Sneak
The Grey Crown, The Grasping Isle
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When nothing happened, Master Rove lowered his sword, looking at him and sighing disappointedly.
“Look, Sneak. I know you’re a bit cooky in the head and all, but could you not do this in the middle of the night? What were you doing up this late anyway? It’s not your turn to keep watch.”
M’ster Rove looked around, seemingly looking for something. The Herhor frowned, looking at Sneak suspiciously from the corner of his eyes, gripping his sword slightly tighter.
“Speaking of which, where is Trïeste? It was her turn.”
“Right here, Rove!” Trïeste’s cheerful voice came from the other side of camp, followed by Trïeste stepping out into the campfire’s light. “Just had to take a piss, is all.”
Sneak’s eyes widened when he felt anger take hold of him.
“Lies! That woman lies! She is sellin’ M’ster Rove and Mistress Ayuen out! Sneak is sure of it! Speakin’ in a big ball of teeth-white light, she was!”
“Excuse you?” The treacherous woman said, tilting her head all innocent-like. “I am doin’ nothin’ of the sort.”
At this point, the ruckus had woken up mistress Ayuen as well. She crawled out of her tent, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“What’s all the commotion about?”
M’ster Rove turned around to her, shrugging. “Sneak is seeing ghosts. Says Trïeste wants to see us all killed.”
“Sneak is not speakin’ lies!” Sneak cried out, frustration cracking his voice. How could he make them believe him? He had to think of something.
“Look at the ball that the woman Trïeste has! Sneak is telling the truth!”
Trïeste frowned at him and shrugged. “I have no idea what he’s talkin’ about. Feel free to look through my stuff. No balls in there.”
M’ster Rove looked at both of them, eyes narrowing as the man thought about this whole situation. He looked at Sneak, with Sneak looking back at him with the most honest and hopeful eyes he could manage. Eventually, the Herhor gave in and started to rummage through Trïeste’s stuff. He opened every drawer of that weird backpack thing she had, with Sneak providing helpful assistance and assuring he didn’t miss a single spot. After a good fifteen minutes of searching, they turned up with nothing.
“See, Sneak? Nothing. You’re just seeing ghosts where there aren’t any. Go back to bed and let Trïeste resume her watch.”
“No!” Sneak shouted. How did that woman Trïeste get rid of the sphere? Did she hide it?
At that moment, realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Without waiting, he bolted into the woods in the direction where he’d seen Trïeste at the river.
“Sneak will be right back with proof, yes.” He shouted behind him as his companions watched him run off.
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Sneak bolted through the undergrowth, to where he had thrown the dagger towards his pursuer. He combed his surroundings, and after a couple of minutes, he struck gold. His hand curled around a sphere-like object, and Sneak called out in a stream of gibberish to celebrate his victory. Proud, he returned to the camp, with M’ster Rove, mistress Ayuen, and that woman Trïeste conversing softly.
At his approach, they all turned towards him and mistress Ayuen opened her mouth to say something. Sneak didn’t have the time nor the patience for that and practically thrust the sphere in her face. It was made of clear crystal, shimmering blue and orange in the soft light of the flames.
“Here! Sneak found the sphere!” He said, puffing up his chest. Mistress Ayuen closed her mouth again as she took the sphere, frowning at the object with clear surprise. M’ster Rove was equally dumbfounded at Sneak's find, looking at the sphere and then towards that woman Trïeste. Trïeste herself began to pale noticeably, and her usual smile began to falter, melting off her face like mud dripping from a beggar’s face.
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“This… alright…” Mistress Ayuen slowly said, taking a closer look at the sphere as she seemed to focus. It began softly glowing with a pale white light, although it wasn’t as strong as the light next to the river. “This is a Wayline Orb. Used for two-way communication over large distances. These are rare. Extremely rare.”
She looked at Sneak. “And it can only be used by people possessing magical abilities.” Sneak saw M’ster Rove eye Trïeste suspiciously, eyes narrowing.
Walking towards him, she offered him the orb. “Hold it for a couple of minutes. Then we know if you are compatible.”
Nodding, Sneak accepted the orb, holding it in both hands in front of him. As soon as the orb left Mistress Ayuen’s hands, the light faded, and it didn’t appear when he took hold of it. One minute forty-five seconds… two minutes thirty-nine seconds... The light did not return. Eventually, Ayuen nodded and took the orb from him.
“Alright, that settles it. Sneak is not magically capable. Now... Trïeste, you are capable of casting Beacon Magic, right? Mind holding this so we can be sure?”
The Pyrn woman turned around and offered the Vysari the orb. Trïeste didn’t move, her face neutral, her eyes icy cold and emotionless. Her eyes darted from Mistress Ayuen to Master Rove to Sneak. Sneak saw that M’ster Rove tightened his grip on Stormgrinder, sensing danger was afoot.
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Then suddenly, without any warning, Trïeste lunged towards Mistress Ayuen, a dagger flashing in her hand where there wasn’t one a moment before. The woman didn’t even let out a squeak as her strike was blocked by the M’ster’s blade, the Herhor swiftly jumping into action. Being far physically stronger than her, he swatted her attack away like it was nothing. It didn’t seem to matter to the Vysari though. With another quick and precise swipe towards his hands, she forced Rove on the defensive. Trïeste jumped backwards, fully ignoring Sneak that was standing next to Rove. Sneak was flabbergasted by this cascade of surprises while he fumbled at his pair of daggers. How was this Trïeste woman so fast? She hadn’t displayed such skill before! This was just extremely weird. Like that one time, a snail turned out to be a falcon.
“M’ster Rove! Sneak will help!” Sneak cried out, taking up a low stance beside the warrior, daggers at the ready, albeit with doubt clouding his chaotic heart. M’ster Rove just nodded, not taking his eyes off the traitorous Vysari for a second while he slowly stepped forward.
“Trïeste… I have no idea who hired you.” The proud and skilled human said, slowly and carefully walking towards her with his blade gleaming in front of him. His voice sounded hurt though, pain audible within it. “Whoever it is, it is not worth getting ki-… Shit!” His appeal was cut off by another furious attack by Trïeste, her slashes combined with some sort of powder that she tried to throw into his eyes with her off-hand.
However, M’ster Rove noticed the move quickly and swiped at the pouch while it was still in her hand, throwing off her aim so the dust went low instead of in his face. Sneak, seeing an opportunity, lunged at the sudden opening and slashed towards her shoulder. His dagger hit only air as his short blade missed her shoulder by the width of a hair. It did force the younger woman to retreat momentarily though. Trïeste didn’t even make the slightest of sounds as she retreated, briefly glancing at Sneak with that cold calculating gaze before looking at M’ster Rove once more. Something glimmered in her eyes in that glance, but it faded as soon as it came, like an eel in a bucket of snot.
“Fuck damn it, Trïeste.” Master Rove yelled at her. “You can’t win, you stupid girl. Not against this many people. Come to your senses, drop the weapon and sit the fuck down!”
But once again, his pleas fell on deaf ears. Ayuen had gotten her riffle at this point, staying behind him and M’ster as she hesitated to aim her weapon at the woman she considered her friend just a minute ago.
With two people defending mistress Ayuen, Sneak supposed there wasn’t much Trïeste could do without exposing herself. But he knew she could throw accurately, neither could the two of them. To be fair though, a stalemate seemed to be more to their benefit than Trïeste’s.
If she made one mistake and came into reach of Stormgrinder, she would be turned into sliced Vysari ham. She was up against a madman and a trained Herhor, for crying out loud! But the odds didn’t seem to deter her in the slightest. She launched assault after assault at them, using everything at her disposal to try and break through towards Ayuen. She acrobatically kicked a glowing log from the campfire and launched it at Master Rove’s head like a firefly from a catapult. She threw more pouches with powder at their faces, even throwing one of her daggers right in M’ster Rove’s guard in what Sneak thought was desperation. All of it without saying a single word and with that emotionless expression on her face. It was eery and disquieting like they were fighting an empty husk.
Eventually, despite her unnaturally grim determination, she got tired. And even Sneak knew that getting tired meant making mistakes. Meanwhile, he and M’ster Rove had been saving their strength, waiting things out. The M’ster had slowly got more and more annoyed. His voice sounded harder and lower as his gaze turned to ice, his verbal warnings becoming less frequent as the battle dragged on. Sneak felt that it wouldn’t be long till Master Rove would switch from defence to offence and end things right then and there. But then, there it was. An opportunity. That woman Trïeste lunged slightly too far, coming into range of Sneak’s daggers. Seeing murder in M’ster Rove’s eyes, Sneak lunged forward desperately instead to beat his master to the punch, forcing Trïeste to defend and parry his assault. This, however, gave M'ster Rove an opening. A wide one at that. For a single moment, Sneak feared that the Herhor would gut Trïeste, but that train of thought was swiftly interrupted by Stormgrinder’s pommel rushing past his head. It collided with the side of Trïeste’s head with a loud low thud. Immediately, Trïeste eyes widened in shock and fear as consciousness left her, her body going limp. Quickly, Sneak dashed forward to prevent her from hitting the ground too hard. His daggers fell to the ground, lowering Trïeste and laying her onto the leaf-covered soil. Panting lightly, Master Rove sheathed Stormgrinder, standing next to the fallen would-be assassin.
“Well done Sneak.” He praised. “You did well. Damn it... What in Terraz’ blazing name was that about?”
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Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story