Here We Go Again! Rohan of the Ruin: Part IV

It is currently beautiful in the middle of the United States! The 50 and 60-degree weather days are wonderful compared to the ridiculous cold of last week. With the nice weather, staying inside to write has been difficult to convince myself to do, but here I am! Last week when we left Rohan and Faelynn, they were in the middle of limbo, waiting for General Maw to demand an audience with the “prisoner”.

Just now joining us for this edition of Writing Prompt Wednesday? No worries! Check out the first 3 weeks and the original prompt here:

The below is copyright to ThisBookBeauty 2025 and shall not be recreated

He kept General Maw at bay, glaring menacingly at the general and his underlings until they eventually turned back in the direction they’d come. They wouldn’t be deterred for long. Hopefully just long enough for Rohan to sneak Faelynn back to her village, through the portal, and overthrow the king. He ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing his eyes as he did.

Easy.

Rohan did his best to encourage Faelynn to take the chance to rest while she could. He wasn’t surprised when she declined, choosing to sit and stare at him from the cot he’d deposited her on. He deserved her distrust and as long as she didn’t stand in his way of getting Jonelle back, Faelynn was welcome to hate him all she wanted.

The night fell and with it, the sounds outside the tent tapered off to a low murmur of late-night guards and the crackling of dying fires. Rohan pulled a black cloak over his body, ensuring his face disappeared beneath the deep cowl of the hood. He threw the same style garment over Faelynn’s body, noting the way her fair frame was swallowed by the swaths of fabric. He smirked and pulled the cowl low over her face. He tugged on a pair of black leather gloves, passing a matching set to Faelynn to hide her hands.

“Stay close,” he whispered near her ear, moments before pulling her along behind him, out of the tent, and into the shadows of the camp. Like a wisp of smoke, Rohan moved from shadow to shadow, Faelynn staying close on his heels and blessedly quiet. The guards were exhausted from weeks of marching across plains and sands. Rohan’s chest eased a bit as they reached the edge of the encampment and slipped into the night. As they left the area, Rohan let loose a low whistle, a signal only he and Galahan knew and one that would send his horse running no matter their distance.

Trusting his horse to find them in the night, Rohan continued quickly, barely slowing for Faelynn to keep pace with him. Soon, the encampment was a fading dot behind them.

“What are you doing?” Faelynn huffed, her breaths coming in short, shallow pants.

Rohan slowed and stopped, searching the darkness around them, “We’re going back to your portal. I’m going to use it.”

She froze, hands on her hips, “Why do you think I’d take you to the portal?”

He glared at her, expecting her to flinch back. Instead, Faelynn met his gaze defiantly.

“I thought we wanted the same things.”

Faelynn grimaced, “No, I want my people free. You are still a wild card. One of us has been sharing and the other one has been brooding in typical male fashion.”

He raised a brow, “Typical male fashion?”

She shrugged in an ‘it is what it is’ manner.

Rohan sighed and threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling the hooded cowl back from his face. He contemplated how much to say, how much his less-than-stellar vocabulary would allow him to communicate. What did she need to know versus what could she deal without?

Careful to keep his voice pitched low, Rohan spoke in stilted words, hoping she could follow along with his piecemeal sentences to understand what he was trying to say. They lapsed into silence and he waited for her laughter, her denial, some reaction that would support his desire to be as far away from people as possible. Instead, Faelynn placed a leather-clad hand on his shoulder, comforting him when she had no reason to.

She opened her mouth, ready to speak when Galahan trotted up to them on silent hooves. Rohan barely repressed his sigh of relief before offering Faelynn his hand to help her up onto Galahan’s back. The giant horse, unsaddled and unbridled, had Faelynn balking at the thought of riding the horse. Rohan snorted and pulled himself up behind her before urging the horse onward, directing him with just his heels and a light touch on his mane.

“So what is your plan?” Faelynn asked. Her back was as far away from his front as she could get, but the strain of maintaining her posture began to wear on her and she felt herself relaxing into his chest.

“I need that portal to get back to the palace, remove the king from his throne, rescue my sister, and then disappear forever,” he growled close to her ear and she shivered in the cool night air.

“So nothing crazy then huh?” she tried to joke. It fell flat as she pictured what he was saying. He would complete his mission and never be heard from again. He sounded like that plan would work well for him and she felt the ridiculous notion that she might miss him.

Faelynn furrowed her brows. Why would she miss him? She’d known the man for less than 24 hours, been manhandled and treated like chattel during that time. Something in his eyes though, the wariness, the hopelessness, and the tone of his voice, like words were foreign and companionship was a commodity he couldn’t afford. She wondered if Agradell’s greatest military asset was just as concerned about Agradell’s people and their future as Faelynn and her entire village were.

They dismounted at the mouth of the cave where, hours ago, Faelynn had helped her people escape from Agradell’s army. Galahan followed behind Rohan, faithful as ever and determined to follow his master, even into the relative darkness of the cavern. A dull throbbing glow emitted from further within the cave and Faelynn immediately headed toward it. Rohan, on the other hand, drew his curved sword from its sheath at his waist and approached with trepidation.

The portal was a swirling mass of blues and purples, suspended in the curve of a stone arch. The sound of rushing wind came from it, becoming deafening the closer they came to it.

Faelynn met Rohan’s gaze, his brows knitted with concern and determination. Galahan stood behind him, ears flattened against his head. over the rushing wind. Faelynn stared at the swirling colors of the portal, her eyes going unfocused. She stepped up to the stone arch and held out her hand to Rohan who sheathed his sword and took her dainty fingers. He grasped Galahan’s mane with his other hand and pulled close to her.

“How do we know this will spit us out at the palace?” Rohan asked, raising his voice over the rushing wind.

“We don’t.”

And then they were gone.

That’s the end of Week 4 of the 10-week Writing Prompt Wednesday! What do you think? Do you think the portal is going to land them at the palace where Rohan can gather his sister and exact revenge on the king who holds him captive? Or will it drop them somewhere else entirely?

We’ll find out next week!