The Samurai, the Typhoon, and the Strange-Familiar Land

[Serril Indaiyu]

Immediately following the events of Flowers are Flowers Because They Fall...

What is a dream?

What does it mean to be awake?

Consciousness ebbed and flowed. It swelled in moments, opening Serril's eyes to a world without focus or understanding. He was distantly aware of the taste of blood in his mouth, and the all-permeating smell of smoke, but before he could understand their meaning, he was subsumed once more, and blanketed by the darkness. When Serril opened his eyes again, he saw no recognition in the trees around him. Was he still in the Wilds?

Serril stirred, now aware that he was not moving under his own power, but was being carried.

"Sibi?" his hoarse voice cracked through dried, bloody lips. It was so hard to focus.

The head above tilted slightly in recognition to the voice. Serril's addled mind tried to make sense of the face he was seeing. Not Sibi. Not his kin. Serril's body tensed, dulled instincts finally starting to wake. Then he saw it. The eye. That horrible, monstrous eye, sitting within the fold of a terrible scar across one side of the man's face. There was nothing natural about that eye. bright blue and twisted, large and misshapen, it bore no resemblance to it's dark counterpart on the other side of the man's face. Fear brought him closer to the brink of being fully awake, and Serril began taking panic breaths as he tried to resist. It was too much in that moment, and the torpor of his injuries once more closed his eyes.

[Zondas Demon-Eye]

Zondas watched as the child once again went limp in his grasp. He'd made as much use of his healing kit as he could, but there was only so much that bandages and herbs could do. The boy was weak, exhausted, and bloodied. If he survived the journey - and that was very much in doubt - there was no guarantee the Raven Queen wouldn't find him anyway. The Eladrin grit his teeth at the thought.

"Kshhk!"

An invasive memory found a common thread in that moment, bringing feelings as bitter as ashes on the tongue. A similar child, held in his arms. One who never did wake up. So long ago, but always yesterday. Zondas felt eyes on him ahead. He looked up.

"You can't 'ave zees one. Not today."

The raven stood stock-still on the branch of the tree that he'd tethered his horse to.

"I left you a whole forest of bloody corpses. You should be satisfied."

Zondas stood his ground, a surge of anger hot and heavy in his chest. Eventually, the black bird took off with a caw, passing over too closely to be an accident. He watched the raven leave until he could see it no longer through the trees. Only then did he return to his horse, taking care to cradle the boy in one arm as best as he could until he worked into the stirrups and eventually his saddle. He held the firbolg against him at the front of the saddle, mindful to cradle his head.

[Serril Indaiyu]

The world returned in faltering sensation. The smell of horse intermingled with the omnipresence of smoke. The rhythmic thump of hooves against ground. Serril's unfocused eyes stared up at the faint spears of fading sunlight, piercing the veil of forest and smoke alike. He comprehended none of it.

What is a dream?

What does it mean to be awake?

Moments in time began to drip back into recollection with the color of crimson. Faces contorted into death masques - caricatures of people he knew.

Serril comprehended none of it. His eyes tried to fix upon the stranger in the saddle. The man with that horrible eye.

Serril blinked. Slept. Dreamt. Was he awake? Had he ever been?

The trees were gone. He'd never known a world without trees. No longer holding the wherewithal to panic, Serril's head rolled to one side, until he could see an alien sight. Not a tree to be seen. Instead, awash within a sea of grass. Unmoored from his reality, Serril had no choice but to accept it. Maybe it was a dream, and maybe he was awake.

His eyes closed again.

[Zondas Demon-Eye]

The boy wasn't the only one who was exhausted.

Furious battle and hours of hard riding that followed were beginning to wear heavily on Zondas. Now, he was back in the sea of grass where he had come from. For almost an hour, he paced on his horse, seemingly in random directions. The Eladrin swordsman paused in places, dismounting and walking around his steed as if looking for something misplaced. He squatted down in the tall grass, momentarily disappearing from sight. Uninterested, his horse was more than willing to stay idle and graze. After a moment, Zondas popped back up, holding a blade of grass between his fingers. Turning away from the far-distant Moonwood and the pall of smoke still hanging in the sky beyond, he set his sights on a vast flat expanse. The Eladrin took two-and-one-half careful steps to the left, pivoted slightly, then let go of the blade of grass in his hand. It fluttered down to the ground, or would have, were it not for being picked up by a breeze that most certainly wasn't there, and carried straight ahead.

Zondas allowed himself the smallest, most tired smile possible. He returned to the saddle, checking on the boy. The firbolg's pulse was weak, and the child felt cool and clammy. If they didn't follow the path now, he was going to die. It was now or never.

"Yaaah!!"

Zondas spurred his horse onward, cradling the boy against his chest as he leaned into the momentum, urging his mount to push his limits. The sea of grass began to whip past in a blur of golden waves as the child's eyes opened again. Zondas met his eyes, and felt the touch of that hateful memory again.

"I've got you. I'm not letting go."

Zondas wasn't sure if it was reassuring. He'd never had a talent that sort of thing. But it was earnest. That he could do.

The child's eyes focused on Zondas. He didn't recoil from his sight.

As they rode onward, the grass seemed to grow taller, and taller, and taller again. Or they were galloping lower, and lower, and lower still. Perhaps it was both and none at all.

A moment later, and there was only grass, swaying in the wind as if there had been no one at all.

[Serril Indaiyu]

The grass rose high around them, until it was the only thing Serril could see. As if there was no beginning and no end to it. The grass blotted the sun from the sky. What light could be seen was a distant reflection, cascading down in rippling shades of greens. As soon it reached totality, the grass began to recede. Or maybe they were galloping higher and higher? Perhaps it was both and none at all.

When the grass parted, it revealed a sky cast in riotous hues of twilight and churning clouds that reflected the gloaming rainbow in its infinite shades, roiling and subsuming colors to birth new ones again. These were colors familiar to Serril. The fading moments of light as the sun passed to night were the universal signs to every child to come back home, lest there be trouble. But as he took effort to turn his head from left to right, the twilight stretched from horizon to horizon, spreading sourceless and indistinct light.

A wind began to pick up. The stranger in the saddle held him closely, not letting up in his frenzied pace. All around Serril, a world that looked familiar and different moved past at breakneck pace.

As he drifted back into nothing once more, the only thing Serril knew for certain was that he was now a far, far way from home.

[Zondas Demon-Eye]

As Zondas made all due speed to deliver the boy to safety, a solitary figure at the outskirts of the Gloamhollow Fens watched the swordsman and his steed carefully. Zondas pulled a small round object with a string from a pouch. Clenching the object between his teeth, Zondas tugged at firmly at the string, causing it to break, and for a slow spray of sparks to start spitting from the aperture. The swordsman plucked the object from his teeth and threw it high in the air, where it burst into a plume of white smoke.

The watcher carefully climbed to the top of a vine-choked and palisaded wooden tower, taking position behind a massive wooden carved horn that the entire tower was seemingly built around. An orange-faced Eladrin with a shaved head squared his feet, took in a mighty breath, and blew on the horn, the force of the sound vibrating the tower he inhabited. The sound was low and vast, a droning blast that carried like thunder on the wind. It carried far beyond the rider below, and it wasn't long before another blast could be heard, softer at even further distance beyond - signaling their return.

Zondas didn't let up. By the time that the twelve-story high Molino Castle and it's giant windmill was in sight, the clouds above were openly threatening. A rain had begun to fall, and held all the promise that it would strengthen before it would relent. The courtyard had turned to mud by the time he arrived.

"Get 'im in, quickly!"

With haste, the boy was passed into the care of a pair of bowing courtiers, who took care with bringing the firbolg inside and out of the elements. The wind was picking up even stronger now, as lightning flashed momentarily, illuminating everything in perfect brilliance. Zondas dismounted, exhausted, watching as the child was taken away.

An Eladrin woman with golden hair and skin stood in the wide doorway of the Castle, still under its generous awning. Wearing a vivid color-shifting kimono, brooches, and hair pins, she held an eerie, ageless beauty. She regarded Zondas, returning in armor fouled by blood, mud, and more, and bowed.

"I am grateful for your safe return, Lord Zondas. To gaze upon your face once more, it is like the first warm day of spring."

Zondas passed below the awning as his exhausted horse was led to the stables. Out of the rain, the samurai was still a dripping mess. He returned the bow he was given, sparing no formality despite his unpresentable condition.

"I would wish for a better spring day for you, as one befitting my face would be quite ugly, Lady Iniala."

Zondas maintained his bow, his eyes respectfully downcast as rainwater dripped from his chin. Lady Iniala made a small gesture, and released Zondas from his courtesy - allowing a pair of footman to begin helping the samurai from his armor.

Lady Iniala focused her attention on the storm in the meantime, a heralding breeze causing her dangling earrings to clink softly. She spoke softly and delicately. "The storm is strengthening, is it not? A storm always comes when a new Child of Pendemere comes home."

Lightning flashed again. Lady Iniala took it all in, then demurely closed her eyes in contemplation.

"The child is near death." Zondas said, unable to conceal the injury to himself those words inflicted.

"It is in Tymora's hands now." Lady Iniala's head turned, jewelry clinking again. "We are lucky the Oracles guided you to him, just in time."

Zondas sharply averted his eyes from Lady Iniala, looking within Molino Castle for any sign of the boy, but by then he had been carried beyond and within.

"I will not question the Lady's definition of luck." A protest, however feeble it may have been. Even then, Zondas bowed.

"Please forgive my crude impertinence my Lady, I am not presently fit for your company. I am tired from battle and much riding."

Even Iniala's laughter was polite and delicate.

"I have lived too long in this life to suffer flattery for long, Lord Zondas. Your words are direct and refreshing. I am pleased to know that a warm heart beats in your chest. Perhaps warm enough to melt your Mourning Frost once and for all?"

Zondas appeared uncomfortable at the suggestion.

"Come." Iniara turned once Zondas had completed the doffing of his armor, walking inside with quick, short steps. "I will watch over the child. If he survives, I hope we can have this conversation again soon."

The wind outside began to howl, blowing sheets of rain across the courtyard. Zondas looked back for a moment, and followed behind.

[Serril Indaiyu]

Further within the castle, Serril was hurried into an interior chamber, which had been prepared for his arrival. Within, a simple mattress lay on the floor in the middle of a large room. His old, tattered clothes were cut away, and a simple wrap applied to preserve his decency. As thunder rattled the bones of the castle a dwarven woman carefully squeezed the excess hot water from a sponge held over a nearby basin, and began to daub away the collected grime and dried blood. She paused, resting the back her hand lightly against the child's forehead and frowning.

Behind her, the sliding door to the chamber opened again, this time revealing Lady Iniala. The dwarven woman looked up from where she knelt, the tight spirals of the horns on her head glinting in the lantern light.

"He's ready for you, my Lady."

Lady Iniala knelt, easing to the floor with poise. She inspected each of the child's wounds, mindful not to aggravate his suffering. The briefest look of sadness crossed her features, betraying makeup designed to conceal.

"A child of the Nomads. I was very young the last time I saw one."

She gently brushed Serril's curly hair to the side.

"How curious. Do you know of them, Lady Verena?"

Lady Verena shook her head. "Nothing aside from the stories. Aren't they supposed to have horns like us?"

"He is young. Perhaps they will grow in, as he gets older?"

"Respectfully," Lady Verena bowed her head slightly, "that outcome is far from certain. Unless we can turn the tide, I fear his eyes may not open again."

"Then we should do our best, without delay."

Nodding, Lady Verena lighted a cone of incense in a nearby dish. A small prayer scroll was unrolled, and placed gently across the boy's forehead. Herbs were macerated in a mortar, and scraped into poultices, which were carefully placed on each open wound. The child did not stir. His chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly, so shallow was his breathing. Lady Verena shook her head.

"There's something preventing the healing from taking root, Lady Iniala. A flux? An ailment? Something poisoning the blood, perhaps?"

The Eladrin pressed the palms of her hands together. In the seam between, a thin sliver of summer sunlight grew. As she drew her hands apart, the light of her hands eclipsed that of the room's lanterns, and the shadows danced to her influence. She placed her hands on Serril. One on his chest and one at his forehead.

"It is as you say." Iniala traced her hand down from Serril's chest to one of his wounds, inflamed with the signs a nascent infection despite the healing poultices. Her hand closed into a fist, and she drew it away from Serril as if she was pulling something out of him. Despite there being no physical tether, the boy's back suddenly arched and he cried out in pain. At the same time the surge of wind outside increased, whistling disconcertingly through the eaves, causing shouts of alarm beyond the chamber. This was no mere storm. It was a typhoon.

Lady Iniala knew, as all who follow Saint Pendemere knew, that the typhoon and the child were a part of each other. They could not be separated or disentangled, no more than one could separate their own heart from their chest and still live.