They’re all staring at me,” Dreketh muttered to her companion out the side of her mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Laera replied, her mood intentionally cheerful. “I’m the one with the good looks, after all.”

The wood elf proceeded to wave a merry hand at a passing human who blinked and looked behind himself confusedly. Finding nobody, he raised his hand to wave back long after the two elves had already moved on.

“Will you stop calling attention to us?” the shadow knight growled under her breath. “All we need is some dark elf hater to catch us alone in an isolated part of town, and we’re history. Judging by the looks I’m getting, that includes just about everyone.”

“Relax,” Laera waved a dismissive hand at Dreketh, tossing back a handful of shelled peanuts she’d purchased at a trading post called Sneed Galliway’s. “You paid your dues to gain admittance to the city. We must have handed that guard at least four dozen gnoll scalps, for goodness’ sake. If that doesn’t endear you to the populace, nothing will.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” the dark elf said moodily. “And what’s with you? Why are you so happy?”

The wood elf shrugged.

“I’m not, really. I just get a kick out of these humans. It’s so funny how they react to simple, random acts of kindness. In Kelethin, people don’t even blink at a stranger who waves and smiles. We just wave and smile back. Out here, it’s like you have to be some long, lost relative in order for such a thing to make sense.”

Laera waved prettily to another passing human who scowled at her and Dreketh in return. Forcing a chuckle, the druid shook her head with a deliberate grin and popped more peanuts into her mouth.

“Something dire is definitely happening in this city,” the dark elf said. “This is not a kinship like Neriak. I smell the scent of discontent in these streets.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t exactly want to live here, myself.”

The city of Qeynos bustled with activity all though its many winding streets. Everything from street vendors to entertainers could be found milling about, offering wares or a song for money. The two elves made their way among throngs of people going this way and that, all intent on getting to wherever they were going in as little time as possible.

Though certainly a far cry better than Freeport, it still remained a human city. Outside the gates, the orchards were riddled with the customary vermin that constantly challenged the city guard. Inside the gates, the stench of so many people all bundled together living in one place assaulted the wood elf’s senses.

Nonetheless, Laera insisted that there must be a certain spirit to the place beneath all the surface tension. Intangible, perhaps, but there. It had to be. All it needed was a small nudge and everyone else would see it, too. It’s just that they had grown unused to a common, everyday show of friendliness, is all. Laera was determined to remind these humans just how far a cheerful smile could go in making their day better.

At least, that was her intent. The deeper they went in the city streets, the more pronounced this “scent of discontent” Dreketh spoke of became. One individual even spat a series of obscenities her way for her efforts at kindness, muttering something about foreigners taking up all their local resources. A few yards and several handfuls of peanuts later, she couldn’t help but lose spirit in her self-stylized quest for attitude liberation.

Dreketh took everything in, thoroughly unimpressed as she and her wood elf companion made their way south to the docks. Glancing around at the myriad of human-made shops and homes, she imagined that if Qeynos were surrounded on all sides by cavernous rock, it probably wouldn’t look too different from Neriak. The only difference being that in Neriak it was the dark elves who cast glowering looks at the humans, and not vice-versa.

It seemed to Dreketh as if everyone were casting her glowering—if not outright hostile—looks these days. While she certainly hadn’t expected the people of the west to welcome her kind with open arms, she had expected them to leave her alone at the very least. The sheer hostility of the Karana residents had taken her completely aback. What had the Teir’Dal race done to them, after all? To the best of her knowledge, there had never been open hostilities between Neriak and any of the lands under the protection of Antonius Bayle.

She knew her people weren’t generally liked in the vast majority of Norrath, and she accepted that, but she had never experienced the antipathy first hand. After all, these weren’t high elves or wood elves—these were humans. She had figured on the human lands of the west tolerating her.

Dreketh came to realize that she couldn’t have been more wrong, as the cobbled stone ground gave way to wooden planks beneath her feet, and the two companions stepped inside a large white building that touted a sign reading “Qeynos Port Authority.”

The building’s interior was decorated in all manner of seafaring equipment. Everything from lifeboat oars to tiller wheels graced every square foot of the surrounding walls. Sniffing lightly at the air, the dark elf tried to identify a peculiar scent she later learned was the smell of cedar wood. All in all, the place exuded a style of seafaring, thematic comfort.

Behind a counter along the far wall sat a female human, busily occupied with writing on a sheaf of parchment with a quill pen. At hearing someone approach, the woman looked up to smile broadly at the wood elf standing across from her. Upon seeing her blue-skinned companion, however, any hint of politeness evaporated like water in the Desert of Ro. The cordial words of welcome poised on her lips were quickly swallowed, replaced by a half-hearted salutation as she lowered her head and continued writing.

“Yes, what do you need.”

Laera looked at Dreketh next to her uncertainly. The dark elf rolled her eyes to stare at a fishing pole hanging on a wall nearby. Sighing a persecuted sigh, the druid shrugged her shoulders angrily.

“We, um,” the wood elf began, her manner pleasant, albeit forcibly. “We would like to know when the boat to Odus is scheduled to arrive, please.”

“No idea,” the woman replied, not once glancing up from her work.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Laera said, her pasted smile never wavering. “I thought this was the port authority.”

“It is,” came the woman’s curt response. “The ship arrives when it arrives. Storms and other unforeseen delays make it impossible to tell when they will be docking for sure.”

“Ah, well that’s fine. When does it normally pull in, then? A best guess will do.”

The woman dropped her quill agitatedly to look up, her eyes revealing a taxed patience on her part. Leaning forward on her elbows, she laced her fingers together as would a professor addressing a bothersome student.

“What part of ‘no idea’ do you not understand, little girl? The ship docks when it docks, no sooner and no later. Personally, I prefer sooner. That way, the sooner it leaves with the riff raff. Now shove off and take your inkie friend with you.”

Laera cast her companion another look. Dreketh’s scowl hadn’t wavered an inch, the pristine blue complexion of her face turning mildly violet as she became flushed.

The wood elf’s once good-natured tone turned testy as she returned her attention to the woman across the counter.

“Could you let me know when the boat last departed for Odus? Or is there no sure way of telling me that either?”

The woman’s expression turned dangerous, but the indignant wood elf would not be staid from venting her pent up frustration at these grousing, cranky humans of Qeynos.

“No, no! Let me guess,” Laera said, sarcasm practically dripping from her tongue as she imitated the woman’s voice. “The ship left when it left, no sooner and no later. Storms and other delays make it impossible to-”

“Leave here immediately, or I will call the guards,” the woman threatened.

“Come on, let’s just go,” Dreketh said sullenly, taking the perturbed Laera by the arm to lead her outside.

But the wood elf stood her ground.

“Let me ask you something,” she said, draping her forearm across the counter conversationally. “What exactly do they pay you people for? I’ve never once gotten an ounce of useful information from a port authority on this continent or any other.”

“Leave it alone,” the dark elf said warningly. She tugged on Laera’s arm, forcing the wood elf’s elbow off the counter.

“It’s like ship schedules are some sort of huge secret or something.” The druid’s vehemence grew with each passing sentence. As Dreketh pulled her toward the door, her volume increased as well. “But you know what? I’ve never met anyone as paranoid and outright rude as the swine that live in this town! Put that in your precious ledger, you embittered old crone!”

The last impassioned statement was accompanied by the door swinging closed, kicked into place by the burdened shadow knight as she practically lifted Laera off the ground and carried her through the exit.

Once outside, the wood elf broke free of her companion’s grasp, angrily jerking her arms from the dark elf’s touch.

“And you have the nerve to call me explosive?” Dreketh hollered at the furious druid. “What are you trying to do, get us kicked out of town?”

Placing her heels of her hands to cover her eyes, the emotional wood elf gritted her teeth together, attempting to bridle her anger. Weaving backwards a couple of steps, she bumped up against the painted white wood of the building. With a frustrated groan, Laera bent her knees, allowing herself to slide down the wall until she rested on the ground.

“What is the matter with these people?” she lamented, slapping an angry hand down on the wooden floor, emphasizing her words. “Are they determined to be surly, ill-tempered cranks without getting any joy out of life?”

The dark elf sniffed derisively, folding her arms as she stared down at the rambling druid.

Laera glanced up at her companion dismally.

“Look who I’m talking to. You probably feel right at home.”

Dreketh made a rude sound.

“Home?” she echoed. “If you were a human and came into Neriak all bubbly and cheery like that, you’d be getting a much colder reception.”

“That I’ll believe,” Laera said, raising an eyebrow up at her companion. “At least in Neriak I knew what to expect.”

Ridding a bead of sweat from her forehead with an irritated swipe of her palm, the wood elf stopped to consider her words with a long, drawn-out sigh before speaking again.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve studied human culture. I know the attitude is far more stand-offish than what I’m used to in Kelethin. I know there’s a certain protocol you have to use in order to blend in. I was worried how I’d be accepted, so I went out of my way to be kind and cheerful to everyone I came across. I hoped it would make things smoother.”

Staring down at her companion, Dreketh’s eyes narrowed as she took in the wood elf’s explanation. This notion was alien to the dark elf on so many levels, but she grudgingly accepted it as the truth.

“Is that what you were doing,” she muttered, leaning down to sit across from her companion. “What made you think Qeynos was any different than Freeport?”

“In Freeport I was so nervous that I avoided everyone,” the wood elf replied sullenly. “I was alone and fresh off the fishing boat. Later, after we left, I thought maybe if I’d made more of an effort to be nice, people would have treated me differently. So that’s what I did here.” Laera waved a hand at her surroundings. “But all I’ve gotten in return from these uncultured beasts is nothing but dirty glares and, and… I don’t know. I did the only thing I could think of. I guess it was the wrong thing.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the dark elf closed her eyes and nodded in a fashion Laera found patronizing and condescending.

“I suppose your tactic worked any better?” she continued. “Glaring and sneering at people? How many friends have you made so far?”

“Exactly zero,” Dreketh admitted with a shrug. “The difference is that those who sought to do me harm now respect me, at least. They no longer see me as an easy target. A show of strength will always engender respect. Once that’s established, then friendship is negotiable.” The dark elf gestured at Laera. “Kindness is for the weak. It leaves you vulnerable.”

The wood elf continued staring at her companion, aghast at the words she was hearing.

“You really believe that? How depressingly cynical, even of you.”

“I don’t make up the rules. That’s just how it is,” the shadow knight held up her palms helplessly. “You saw it yourself in the way people look at you here. I’ll willingly take some of the fault for the color of my skin, but I guarantee you got twice the dirty looks I did.”

“Oh, please,” Laera groaned as she leaned forward to wrap her arms around her legs. Closing her eyes, she buried her face into her knees, completely dismissing her companion’s statement.

“Humor me, woodie,” Dreketh pursued. “As a druid, you see yourself as a protector—a champion of nature. Am I right? The natural world is a perfect example of what I’m talking about. You befriend nature’s creatures like wolves and bears and such. Yet what happens when these predators and others like them encounter each other in their primeval habitat?”

The wood elf sighed, knowing where this was heading. Rather than respond, she left Dreketh to answer her own question.

“More often than not, they end up tearing each other limb from limb. Nature teaches us, better than anything else, how a show of strength is pivotal to survival in this world, and that’s not arguable. It’s how nature’s creatures survive. As people, we’re no different.”

“Some of us, anyway,” Laera muttered sourly. “I suppose it gratifies you to see all this, being a worshipper of hate and all.”

“Let’s just say it doesn’t surprise me,” the dark elf responded. She pointed a finger at her companion. “And for the record, the Teir’Dal don’t worship hate. We worship Innoruuk. Hate is a means to an end. It’s a tool the strong use to gain an advantage in life to achieve their goals.”

“Whatever,” Laera whispered, giving up. She’d grown dreadfully tired of that whole debate over the past several weeks of traveling with the shadow knight.

Sighing, Dreketh ran her fingers through her white hair.

The two sat in silence together, feeling the sea breeze waft over them from across the empty waters lapping to shore below. The radically differing elves rested together on the dock, each lost in her own thoughts as they peacefully found solace in the same wind.

“I need a drink,” the dark elf declared at last.

All hushed conversation in the tavern came to an abrupt halt as the scattered patrons caught sight of the dark elf rounding the corner that led from the entryway. In her accustomed fashion, Dreketh eyed the occupants of the poorly lit common room, sizing up each of them, as she knew she was herself being sized up. Several figures caught her attention as potential trouble, but nothing she figured she couldn’t handle, or at least make a swift escape from.

Laera crept up from behind to mutter in the dark elf’s ear.

“Crow’s Pub and Casino? You’re kidding, right?”

“What’s the matter now?” Dreketh replied, nonchalant as she stepped into the room.

“Are you sure there’s no place closer to the docks?”

“Do I look like I was born here?” The shadow knight walked toward the bar as she spoke. “I have no idea, and I’m too thirsty right now to care. I saw this place on the way in, we're here, let’s drink.”

“I’ve seen cleaner prisons,” the wood elf muttered below her breath as she followed. “They actually serve food in this place?”

“Only one way to find out.” Dreketh arrived at the bar, meeting eyes with a grizzled, wary-looking human with a beard of iron gray. She kept her features composed and collected as she nodded in greeting. “Got anything for two tired travelers?”

The man with the beard wiped clean a glass as he curiously inspected the two very contrasting elf women across the bar.

“Depends on the color o’ yer money,” he said in a guttural tone.

Sighing deeply through her nose, Dreketh reached into a small pouch resting at her belt. Pulling out one gold coin, she lightly tapped it on the bar top with her deft, blue fingers.

The bartender chewed on something as he eyed the shiny disc.

“You looking to be eating or drinking?”

“Drink,” the dark elf replied evenhandedly.

“That there won’t be buying none o’ that fancy elf stuff you’re used to,” the man hedged, placing the newly clean glass away below bar.

“An aged ale will be fine,” Dreketh said as she lifted a knee to slide onto a barstool.

Laera glanced around, obviously wishing she were anyplace else.

The man grunted and nodded as she reached up to slide the gold coin off the back of the counter into his other hand. Reaching up, he replaced it with two bottles and two glasses.

The dark elf arched a delicate eyebrow, silently asking if that was all she got for one gold. At seeing the bartender toss his towel over his shoulder and fold his arms, she flipped her hair casually and decided to cut their losses. She reached out to take the bottle, but instead of pouring it into the glass, she brought it straight to her lips to take a long, deep pull.

With a satisfied gasp, Dreketh set the bottle down.

“You make a fine bottle, barkeep.”

The man’s stony look narrowed.

“High praise from an inkie. Don’t be staying too long, a’ight? I don’t want no trouble.”

“Who, me?” The dark elf flashed her most winning smile.

Wiping his hands on the towel at his shoulder, the man made an ineffectual grunt and turned to disappear into the back room.

“Sit,” Dreketh said as she poured the ale from her bottle into one of the glasses.

“I’ve never drank ale before,” Laera said, obediently sitting next to the dark elf. “Is it really any good?”

“It’s swill,” Dreketh remarked, swallowing a gulp. “But it’s better than sewer water for what ails you.”

Shrugging noncommittally, the wood elf tilted the other bottle back to sample its contents. Wincing her eyes shut at the obnoxious taste assaulting her mouth, she forced herself to swallow lest she choke, coughing roughly.

“Gods, this is nasty!” she said between gasps.

“Isn’t it, though?” Dreketh chuckled, tossing back another gulp with a crooked grin.

The wood elf slid the second bottle toward her companion, eyeing the thing as though it were Innoruuk’s own.

“Take it, then,” she said, her voice rasping. “You three will be very happy together, I’m sure.”

“Just drink it,” the dark elf replied, sliding the bottle back. “We can’t be choosy about our allies in this place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laera slid the bottle back again.

Dreketh grasped the bottle by its neck and pushed it toward the wood elf more forcefully.

“It means not wasting a gold to insult the barkeep by having you turn your nose up at his brew.”

“Then you drink it.” The bottle returned.

“I’m not tossing back four quarts just because you’re a picky drinker.” Dreketh picked up the bottle and placed it firmly before the druid.

“I don’t recall saying I wanted anything to drink.” Laera folded her arms, sitting erect on her stool.

“I don’t recall asking,” the dark elf said caustically, taking another pull.

Laera grasped the bottle to slide it back again.

“Just who do you-”

A large hand emerged seemingly from nowhere and grasped the bottle mid-slide, completely enveloping the wood elf’s small hand. Following the muscular, hairy arm with her eyes, Laera looked over her shoulder to find a large human male had approached from behind.

“The lady’s sayin’ she's not wantin’ ale,” his baritone voice said. “I’m suggestin’ you back off now and leave her to be makin’ her own order.”

Dreketh’s cool, azure gaze slid to the corners of her eyes, looking at this newcomer with a furtive glance as she drank. Like most humans, the man stood two good hand widths taller than any Teir’Dal. A mass of dishwater blond hair, cropped short, refined his chiseled features. The arm that reached out to grasp hold of the bottle rippled with a generous assortment of firm, lean muscles. Lean for a human, that is. Few elves, even with the most rigorous exercise, could develop a bulk even approaching this man’s level.

The human’s attire was well-to-do without being affluent. His tunic appeared to be white cotton, covered by an open, dark satin vest that was complemented by mildly careworn rawhide trousers.

Blinking her eyes languidly, Dreketh placed her glass on the counter once again to pour herself some more ale.

“And you are…?”

“I’m the one tellin’ you to back off,” the man said. “That’s all you need to be knowin’, inkie. I don’t much care for the like o’ your kind, so adjust the attitude or I’m gonna be the one makin’ the adjustment for you.”

Loosening his grip on the bottle, the man’s solid hand twisted lithely to take Laera’s with a surprisingly gentle touch. An affable grin spread across his face as he turned to address the meek wood elf.

“How would you be likin’ to order anythin’ you want?” he asked cordially. “Food, drink, you name it. If you’ll be joinin’ me, it’ll be my treat.”

“Thank you,” the wood elf spoke with blithe elegance. “I believe I will.”

Laera cast her dark elf companion a disdainful look as she lowered her foot to gracefully step off the barstool. With accustomed ease, the druid allowed herself to be led to the man’s table by his firm hand. With a refined bearing, the wood elf seated herself, followed by the human.

Resting on the table was a flagon of some unknown concoction that he’d been drinking, along with a small traveling pack and a wooden staff leaning against the table edge.

“So, what’s your name bein’?” the man asked, leaning close.

“Laera Nellynwae,” the wood elf said with a smile.

The man closed his eyes with a winsome smile, though the expression smacked to Laera as being a bit exaggerated.

“Mmm, those elf names are musical,” he said. “I’m just plain old ‘Jaden Garrick.’”

“A pleasure to meet you, Jaden,” Laera said with an affable nod.

“I assure you, the pleasure’s bein’ all mine to come to the rescue of such a lovely lady. Those Teir’Dal have no sense of socialities. Not even the women!”

The wood elf grinned and looked down self-consciously at the man’s compliment.

Raising a hand to hail the barmaid, Jaden let out a loud whistle that rang jarringly throughout the muted room. A waitress stepped up to the table with a tolerant look, and politely asked what she could do for him. Without comment, the man gestured an open hand for Laera to speak.

“Oh, you-you’ve been so kind already,” she said timidly. “I’d hate to impose myself.”

“Nonsense,” Jaden replied gruffly. “We humans have a saying. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die!”

Casting the man a slightly confused look, Laera gently made an order of a glass of elven wine and vegetable stew.

“So, how is it a wood elf has come to be travellin’ with one o’ them?” Jaden asked casually once the waitress left to fill the order.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Laera rolled her eyes.

The human’s brow furrowed suddenly as he leaned in to speak confidentially.

“Yer not one o’ them slaves they’re keepin’, are you?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Laera placed a placating hand on Jaden’s arm. Thinking the matter over, she chuckled lightly to herself. “Well, not as such. I guess you could say we’re both prisoners of each other, but that’s a long and boring tale. How about you? What’s your story?”

Dreketh glanced over her shoulder, keeping an eye on human and elf alike as they carried on their private conversation across the candlelit room. From her vantage point, all she could make out were the fidgety motions of small talk taking place between the two of them. Occasionally, the human would make a flirtatious brush against Laera’s arm or shoulder, but nothing that seemed overtly threatening to the dark elf. Taking a brief circuit of the other tavern patrons, she was satisfied to find nobody else taking an undue interest in the coquetry at the table.

Soon the barmaid returned to deliver Laera’s order, making the dark elf’s stomach growl for something other than the bland-tasting rations she’d been forced to eat for the past several days. Feeling the lightness of the money purse at her belt, Dreketh somberly took both bottles and her glass to a table off in the corner where she would be left in peace.

Laera looked up from her steaming bowl to see the bronze-clad dark elf step to the corner table, her silhouette black against the flaming lamp on the wall. A pang of guilt tugged at the druid’s conscience for being treated to an actual meal, while her companion went without. Then she reminded herself that this was Dreketh’s own doing. Perhaps now she would see the fatal flaw in her brash approach to dealing with others.

With a small shrug, the wood elf enjoyed her stew with complacency, all the while knowing the dark elf’s eyes watched her from the shadows. After all, if Dreketh wanted to drown herself in that foul-tasting drink, then so be it. Four weeks’ travel with a Teir’Dal was enough to make a kobold lose its fur, and Laera figured it was about time she did things her own way for a change.

“So, is it true what they’re sayin’ about wood elves?” Jaden’s question brought Laera out of her musings.

“I’m sorry?” the wood elf asked, cocking her head to one side.

“Are the females as… ‘limber’ as rumors are havin’ it?” The human leered.

Laera’s face froze uncertainly.

“I’m… not sure what you mean.”

“Come on,” Jaden drawled teasingly. “You must have heard this. Everyone has.”

“Y-yes, well,” Laera swallowed uncomfortably. “Not all wood elves are the same.”

“Ah, I see. I see.” The human lowered his voice and spoke with a wink. “So, which kind are you bein’?”

“Well, I um. Heh…” Blushing, the flustered druid was at a loss for words.

“I’ll bet you’ve got a trail o’ men stretchin’ from here all the way back to Faydwer, all sittin’ up and beggin’ like poor hounds to a fresh cut o’ steak, am I right? Probably a few broken hearts, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

Running her fingertips over her pointed ear to sweep back a deviant strand of hair, the wood elf tilted her head with a creased brow.

“Not… quite as many as you’d probably think,” she said haltingly, her smile apprehensive.

“Modesty in a wood elf. Will wonders never cease?” Jaden grabbed hold of his flagon, raising it off the table as he spoke in his undertone. “And pretty damned sexy, if you ask me.”

While the human tossed back a quaff of his drink, Laera cast an uncertain glance across the room to the corner where Dreketh sat. The dark elf leaned back in her chair, her feet propped casually on the tabletop, apparently absorbed in her own thoughts as she nursed her drink.

“You heard the one about the naked wood elf and the ogre with a wheelbarrow, haven’t you?” Jaden asked, setting his drink back in place with a heavy hand.

“No, I… I mean yes! Yes, I have,” Laera made a false attempt at laughing as she brought her goblet to her lips. “That’s a… a really good one. Mmm hmm.”

The disconcerted wood elf took a long, bracing drink—mostly to avoid having to comment on what was obviously some crude joke she’d never heard before in her life. Nor did she care to hear it now.

“Some uncultured buboes ‘round these parts are sayin’ that it’s bein’ a true story, can ye believe that?”

Laera swallowed anxiously.

“No, I-”

“Which is ridiculous, ain’t it?” Jaden continued unabated. “I mean, how would she keep her feet from falling asleep lyin’ on her back in that position for an hour?”

“Jaden…” Laera had had about enough.

The human raised a forestalling hand.

“I know, I know. I’ve heard that wood elf females are agile, but if ye ask me, I don’t think any amount o’ stretching could spread her legs-”

“I’m sorry, but I have a boat to catch.” The wood elf dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin, pushing aside the half-empty bowl before her. “I really need to be going now. Thank you kindly for the meal.”

“What?” Jaden seemed genuinely surprised. “You haven’t even finished eatin’ your stew.”

“Oh, it filled me up fast,” Laera lied as she placed a hand over her stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite, no matter how delicious.”

The druid made to stand and take her leave, halted short by the human’s hand covering hers, pressing it against the tabletop.

“I’m not understandin’,” he said, perplexed. “I thought all you wood elves knew the score.”

“Excuse me?” Laera’s eyes narrowed, trying desperately to override her instinct to jerk her hand out from under his.

“It ain’t polite to eat and run.” The amiable look in Jaden’s eyes faded to a baleful leer. “Now, I been showin’ you my common courtesy in payin’ fer lunch and teachin’ you about human ways.” His strong hand grasped hold of Laera’s, turning it palm-up to caress it with his other hand. Rough fingertips brushed against her skin as they traced a small path down to her wrist. “The least ye could do is show me yer gratitude by teachin’ me about some o’ them wood elf ways we hear so much about.”

The human’s once conciliatory touch suddenly sent an icy chill up Laera’s spine, making her skin crawl. It was a sensation the young druid never felt before. While she held an aversion to Dreketh’s touch due to her alien nature, the feel of Jaden’s calloused hand as it crept its way along the underside of her forearm filled her with abhorrent loathing.

Laera felt herself flush hotly. She had previously thought her unique—some would term “bizarre”—modesty among wood elves was an adoption of human custom. Apparently she still had a lot to learn about humans after all.

“I told you already,” she said, pulling her arm away from the man’s groping hands. “Not all wood elves are the same.”

“Aren’t all wood elves understandin’ proper etiquette?” Jaden asked tersely. “You don’t want fair-minded folk to start thinkin’ your kind are impolite by ignorin’ the quid-pro-quo, do you now?”

Somehow the human had unobtrusively reached his hand under the table to place it on Laera’s thigh. Feeling her abdomen quiver violently at the unexpected touch, the wood elf involuntarily jerked back, upsetting the table and spilling the contents of her wineglass. The man’s wooden staff fell to the floor with a clang, immediately catching the full attention of neighboring patrons.

Trembling uncontrollably, Laera reached out with one hand to set the glass back on its base, while her other hand quickly dabbed at the spilled wine before it reached its way to the edge of the table. Her efforts were in vain, however, as the napkin’s pressure inadvertently pushed the crimson liquid even farther along, causing it to pour onto the man’s white shirt and satin vest.

Jaden’s hand was instantly removed from Laera’s leg. At the sight of the red stain spreading across his clothes, the human swore an ill-mannered oath as he grabbed his own napkin and swiped futilely at the offending wine. Having no success, he rose to a half-crouch, the back of his knees causing his chair to scrape along the floor noisily behind him.

Laera stood as well, attempting to help the distraught human. Instead, her wrist was caught solidly in his firm grasp. Looking up, her eyes met his enraged glare.

“Clumsy little whore!” he spat loudly. “You think you can be teasin’ your way to a free meal and just up and leave? Why, I should take ye out back and-”

The man’s words were cut short at the touch of cold, sharp steel pressing against his neck.

“You were saying?” Dreketh’s menacing voice met the human’s ears, the sound of it even colder than the feel of her blade.

Freezing in place, Jaden glanced from the doting wood elf to look down the dark elf’s long, gleaming weapon to focus on Dreketh’s menacing face at the other end. One small flick of the shadow knight’s wrist, and Jaden would be in urgent need of a healer before he bled to death. Fully realizing this, he released his tight hold on the wood elf’s wrist.

“What’s the ruckus out here!” the bartender bellowed as he stepped out from the back room.

Amidst the distraction, Jaden tossed his head back, freeing his neck from the blade’s edge. In one swift motion, he brought his arm up to parry the sword, and kicked at the dark elf’s torso, sending her reeling back into a neighboring table.

Turning quickly, the human reached for his fallen staff on the floor, only to find nothing but empty wooden planks. Casting about in search of his weapon, Jaden brought his gaze up to catch a glimpse of something fast and hard as it connected with his face.

He’d unwittingly discovered what became of his missing staff.

Intense flashes of light clouded his vision. His head whipped to one side, overextending his neck painfully. Falling to his knees, the stunned man tried his best to keep from collapsing by grabbing hold of a nearby chair. Wobbling precariously on his knees, the defenseless human was in no position to avoid the floor, however, as Laera brought down the staff on his lower back, plunging its steel tip to impact against his left kidney.

The man crumpled in a useless heap, his strangled cry ringing loudly through the common room. Crouched over in pain, Jaden fought to breathe—enduring as best he could against the shooting pain in his flank.

The pain intensified tenfold as two bronze hands grasped hold of his vest and yanked him from the floor. The world weaved violently around him as he was forced against the top of his table, scattering its contents all about. Incapacitated, he felt the cold touch of the shadow knight’s metal palm as she grasped tightly at his windpipe.

“You think you can just claim a soft, unassuming girl for your own pleasure?” Dreketh growled softly into his ear. “Just because you paid for a petty glass of cheap wine and rancid stew, you think that entitles you to her ownership? You think you deserve something in return?”

The human grasped at the shadow knight’s strangling hand. Her grip tightened in response.

“Do you!” the dark elf suddenly shouted in the man’s face, causing him to grimace even more. “We may be small. We may be soft. We may seem like smaller, toy versions of your females, tailor-made for your pleasure, but elves are not yours to play with!! You got that!”

The struggling human pulled weakly at the shadow knight’s gauntlet, which only goaded her into tightening her grip even more.

Standing off to one side, still holding Jaden’s staff in her hands, Laera watched as the human’s eyes cracked open a slit to look at the enraged Teir’Dal pinning him to the table. His eyes glimmered brightly in the candle light as they suddenly opened wide in terror.

Curious at the man’s sudden reaction, Laera leaned to one side to see her companion’s expression. There she found the face of someone she didn’t recognize. Dreketh’s normally smooth, dour features shown like a person gone insane. Her teeth clenched together shown starkly against her dark, thin lips. Her nose curled in a twisted sneer of unchecked fury. Her eyes blazed, filled with hateful death aimed at the pathetic excuse for a man held in her clutches.

One small release of that horrible Touch of hers, and the human’s life would be no more. Realizing this, Laera placed a cautious hand on her companion’s shoulder. To her surprise, she found it shaking subtly beneath the bronze armor, as if the dark elf were using every ounce of her will to restrain herself.

“You need to let him go,” Laera said softly.

The Teir’Dal merely stood there, her posture unchanging.

“Dreketh,” the druid said more forcefully. “You have to let him go. Right now.”

“Give me just one good reason,” the dark elf said through clenched teeth. Every syllable set her jaw muscles taut as she spoke.

“I’ll give you one,” came a calm voice from across the room.

The two elf women looked up to see a particularly large human standing near the entrance. Laera recognized him as the man she saw as they walked through the entryway. Apparently he was the tavern’s bouncer.

“Someone’s already gone to get the city guards,” he said plainly, stepping forward into the common room. “But I saw clear what was happening here, and if you ask me, he’s rightly asked for what he’s got. So, I won’t be holding you here for the guards, ‘cause they’re sure not going to listen to the plea of any inkie. You best be going before they show up.”

At hearing the bouncer’s words, Dreketh returned her gaze to give Jaden one last threatening glare.

“You live this time, human,” she said.

Keeping her head close to his, she suddenly released her grip in one swift movement, causing the man to gasp frantically for air.

“And your breath stinks worse than you do,” she added.

Laera pulled urgently on her companion’s shoulder. Giving way to the wood elf’s promptings, Dreketh turned to pick up her sword and walk out of the tavern without further comment.

“Thank you,” the druid paused to say to the bouncer, who grunted once in return.

Stepping outside into the daylight, Laera shaded her eyes and raced a few hurried steps in order to catch up to the dark elf.

“You were going to kill that man!” she called accusingly.

“Where’d you learn to use a staff like that?” Dreketh shot back over her shoulder, as though the wood elf hadn’t even spoken.

Glancing down to her hand, Laera realized she still held Jaden’s staff.

“Oh no,” she groaned. Turning around, she made as if to run back and return it.

“Don’t bother,” the dark elf said, grabbing hold of her companion’s arm. “You go back now and there’ll be more trouble than you can handle, and I’ll be damned if I come to your rescue a second time in that place.”

“My rescue!” Laera fell back into step with the shadow knight. “Why does everyone think they have to come to my rescue? I’m the one who took him down, if you’ll recall! It wasn’t until you flashed your sword that things started turning ugly!”

“That’s gratitude for you,” Dreketh said, stalking around a corner. “With partners like you, who needs wood elves?”

“And what was with you!” Laera was determined not to be diverted by the shadow knight’s insults. “I’ve never seen you lose control like that! Not even in Kithicor!”

“I wasn’t out of control, and mind your own damn business.”

“You nearly got us both arrested, and you say it’s not my business? I have a mind to-”

The wood elf was interrupted by Dreketh’s silencing hand held up in front of her.

“Shh!” The dark elf stopped her swift pace to glance around, listening to the sound of angry voices in the distance. “The guards are coming. Let’s move!”

Reacting swiftly to a newfound threat, Laera broke into a dead run alongside her companion.

“Your admirer back there probably told the guards you have a boat to catch,” Dreketh said acerbically as they raced down the winding alleys. “Next time, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut about our plans. Or at least have the decency to lie!”

Laera decided not to argue the issue. This was no time for bickering. There was plenty of opportunity for that once they were safely aboard a ship sailing for Odus.

Rounding what appeared to be a large, two-story inn, the elves raced headlong down an alley to burst out into a courtyard filled wall-to-wall with droves of wandering people. In every direction, the masses were buying and selling amongst each other in the bustling marketplace.

“What the… when did this crop up?” Laera asked, staring aghast at what had been an empty courtyard not an hour earlier.

“Look, there!” Dreketh grabbed her arm again—much to the wood elf’s discomfort—pointing to a sail towering in the distance over the city walls.

“The ship must have just docked, unloading all these people,” Laera mused.

“Brilliant,” the dark elf said caustically. “Let’s get moving before-”

“Halt!”

Whirling about, the two found that they had been discovered by one of the city guards at the other end of the alleyway.

“Innoruuk’s bane!” Dreketh cursed, shoving the wood elf headlong into the crowd. Catching sight of the guard sprinting down the alley toward her, she dove in after her companion.

Having heard the guard’s yell, Laera knew they had no time to waste—they must get to that ship! Her innate wood elf agility allowed her to weave her way among the crowd with a skill rarely seen in this part of the world. Twisting around a corner, she used a tall barbarian as a shield against being seen by the guards. Fortunately, her small stature and tan skin allowed her to blend in among the throng.

She soon reached the wooden planks of the docking pier, but her blue-skinned companion was not so lucky. Upon hitting the dock, Laera glanced back into the marketplace to find Dreketh struggling to make her way through the masses of people. The dark elf’s only saving grace was that the guards seemed to be having the same amount of trouble.

“Dreketh!” the druid yelled.

The frustrated shadow knight shot Laera an angry look. Making little progress as she fought for every step, Dreketh waved a hand, signaling the wood elf to board the ship at once.

Laera felt powerless to do anything as she watched the guards close the narrowing gap between them and her companion. The armor-laden dark elf didn’t stand a chance to escape amid the throngs of people trying to get into the city. Glancing around helplessly, she caught sight of the sign atop the building next to her. Seeing the title read “Mermaid’s Lure,” an idea struck her.

“Attention!” she cried, cupping her mouth with her hands. “All new arrivals, your attention please! The Mermaid’s Lure would like to welcome all newcomers to Qeynos by offering free ale to everyone currently disembarking! That’s right! Free drinks to all new arrivals this afternoon only! Please form an orderly line-”

Her words were lost as the crowd reacted to the promise of free booze. Apparently ale was far more popular than Laera had given it credit for. She watched, amazed, as the individuals nearby suddenly switched directions. As word spread, more and more people turned out until the crowd literally began flowing away from the city and toward the wooden building near the docks. With satisfaction, the wood elf saw her companion being swept from the clutches of their pursuers and toward the docks where she stood.

Turning, the wood elf ran down the now empty pier leading to the boat, labeled prominently with the name Golden Maiden on the hull. As she approached, she noticed several men dressed in sailor garb releasing the mooring ropes as though they were preparing to leave.

“Wait!” she yelled, signaling to the men. “Wait! You can’t leave yet!”

In turn, the crewmen began waving their hands, encouraging the wood elf to hurry if she was going to make it in time.

“No! Stop!” the wood elf insisted as she jumped from the pier onto the deck of the ship. One of the crewmen steadied her as she landed. “You have to wait for my friend, she’s right over there!”

“Look, lady, we’re on a tight schedule, all right?” the crewman said, trying to calm her down. “The cap’n takes it out on our hides if we fall behind, so we’re leaving now with the passengers we got.”

“Can’t you wait just twenty seconds? She’s coming right now!”

“Sorry.” The crewman raised a hand to signal the tiller that the moorings were stowed. “The crow’s nest reports that the Seaking is about two or three hours behind us. Your friend can board her when she docks, and you can meet up a couple hours after you arrive. It’s the best we can do.”

The sailor turned to take his leave.

“But you don’t understand, she-” Laera began.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” the crewman said testily. “If it means that much to you, get off and wait with your friend. I gotta go, I got work to do.”

“If you’d just… Oooo, I can’t stand these people!” Laera turned to face the dock, aggravated. Placing both hands on the railing, she searched the mob of people outside the Mermaid’s Lure for the dark elf.

Emerging from the crowd came a glint of polished bronze as Dreketh elbowed her way roughly from the gathering. Once free, her legs pumped furiously as she raced down the wooden pier.

“Dreketh, hurry!” Laera called out desperately as she felt the ship moving beneath her feet. The odd sensation that the world all around her was in motion while she and the ship remained still swept over her with vertigo.

“Jump, Dreketh! Now!” the wood elf yelled in a panicked voice as she thrust out her hand toward the dark elf.

Without looking back, the shadow knight leaped from the pier’s edge, her gauntleted hand reaching for Laera’s. In midair, it became apparent her bound was too short to make it on deck. Laera extended her hand even farther, bringing her center of gravity dangerously close to the precipice.

Seconds turned into minutes as the dark elf made her intense flight over the waters. At long last, Dreketh’s hand met with Laera’s wrist, and vice-versa. Crouching down as low as she could without falling overboard, the wood elf gripped a fast hold of her companion’s gauntlet with both hands.

Yet still it was not enough. The combined weight of the shadow knight along with the burdensome bronze armor nearly toppled the druid as she pulled with all her might. Within moments it became clear that this was a losing battle, and Laera cried out desperately for help.

“Give me your other hand!” shouted a human next to her. She opened her eyes to find the same crewman at her side. The man was reaching his arm down over the railing at the struggling dark elf.

With their combined efforts, the two managed to assist Dreketh in clawing her way up the ship’s hull. Once over the edge, she lay panting face down on the deck, looking very much like a beached fish dressed in armor. Her two rescuers also sat, breathing heavily on the polished wood as the docks gradually fell away in the distance.

Squinting, Laera could barely make out the gleaming brass helms of the city guard as they stood on the docks, looking like a child’s collection of toy soldiers, and growing smaller by the second. Powerlessly they watched as the ship departed, carrying with it their would-be prisoners.

Gasping, the dark elf pushed wearily against the deck with the palms of her hands. With effort, she managed to pull herself up on all fours just as a shadow passed over, blocking the sun.

She looked up.

“Permission to come aboard?” she croaked, clearing her throat.

Laera turned curiously, wondering who the dark elf addressed. Standing on the lower deck was the captain of the Golden Maiden, glaring sternly with disapproving eyes down at the blue-skinned ruffian who caused such a ruckus as she boarded his ship.

Chapter 11 - Rituals and Skeletons