Blackstone was still quite far away.
Riverlands, although geographically a small place, was filled with hills and winding roads, which made the journey longer than anticipated, not to mention that most of the roads were unsafe after the yearly monsoon.
Thankfully, the winter was dry, with no rain, but every morning, a thick dew would coat everything. The roads would be wet, and new, smaller puddles would form from the countless streams that seemed to seep out of nowhere.
It had been almost two days since Brand had stayed with the travelers. Most of the time, he would be looking at the trees and rivers, listening to the melodies sung by birds.
Did he remember anything? No. But he felt as if the world was familiar somehow and also distant at the same time.
A surge of cold wind hit him, and he shivered. The old sweater he had on was not enough to face the cold as the cart climbed up the slopes; the horses at the front also seemed to be shivering like him.
"The Northern winds call as the hills pass, and soon we'll be at the foot of Hilda." Glenn hymned.
"Are you from the Northern Lands, Glenn?" Brand asked, and the man shook his head. "My Ma and Pa were of the East, although no less up north than here."
"I was born and raised in Blackstone." From the way he spoke, it was clear that he felt both pride and nostalgia.
"So you're going to your hometown then; that must feel nice."
"Somewhat… I don't have many fond memories growing up there, but the place is quite pleasant, I guess." He replied grimly, his face twisted into a melancholic smile.
Brand dared not speak further, so he remained silent and continued to observe the trees and the birds. The weather felt quite pleasant these days, although he had no idea what bad weather felt like.
Sometimes, he felt like the white clouds floating in the distance or the cricketing insects in the woods, clueless, yet unlike them, he felt as if his journey was bound only to the lone road leading to Blackstone.
After a while, he broke the silence. "You said these Blessings are granted at birth. What do you two think I'm blessed in? "
"That all depends on your true name; perhaps you've forgotten it as well, but it is something only the bearer must know." Rah replied, "Once you reach Blackstone, speak to an Oracle of Serenity."
"I will." He said simply. An hour later, night fell, and they started setting up camp.
"I will feed the horses, Glenn will arrange the tents, and you two can set up the fire," Rah commanded and, with a sickle in hand, went to cut some leaves to feed the horses. Glenn also started arranging a few sticks to create a tent.
Over the last two days, Brand had only observed the two talkative ones of the group; never had he interacted with the third one. He nervously went over to the silent man and sat atop a nearby rock.
"I will try to find some dry wood from the forest." He said nervously. Syrash clicked his tongue, annoyingly, "Dry wood in the riverlands…"
"What do you mean?" The younger man asked, The morning dew wet everything in the forest, so it was nearly impossible to find a dry piece of wood here. "Ah, you're right."
"Bring me that log over there," Syrash commanded. Brand nodded and brought a log roughly chopped up by Glenn not too long ago.
The older man had already arranged a pile of rocks, and the log was placed firmly in between them. His hand reached inside his cloak, where there seemed to be a pocket.
"Toh'ush." He spoke in a language unfamiliar to Brand, and his hand lit up in fire.
Brand backed away; he felt the heat warm his skin. The mage pressed his hand up against the log, and it slowly dried up before catching fire within a few moments.
"Your work is done," Syrash said whilst walking away; now that the fire has been lit, slightly moist wood could be placed for it to continue burning.
The rest of the group soon finished their duties; they all sat in a circle near the campfire a few moments later, a pot with cooking stew hanging above it.
"We'll be stopping at a small village tomorrow for a few hours; try to do some errands for the locals in exchange for some warmer clothes or money, you'll be frozen by the time we reach Blackstone," Glenn spoke as he ate some porridge Rah had cooked. "Maybe you can remember something in the process as well."
"Alright." Brand nodded in affirmation; he couldn't expect the three travelers to give him everything on a silver platter; he needed to work to live for himself.
"The journey from here to Blackstone is harsh." It was Syrash who spoke.
All heads turned to him. He was always quiet while eating; it was quite unusual for him to speak like this: "The roads are known for Raksha attacks; you cannot expect to travel with someone equivalent to a Dormant through there."
From what Glenn had told him, Raksha were a race of grotesque humanoids, behaviorally not too different from men, except for their bloodthirsty, savage nature. They had spontaneously emerged all across known human civilizations not more than five centuries ago.
"You think too much." Rah told the mage, who shook his head in response, "You think too little." He retorted and quickly ate his meal.
"There must be an Oracle in the village; his blessing can be known to him," Glenn spoke out, and Syrash seemed reluctant to try it out, perhaps because getting divinations was probably not free.
"He can sort it out himself then; we can take him as long as his blessing is something useful to us..." The man stood up and walked towards one of the two tents, not too far away from the fire.
He is right; I should try to be less burdensome tomorrow… Brand thought with melancholy.
After everyone left to either sleep or do something else, he alone was sitting near a dimming fire and glowing charcoal, hands wrapped around his knees as shivers ran through his body in momentary intervals.
He wondered what kind of life he had had before ending up with the group of travelers. Was he a farmer? A merchant? Did he have a family? He should have had one—a father, a mother, or a brother or sister perhaps.
He didn't know how old he was, maybe around 16 or 17. Many people were already married at that age. Perhaps he had a wife waiting for him back home.
Home… I wonder where my home is. He thought as he looked up at the starry sky, the silent arms of sleep slowly wrapping around him, dulling his consciousness.