40th Winter 511AV
The entire trip had been bitter cold. He swore it seemed at times like the goddess of winter and death had teamed up to bring him a very unfortunate memory of his past. Almost like it was a belated gift for his arrival in Mura…which he was already growing homesick of. He missed the beaches, the warm sun and sandy shores. In reality it seemed that his only true proof that he was ever there in the first place was the images carved into the blades of the two daggers he carried. When he looked at the South Tower, Opal Temple, Harbor or the Beach scenes he felt….a longing. But Mura was not his home, they were not his people. They were beautiful, pure, calm and above all blessed by the gods. And he was everything but, he did Rak’keli’s bidding healing everyone that needed it; even those that would refuse it. But he still felt no closer to her.
He had stopped for the night, his large white winter hardened horse his mode of transportation for now. The large animal was named Hasmere. He had no idea if that name held any significance among the Vantha. But he did appreciate how well the horse had seemed to adjust to the cold weather. It marched right through snow with relative ease, and actually seemed to enjoy it as well. He had to be a strange sight clad in a long white fur cloak riding a white warhorse. But he was no white knight, no he was merely human. The beasts back was quite the chore to get on. But he had gotten used to this…just like he had gotten used to the cold as well. But for now right here in this moment he was staring into a fire.
He had dug a small pit into the snow until he hit solid ground. Then from that he dug out about a four foot circumference circle down to the frozen earth. The fire was set in the middle and started with a fair amount of trial and error until finally it ignited and he had himself some warmth. But he didn’t have enough wood to last him all night. So he would likely only stay here as long as there was heat…then head out in the direction of Riverfall. He wasn’t sure how far he was from it currently. He didn’t claim to know very much about these areas, he had never seen them before in all his life. Nor could he even begin to imagine what the layout of the land was here, he didn’t know enough about land navigation to get everything anywhere near correct.
But what he did know was that it was cold….bone chilling cold. So unless he wanted to set up a tent and go through the trouble of digging a place for it in the snow he would have to move when the fire finished. He pulled his cloak around himself tight to keep out the wind. But down in his foot deep hole he was somewhat protected from the wind’s punishing whip. He was tired though…fatigued would be a more accurate word really. He had been stopping for only short breaks to rest Hasmere and his eyes. Sometimes only falling asleep during the dark and waking up when the moon hadn’t even hidden itself on the horizon. In his mind there was no point in wasting time in his travel. Especially during the winter.
It was difficult to take his mind off the grueling cold. He closed his eyes and started to remember the wonderful Mura beaches. They were the closest thing he had to a home in all his memories. The whistling wind replaced by the crashing waves, the cold of the winter replaced by the warming feeling of the sun’s rays. He could literally picture himself with a fishing rod in hand trying to catch dinner right now…The sand between his toes and the warm waters splashing up to wash him every now and again. He could even visualize the sun setting in the distance, bidding him a warm night as her sister the moon rose up over the other shore. The world around him seemed to melt some as he pictured that wonderful beach. It was like he was actually there right now even though he knew he was so far away. It would be some time before he saw Mura again, but he knew he could place Mura in his mind any time he wished.
He sat on that shore and cast a line out into the waters, hoping to catch something for dinner. The ocean that wrapped herself around Mura had been kind to him. Always offering him exactly what he needed and feeding him well. She had bulked up Serrif, providing him with the nutrition he needed to no longer be the skeleton of a man that he once was. The man who had set foot in Mura and the man he was now were two completely different individuals; yet they were the same physical man, but one could argue against that as well.
The unnamed man who stepped into that Murian port was a scared man, a hunted man who was unsure of what his future held for him. He had no purpose, no direction and had been weakened from the years in the camp struggling to stay alive. Like a beaten animal that man was cowering inside himself; afraid of the world and didn’t trust those who were around him. He didn’t know if anyone could be trusted for he had seen that every person had a darker more primal self that would step on him if it furthered their own ends. His body was weak, still a battlefield for the many toxins that had caused long lasting neurological damage that he couldn’t even begin to inventory. He was damaged in ways he couldn’t begin to explain and still had night terrors about the life he had supposedly escaped. He feared that his captors were going to track him down, find him, and bring him back to the camp again. That fear lived with him for a while, those feelings were harbored inside his chest for nearly a season…but by some god or goddesses grace he had been delivered to Mura. Exactly where he needed to be…even if he didn’t know it yet.
He grew on Mura, became more of the individual that he always knew he was. He turned his pain from the past into drive for the future. He assisted in healing those that needed it. He learned the bow from a master and was taught how to center himself along with his emotions. Lym taught him medicine, herbalism, and philtering but above all she taught him patience. His entire existence before Mura was just that…a memory. He learned to trust others and how to also trust himself in the duties he knew he had to do. The sea offered her bounty to him and fed him well providing the fuel for his body to grow and flourish here on the isle. He thickened up and his muscles seemed to absorb the wonderful fresh food; he grew stronger faster. His mistresses then pushed him harder, pushing his limits both physically and mentally. They tried him and he passed at every corner, growing the entire time. Then when he had proven that he was no longer the man he was before they put him back into the world he had come from.
He was sent back into the world to do good. To face the convictions of his past life; because only in a trial by fire did you find out who someone really was. That and in his heart he didn’t feel like he really belonged in Mura either. Sure it was exactly what he needed to find himself, to heal himself. But right now he needed more challenge in his life, and it seemed that this task to gather information from Riverfall and Wind Reach was exactly what he needed. He embraced the thought of a new challenge. Now he could put all his multitude of skills to the test and see what he really knew. He could make his mistresses proud of him. If he did an extraordinary job he would also be accepted into the Order as well, and become one of the many healers blessed by Rak’keli. This was a goal worth obtaining to him, he had met the Goddess in person once before and the second time he met her he wanted her to be proud of his accomplishments. Proud that he was one of her Opal Order healers.
In the quiet serenity of his own mind Serrif poured over the details of…everything really. He thought about what he was going to do in Riverfall, who would he meet? Ildin had told him really everything he needed to know about the place. Her father was Akalak, her mother Konti. She had spent a good amount of her time there in Riverfall learning hunting and archery from her father and her fathers close friends. She spoke that each and every one of them had two souls occupying the same body. And each of these souls was drastically different from the other. There was a lighter soul that usually had grips on the body and then there was a far darker soul that usually fought for control of the body from the other soul. Most Akalak by the time they were sixty or so have a good grip on these two competing souls. But before that especially when they are younger these two souls are usually at constant battle with each other…the darker soul trying to dig control out from under the lighter one. He was warned not to anger the darker soul, not without a good grip on what this darker self was capable of.
His trip to the western beach on Mura was rudely interrupted by a sudden whip of cold air cracking across his face. The beach was ushered away and instead replaced by the cold snow covered plain before him. It was odd. Most would consider this place barren, lifeless and maybe even grotesque. It didn’t compare to the outlandish beauty of Mura but Serrif had learned there was beauty in almost everything. The setting sun cast wonderful light across these frozen plains, and made the powder on the ground sparkle like millions of little sand sized diamonds. There was something peaceful about these plains in winter. He felt alone with himself, something he had come accustomed to while traveling to Riverfall. But even here he didn’t feel that alone, no. He knew there had to be predators; there were always predators even if you couldn’t see them. And in this weather he knew he likely wouldn’t spot them very easily.
He kept his dagger harness on at all times, so if need be he could quickly draw a dagger to dispatch anything that came his way. His bow was in his lap and his climber quiver attached to his right thigh, held tight by the multitude of buckles and straps. He was sure if anything did approach Hasmere would detect it way before he did. Allowing him a few extra seconds to respond before being killed, and a few extra seconds was all he really needed. He could assess a situation and place arrows on target fast enough, and all it really took was one well placed arrow…something Ildin had taught him. Shoot with a purpose Ildin told him. And if he drew his bow he intended on releasing the arrow as well.
He wasn’t shivering but he was cool. He wore three layers, his white bodysuit, white baggy cotton clothing and then the fur cloak. For the time being he had his breastplate on as well. He stretched some as he watched the fires dance across the few last pieces of firewood he had. A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled his facewrap down from his mouth. He sure was glad he had paid the good money for the white fur cloak now. It kept the cold away and the deep hood kept the wind off his face…most of the time. As always Hasmere inched over to the small fire to warm up, almost like he was ashamed that he liked it. This brought a sly smile to Serrif’s face.
“Don’t worry, there’s no shame in warming up Hasmere.” The horse eyed him and inched a little closer to his saddlebags that Serrif had taken off and laid on the ground near him. He knew that even his horse needed a break from the travel. He would be ignorant to assume otherwise.
Hasmere perked up, and looked off into the distance alerting Serrif almost instantly. Something was out there in the snow…As to what he didn’t know. But he did know that if Hasmere was alerted he needed to be as well. His hand found his bow and he looked out through the flurry in the direction Hasmere was staring. What was out there? Or maybe who was out there…he didn’t know what the correct question was but he knew that something was out there…even if he couldn’t see it for himself yet.