Ayuen

The Grey Crown, The Grasping Isle

[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/926707024362885130/1045841100604186624/Ayuen-WayX.png]

‘And so the fair folk spoke,

At the morning sun’s abode,

“I only wish to hear the frogs croak,

Yet my ears find nothing but toads.

I beg of thee, honoured Aral,

Let me feel the warmth on my fair skin,

And I will abandon the immoral,

If I only can see what’s within.’

“Alright, time to move out. Double time, everybody.”

Rove’s voice broke Ayuen’s concentration on her writing and she looked up at the armoured human, nodding. Storing the small booklet away inside her belt pouch, she put a blade of grass between its pages as a bookmark, stuffing it away to be used at the next stop. She stood up from the soft grass, softly humming a slow nostalgic tune to herself. The rhythm of travel had become soothing to her as all of them had slipped into the habit. The forest floor felt less hard and rocky, and the long days she spent on horseback did less and less to torment her back. The sounds that held her up at night only a few weeks ago were reduced to mere buzzes at the edge of her hearing when she slept, almost sounding like a soft lullaby playing in the background.

Tira had mounted up and gone ahead earlier that morning, having come back a few hours later. She’d spoken with Rove and Trïeste while she wrote her poems, the three of them deciding together if it was safe to proceed ahead. With Tira’s knowledge of the environment and Trïeste ability to sporadically delay their enemy through vague or false information, things were going smoothly. Trïeste was having her conversations in the camp itself now, the rest of the band able to chip in with written advice when needed.

Tira was waiting for the rest of their band, the plan being to cross a series of dangerous ridges when the sun was shining on their current location just right, allowing easier access and more visibility.

Ayuen mounted the horse with practised ease now, her wings carefully tucked away behind her cloak before settling behind Rove on the horse. Floryshia was slung over her shoulder, hanging comfortably at her side. Beside her, Trïeste helped Sneak up without a word, jumping on her beast of burden with previously unseen agility. Even since the woman had admitted that she had been a spy for Siandra, she had been distant and silent. And she couldn’t blame her. My Terraz’ Stern Gaze, she was angry at the half Vysari too for betraying their trust as she did. Then again, her parents were in a similar situation as her mother. She didn’t think that Trïeste was laying about that bit of information. If Siandra got a proper hold of her parents and threatened to take their life if she didn’t cooperate, what would her response be? If she had to betray her people in exchange for her parents’ life, would she be able to stomach it?

She didn’t know. Her parents would try to stop her from doing so. They were both valorous and steadfast, loyal to both their family and the people of Marlight. They would give up their life for the greater good in a heartbeat. But could she do such a thing? Ayuen was a poet, not a fighter. She glanced at Rove’s back and then at the Tinker-made slinger she carried. Perhaps that last bit wasn’t entirely true anymore.

As Rove spurred their horse into action, their group rode off through the mountains, Tira leading them through the safest routes.

With Rove having made Trïeste Sneak’s responsibility, the madman was seated behind Trïeste, softly counting Arals-knew-what. Sneak was the one that Trïeste had resonated with most. Before her betrayal, they’d gotten along rather well, almost like a mad uncle and niece sort of relationship.

The two of them had talked about it at length the day before. Rove wasn’t very apt in reading people’s faces and tones, but even he could see that Trïeste had been on the verge of a total collapse when they’d interrogated her. Ayuen was more of a people person, adjusted to life in the city and mingling with folks. Trïeste’s face and tone had been blank at first, but her façade had fallen away completely. The young woman had yet to recover enough to put up a new one.

A bump in the road shook her out of her thoughts, forcing her to clamp onto Rove to avoid falling off. Her arms tightly wrapped around the Herhor, Ayuen’s thoughts began to shift towards the man she was holding onto. They had made quite a good team as of late. From saving Sneak from Siandra’s henchmen to quickly making their way towards the Clasp’s Spring. Of course, they still weren’t perfectly in sync. She wasn’t a full-fledged warrior by any means, even if she had received some training from her mother in ranged combat. Every shot she made, her thoughts went out towards the friends and family of the one she was aiming for. Made her hesitate just that tiny yet crucial fraction of a second. And at the Tinker’s workshop’s entrance, it had almost cost them their lives. Only with Rove’s quick thinking and a stupid amount of luck had they avoided heading towards the Wailing Gates.

Ayuen knew she had to get her act together. Yes, she might kill or maim somebody with a family. But she had a family too. If they killed her, what would become of her own family and her people? She couldn’t risk failure or premature demise. Next time, she would have to put those feelings aside and do what she had to do. The world wasn’t as gentle as to let her get away with being this optimistic and naïve.

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The thought of fighting and killing still sent shivers down her spine and wings. Her past, the mistakes she had made by using her destructive magic, the people she’d apparently inadvertently blown up. And she had almost blown up one of her friends too. The same friend that came knocking at her parent’s place just as they had her teleported away from harm. Hyra.

She’d only be thinking about her parents, but how was she doing at this moment? Was she still alive? Could she be helping Siandra? Ayuen hoped not, for her sake. Hyra was a Pyrn after all and worked for the Council to boot. And if she went by what Trïeste said, everybody that reminded Siandra of Ayuen died sooner than later. Closing her eyes for just a second, she forced her thoughts away. She had to refocus on the task ahead.

Instead of the distant past, she found herself thinking about the journey she and Rove had done together. Even though it had been a mere couple of weeks, it felt like they had been travelling together for months. And what had started as enmity between them had softened rapidly. It had corroded away to reveal something far more pleasant like a flowing river slowly revealing what’s beneath the silt. That night at the fire, with Trïeste and Tira teasing her about her feelings for Rove, they had been right on the money. She knew that she started to develop romantic feelings for Rove. Wouldn’t do her any good denying what was true, after all. Saying it out loud to others was a whole different thing entirely.

However, even though she liked him, Ayuen was still unsure of the path to take. She was a Pyrn after all, and a poet to boot, sophisticated yet stubborn. Rove was human and a Herhor, battle-hardened and proud. Add to that Rove’s history and family issues, and all of it made Ayuen afraid to make a move. No, it was better that she kept her distance for now.

As Ayuen pressed herself against him on the back of the horse, she noticed a smell. A herby and musky smell, rather nice. She felt the muscles of his back and sides stretch and flex as his body moved in tandem with the horse. Her cheek rested on his back under the shoulder blades as she closed her eyes. It felt safe and strangely relaxing. She didn’t mind if she could stay like this for a while.

“Uhm…Ayuen?” Rove’s voice sounded unsure, as though he was reluctant to take her away from her thoughts. “Are you alright back there?”

She opened her eyes and looked up at the back of the herhor’s brown hairdo. A cheeky smile took her features as she clang to him a tad firmer, rustling her wings underneath her cloak.

“The road is just a tad bumpy, that’s all. My apologies if my clinging bothers you.”

It was fortunate that he couldn’t see her smile or blush. Otherwise, it would’ve been awkward. Feeling both embarrassed and emboldened, Ayuen buried her face into Rove’s cloak, her arms instinctively wrapping tighter around the man.

“Ayuen, loosen your grip a bit, please. Your arms are in the way.” His voice sounded amused despite the reprimand. The tone was light-hearted and Ayuen could hear a certain sort of fondness in it. If she would’ve done this a few weeks back, he would’ve been shouting by now, she was sure.

“Yes, of course.” She loosened her grip on him just a bit, but she kept a firm, almost possessive grasp. Something in her told her she shouldn’t let go. In front of her, his eyes peeled on the road ahead, Rove nodded. He seemed content with the amount of movement she had afforded him. Ayuen’s wings relaxed a bit more, dropping down alongside her from under her cloak, partially covering both her and Rove’s legs. It would be alright to take it easy for a while, right? Lulled into slumber by the rocking motion of the horse and the feeling of her quarry in front of her, she closed her eyes, a content smile plastered across her face.

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Ayuen’s thoughts drifted into dreams as the journey continued. She was back home in Marlight, her parents looking rather happy. Her mother sat across the table, polishing her arms and armour while her father tended to some necessary paperwork. Ayuen herself ate the food on her plate with gusto. It was her favourite after all: roasted pork belly with soft, warm apple and cranberry sauce. But when she glanced to her side, she couldn’t help but grin warmly. Next to her, Rove awkwardly cut off a piece of his meal, clothed in finery that made him look like an awkward penguin. She appreciated the effort he took, though. It was sweet. Both her mother and father were giving her telling looks every couple of seconds, their lips curled upwards ever so slightly. She shot them an annoyed look with a raised eyebrow in return. Now was not the time for parental teasing. Noticing her annoyance, Rove turned to her.

“Ayuen?” He said, his voice vague and echoing.

“Yes?” The Pyrn poet responded, tilting her head just a bit.

“Ayuen?” He said once more, his eyebrows curving down into an angry frown. That was odd. What could be going on? When she glanced sideways, her parents were looking at her with that same frown.

“Yes, my dear Rove? What’s the matter? You can tell me.”

Still no answer. A drop of sweat rolled down her cheek, her blood running cold. What was going on?

“Ayuen?!?” Rove threw his cutlery on his empty plate. Wait, had it been empty before? The other food on the table had disappeared, only bones and crumbs left over.

“Ayuennn?!” His voice began to hurt her ears as he grabbed her shoulders, her name echoing through her mind.

“Ayuen!”

Ayuen jolted awake suddenly, raising her head and frantically looking around. She almost lost her balance as her body twisted wildly. Her wings flapped in a panic in a bid to regain her balance, with the two large membraned appendages wrapping all around the person sitting in front of her. Which was Rove. Fortunately, the horse was standing still, although the beast still neighed with indignation at the unexpected movement.

“Huh? Yeah? What?! Are we in trouble?!” She frantically rambled, trying to grab Floryshia while her wings were still around the Herhor. The poet almost bludgeoned Rove on the head, but the man barely managed to block it with a gloved hand.

“No, there’s… nothing… Arals be damned, Ayuen, calm down. Calm your wings or something.” He said somewhat annoyed. Taking a deep breath it was only then that she started to look around. They stood at the edge of a small pine forest, with the mountains rising in front of them. To their right, a small valley sneaked its way between the snow-topped granite colossi around them. Some three-hundred meters ahead, a big bank of fog blocked any eyes from seeing further into the valley. Ayuen tilted her head a bit in confusion while she looked at the fog, and then looked up. She slowly let Rove out of the leathery cocoon she’d put up around in.

Looking at the clear sky, she frowned. Something wasn’t right.

“Say, Rove… Am I delirious or shouldn’t that fog be there?”

Having been properly unentangled, Rove nodded. Standing next to him, Trïeste and Sneak had dismounted, whispering quietly with one another. Of Tira, there was no sign.

“Indeed. Not the time of day nor the weather for fog to be there. Not enough moisture in the air, Tira said. She’s gone ahead to see if there’s anything near that fog, been gone for about ten minutes. But anyway, now that you’re awake and aren’t trying to knock me out... Did we arrive at the location you had in mind?”

Dismounting as well, Rove took a small map out of one of his saddlebags and spread it open on the ground. It was the map that she’d drawn in the Tinker’s workshop. He tapped on an area below the leaf- and vine-like symbol.

“According to Tira, we’re about here. Now, you said that at that symbol there was the Dawn of Life, yeah? Anything that you know about that fog? Myths, rumours or something along those lines would be fantastic right about now.” He huffed. “I’ll even take a poem if you have one.”

[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/554030201789743105/1028654515798409237/Grasping_Isle_Final_V1.0.png]Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story