Neverdie, Ch. 3

A few hours passed before a small group of patrons approached Rowan’s table, having spotted a relatively empty table in the now-full common room. By this time, the elf-woman had gathered her thoughts and her energy enough to be sitting comfortably, taking in the sights and sounds of the busy bar.

“Do you mind if we sit?” the only woman in the small group asked politely, “we won’t be any trouble to you.”

“Certainly,” Rowan answered politely, taking in the small group. The woman who had spoken to her was accompanied by two other men, all three Rowan guessed, were in their mid-twenties. Judging by the way that the three were dressed, the woman was clearly a baker, with small amounts of flour still clinging to her clothing. She guessed that the two men were labourers of some kind, their muscular builds and tanned skin betrayed them.

Rowan said nothing as the three around her engaged themselves in idle conversation. From this, she learned that the woman’s name was Jana. So far as she was able to judge, the woman was most likely attached to one of the men, although her flirtatious tone made it difficult to tell which one.

“Salty!” One of the men finally yelled over to the bartender, “it’s too dark over here, bring over a lamp or somethin’.” Reluctantly, the bartender grabbed a lantern from behind the bar and began walking toward the table. “I’m surprised you didn’t say somethin’ sooner, miss.” He said to her. “Salty just don’t like to spend the money on oil. Sometimes you just gotta ask.”

As the bartender approached, carrying the light, Rowan’s stomach tied itself into knots. Something about this whole situation just didn’t seem right. Suddenly, vague warnings that she had received from her parents and even from Szark himself came flooding back to her. Humans in these lands could be very intolerant of outsiders, elves among them. The time that she had spent in Szark’s tower and around Mylund had buried her fears of such prejudices that were only now come back to her mind.

“Excuse me,” She said hurridly, but politely, standing and intending to leave the bar. Her thinking came too late, however. As she stood, Salty arrived with the lamp, bathing her once quiet and peaceful corner table in the flickering light of the flame. She could plainly see the look of surprise in Jana’s face as the light revealed the points of her ears which she had not remembered in time to take care to hide.

“By the Gods,” the young baker exclaimed, “you’re an elf.” Rowan didn’t answer. She focused all of her energy into edging slowly toward the door, hoping that she could slip out before anything else was said. Her hopes were dashed when she felt a strong hand grab her roughly by the arm. It was one of the Jana’s male companions, who had, only moments before been talking with his friends and even tried on a few occasions to draw the stranger into their conversation.

“Elf!” He yelled, sending a murmur through the crowd as all eyes turned toward their lonely corner.

“Keep hold of it!” Someone yelled. Rowan’s heart beat quickly in her chest. Although she wasn’t sure what fate would befall her, she knew better than to try to find out. Drawing a deep breath, she closed her brown eyes and turned her thoughts inward, seeking the magic that worked its way through her blood and soul. She was only vaguely aware that more hands had grabbed onto her. She could only passively hear the shouts and insults of the bar’s patrons as she was lifted from her feet. In that same moment, she managed to find the magic that she sought. It sang to her almost as though it were a living and breathing thing all of its own. There was a loud cracking noise as Rowan’s body was infused with an electrical charge. Suddenly jarred back to reality, she became suddenly aware as her feet once again touched the floor. The two men who had been holding onto her lay twitching on the floor, their hands charred and their hair sticking out at improbable angles. She was relieved to note that the two men were still drawing breath. The rest of the bar’s patrons were now giving her a wide berth, having seen the woman glow with a blue energy and the results for the poor fellows who had been carrying her. Slowly, Rowan made her way away from the table and toward the door, patrons parting for her as she moved.

“Ain’t nobody gonna do nothin’?” The bartender shouted, still holding onto the damning lantern, now dead from the scuffle. It was slow going, but Rowan had made it halfway to the door. “She’s an elf and a witch besides,” he continued, trying to goad his fellows into action.

Rowan tried her best to ignore him and make her way to safety, but the words hurt her. She couldn’t change who or what she was any more than he could stop being human. The idea of wanting to hurt another person for simply existing…

She turned her back on him, on all of them, and began striding for the door. Not a moment later, she felt something hard crash into the back of her head. She fell to the floor of the bar, dizzy. She could feel something wet sliding down the back of her neck..

“Cowards”. Salty, the bartender spat at the crowd. Rowan could hear his heavy footsteps coming closer to her.

“Oil,” she thought, still feeling the liquid run down her neck and back. “I hope you got your money’s worth.” She said out loud before unconsciousness took her.

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