B R I N L A I T H & R U L - A M A N
B R I N L A I T H & R U L - A M A N
10th of Midyear, 4E 200
Brinlaith wasn't safe from the battle just by being dropped into the sea. Men were
literally raining down around her, the first one at least splashing down entirely intact. She nearly drew her knife underwater before realizing it was the same Redguard man that had passed her on the stairs earlier. So he wasn't dead after all. Probably meant he was at least a decent fighter, if he hadn't been cut down immediately on the deck surrounded by all those pirates. Maybe not the worst person to have at her back in a time like this.
Their first goal had to be to get clear of the battling, sinking ships, find something to keep themselves afloat, and orient themselves. If there was land anywhere around here, they could at least survive the night. "Follow me," she instructed, awkwardly forcing her way through the water until she located a chunk of the
Arslan's Fortune's hull large enough to cling to. She was not a natural or experienced swimmer, but at least good enough to keep her head above the churning waters.
"Current's taking us away," she pointed out, noticing how they were drifting away from the light and the heat of the blazing wreck that was their ship. "Good. Need to get clear of these pirates..." She kicked slowly beneath the waves, trying to aid their progress, before examining if the driftwood they'd found was big enough to climb on. Maybe, maybe not.
"I'm Brinlaith, by the way. And this was my first time out to sea." She shook her head, eyes gleaming orange as they reflected the firelight from the ship. "I must be cursed."
Rul-Aman had been at sea before. He had even learned to swim, which was rare for a sailor. However, the entire debacle had left him speechless, save for quips. He couldn't think of anything clever when she bade he follow her, so he kept quiet and did so, He would have done anything without question at that point. His survival instinct had overridden his normal functions, and all he could consciously focus on was the air being drawn in and out of his lungs. As long as that continued, he would be elated.
He made it to the debris with Brinlaith, clasping hold of it. Immediately he knew they could not both get on it to escape the water, and despite himself, he realized he would not kill someone else over it, especially a woman.
When she said "good" referring to the current taking them elsewhere, he echoed the word. He gave no inflection, but it was meant to be somewhat sarcastic. It was true, they needed to flee the pirates, but in the darkness, he was more frightened of an endless ocean. He had only sailed for a year, but even in that short time, he had been victim to innumerable stories of ghastly seabeasts and raiders like the Maormer.
"No more cursed than I," he promised her, a vibrantly comical look of defeat on his handsome face. The water was colder than he expected, but soon his body grew acclimated to the temperature. He gave her a grin of comraderie as they began to paddle gently, his dark hair black as the endless void, even in the firelight. "Still, I have faith we'll make it to shore." He said. "I have a feeling our combined luck will see to it that the gods will allow us to live, if only to torture us further. How fun."
Brinlaith didn't know how long they paddled. It could've been an hour, it could've been four. It felt like an interminable torture, either way, but with the rising sun the pair discovered that they were within striking distance of land. It was an island of some sort, difficult to determine the size, but anything was better than the bit of ship debris they were restricted to at the moment. Brin thought she spied a tower or an obelisk of some sort, poking out above the top of the palm trees. Any sign of civilization was good.
Leaving their two-person ship behind, Brinlaith and Rul-Aman made the final push to shore, aiming for that lone structure they could see, and eventually found themselves washed up on the beach by the waves. Brinlaith was exhausted, crawling through wet sand, but she refused to let herself stop until the waves stopped crashing over the top of her and the sand dried out. Rolling onto her back, she closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. She would've immediately fallen asleep had she not been so hungry and thirsty.
Groaning, she got to her feet, finding her legs to be unsteady and the sand treacherous. Her voice was hoarse, forcing her to clear her throat before speaking. "What do you think? Wait for a ship to come along, try to signal them? Or try our luck heading inland? I saw... something, through the trees."
Rul-Aman wished he could look so good being exhausted. Instead of rolling over to bask in the sun like a proper person, he crawled onto the beach like a waterlogged hound, and then collapsed face first into the sand just beside Brinlaith. Without ceremony or grace, he might add. However, darkness did not completely take him. His stint as a thief meant he spent everything wisely, from coin to time. While he lay there, he ran through what his tired eyes had seen in his head.
An obelisk of some significance. Magnificent, actually, now that he had a moment to ponder it. Dare he hope it was a structure from old Yokuda? It felt oddly familiar in that sense, but perhaps he merely wished it so. Still, he would find out, just as soon as he got his leaden body moving. He felt the sun drying his limps as he lay there, but hearing Brinlaith stir, he immediately began to follow suit. Damn, but he was beyond thirsty!
He stretched like a panther, feeling his back muscles constrict and relax. Rul-Aman blinked, and did his best to wipe the sand from his face as he rose to a sitting position. Briefly, he glanced out toward the sea, but decided he did not want to see the water for at least another week, and so his petulance made the decision. "Let us move further, inland." He said, groaning as he lifted himself off the sand. He slowly drew his blade, hefting it in his tired hand. "My blade will be of little use, but I can still bat aside a few vines I think."
He then blinked, and realized something, immensely embarrassed. He had been so preoccupied the entire night, he did not realize he had never introduced himself. He turned to Brinlaith, and placed the hilt of his sword, along with the hand that gripped it, to his chest. "A thousand apologies, I am Rul-Aman. Sailor, adventurer, and thief, when it suits me. Allow yourself to be comforted, for I shall see our to safety, lady Brinlaith." He then performed a sweeping bow, a genuflection he performed with the best of them in all cases but now. This time, he was so exhausted, the sudden performance could not be halted. As he gave the gentlemanly showing, he pitched forward and once again hit the sand face first, looking for all the world like a falling stone tower.
Almost immediately he scrambled to his feet again, fixing his black mane of hair and rubbing his face of sand, coughing. His voice sounded wretchedly hoarse. "
Sh-kall we g-ko, my lady?"
Brinlaith's response was to start giggling. What would've been a single laugh or a chuckle was amplified by her exhaustion and near-delirium, turning into a laughing fit that she couldn't seem to end. She stumbled on the uneven footing of the sand, almost falling, her mind screaming at her to pull herself together, but the sudden ridiculousness of his introduction amidst their dire circumstances was too much.
"I'm sorry," she laughed, hands on her knees. "I'm sorry, I don't know why that was so funny to me..." She took several deep breaths, in and out, the laughs almost bubbling back up, but she forcibly suppressed them. At least she had some idea the kind of man she was stuck with here. Even if some part of that was an act, he hadn't faked his decision to rush onto a burning deck full of pirates. Blustery, perhaps, but capable at least. That was good.
She straightened, composed again, her voice quieter. "I'm, um... a healer by trade. Not really one for battles, as I think you saw on the ship." She averted her eyes momentarily. "I'll follow your lead. I admit, I have no idea where we are. Geography was never my strongest subject."
"You don't have to rub it in," he said touchily, but there was no animosity in his voice. Her laughter was like a ringing bell, despite her parched throat, and it struck a chord in him and made the mirth infectious. Despite himself, he laughed as well, if only under his breath. He could not hide his grin, however. It was like two cups of hard liquor on his spirit. His body running of fumes, as the dwemer were reputed of saying, along with the mirth, made him more honest. Not that he wasn't usually honest, but he tended to hide it behind a wall of flattery when it came to pretty women in his company.
"I'm not much one for battles either," he admitted as they began to trudge up the gentle slope. Luckily, the trees did not crowd into one another like he had feared, and other than the occasional fern or disconcertingly large spider web, they could march unmolested. "I know fighters. Real ones. They have that gleam in their eye. You can tell they would rather be nowhere else in the world but that place, that moment, locking blades with a foe." He let the image linger as he spoke, before dropping his free hand. "That is not me. I run and scream and stab when I have to. I would rather dice and gamble, climb buildings and drink. Healing is a far more valuable trade than my own. My own skills are self serving, and they barely achieve
that."
He shook his head, lamenting without wallowing in it. He chopped through another tangle of vines, thinking it looked suspiciously like tangled hair from hours at sea, before they fell away and he could spot the Obelisk in its full glory, barely half a mile to the north. He took a moment to admire it, before glancing back at Brinlaith. "I cannot guess, but it seems like it was made by my aaaa-ASSS I LIVE AND BREATHE!" He was sorry if that startled the woman, but he turned her head to what had once been hidden by a wall of brush. Behind them lay a small, abandoned camp. Three logs for sitting, and a small crate under the cover of ferns. There were even water skins! Despite himself, his more earnest side dissipated and he gave her a wink, as if it was his plan all along. "Stick with me and you'll go far, aye?"
Brinlaith's immediate instinct was to warily inspect the abandoned camp, though her thirst compelled her to take one of the water skins. She pulled the stopper, sniffing and smelling nothing, then greedily took a drink. Warm, but most definitely fresh water. She sighed in relief, and had to resist the urge to down the entire skin's supply. They didn't know when they'd find more.
"Some decent luck to balance us out," she commented, taking a look around. "Not sure the scales are even just yet, but it's a start."
There was food as well, some fortunate enough to be wrapped and dry in the crate. Dried fruits, nuts, some jerky. Little more than snacks, but it was more than they'd had before. Looking around, Brinlaith spotted scattered fishing equipment, a few tents in various states of disarray, and a smattering of tracks all around.
"Whoever was here abandoned it in a rush. Left without their tools." It went without saying that it was cause to be careful. Still, she didn't see signs of a fight, or obvious animal tracks, and she couldn't deny she desperately wanted to rest, at least for a little while. They had shade, food, and water, and that felt like luxury right now.
Brinlaith seated herself on a log, slowly eating out of the palm of her hand. "Maybe we should take some time to rest? No idea what's waiting for us after we leave here." She could see inside one of the tents there was at least one bedroll left behind. "I can keep watch."
"Well they didn't leave in a rush for poison, thankfully." Rul remarked, greedily eating the various nuts and berries that had been left behind. The jerky particularly was enjoyed, and he felt like a wolf lazily enjoying a kill as he had his fill sitting atop the log. He began to wish for wine or some other comfort, but the gods were fickle and he did not wish to curse their new fortune. Rul-Aman stretched his neck for a moment, still feeling the tuck and turn of the waves on his bones, but sleep still tugged at him. Initially he was going to refuse he rest first, but he supposed if trouble were to arrive, he was the one with the combat experience, with what little that afforded him.
"Alright, but as soon as you begin to drift off, you wake me, Brin." He bade her, too tired to realize he shortened her name. Rul-Aman was a man light on his feet, with a slim build, but he felt as heavy as a lumbering bear when he crawled into the tent to find merciful respite from the sun. He felt dizzy, but his stomach was moderately full, and the waterskin had quenched his dry throat.
He wondered where he was going, and why he was even here. He thought back to his words on the sea. They had been given this blessing, but a dark thought lingered. It was only to keep him alive for some other nefarious torture, he suspected. Oddly, his last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that he hoped Brinlaith did not find some grisly fate due to him. It would not be good for what little conscience he had left if he awoke to her dead.
That would suck.
"Sweet dreams," Brinlaith wished him, though her warm smile faded away to a cold focus once Rul-Aman was asleep. Disastrous though the night had been, she was remaining open-minded about the possibilities. One place was as good as the next for her right now, and they'd already encountered signs of life, so this island wasn't empty. That, and... her new acquaintance seemed like a useful sort, probably much more reliable than her previous companion in the wilds.
She wondered if this working relationship would have a similar end.
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