Ayuen
South of Tinkersong, The Grey Crown Mountains, The Grasping Isle
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The rest of mealtime was spent in a more relaxed atmosphere, with her and her companions talking about little bits and pieces. The two ladies even managed to get a bit of laughter from Rove while they talked about their dysfunctional skills with a blade, she and Trïeste making silly gestures at each other in a clumsy mock battle. The Herhor mostly kept silent though, chewing his food thoughtfully while his eyes were focused on faraway things. To Ayuen, he looked like he didn’t even taste the rabbit.
Eventually, they had all eaten their fill and headed to bed. They slipped into routine again, using the now all-too-familiar routine of Rove taking the first watch, followed by Trïeste, with Ayuen taking the dawn guard. And thusly their journey continued, with the three of them following the river for a solid five days. It was quiet, with no major patrols throwing a spanner in the works.
Slowly, the mountains grew bigger and bigger as they ventured deeper into the Grey Crown. Their peaks reached into the sky as if the mountains themselves competed with one another, seeing who could come the closest to the warm morning sun. As they reached evergrowing heights, the deciduous trees in the valley made way for pines and conifers, while the Clasp still ran at the valley’s centre like an eternal flowing constant. The more the altitude increased, the lower the temperature got. Even though it was still pleasantly warm due to the blessing of summer, they put on some extra shawls and wrapped their cloaks a bit more tightly. The Clasp itself grew noticeably smaller with there being fewer and fewer mountain streams to feed it, although it was still deep enough for some small craft to pass through its waters at this point. Small flotillas regularly drifted down the river with one or two shippers, carrying precious metal ores and rough bars down to Maiden’s Vale. They would eventually go to Handport, where the goods would be processed and shipped. The shippers themselves were merry people, cheerfully greeting them from the swift-flowing waters. Their mirth proved to be contagious, and they soon found themselves waving back and shouting niceties each time they came across a ship. Well, she and Trïeste did anyway. Rove just smiled and nodded. They still made sure they kept their faces covered. Wouldn’t want those shippers rattling on with their precise descriptions.
Spirits were high when they finally reached the town of Tinkersong late in the morning. The Clasp river still flowed strongly, even this close to its origin. That was mostly due to the ingenuity of Tinkersong’s inhabitants. They’d diverted several nearby smaller streams to merge with the Clasp, forming one big flow of water, big enough to pool into the valley as a small lake. From there, they built a small dock to allow them to easily transport their goods downstream.
Tinkersong itself consisted of several sturdy warehouses on the western side of the lake, while a split in the road led one either to the mines north of town or veered off towards the northern side of the lake, where a bridge led to the town square on the other side of the Clasp. The houses surrounding the square were small and simple, emanating a cosy homely atmosphere. People went about their business with a casual buzz, the whole town looking quiet and peaceful. So peaceful in fact that Ayuen almost rode in without a second thought, which resulted in Rove putting a hand on her shoulder, stopping her horse.
“Ayuen, we’re not going in. We’re staying outside.”
“Outside?” She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew full well why. In a town as small as this, Prado’s men and perhaps even Prado himself would have no trouble tracking them down. The thought of a bath and a soft bed being so close yet so far away infuriated her greatly. She pouted her lips, staring at the town wishfully.
“Yes, and trust me, I’m feeling the same as you at this moment.” The sound of a big annoyed sigh reached her left ear.
“Or, y’know… y’two could stay outside and I could disguise myself?” Trïeste said hopefully. Head in, buy some warm food, take a bath, drink a... beer?” Her voice died away after both her companions gave her a glare that could boil water.
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“Or you could do something useful,” Rove remarked dryly, leading the horses deeper into the undergrowth and fastening them. The Herhor then filled some bags with food to keep the animals preoccupied. After all, they didn’t know how long they’d have to leave the horses here.
“All cravings for a bed and bath aside, we’re practically within a stone’s throw of the Clasp’s origin. The horses aren’t going to help us on a mountain slope. Use a disguise to get the horses to a stable, alright? And if you feel too strongly an urge, go buy a fresh apple at the inn next to the entrance or something. Just be careful.”
Trïeste face lit up. “Oh, I can do that, Rove. No problem! Just leave it to good lil’ Trïeste!”
“You’re much too happy to get into town, you know that?”
“Nah, y’re just imaginin’ things. I’ll be going now!”
Rove let out an amused snuff but shook his head. “No, you’re not. First, we decide our next course of action.”
Trïeste whined, practically jumping up and down in her impatience. Ayuen couldn’t help but giggle at the expression on her face.
“Oh. Well, fine. I guess.” The girl said, sitting down on a nearby rock, moping.
Rove looked at Ayuen and motioned towards the village and the road towards the mines.
“So where do we go from here? What does your amulet map thing say, Ayuen?”
That was a good question. She pulled the amulet out from under her tunic and took a good look at the inscriptions again.
“’Where the waters that clamp onto rock surface from the darkness, you will find the key to the dawn.’ That’s what it says.” She murmured. “For our next move, my educated guess would be that we have to try and locate the Clasp’s Spring itself. Although some of the engravings etched upon this amulet still baffle me somewhat.”
She held the amulet in her hand for Rove and Trïeste to see, so they could look at the engravings. It showed the mountain, assaulted by waves and held in place by a massive hand, a cog engraved near the middle of the picture.
“Most of the imagery is rather self-explanatory, but the meaning of the cog has eluded me for the longest time. Quite aggravating, if I say so myself.”
And going by the blinking of Rove’s and Trïeste’s eyes, they wouldn’t be much help with deciphering that themselves.
“I eh… don’t think I’ll be able to help,” said Trïeste with a sheepish look on her face. “Although, I guess somebody could’ve built a giant cog on a mountain slope?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Rove interjected, shaking his head. “If that was the case, this supposed ‘Key to the Dawn’ would’ve been found ages ago. A big cog on a slope attracts attention. Unless it’s guarded by something so nobody wants to get near.”
“That could be a potential explanation.” The amount of information she could give her two companions was running dry. From here on out, it was anyone’s guess where this journey was headed next. “It could also mean there’s something hidden there, a contraption perhaps, that we have to activate.” Ayuen shrugged, blowing a lock of hair out of her face.
“But yeah, could be that we’re wrong. A cog could mean everything. We’ll just have to travel upstream, observe and adapt.”
Rove scowled at the medallion as if it was a foul-smelling turd. “So that stupid thing can’t tell us anything else? We might be fucking digging there for days.”
“Language, Rove.”
“Yeah, how about you shov-…”
At that point, Trïeste grabbed the sleeves of both hers and Rove’s tunics and pulled them down into the bushes. Before either could voice their disagreement, she put a finger to her lips.
“Sshh. Prado’s men.” She whispered, face grim. The effect on her and Rove was immediate, their quarrel was instantly forgotten. They hunched down and looked at the road, their muscles tense and all senses on high alert.
Sure enough, at the edge of town in front of one of the warehouses, two armoured men were talking to one of the locals, their armour shimmering in the morning sun. They wore the same style of armour as the group they’d encountered at Bren’s Bridge, their elaborate bronze plates and mail visible together with the large pikes they each held in their hands, one aiming the weapon at the man they were talking with. It looked quite intimidating.
“Shit. They’re gathering information.” The Herhor whispered with a grunt. Even though he didn’t say it out loud, the underlying thought was clear. As soon as they’d show their faces in town, Prado would know where they’d be very quickly. Avoiding detection entirely was their best bet at this moment.
Silently, they bided their time, each of their eyes glued to the duo like sealing wax on paper. The man with whom the two warriors were talking, a thin man dressed in rags and wearing a full beard on his chin seemed to be distressed. The man went to the ground as one of the warriors struck him with the pommel of their weapon. The poor sod went down, scrambling out of there as fast as he could after.
“And that is why we’re not going in there with our entire group,” Rove whispered with a slight smug expression on his face. “Trïeste. Go do your thing. We’ll meet up here afterwards.”
“Sir, yes sir. Sir!” Rolling her eyes and jokingly saluting, Trïeste took some spare clothes out of her bag and dirtied her face with mud, creating an effective disguise. “I’ll be back before you can say ‘but I want to soak in a warm bath’.” And after sticking her tongue out to Rove and loosening the horses, she headed off into the village.
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