Two more Writing Prompt Wednesdays before this edition is finished and put away on the shelf! Rohan of the Ruin has been an interesting writing prompt because it was so random! If you’re just joining us, you can check out the first part of this writing prompt edition here: https://www.bluedandelionpress.com/writingpromptwednesdayherewegoagain/
When we left off last week, Rohan, Faelynn, and Aesop had just reached the area around the capital city, where the castle of Agradell stands. Inside that castle is the very person they each wish to destroy, and the person Rohan hopes to save.
Rohan of the Ruin: Part VIII – The Castle’s Shadow
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Rohan knew the castle like the back of his hand. With his eyes closed, he could still see the various halls and secret passageways that looped throughout the massive landmark. Most passages were guarded, but not all and he focused in on the ones left without protection. Rohan and Aesop prepared to storm the castle, their elvish fangs on display, bared in fierce snarls.
Faelynn hurried to catch up to them, their long legs carrying them away faster than she could walk. She clamped her slender fingers around Rohan’s bicep, her other hand landing solidly on Aesop’s shoulder.
“Stop you fools!” she hissed, yanking against them with all her strength.
The males stopped, each turning back to her with an incredulous look. Faelynn knew her minimal human strength wouldn’t have actually pulled them to a stop, but perhaps the surprise at her brazen behavior stopped them in their path.
“What did you call us?” Aesop asked.
Rohan peered into her face, “Do you have something to say?”
Faelynn took a gulp of air, “We cannot just walk down the hill, into the castle, and move about without any way to disguise who we are. In case you’ve forgotten,” she jabbed at Rohan’s chest, “you’re a deserter, and Aesop, you’re supposed to be dead.”
Aesop’s jaw clenched and he looked away rather than acknowledging her truth.
Rohan smirked, “Okay, so what do you suggest?”
Half an hour later, Faelynn found herself sneaking through the shadows of the city, sticking close to buildings and doing her best to remain hidden. She’d left the elvish males in a copse of trees to the south of the castle, their grumbling following her partially to the city wall. Conveniently, Faelynn failed to mention the single most important issue in her plan to either of the males. She’d never been to the capital city, never seen the streets she traveled now and had no idea where she was going.
Since she’d ignored her village elders and stood outside, away from the huts to meet the incoming army head-on, Faelynn had been whisked from place to place. For the most part, she followed Rohan’s lead, a sense of inferiority settling in her bones the more she learned about him, his past, and the history of his people. Sneaking into the city and finding disguises though, was something she could do. After all, weren’t most cities and villages essentially the same at the core?
The market consisted of wooden stalls lined up and down a single street in the center of the city. Colorful awnings blocked the sun from beating down on the merchants and their wares. Market-goers crowded the street and the clamor of haggling and laughter filled the air. Faelynn stayed to the side of the market cast in shadows, stopping to touch fabrics, to pick up and put down a small bauble. At the second shop selling cloaks, Faelynn handed over coins for three made of course gray fabric. A few stalls later, she paid a pretty penny for a set of simple steel daggers, which she slipped inside the cloaks. She huddled near large groups, listening into conversations and gathering small bits of information worth taking back to Rohan and Aesop.
The sun neared the western sky when she finally prepared to make her escape from the city walls. A crowd of villagers, only in the city for market day, aimed for the imposing gates at the edge of the city, and Faelynn did her best to blend with the group. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, the sound ringing in her ears. Her palms felt clammy and sweat beaded at her temples.
Faelynn passed beneath the gate, releasing a relieved sigh, her shoulders sagged as the tension fled her body.
“Stop!” The shout came from behind her, authority strong in the man’s voice.
Faelynn froze and turned slowly, searching the crowd behind her out of the corner of her eye. The armed guard who stood at the city’s gate made his way toward her, his stride long and self-assured.
Faelynn pivoted, facing the guard and the crowd that gaped at her in fear and pity, “Sir?”
The man took in her face and the parcels she clutched in her hands, “Where are you headed?”
“L-listercene,” she said the first nearby town she could think of. Her knowledge of the kingdom wasn’t extensive, largely limited to the land around her home village, leagues away.
“Are you Aces’ daughter?” the guard’s interest caused an uncomfortable bubbling in her stomach.
“N-no, I’m visiting my aunt,” the lie fell from Faelynn’s lips, tasting like acid.
The guard grunted, dismissingly, “You aren’t who I thought you were. Carry on.”
Faelynn executed a quick and clumsy curtsy before quickening her stride, letting the crowd carry her the rest of the way through the gates, out of the city, and toward the forest path that would lead her back to Rohan and his cousin.
The sun’s rays had fallen past the edge of the world when Faelynn found the hidden forest path and she glanced around, narrowing her eyes at suspicious shadows. Ensuring she hadn’t been followed was even more important than her returning to the elvish males at all. If she didn’t come back, they’d know something had happened, but if she were followed, their mission would be over before they could even truly begin.
In the dark, it took Faelynn longer to return to the campsite. She stumbled into the small clearing, her foot catching on a root. Her hands flew out, bracing to catch herself as she fell, but Faelynn never touched the ground. In the moments she expected pain to lance through her wrists, warm strength enveloped her instead and she found herself in Rohan’s arms.
“Welcome back, Faelynn,” he rumbled, hugging her close to his chest.
She smiled up at him weakly, “My hero.”
Rohan set her on her feet, holding on until she was steady and able to move forward on her own accord. He urged her toward the small fire burning in the clearing and Faelynn folded herself gracefully onto one of the bedrolls spread out on the flat ground.
The elvish male joined her near the fire, taking the bundle of clothes from her arms, “What did you find?”
Faelynn showed him the cloaks, the daggers, and even the pair of leggings she’d found for herself to change into.
Aesop appeared from the darkness between the trees, his eyes practically glowing in the night, “Changing of the guard.”
Rohan stood, stretching as he took up one of the daggers Faelynn had procured, “So that’s it then. We’re ready?”
Faelynn nodded grimly, passing the other dagger to Aesop, “At first light.”
Will our heroes breach the castle walls next week? Will they discover the justice and vengeance they desire when they reach King Akar?
With only two more weeks in this edition of Writing Prompt Wednesday, it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty.
Happy Reading!
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