Ayuen
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[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/926707024362885130/1045841100604186624/Ayuen-WayX.png]
Ayuen art by Ina Koffen, @Ina_Koffen on Twitter
Hod’s price was unacceptable. If she couldn’t save Baros, what in the Arals’ name had she been doing this for? Despite the rising panic, Ayuen managed to stay somewhat calm and composed, her mind hard at work to find a workaround to counter Hod’s demand. Her eyes
“Won’t you accept any other price than that, sir Hod?” She asked with a slight quiver in her voice. “You viewed my mind, so you know I can not accept that demand.”
“The only thing you can choose now, Ayuen, is whether you accept my offer or not. A simple yes or no will suffice.” He held up his hands, palms facing upwards.
Hod’s voice still had that resonance imbued in it, echoing through her mind. She knew that fighting Hod’s decision would be a futile effort. It wouldn’t end well.
There was only one thing she could do. She had to deceive him somehow. She would pay the price for it later, but that was something she was willing to weather.
The poët looked behind her towards her companions. They would find a solution together. Trïeste, her eyes momentarily locked with hers, nodded lightly, an almost invisible smile forming around the woman’s lips. The alchemist seemed to brew up ideas of her own.
Ayuen buried her idea under a layer of idle thought, hoping that would be enough to fool Hod’s sight.
Ayuen turned her head again and looked at Hod, head held high and looking the old man in the eyes with determination welling up inside her.
“Yes. I accept your price.”
A smile formed on Hod’s face and he slowly bowed his head towards her.
“I am glad to hear that, Ayuen. The Dawn of Life is yours. Use it wisely. When you’ve decided how to use it, place it on the chest of the one you want to bring back from the Gates. The Dawn will take care of the rest.”
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Hod turned around and walked towards the fruit. With careful and precise movements, his fingers carefully snapped the fruit’s stalk. He held it like one would hold a child, every gesture showing the old man’s respect for what he was currently handling. Ayuen took a soft cloth out of her bag, draping it over her hands. She held out her hands, ready to receive her prize. With that same care and attention, Hod put the fruit in the cloth and Ayuen folded it shut, gently stowing it in her backpack, making sure there wasn’t anything in there that could damage the fruit. Only when she closed her pack, Ayuen noticed that she’d been holding her breath since her acceptance of Hod’s price. She released it into a long sigh.
Finally, they succeeded. They were all ready to head back to Marlight and solve this mess. It was just a pity that she had to deceive Hod to do what was right.
Conjuring a smile on her face, she raised her eyes to the man, who was looking down at her with a smile. The menacing aura that had appeared around him before was gone, dissipated like flower petals blown away by a gust of wind.
“Thank you, sir Hod.”
Hod just nodded, motioning to the edge of the clearing with one hand. The message was clear. Time to leave. Ayuen nodded her head in understanding, motioning to her companions to follow. Trïeste followed immediately, while Sneak dropped the sheath of grass he was holding and followed soon after. As she looked at the madman walking, she saw the old man saying something to him when he passed. Sneak’s eyes widened as he did. He whipped his head around to the old man, the latter looking at him with a soft, somehow caring look on his face. Sneak opened his mouth, but Hod shook his head and raised a hand, motioning again for him to leave. With the audible clack of tooth against tooth, Sneak closed his mouth and obeyed, walking after them with an uncharacteristic focussed frown on his face.
Odd. She wondered what that was about.
Silently, the three of them made their way towards the winding path that would take them back towards the arch. The only things that accompanied them were the rushing of the wind and the crunching of leaves beneath their feet. Before they walked out, Ayuen cast one last glance behind her. She wanted to keep the sight of this place in her mind so she could record it properly later on. The clearing looked serene, the wind rocking the smooth grass on the now-empty field. There was no trace of Hod. It was like the old man had never been there at all. A shiver travelled up Ayuen spine and into her wings as she turned back around. She walked on, a little bit more hurry in her step.
Spurred on by a cacophony of emotions, it wasn’t long before they reached the arch. She and Trïeste moved in silence, but Sneak was muttering a garbled stream of words that were flooding from his mouth like water. That frown was still on his face as he walked after them, eyes aimed at the ground in front of him. Yet Ayuen doubted if his gaze saw anything that lay before him. Trïeste had tried to get a conversation going with him a minute back, but the man wasn’t hearing any questions she fired at him. After the third try, Ayuen had silently put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head. Of course, she was worried, but this didn’t seem to help. Whatever Hod had told him, it was better to leave him alone for the time being. If he was willing to tell them about his brief exchange with Hod, he would tell them in time. Besides, with a mind as chaotic as Sneak, it would probably take a bit more time than with a person like Rove.
The arch itself looked the same as when they entered through it on the other side. The same bright light, the same uncomfortable burning sensation. And as suddenly as they had entered, they had left. Back into that wasteland of weird shrubs and mist. The bodies of Prado’s men still littered the immediate area, but Rove and Prado weren’t anywhere to be seen. A sinking feeling took hold of her heart as her large ears rotated a little, trying to pick up any sound that would lead her to him.
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“Oh no.” She muttered before raising her voice. “Rove! Where are you? Are you alright?!”
She listened into the silence after her voice echoed away. For a few seconds, there was only silence. But then, she heard a rasping laugh followed swiftly by a cascade of coughing. A familiar tone.
Her heart jumped with joy, only for it to be followed by dread when she heard the coughs. Rove survived! But at what price?
Without looking at the other two, Ayuen followed the coughing as she broke into a sprint. She didn’t care about the mist, those white wisps could just die off as far as she cared. She didn’t need to search for long. The Herhor had settled a small distance away from the portal and collapsed against the cliff face. He was partly hidden by the fog, making it difficult to gauge his injuries at first.
But as Ayuen saw the full extent of his injuries, the colour drained from her face. She couldn’t stop the panicked whimper leaving her lips as she rushed at him, falling to her knees as she began to check his wounds.
Dried blood coated the stained and soggy bandages that wrapped around his wounds, an empty flagon laying on its side next to him. As she muttered in a panicked voice, the swordsman opened his eyes, his pale face managing a weak smile when he saw her form. Grunting and wincing from the pain, he sat a bit more upright.
“Heh, took you long enough. Gah... didn’t have anything good to drink for like what? The last two hours?”
His words were mixed in with loud bouts of coughing and worry sneaking its way into Ayuen’s gut.
Two hours? They weren’t gone for that long, right? Ayuen hushed him with a finger to his lips before she checked out the bandages. They weren’t bound properly, although the bandages had given him a little bit more time. Just enough for them to reach him.
A thought weaved its way into her mind.
‘Just like Hod had promised.’
She summoned the most gorgeous smile on her face that she could manage, relief thick in her voice.
“We’ll get you a well-deserved drink after Trïeste and I have taken care of your wounds. Hush now, we’ll take it from here.”
Trïeste joined them a few seconds after, only needing a glance to get the gist of Rove’s situation.
Together, the poet and the alchemist worked their magic. Within a space of two short minutes, his wounds were closed, for the most part. The deeper cuts that their magic couldn’t yet heal were bound by poultice-soaked bandages. To be fair, it was mostly Trïeste’s handiwork, but Ayuen pumped every ounce of power in her efforts that she could muster.
“The rest of his wounds should close and heal within a day or two,”
Trïeste said, wiping a drop of sweat from her cheek, a smug smile on her face as she winked to Rove.
“Don’t do this too often though, you bloody Herhor. The herbs for that particular poultice are quite the bitch to find. Don’t you dare die after I failed to kill you.”
To her credit, Rove did look a lot better, his skin now free of blood and his face starting to get back some of its colours. He smiled at Trïeste.
“I’ll try not to. No promises. Sometimes I just have this needless urge to get a sword buried in my gut. Call it a fetish.”
The alchemist rolled her eyes while Ayuen glared daggers at Rove, flicking her index finger harshly against his forehead. The Herhor let out a quasi-hurt yelp.
“It was just a joke! I’m a hurt man, Ayuen!”
“You’re feeling well enough for quips and jokes, which means you’re feeling good enough for repercussions.” She looked at the corpse that lay nearby. Prado. Her eyes were drawn to the man’s empty belt, spotting his sword on Rove’s belt instead. Her frown shifted back into a worried glance. “So you were forced to slay your brother...”
Rove’s expression became saddened, sighing, and laying the back of his head on the rock wall behind him. “Yep. Had a good chat beforehand though. Turned out he wasn’t such a bad egg. He was just in Mother’s web far too deep. In the end, we weren’t much different, Prado and I.” He patted the sword beside him. “And now I’ve got to go and deal with Mother for him too. And for our little sister’s sake as well. But that can wait. I’ve got to help you fulfil your goal first. Not to mention that Siandra might have some info I can wrangle out of her.”
Ayuen nodded and stood up, but not after softly stroking a finger across Rove’s cheek. She was glad he was alright.
“Now that you’re okay, time to grab our gear and head away from this wretched place.”
A soft ‘Heh’ came out of Rove’s mouth as he tried to stand up. Ayuen dove underneath his arm, giving him support as well as she could. A wing protectively folded over his back and shoulder. The Herhor nodded thankfully.
“Agreed. Let’s get out of this bloody mess.”
They all started walking, heading away from the portal and out of the mist as fast as they could, Ayuen supporting Rove all the while. Meanwhile, Trïeste herded Sneak in the right direction. The man was still muttering and frowning as he aimlessly walked forward. The alchemist even had to manually put him on the right track once or twice, lest he bumped himself into a boulder. It didn’t take long for Rove to notice the other man’s strange behaviour, raising his voice as they took a short breather. The mist was getting thinner now, the oppressive atmosphere lessening.
“What’s the matter with Sneak? I know he’s out of it at times, but this seems extreme, even for him.”
There wasn’t a lot to tell about Sneak’s condition specifically, but Ayuen told him what they had encountered on the other side of the portal, of Hod and his garden. Even told him about the smack in the face she turned out to have needed. Finally, she quickly showed him the top of the fruit tucked away in her backpack.
“And when we left, Hod whispered some words into Sneak’s ear. He’s been rather out of it since.” She finished. Rove’s face was mirroring Sneak’s frown now, the warrior watching the madman suspiciously.
“Alright. So he’s not dangerous at the moment? That’ll do for now.” He threw up his hands. “Just as I thought his mind would be pretty damn handy like it was in the mist, a random old guy whispers into his ear and messes his soul up even more. Great.”
His eyes dashed towards the mist swirling conspicuously around them. “Speaking of which… haven’t seen any figures in the fog since we started heading back. What about you?”
Ayuen shook her head, biting her lower lip while she looked around. “Not really. You Trïeste?”
“Can’t say I have, no. And I’m not plannin’ on lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Exactly.” With a grunt, the Herhor stubbornly tried to get up again on his own. Ayuen wasn’t having that, helping him up again and pressing close to him. Muttering something half-heartedly about not needing any help, Rove’s weakness meant he couldn’t resist much as they walked the last part. His bloody inflated ego. Wanting to be all manly around them, even when injured. Just accept a pretty woman’s help, damn it!
Looking up, she could see streaks of blue peek through the white. A pang of regret shot through her as she realized they hadn't come across Tyra's body. Or any body for that matter. She just hoped the guide's soul would be peaceful as it went through the Gates.
"I hope she finds rest." Rove said softly, the Trïeste nodding. Tyra was on all their minds. "We'll pay our respects when we get out of this fog. It's the least we can do."
The sun started to shine through the mist. A surge of happiness went through her as she saw Lugon's blue sky. As they walked on, the final wisps of fog reluctantly dissipated from their bodies like needy fingers releasing their prey. A shiver ran down her spine. Although the shadows had been absent, her imagination was still running wild.
Taking one last look at the white wall of fog, she shivered once more, her pace now hurried as the group headed for their horses.
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By Larisa Koshkina, Pixabay