Oren entered the tavern first, still taking quiet, cautious steps. His arm raised in front of her; pressing against her when they came to a stop at the bar. The sleeves of his shirt could barely contain the muscle hidden beneath its fabric. Her eyes wandered up to where his cloak hid his upper arm, curiosity bubbling up within her once again.
She examined the tavern, noticing only a handful of patrons scattered across the room. Far fewer than she had expected to see. While Lastbrook was a small village, she had still expected a few more townsfolk to have gathered there for an evening drink.
As they approached the bar, a man glanced their way. His eyes were filled with a deep emptiness. It was as though there was no light behind them, not even a glimmer. He leaned against the counter and clutched a mug of drink. When Asteria turned and observed the room once again, she noticed similar looks on the few faces that looked up to meet her gaze. All of them looked pale, worn down from hardship and something else- something that she couldn’t quite put a name to.
Tablecloths with holes and frays were laid out on nearly every table, some covered in old stains. Nearly every piece of wooden furniture looked as though it were decaying beneath the customers and their drinks. It was hard to truly take note of their surroundings due to the dying candlelight. Their small flames slowly being smothered by the heavy, muggy air and shadows.
The floorboards behind the bar creaked as a younger man- perhaps in his 30s- walked from the kitchen. He looked tired like the rest, but he had a bit more color to his face.
A faint smile crossed his face as he greeted them, “Welcome, strangers. What can I do for you this evening?” Though there was a hint of dissatisfaction in his tone. It struck both of them as curious, but they acted as though they hadn’t noticed.
“Ah, good evening,” Oren returned, sounding friendly. “I had passed through this quaint village a few days back, and I could not help but stop here once more on my way back through. I had actually stayed right here at this inn, in fact.”
“Is that so?” The man asked, a slight bite in his voice. “Well, welcome back, good sir. Am I to assume that you would like to rent a room once again?”
Her companion slowly removed the hood of his cloak, revealing his face. She carefully watched the barkeep, keeping note of his expression. His face gave little away, but his eyes had a flash of recognition. ‘Odd,’ she thought.
“You know,” he started to say after a moment of quiet. “I believe I do remember you passing through here not too long ago. We don’t get many elves around these parts, after all.” The word dripped with venom, and it left a rotting, vulgar feeling settled deep in Asteria’s stomach. She could not tell if she was reading too much into it, but she thought she heard the slightest bit of disgust in his voice.
Gradually, her hand reached for Oren. She pinched the cuff of his sleeve, tugging lightly to get his attention. He looked down at her, his expression soft. However, his eyes told her that he noticed it, too. Briefly, his brows furrowed. She wondered if he was also considering facing whatever was lurking in those woods rather than putting up with whatever oddness was taking place here. Deep in her gut, though, she felt that something much more complex was at play than some monster patrolling the forest and a rude innkeeper.
However, he continued with a calm tone, “And your small village is the lesser for it. How unfortunate it must be that not many passersby want to stop and stay; one can only wonder why. We need two rooms, and it will only be for the night. Unless, of course, they are all taken. Yet, I find that unlikely considering how quiet and still it seems to be here.” Oren’s words were thoughtfully crafted and strung together. But rather than biting back with venomous words, he was careful to use ones that stung like the first freeze of winter.
Groaning erupted from the bar top as the man’s grip on it tightened. Asteria watched intently, momentarily thinking that she caught a glimpse of his nails digging into the wooden surface. But just as quickly as it had started, the noise faded away and returned the room to quiet. He turned, grabbing two keys from the hook behind him. They slid across the bar, and Oren snatched them up.
“Would you like anything else? A drink or food perhaps?” His tone now grew a hint more courteous, but it was laced with something that made Asteria take a small step back.
She wanted to say no, reject the offer, and be done with the conversation. However, Oren answered before she had the chance. He accepted two drinks, nothing more. Perhaps the conversation left him without an appetite as well. He picks up both drinks and nods his head over toward the tables. While she simply wanted to go up to her room and get the night’s stay over with, she joined him at the suggested table.
It was next to another occupied table, and her companion took the seat closest to the patron. Oren sat with his back to the wall, keeping his eyes trained on the odd man. She sat next to him; she wouldn’t turn her back to the bar if she could help it. A sickly feeling settled in her stomach. This place made her uncomfortable, and it certainly made her feel unsafe.
Oren took a small sip from one of the mugs, and Asteria reached for the other. If he had taken a drink it must be safe. Clasping his hand over the other mug, he gave her a stern look. He slowly shook his head.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, pushing the cup out of her reach before continuing, “There’s something wrong with whatever this is. I’d go as far as to say that with this weird taste, it’s been tampered with in some way. Well, that or it is a rancid brew. Either way, you shouldn’t drink it.” He set down his own mug, pushing it toward the other end of the table.
His eyes followed the barkeep as he went about his tasks, never once taking his own off of Oren. The pair stared each other down until the man walked back into the kitchen. Letting out a sigh of relief, the elf leaned over to the table next to him. He had clearly been waiting for such a watchful gaze to leave before doing so.
“Hey,” he whispered, trying to catch the attention of the man at the table next to theirs. “Can you hear me?” He glanced over at him, waving his hand in front of the stranger’s face. His eyes were practically glazed over, the color faded from his irises. A bit of drool spilled from his mouth. He was clearly near catatonic.
Asteria cringed at the sight, wondering what was wrong with everyone there. At this point, it had even seemed like a couple of the patrons had fallen asleep, hunched over their tables. A flash of realization appeared on Oren’s face, and he quietly rose from his seat. He motioned to her to stay sitting. He approached the bar once more.
His steps were cautious, and he walked silently through the room. She could not overhear the conversation, but she saw that he and the older man at the bar were able to have one. His eyes darted to the mug in front of the patron and then back to where he and Asteria had been sitting. Once he seemed to get all of the answers he needed, he returned to their table.
“What was that about?” She inquired.
“Where do I even begin?” The question was followed by a shallow laugh. “Shall I start with why we are surrounded by those who are near comatose, the drastic number of disappearances here, or how I was right about the drinks?”
“Okay, so you were clearly right about the drinks; I think we can cross that one off the list,” Asteria remarked.
He shook his head and said, “No, I think you might want to hear at least a bit about the drink part, but allow me to go over the other details first. As you and I noticed upon entering the town, there was nobody in sight. Villagers were holed up in their homes, shuttering their windows and hiding at the sound of whatever the hell was out there. Well, that is because people have been going missing for several nights now. By the third night, locals started determining that the solution was to hide away- which they were right about. It’s also why nobody is willing to venture to the tavern for a drink.”
She nodded in response, continuing to listen intently to every word he said. The table creaked beneath her as she leaned in on her elbows, ready to hear more.
“Not a single person knows what is out there, lurking. Hunting. The patrons here even know better in their subdued stupor than to wander out into the village at night.”
There was a glimmer in his eyes as he spoke, detailing the curious events going on in this tavern and town. She felt a flutter within her at how intrigued he was, glad that she wasn’t the only one morbidly inquisitive about whatever was going on there.
“And what about the drinks and the patrons?” Asteria asked.
Oren cleared his throat, stating, “Now those are actually correlated; the drinks are causing the zombified stares of the patrons around us. I’m not entirely sure what the barkeep is putting into the ale or mead - or whatever this sludge is. But it is clearly stupefying them.”
“Oren…” her voice trailed off as she watched the barkeep walk back out. His eyes were fixated on them. The action felt predatory, as though he were keeping an eye on his dinner. She softly continued, “I think we need to get out of this place. Something is very wrong; I feel it deep in my gut. We cannot stay here.” They looked at one another, and she hoped he could see the sincere, genuine fear in her.
His hands grabbed hers and held them tightly. Heat spread rapidly across her face. She prayed that he couldn’t tell in the dim, warm light.
He leaned in close, whispering, “I know, but we do not know what we would be facing out there. At least here we know what we are up against: a mean, potentially bigoted man. That’s all he is. So long as we do not eat nor drink anything from this establishment, we will be fine. Just be sure to lock your door tonight; put something heavy in front of it if you must. We will leave as soon as the sun starts to rise.”
Asteria nodded. He was right, and she knew it. There was something ravenous in those woods, something they could not face alone without knowing exactly what it was. Part of her was dreading going to sleep, being in a vulnerable position. Yet, she urgently wanted the night to be over with and to be back on their way.
The two rise from their table and head toward the stairs that led to the rooms they rented. Oren carefully kept watch as they left, not once taking his eyes off of their not-so-gracious host. They strode from where they sat, and he set the still-full mugs back onto the bar counter. Once they reached the stairwell, she gently bumped into his strong shoulder. He looked down at her, a touch of concern. She waved it off, trying to show she was okay.
Across from where they started to climb up was the door to the tavern. She stared at it for what felt like minutes, observing its stained glass window. Her stare was fixed on it, waiting and watching as though she were going to catch a glimpse of the beast from the forest. Shaking her head, she pushed the idea out of her head. Why would she even want to sneak a look at it?
Old, rotting wood groaned beneath their feet as they walked up the stairs and down the short hall. A small sense of relief rippled through Asteria, thinking that at least if the creepy barkeep was going to follow them they’d surely hear it.
They said goodnight to one another and went to their separate rooms, the doors creaking shut behind them. Immediately, she made sure to secure the lock. The room she entered was tiny, with only enough room for a bed and a compact nightstand. She had hoped that with distance and a door between her and the odd man downstairs, she would feel more at ease. Alas, she still felt like he was watching them. Even though she could see every corner of the room, she felt as though someone were there with her. It made her feel sick and claustrophobic. The small room felt even tinier than before.
Trying to move the nightstand to block the door, she flinched at the scraping noise that erupted. Looks were deceiving, as it turned out to be heavier than expected. However, at least that meant it would help keep the door closed that night. Bit by bit, she looked over the room. There weren’t any hiding spots, and the bed was so low to the ground that no one and nothing could fit beneath it. As she was glancing around the corner of the bed frame, she nearly let out a scream when she looked into the window. A heavy, exhausted sigh escaped her when she realized that the face she saw was her own.
Asteria had not seen her reflection since her journey began, having little access to a mirror or even a clear stream. Her fingers grazed along her skin, and she noticed how tired and worn she had started to look. Tracing the long, pale lines that framed the right side of her face felt heavy and strenuous. She had just nearly forgotten about them. In an instance, she turned her back to the glass window frame. She couldn’t stand to look at her reflection for a moment longer.
The floorboards gave notice of everywhere she moved to. She stared down at her clothes, wondering if she should get prepared for bed. While she would normally tear away the scratchy pants and boots that pinched at her toes and bit at her heels, something told her not to undress even in the slightest. It told her to stay on the ready in case they needed a quick escape.
Her head began to ache slightly, and she sat on the bed. A dreadful feeling took root in her, and her hand shot for her satchel. She dug out the dagger, clutching it tightly. Pushing herself up against the wall, Asteria settled in for the night. With her dagger in hand and eyes on the door, she allowed herself to get comfortable for the long hours ahead.
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