Wicked Game

Thirteen

"We were strange in love, her and I. Too wild to last, too rare to die."

~

The heavens cried.

Closing her eyes, she raised her head to the sky. The first drops of rain kissed her skin, tracing gentle paths down her face before they fell, quenching the thirst of the starving soil. A pleasant aroma rose from the earth, and the leaves rustled as the water cleansed their surface, enriching their pale hue till they shone a vivid green.

The skies, bashful at first, slowly grew confident, and millions of raindrops cascaded down from the pearly clouds. They sang as they hit the rooftops, their sweet symphony eclipsed by the cries of children as they ran, unruly as the wind on stormy seas, splashing into puddles on the narrow, grimy streets bound by houses on either side, unprepossessing brick structures.

She felt Daniel step closer beside her. "Welcome to the world of Men."

Athena rolled her eyes as she turned to face him. "It's ghastly."

They walked on, sending specks of mud flying with each step they took down those suffocating streets. The dirt clung to the edges of their cloaks, as drops of rain clung to their hair. Men and women hurried past them, conversing in hushed tones, their clothes dripping and hearts yearning to reach the warmth of their hearths. A cold breeze sprang up, sending a shiver down her spine, and she exhaled softly, lowering her gaze to the road.

"Hey," his curt voice made her raise her head, and she turned to him. His dark hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, and the slight sheen on his pale skin made the green of his eyes glitter. "Mind your surroundings."

"You worry too much," she sighed, shaking her head slightly.

"Do I?" His lips thinned, and she could make out that familiar look of disapproval. "You see, and yet you do not observe. Look around, Athena."

She glanced away from him to the side of the road.

A pair of eyes stared back at her.

The boy stood barefoot in the mud, the dirt painting his toes a rich mahogany. He seemed of a tender age, just shy of eight. Wet rags clung to his skin, and his small frame trembled in the cold as his tiny fingers clutched onto the stone walls. Yet, as she met his eyes, they widened with curiosity, lighting up for a brief moment before he turned around and took off, the soil squelching underneath his feet.

She raised a brow in surprise, and looked back at Daniel. He reached out, grabbing the hood of her cloak and pulling it over her head.

"Elves outside Arlana always draw attention," he said, as he started walking again. She followed him, and he pointed at an establishment near the corner of the street. "That is the inn. Keep your head down, and don't provoke anyone."

They reached the rundown structure. The color peeled off of its walls, exposing the plain brick underneath. For a passer by, the inn radiated the same aura of neglect as the rest of the derelict town, but muffled sounds of conversation came from its interior, and the clinking of cutlery was as audible as the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor.

Daniel glanced back at her, before pushing the door open.

They stepped into the well lit space, the warmth providing a welcome reprieve from the incessant rain. Shouts of laughter rose all around her as men sat, ate, drank and made merry. She halted, closing her eyes for a moment, and as the aroma of cooking food hit her senses, she allowed her shoulders to relax.

The conversation lulled.

Her eyes flew open. Raising her head, ran her gaze over the men seated across the tavern. Some stared openly, some hesitantly, some appeared curious, others hostile, but there was no denying the sheer number of eyes on her. Her heart sped up, and her fingers flew to her scabbard, but Daniel grabbed her arm swiftly, his fingers curling around the skin of her wrist.

"Don't," he said. "They don't mean any harm. Atleast, not for the time being."

Her grip on her sword loosened, and she turned to meet his eyes. He nodded once, reassuringly, and she let go, her arm falling to her side.

"Forgive their impudence," came a voice from behind them. "Your kind stand out here like a fish out of water."

Athena turned around.

A man stood before her, leaning against the door of the inn. His hands were folded against his chest, long, dark hair falling to his shoulder. With his grey eyes, set deeply in their sockets, he regarded her before tilting his head gently.

"Welcome, elves of Arlana," he spoke up again. His voice was soft, almost mellifluous.

Beside her, Daniel nodded in acknowledgment. "Zivlav."

The man's gaze shifted onto him. "Daniel," his lips curled into a smile, eyes lighting up in recognition. "It hasn't even been half a year, and we meet again. What makes me curious is the kind of madness that drove you to travel this road twice."

"The kind that doesn't concern you," spoke Athena. "Mind your affairs and we'll mind our own."

Zivlav turned to her. Her blue eyes met his grey ones, and to her surprise, he looked amused. "I see," he replied, smiling playfully. "So, how may I be of service, elves of Arlana?"

"We seek shelter, Zivlav," said Daniel. "A place to rest undisturbed through the night."

"That you shall get," he hummed softly. "Follow me."

He turned around, and led them through the inn. As she walked, Athena could feel dozens of eyes on her, and she shivered softly, hands itching to grab her sword.

"Don't mind them," he called out from in front of her. "If anything, they're afraid of you. Since your kind disappeared inside the gates twenty years ago, elves outside Arlana have become a rare sighting."

They reached a flight of stairs and started climbing, the wooden floorboards creaking under Zivlav's feet. As they reached the landing, Athena could make out a long, dimly lit hallway. They stopped in front of a wooden door, and turning the knob, he stood back, gesturing for her to enter.

"Rest, elves of Arlana," he said. "Your food and supplies will be ready by the crack of dawn."

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