In Huck's Hands

Bonus chapter: Clewis and Lark Part 1

----500 years before current timeline ----

The rickety boat screeched ominously as another wave crashed against its ancient hull. Clewis Vascaria gripped the railing, his brown knuckles ashy-white but his red eyes alight with excitement. 

He turned to his comrade, Lark Vasca, who was hunched over a bucket, looking decidedly less enthused about their maritime adventure.

"Come now, my friend," Clewis said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Surely the prominent Lark Vasca isn't defeated by a bit of choppy water?"

Lark raised his head, nailing Clewis with a glare that could rip paint off walls. "Fuck off, Clewis," he snarled, swabbing his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"This isn't a 'bit of choppy water.'" He mimicked Clewis' new fake accent he was using as of late. "It's a fuckin' storm sent by the gods to punish me for knowing you."

Clewis chortled, the sound carrying over the howling wind. "Such poetry! If only you'd put such passion into your paintings, we might not be in this predicament." 

A short detonation of wind made it nearly impossible to hear what the man said.

Lark's own response was cut short by another bout of nausea, as he vomited over the side of the boat, Clewis's smile faded slightly. He patted his friend's back awkwardly, unused to showing genuine concern.

"We'll reach calmer waters soon," he said, his tone much softer. "And then, my friend, our fortunes will change. Izmar awaits, with all its untold riches and adventures." The smile returned, full force to his face.

Lark straightened up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve this time. "If we don't sink to the bottom of the ocean first," he muttered, at least returning his friend's smile.

The two men made an odd pair. Clewis, with his sharp features and perpetual smirk, exuded an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. His clothes, though worn, were of fine make, hinting at a past of some affluence but more telling of his thieving ways. 

Lark, on the other hand, was more soft-featured and a constant scowl braced itself against the elements of life from his face. His rough-spun shirt and patched trousers spoke of a life of true struggle.

As another wave rocked the boat, Clewis stumbled slightly. He caught himself on the mast, chuckling at his own clumsiness. "You know, Lark," he said, "I've been thinking about my next book."

Lark groaned. "Not another one of your 'get rich quick' schemes...The last 'Novella' was the reason we were charged with treason--"

"Tried but not convicted my friend, tried but not convicted!"
 Clewis insisted, his eyes blazing. 

"But this one's different,"

"Picture this: 'The Treacherous Journey; Izmar: A Tale of Bravery and Discovery.' We'll be the heroic explorers, braving unknown waters to bring knowledge of a new land to our people during a time of instability!" Clewis was near screaming, breathing heavily into Lark's ear.

"And who, the hell, would read an autobiography about two runaway ex-slaves? " Lark questioned, his tone dripping with mockery.

 He would have laughed if it was impossible at the moment, Lark was fighting for his life to not tumble overboard more than he wanted to insult his dear friend.

Clewis waved his hand dismissively. "Everyone, of course! People love tales of adventure, hot steamy sex, and substance! And once we've actually been to Izmar, we'll have all the details we need to make it believable."

Lark snorted. "Right. Because your last book was such a roaring success...wait--If its a documentary; how the fuck is there gonna be steamy sex?" 

He raised an eyebrow, scared at his friend's implication.