess, she
supposed Elmerah was right. It was only one night, and she was
beginning to shiver from the rain.
Fully resigned, she followed Elmerah off the road and through
the opening in the fence that no longer had a gate. Reaching the
inn, Elmerah pulled open the heavy wood and iron door without so
much as a knock, striding confidently inside.
Saida scurried in after her, her eyes darting back and forth for
signs of danger. When nothing attacked her, she relaxed, soothed by
the warmth of a blazing fire in the nearby hearth. Past the hearth
was a small, gleaming bar, tended by an elderly man in modest, yet
clean clothing. He looked her up and down suspiciously, and
remembering Elmerah’s words, she tugged her limp hair over her ear
tips.
There was only one other person in the small common room, a
seemingly male figure with a deep cowl obscuring his features. His
clothing was all muted browns and greens that would easily blend in
with the woods outside. He sat in the far corner, a boiled leather
mug at his fingertips.
Elmerah approached the innkeep, withdrawing a few coins from
one of the purses at her belt. “A room for a single night,” she
ordered, “one with two beds, and two meals.”
The innkeep stared long and hard at Elmerah, then down to the
coins on the counter, then back up. “Aye, that will cost you double
what you’re offering.”
Elmerah snorted. “Really? What did he pay?” she nodded toward
the man in the corner.
The innkeep licked his wrinkly lips. “He doesn’t come with the
same risks as an Arthali witch and one of the Elderfolk. It’ll cost me
a lot more if my inn gets burned to the ground for harboring your
kind.”
Elmerah let out an exaggerated sigh, then placed three more
coins on the counter. “Our meals had better come with wine.”
The innkeep snatched up the coins, then nodded toward the
vacant tables. “Sit anywhere you like, and keep your heads down if
anyone else comes in.”
Saida followed Elmerah toward a table near the hearth. Elmerah
slouched into one of the rickety chairs, leaning it back so it rested on
only two legs, placing her a bit closer to the fire.
Saida dragged another chair so her back would be to the wall,
then sat. She leaned across the table, closer to Elmerah. “Do you
really think someone would burn the inn down just because we’re
here?”
Elmerah snorted. “Because of you? Probably not. Me? Well, old
grudges tend to cling through generations.”
Saida shook her head. She’d had few experiences with non-elf
races, but she could hardly believe Elmerah would be attacked just
for the bronze color of her skin.
The innkeep, who’d disappeared into what Saida assumed was
the kitchen, reemerged with two steaming bowls of soup. He placed
one in front of Saida, then left the other at the edge of the table for
Elmerah to pull toward herself. He left, then returned with two boiled
leather mugs of wine and a small metal key. “You’d be wise to leave
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