Ayuen

????, The Grasping Isle

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Ayuen art by Ina Koffen, @Ina_Koffen on Twitter

Ayuen’s frown deepened as she gave it a thought. She took out her notebook of stories and poems. It was starting to fill up with things she’d written while travelling, but there were also some pages in the front that she had written before she met Rove. She had done some preliminary research, in researching the Dawn of Life. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages, dashing left and right, racing across the words.

Looking back at Rove, she shook her head.

“I’m uncertain if we’re exactly at the right place. We’re close to the leaf symbol on that map though. But nothing about that mist, no mention of anything I can associate with any fog-based phenomenon here. It might be some manner of protective barrier, to lead any potential intruders astray. I am aware of several stories that use that as a plot point.”

“Better than nothing I suppose. Tell me what danger the mists in those stories hold. Better to be overprepared than underprepared.”

She turned some pages in her book and read a page she’d read years ago.

“Very well. There exists a myth from the Paros Empire that speaks of a red mist. It slowly dissolves anything that comes into contact with it.”

“This mist isn’t red. Next story.”

Furious page-turning ensued.

“This might be relevant. A story from the plains of Babtos. There are stories in that region about a white mist that leads travellers astray. Leading them in circles until they wander out of it, sometimes countless kilometres from where they had entered the mist without them realizing.”

“That sounds like it could be relevant. Any solution mentioned in that story?”

“The soldiers in that particular myth managed to navigate through the mist by making certain they headed straight. Brought a long and straight piece of wood with them and used that in tandem with pebbles found in the mist to head into one particular direction.”

“We could try that. No real harm in bringing a plank or branch along.” Rove shielded his eyes from the sun overhead while he peered into the valley. “Although, it’s only one direction to begin with, and the valley is flanked by mountains. There’s only one real way to go, so we should also be fine by following either the right or left mountain face. The good old ‘keeping a wall on your left side’ approach.”

Ayuen closed her little booklet. “Well, I have no other suggestions about the purpose of this mist then. Honestly, it could be anything. Especially if it’s magical or alchemical in origin rather than natural.”

“This isn’t alchemy, I’m quite sure of that,” Trïeste said, shaking her head. A trace of her Grasping Isle accent was starting to sneak into her voice, but the woman’s voice was still far more solemn than it had been.

“I am quite knowledgable in the arts of alchemy, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin if I want to conjure up somethin’ like this.”

“Then I suggest we anticipate and prepare for the worst.” Ayuen took Floryshia from her back and took out one of the special bullets that had come with the weapon.

Trïeste had made her some regular ammo with what little resources they had on hand. Made with mostly makeshift tools and a campfire to heat the metal, they were roughly crafted, but they worked well enough in a pinch. However, she felt safer with a bit more firepower on hand. After a slight hesitation, Ayuen loaded the round with the black and yellow colour. She didn’t know its precise function, but the other choice was the black and blue round, which felt somewhat more benign, much like the Beacon magic she and Trïeste could use.

The smoke that had come from the yellow and black one though had intrigued her. It felt way more familiar. More than that, it felt like she had some connection with it. Or maybe a connection wasn’t the right word. It just felt right to her. Her instincts were yelling at her to load it.

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And so she did. With a smooth and practised movement, she opened Floryshia’s bullet chamber, loaded the bullet and closed it again. The slinger’s mechanisms clicked softly as the inner mechanisms softly whirred. Next to her, Rove had quickly given Stormgrinder a lookover, keeping the sword in hand for now. Trïeste had filled several pouches with all kinds of powders and flasks. The alchemist had even slung a belt with more weird concoctions across her chest for easy access. Lastly, Sneak was... Well, he was trying to prepare. He held one of his daggers in hand and for the rest was just standing around quite awkwardly. The man did have some extra daggers tucked into his sleeves and below his belt. She also noticed a sheath on his hip now. Ayuen hadn’t seen that one before, figuring it came from Sneak’s pack.

“Sneak, quick question. If you wouldn’t mind my curiosity.” She asked. “Why do you not use that sword instead of those daggers you’re currently wielding?”

Sneak’s head whirled towards her as the man awkwardly tried to smile.

“Oh, Sneak’s not good at wieldin’ this.” Nervously, he shook his head, seeming to loathe even touching the blade. “It makes Sneak afraid, y’see? Very afraid. When I use this, Sneak is not Sneak anymore. Sneak will be... him.”

“Him? Who is ‘him’?” She asked, tilting her head with a curious glimmer in her eyes. This sounded quite important. They had no idea what was up ahead. For all they knew, Prado was waiting there in those mists, likely making plans to cut them down to size at worst or capture them at best. Everybody had to be in peak fighting condition, even Sneak.

“He is him, mistress Ayuen.” Sneak’s voice sounded apologetic and slightly frustrated. As if he wanted to explain better but couldn’t. Noticing his discomfort, Trïeste stepped up, laying a hand on Sneak’s shoulder and shooting him a quick reassuring smile. Trïeste had been slowly recovering, regaining some of her old spunk back. But she had a cold, almost business-like side to her now. Scars and true colours.

“I might be able to explain it a bit better.” The alchemist walked to her horse and tied it to an outcropping of rock. They were leaving the horses here. Riding in the mist would be just begging for trouble. Rove had already tied their animal down and the beast was content to eat from its bag of grain, blissfully unaware of the horrors its owners were about to face.

“You see,” Trïeste said a few seconds later with her horse secured. “From what I’ve understood from our talks, Sneak hasn’t always been this way. He has some connection with that blade specifically, although I’m not entirely sure how or what. Has somethin’ to do with who he used to be, and from what I can gather he used to be a skilled swordsman in his own right. But somethin’ damaged his mind, with certain objects being able to restore him to sanity temporarily. Which this side of Sneak doesn’t like very much. Multiple personalities in one body, sort of.” The half-Yrus sighed and shook her head.

“I’m still in the process of figuring it all out with him.”

So, Sneak was insane, but not wholly insane? Ayuen racked her brain for any lead on the subject but came up empty. She had not heard of any diseases or conditions that fit the description that Trïeste had provided. Then, she nodded. She wanted to know the specifics, but she didn’t know how much time they had. This had to wait, but it was nice to know that they would have another swordfighter when it was necessary.

“Alright. So Sneak’s insanity issue can be temporarily cured. Wise to keep in the back of our heads. We’ll be able to investigate his condition further once we have our price and return from the Dawn of Life.”

The mists slowly swirled through the valley as she glanced at the white mass, a pang of anxiety shooting through her chest. Uncertainty was stubbornly lingering in the back of her mind, fearing the worst this close to her goal. But she had some trustworthy allies with her. Would their bonds and skills prevail? Would they manage to go forth and create a legend of their own? Or would their journey come to an abrupt and bloody end? Her hand floated towards the amulet hanging between her breasts. Even if they were to meet their end here, they had no choice but to press on. With enough determination and planning, even the few could do enough good to help the many.

“Ayuen, are you done reminiscing and thinking in that poetic little head of yours?” Rove interrupted her train of thought, having walked a couple of steps in the direction of the mist. “You can write everything into that little book of yours when we’re done. Come on, we’ll meet up with Tira within this bloody fog and get this over with.”

Trïeste nodded with a grim expression, Sneak looking pale and rather reluctant. Still, both companions followed them without much hesitation.

“Rove is right, Ayuen,” Trïeste spoke softly. “It is time to step up for your people, my revenge and his money.” She shrugged and wryly smiled.

“Mostly your people and Rove’s money though. I owe you two that much.”

Ayuen opened her mouth when a cry of alarm echoed through the valley. Tira. And it had come from the inside of the mist too. For a moment, the four of them looked at each other. Then, in unison, they ran off towards the source as fast as they could.

The valley was narrow and rocky, Ayuen guessing it was about fifty meters across. The ground was littered with brown and grey gravel and debris, courtesy of the mountains looming ominously above them. The vast shapes and shadows of those monoliths seemed to silently watch and judge them as they ran. Here and there, there were small patches of grass growing desperately in the cracks. A barren sight for a place that should be close to a so-called ‘Dawn of Life’.

Once they rushed inside the mist, the landscape hadn’t changed besides the fact that they were only able to see a couple of paces in front of them. They stuck close together, with Rove taking point and Sneak guarding the back. She and Trïeste made up the middle, throwing knives and Floryshia at the ready.

It wasn’t long until they came across Tira.

...

Or at least what once was Tira.

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