The cold rain was not hard, but it was steady. It made the stones slick and slippery. Her fingers were freezing. She pulled
the leather coat tighter around her, the fur at its cuffs and neck kept in her
body heat some, but it was rapidly getting soaked. She needed to find shelter
soon. There must be some civilization near here somewhere, the path was far too
wide and clear for a game trail. The silence of the forest, with its thin white
trees, was unnerving. She stopped and
looked at the endless rows of ghostly trees that seemed, in the falling dusk,
like skeletal arms. She began to mutter to herself as she continued down the
path, “Birch, deciduous trees with simple petioled leaves. Good for firewood.
Bark can be used as paper. Sap is drinkable. Oil from the leaves is astringent
and antiseptic, good for rashes. Useful trees. Not scary at all.” The forest
did not answer back. No animal sounds in the underbrush, not a single bird. She
shifted her pack, shivered, and picked up her pace. High stone cliffs rose on
her left bordered by more of the thin trees. Then she saw the iron gate.
Something woke him. There was a someone in his forest. He
could hear a soft low female voice. Lifting his huge draconian head from the
rocks, he sniffed. Lavender and burnt sugar and . . . ashes? The scent was to
the west, he thought. On the old road. Now what would a human be doing walking
the old road?
The road ended at a huge ornate gate, which opened easily,
not a single creak. It was a graveyard. She could just make out the headstones like
broken rows of teeth in the ground. She stepped softly past. “Pardon me,” she
whispered to the stones. “Just passing through. Don’t mean to disturb your
rest.” As if in response, the green phosphorescence on the headstones seemed to flicker. It was close on to full dark now. Hard
to make out anything in the gloom around her, but were those brighter lights up ahead? She hurried toward the lights. A town, the hope of food and drink? Maybe a room.
He uncoiled his great bulk from the ledge and watched her
work her way out of the cemetery and into the town. Curiosity, a thing which
hadn’t moved him in ages, prompted him to rise and follow her. His scales made very
little noise as they slid along the rock. He watched as she entered the town
and hurried along the street toward lights that meant safety and warmth. He
chuckled to himself as he shifted into smoke and followed the girl.
***
Heads turned toward her as the tavern door swung open. She
stood for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the light. Then she stepped across
the threshold. The conversation, that had stopped as she came in, immediately resumed
and everyone turned back to their drinks. Still talking to herself, she stomped
over to the bar. “Food first. Need to dry off. Need a room.” She looked up at
the tall thin man behind the counter. “Cheese. Bread. A bowl of whatever that is in the pot that smells so good," she pointed at the cauldron on the hearth. "And a goblet of warm mulled wine, please,” she said laying three small silver coins on the counter.
“Done. And for that you can also get a piece of Mama’s Zu's pie!”
The tavern keeper, a tall thin man with sallow skin, was wearing a lace-cuffed shirt with the sleeves pushed up and
an embroidered weskit. “Best pie in town. Made with the last peaches of the
summer!” She grinned as she watched him slice a piece of pie and add it to a plate
with thick slices of cheese, and bread. “Have a seat, Miss. I will bring the stew and wine.”
She perused the room and, carrying her plate over, selected
an empty table by the fireplace. Across the room there was a game of some sort
going on with much laughter and friendly back-slapping between a hefty green-skinned fellow and a tiny rabbit-featured young
man. A gaggle of scantily clad girls giggled as they watched. In a corner by
the bar a voluptuous purple-haired girl was whispering to a dark-cloaked fellow
in a floppy hat. A huge woman with tiny tusks was wiping the bar and setting
out clean glasses. Settling into her chair the traveler pulled a battered book from her bag and began
to read.
When the barman brought her a tray with a bowl of stew and a goblet of wine, she thanked him without looking up. After a minute she realized he was
still there, looking at her. She did a mental check of herself. Her pale shortly
cropped hair was a bit mussed from the wind. Her black pants and tunic a bit
damp, but not so much as to cling to her figure. “Was the coin not enough?” she asked him.
“Oh no, Miss,” he smiled. “It was quite sufficient. But I
was wondering. You are human, yes? What brings you to this place. We do not get
many humans here. And it can be dangerous to be . . . unescorted.”
She paused before replying. “I am,” she paused looking around
again, “. . . human. I am just a traveler. Is this town so very dangerous?
Where exactly am I?”
He pulled up a chair across from her and began to speak in a
low conspiratorial whisper. “This is the village of Lost Maiden, Miss.”
She held out her hand, “Noir. My name is Noir. And you are?”
“Alphonse, Miss. This is my tavern. We do not get many
humans in these parts. Not since the Goblin King claimed the realm. This tavern is
neutral ground. All the races meet here in peace . . . mostly. I just wanted to
let you know that you need to be careful. There are some as don’t care much for
humans. Not since the wars ended.” As he spoke a side door blew open and a cold
wind filled the room. Noir looked up but saw nothing. The Tavern Keeper rose and hurriedly went to shut the door.
***
He slid into the tavern on a draft. A mist of black smoke. Took a seat in a
corner by the window where the shadows were deep. He saw the female sitting
alone, food before her, legs crossed and a book in her lap. She was sipping
slowly at a goblet that steamed and smelled of cinnamon. By elf or even human
standards, she was not pretty. Her features were symmetrical, but ordinary. Button
nose. Big grey eyes. Pale, nearly white, hair--cropped short and messy as if
someone had cut it in a hurry. She had draped her damp coat over a chair. Beneath
it she wore a black linen vest with multiple pockets, tight black leather pants
tucked into boots. He stared. Those boots. Red leather, with intricate tooling in multiple
colors. Slightly turned up toes. Where had he seen boots like that before?
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