Etoh’s enjoyment of the festival was different from the others’—simply watching the happiness of the people around him brought joy to the priest. Total strangers slapping each other’s backs like old friends, music everywhere, friendly drinking contests. Witnessing such things made a peaceful, virtuous world feel within reach.
But then…
“Is that a fight?” Ghim asked suddenly, gesturing toward a nearby alley.
“A fight?” Parn’s gaze jerked to where Ghim pointed. There, he saw four scruffy men surrounding a slender figure with long blonde hair and grass-green clothing. “That’s a woman!” he exclaimed, and dashed into the alley without another word. With a cry of shocked disapproval, Etoh ran after him.
“A woman?” Ghim muttered, following reluctantly. “True as that may be, she’s also an elf…”
“You’ll never catch me like that,” Deedlit said as she danced effortlessly around the men who tried to grab her. She tripped one up, delivered a knife-hand strike at his solar plexus, and kicked him in the back when he doubled over. They kept coming, too blinded by anger to notice that they had no chance. She snickered to herself—how foolish for these slow humans to pick a fight with an elf.
“Idiots.” Deedlit jumped up to evade the man charging at her like a bull, and dropped an elbow into his back as he passed.
When she looked up from her felled attacker, she noticed two more men running over. For the first time, a flicker of uneasiness crossed her mind—were they friends of these men? She slid over to the armor-clad one and swept a low roundhouse kick at his feet.
He leapt away in a dodge, surprised. “Hey, I’m on your side!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide to show that he meant no harm.
“On my side?” Deedlit asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Naïve eyes met hers. He looked young.
He seems okay, she decided, and threw him a wink.
Just then, one of the thugs regained his feet and lunged at her from behind. Deedlit tried to sidestep but took a hit in the back—the man took advantage and wrapped his arm around her in a stranglehold. A groan escaped her lips.
“Four grown men against a woman?!” the youth shouted, and in one motion he grabbed the man’s hair, lifted his face, and punched it, hard. The man flew backwards and sprawled on the pavement, knocked out cold. The other three took one look and scurried away.
The young man stood at the ready until they rounded a corner and disappeared. Once they were gone, he turned to Deedlit—she was gasping for breath and coughing, the wind knocked out of her. Her long blonde hair covered her face.
Deedlit sensed someone reaching for her and leapt out of the way on pure instinct. From several steps away, she leaned heavily against the alley wall and observed her two “rescuers.”
The one who’d reached out was another young man, this one in a white, loosely fitted robe and what looked like a Pharis amulet. Once she got a look at him, his priestly garb and gentle expression made her fairly certain he’d been trying to help.
The priest shrugged and exchanged a look with the armored youth, who grinned back as he dusted himself off. The warrior seemed good-natured enough, but he’d managed to dodge her full-speed kick—he had to be a highly trained warrior.
“Seems like I have to thank you,” Deedlit said gently, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
“N-no need for thanks,” Parn replied, trying to swallow the crack in his voice when he finally got a look at her face.
She was so small and slight that he’d thought she was a child at first. Her almond-shaped emerald eyes were framed by thin, arched eyebrows. Her nose was small but shapely, and her red lips were slightly parted while she caught her breath, bright white teeth peeking out. And her ears…
“She’s an elf,” Etoh whispered. Her long, pointed ears twitched.
“Y-yeah…” Parn nodded. She was a forest fairy—no wonder she was small. Elves were shorter than humans, and female elves were often mistaken for children.
She was the first elf Parn had ever seen, and her beauty was beyond even what he had imagined. He couldn’t look away.
“No need for thanks…” he repeated breathlessly. “I was just doing the right thing.”
“The right thing?” Ghim snorted as he strode up. “This was none of your business.”
“Dwarf!” Deedlit cried. She shot a look at the new arrival but immediately regretted it—he was a hideous mountain dweller, after all. Deedlit’s face twisted in disgust.
“That’s right, elvish lass,” the dwarf replied, unconcerned by her reaction. He turned to the two young men. “She would’ve been fine without your help—that’s just how elves are. Shrewd and quick. Born thieves.”
“How rude!” Deedlit scowled and rounded her back like a cat ready to pounce.
“And too proud for her own good, apparently…” the dwarf continued. “I bet she started that fight.”
“That does it!” Deedlit sprung towards him, but the warrior’s hand shot out and snagged her left arm.
“That’s enough, Ghim!” the warrior cried, seeming genuinely angry as he stepped toward the dwarf.
“Hrmph…I suppose. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you that bad.” The dwarf turned away. “You handle this—I’m going back to the inn. I don’t like dealing with elves.” He ambled off toward the main avenue.
The young man watched him go, deflated, and then let go of Deedlit’s arm with a start.
“You finally noticed,” she said, rubbing the red, hand-shaped mark he’d left on her arm and wondering how a warrior could have so little control over his strength. She opened her mouth to lecture him, but a laugh burst out instead.
Parn broke into a crooked, sheepish grin.
“My name is Deedlit,” she said. “Allow me to treat you to dinner tonight as thanks.”
Parn turned bright red as the elf gave him a mischievous look.
“Huh? Uh…”
“I can’t have you thinking that elves have no manners.” Not waiting for his stammered reply, Deedlit took Parn’s arm and started walking.