Rove

The Twisting Straits, East of the Grasping Isle

[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/554030201789743105/1028654515798409237/Grasping_Isle_Final_V1.0.png]

Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story

Sneak’s response caused Rove to raise an eyebrow as he glanced down at Stormgrinder. The madman was back to his insane self. Guess a blade wasn’t a permanent cure. Damn it.

“Right. Well, this sucks. Shit.” He muttered to himself, annoyed at this setback. With a quick practised flick of his thumb, he detached the sheath of Prado’s blade from his belt. “Trïeste, here.” The Herhor said, offering the hilt of the blade to Trïeste. “Give Sneak the blade when we need another swordsman. I would do it, but I think I’ll be taking the brunt of the punishment when it’s needed. Better that you take care of it for now.”

Trïeste nodded and took the blade without any complaints.

“Do be careful with it.” He continued. “If you lose it, I might feel forced to throw you overboard or off a cliff.”

Rove's voice was joking, although the Herhor hoped that eyes would convey the hidden meaning behind the words. ‘Prove yourself to be trustworthy or else I’ll take action’.

Trïeste nodded, the corner of her mouth curled slightly upwards as she tilted her head. Rather observant.

“Don’t worry, Rove,” She said while she fastened the sheathe to her belt. “You’ve made your point crystal clear already.”

Well, this would have to do. It wasn’t ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but he was glad they had another potential swordsman on their side. With a sigh, he said his goodbyes to Trïeste and Sneak. He turned around and left the room, shutting the door shut behind him. Sneak’s rambling voice could still be heard through the door, the man probably talking about some random thing he counted again.

Sometimes he wondered what kind of rotten luck one should have to be thrown in with some of the companions he ended up alongside. A poet, an assassin and a madman. Oh, he began to like the three of them plenty, even Trïeste. But an ideal group for a task like Ayuen’s, this was not. A group of trained Herhors would’ve been ideal.

“Gah, why did I get involved in the first place?” He asked himself while he took a step. While he made his way towards the deck, he nodded to the silhouette of a woman leaning against the wooden walls a few steps back. The woman looked up and spoke up, the now very familiar voice keying him in immediately on the figure’s identity.

“Oh, do indulge me if you wouldn’t mind. Involved in what exactly?”

Aral’s be damned, it seemed like he hasn’t been the only one that had been eavesdropping. Rove jutted a thumb towards the door as he rolled his eyes.

“You caught all that, Ayuen?”

Ayuen stepped out of the shadows into the dim lantern light. With a few quick steps, she was at his side, eyes glimmering as she hooked an arm into his.

“Hhhmmm, most of it, yes. Seems that Sneak had more hiding under that mask than we first thought.”

“Seems so.” Rove looked at her, his lingering annoyance causing his voice to be snappy. “So why didn’t you join us for the conversation?”

The Pyrn poet rolled her eyes, mimicking his body language. “Have you observed how much room is available in these cabins? If I had joined the lot of you, we’d be packed up like fish in a barrel. Which Sneak then would’ve counted until the end of time.”

“You know, you could’ve just stood in the corridor. There’s a perfectly serviceable door in that cabin.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him, smiling coyly.

“Would you believe me if I said I wouldn’t have wanted to distract you?”

“Nice try, but no.”

Ayuen pouted playfully at his retort, after which she shrugged. She pressed herself a bit closer to him and sighed. “Look, I know people. I know emotion.” She said in a more serious tone of voice. “It’s my occupation to put feelings into words, so I know my way around them. I heard the tone of Sneak’s voice when I was about to enter. The pressure you and Trïeste put on him wasn’t very subtle. Don’t get me wrong, it was what he needed. But you two aren’t the most delicate people around.”

“So you stayed outside to keep him from getting stressed out?”

“Basically. Getting packed inside a room with two pretty women and an armed legend of a Herhor is bad enough. Let alone that they all try to pressure you into doing something. Can’t be right for the mind, wouldn’t you agree?” She gave him a wink and traced his cheek with the back of a finger. Involuntarily, he sucked in a breath before relaxing. It was still new, but he was surprised that he didn’t mind her public shows of affection. In a sense, it suited her. He carefully slid an arm around her waist.

“Well, if you put it like that, it almost sounds like the start of a drunk’s drinking night story.” He teased.

“Indeed. So let’s not try to do anything a drunkard would do, alright?”

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“The ship is too small to pull anything like that anyway. Everybody would be able to hear exactly what was going on.”

With a playful push, Ayuen dislodged herself from him and put her hands on her hips.

“You act like a royal pain in the ass, Darling. You know that, right?”

Holding in a chuckle, Rove just shrugged, giving her a big knowing grin. Ayuen huffed and turned around on her heels, glancing back with a knowing smile and fluttering her wings at him.

“Look, if you can’t keep down the noise, you just do not deserve it. Think about that for a while.”

The Pyrn poet gave him one more teasing look and walked back up the deck. Looking at her, he could’ve sworn that her hips swayed more than usual when she climbed up the narrow stairs.

Rove shook his head, smiling. He still had his doubts about the two of them hooking up with this timing, but it seemed to sort itself out rather well.

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Just as he turned around to head to his bunk, he heard some ruckus outside, followed by the buzz and clank of activity. What could that be?

As he made his way towards the stairs after Ayuen, one of the younger sailors nimbly jumped down, almost crashing into him. Rove was barely able to dodge, the man whizzing past him.

“Oi! Oh sorry, sir.” The sailor quickly recovered his balance and saluted him, to Rove’s chagrin. Even under the sailors, his reputation somewhat preceded him. A couple of sailors had known of his past exploits. They had quickly brought the others up to steam and had taken to saluting in front of him as a joke. Not in front of Old Bren, who was technically their boss. Not before Marn or Ayuen, but before him. Aral’s be bloody damned. Being treated as some kind of noble or commander didn’t sit well with him. In the back of his head, thoughts about Prado and the rest of his family stirred unease at the back of his mind.

“For the hundredth time, cut it out.” He snapped. “Now what in the name of Terraz’s fury is going on?”

The man couldn’t help but smile defiantly. “We’ve spotted land, sir. Captain Brenstead wants you to prepare for landing.” Despite the smile, there was genuine respect in the lad's voice.

Rove nodded, giving the lad a harsh glare. “Cheers. I will do just that.” The sailor saluted again, but Rove had already bruskly turned around by that point, heading towards his cabin which he shared with Ayuen.

Brenstead was right. As soon as they had reached land, they should need to immediately resume their travels. The Fruit of Dawn only worked on the headman for two moons according to Ayuen’s intel. As far as she knew, they’d been travelling for about one moon and twenty-five days now. But the thing was that she didn’t know exactly how many days it had been, due to losing count at the starting days of her journey. So for the sake of acting within their time crunch, they would need all the time they could spare.

It wouldn’t take him long to stuff all of his belongings together. He had exchanged his horse and saddlebags for an adequately sized backpack, where his gear fit in quite nicely. Although he was saddened to part with his horse, it was nearly impossible to take it on board in this situation. The ship just wasn’t big enough. Rove just hoped the beast would serve another Herhor well.

Another thing he wasn’t happy about though was the fact that they’d had been forced to cut down on emergency rations. No saddlebags did mean they couldn’t bring as much as before if they wanted to travel quick and light. Trïeste had assured him that if push came to shove, she’d be able to gather enough for the group. But it didn’t sit too well with him.

With a casual toss, he threw his bag on the bottom bunk, both the bunk and his belongings neatly ordered. He shot a quick look at Ayuen’s bunk above his own and couldn’t help but cringe a little. It was a mess. Undergarments and other pieces of clothing were littered about her bunk shamelessly, her pack with personal belongings lying in a corner. The only things she had taken care of were the Fruit of Dawn and the amulet, both of them having been stashed safely under his bed. Rove looked to the door, musing for a second. Should he get Ayuen to prepare? Deciding it would be much faster if he would pack her stuff, he decided against it. It wouldn’t cost him much time. Quickly, he started packing his lover’s things, neatly stacking and arranging them into her pack. He’d just finished putting in the last of her more... revealing garments when he saw the spine of a small booklet sticking out from beneath her pillow. Her poetry book. A sudden wave of curiosity washed over Rove. Biting his lip, he glanced at the door, guilt and mischief battling within him. His mischief began to win. Slowly, his hand slid towards the book, almost as if it had its own will. Carefully, he plucked it from under the pillow. Just a small peek couldn’t hurt, right? He gently flipped through some of the pages. In sharp contrast to her messy bunk, this booklet was neatly organized. Every poem that she’d written had the date of writing and the area of writing written above it in Ayuen’s graceful handwriting. He skimmed the first parts. The poems there were mostly written in Marlight, with a couple written in a place that was referred to as ‘Mystre’. For a moment Rove racked his brain, but nothing came to mind. He’d have to ask her at a later date.

As the pages and dates flipped by, the locations abruptly changed to locations he was all too familiar with. Handport, Herhor’s End, Tinker Spring and finally the Yearning Maiden. Its date proudly stated it had been written a few days prior, a few days after they’d set sail from Fool’s Point. His eyes eagerly skimmed over the poem, curious if her blooming relationship with him had influenced her writing in any way. He started reading the small piece of text. It was a fairly simple poem, not difficult to read at all.

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The Yearning Maiden, the year 3.145, day 135, day 3 aboard the Yearning Maiden

Curiosity abloom

Two souls once hostile

Met due to happenstance

Now both look with a smile

Hoping to catch the other’s glance

With glee in my heart

So great it sends me aflutter

I welcome this new start

Writing up these words I utter

Because I know that someday

When I’m watching over the sea

That he will read this with glee

And read it he may

Because I know that the Herhor

Sneakily rummaging through this book

Will now think to his horror

‘She knew and I took the hook’

But don’t you worry, my love

For I don’t mind you reading

I know what you’re thinking of

So don’t try to be misleading

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Rove's guilt rose again, the Herhor's not able to hold back a chuckle that went through the small cabin.

[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/876104022833127448/1125393400364007474/dim-hou-bfFX9KZJvhQ-unsplash.jpg]By Dim Hou, Unsplash Licence