A Strong Bond
Anya ran. Behind her, she heard the metallic ring of a sword being drawn. She chanced a quick look back-the guards were gaining. Not for the first time she cursed her shortsightedness. If she must needs steal a noblewoman's necklace, she should have picked one with fewer guards. If she had had any breath to spare, she would have laughed: common sense, it seemed, was not so common...especially for her.
Suddenly her ears pricked up; the sounds of pursuit were growing fainter. She waited until they were barely audible, then swerved into a deserted alley. Peering around the edge, her heart sank. The guards had left off the chase, but now Anya was in the outskirts of the city: not a place for a 15 year old alone after dark. She needed to find a hiding place, and fast. She began scouting the alleyway, but saw no likely spots. She was beginning to get nervous. She might be living on the streets, but it hadn't dulled her intellect. If she didn't find cover soon, a number of unpleasant things could happen, the least of which would be having her throat slit. A momentary thought of home and safety drifted across her memory, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She was all that was left of her entire villlage, thanks to the Whitecloaks.
Anya was still lost in memories, when she heard a slight sound beind her. Swiftly she spun around, but too late. A pair of burly arms grabbed her from behind, pressing a knife to her throat. From behind her came a deep, evil chuckle.
"Now, what might we have here?" the voice questioned mockingly. "Why, what a pretty thing you are, to be sure...and I'll wager you're just as pretty under that dress, eh?"
It was then that Anya spotted the shadow. It was the shadow of a man trying to stay hidden, and he was far enough away that he hadn't spotted Anya or her captor. Suddenly though, he turned towards them-sharply, as though against his will-and hesitated a split second before he began to move stealthily down the alley towards them. Thank the Light, the man holding Anaya hadn't yet spotted him. He wasn't given time to, either. Anaya heard the dull thunk of a knife going home, and felt the man stiffen. Only her wits and agility saved her from falling backwards as he crumpled to the ground.
When she recovered her balance, she turned and observed the scene. Her rescuer, the man in the shadows, was wiping his knife on the dead man's clothes. Straightening, he tucked the knife in his sleeve before finally directing his attention to Anya. His long cloak and deep hood hid all his features, but his voice, when he spoke, marked him about thirty years of age.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"Not yet-thanks to your knife. I doubt he was about to listen to reason..." She was slightly shaken, but took care not to show it.
Wryly, he replied, "I think you're right. Well, glad to have been of service to you. If I were you I'd find someplace quite to pass the rest of the night." With that, he bowed and vanished into the shadows again.
Anya snorted, she knew enough to take care of her self most of the time. Glancing at the body of her attacker, she was remided that most of the time did not mean all the time...
About three days after the incident, she was back in the center of the city, drifting through the crowd in hopes of catching a decent meal when a man walking nearby halted suddenly and yelled, "You again! Blood and bloody ashes, I'll teach you a lesson!"
Obviously he was not talking to Anya, and she wasn't about to stay at a scene wich was bound to turn ugly in a few minutes. Slowly, she began edging away...then froze, listening intently. The man who had just been threatened was speaking-and she recognized the voice.
"-the last time, Master Locksley, I've never even met your wife, and even if I had-" no doubt, it was the vioce of Anya's rescuer. Unfortunatly he was abruptly cut off in his speech by a blow from Master Locksley. As he staggered backwards, Locksley drew a knife and advanced, a grim look on his face.
Anya wasn't one to forget a favor, and this man had saved her life. Without further delay, she snatched the walking stick of a nearby woman, ignoring her indignant cries, and sent the stick crashing down onto Master Locksley's head. He stood stunned for a moment before falling to the pavement, unconcious. Anya's rescuer took in the situation in one surprised glance before grabbing her hand and dashing off through the crowd , muttering, "Light-blinded fool of a girl-though I'll admit I'm gratefull. Follow me."
He led her off the main street to a small inn. Ducking quickly inside, he pulled Anya in behind him. He drug her up a short flight of stairs and into a small room before releasing her.
"Well, I think we're safe enough here...Master Locksley's bound to find out what happened, and if he thinks you're a friend of mine it'll not improve his opinion of you. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Darian Tormad of Tear, traveller and gleeman."
Anya had been observing Darian as he spoke. His hair was black, matching his darkling eyes. He was tall and lithe, and she only just now noticed his colorfully patched gleeman's cloak. Bowing slightly, she said, "Honored, Master Tormad. I am Zaianya Eldaran of Ebou Dar-though I prefer to be called Anya."
Darian's face twitched as he tried to hide a smile. "Well then, Anya, where are you headed? Only fair to inquire, as we seem to keep running into each other..."
Anya considered. "I have no plans, but I don't stay in any place long. Where are you going?"
Wryly, he responded, "Wherever I go, I'll not be staying here. I seem to have worn out my welcome."
"Can I go with you when you leave?" Anya asked suddenly. "If you've no objections?"
Darian looked at her long and hard, his dark eyes keenly observing her. "Why?" he asked.
Anya knew why, but she couldn't admit it-not even to herself. So instead, she shrugged and said casually, "Why not?"
It was enough for Darian. He nodded, and asked if she had anything she needed to fetch for the journey. When she shook her head, he replied, "Then let's go. Follow me." He made no mention of her lack of personal belongings, and asked nothing about her family: probably because he knew she had none. Although Darian didn't admit it either, he was as eager for Anya's company as she was for his-and for the same unspoken reason: lonliness.
*****
It wasn't long before the two companions became inseparable. They learned much from each other as they travelled, Anya getting a crash course in the art of back door escape from inns, and Darian being reminded that life was not really all that bad if you had someone to talk to. They made a good team-despite thier individual faults.
Darian was basically a good person, more so than he sometimes cared to admit. He had charm and a sense of sarcasm-though more of the latter, to Anya's mind. His only real downfall, as she soon discovered, was women. That was the reason Master Locksley took such a dislike to Darian; it seemed Darian had 'relations' with Locksleys wife...Darian refused to comment. It wasn't that he chased women, he had no need for that. They flocked to him like bees to honey, and Anya supposed he could be forgiven for his occasional dalliances. He was good looking in the extreme, and that could go to the best of men's heads.
Anya was also not without faults-she had come, through hard knocks, to trust no one but herself. This wouldn't have been a bad quality, if it hadn't bordered on paranoia. Despite her lack of trust, she still seemed to find trouble in plenty. Anya never knew how often she had Darian tied in knots over some of her escapades, despite the fact that she never came to harm. That was something Anya had grown used to-her uncanny luck in times of danger. She relied on it more than was good for her...or so Darian said.
The two travelled far and wide together. Amadicia, Illian, Andor...everywhere they could reach on foot, they went, going wherever whim might lead them. Everywhere, that is, except Tar Valon.
Aside from women, Darian's only other problem was a deep, ingrained hatred of Aes Sedai. Whenever she tried to force his confidence, he would become short and snappish, as close to anger as he ever got. Anya had a suspicion, though, that it was not only hatred but fear. Of what, though, she couldn't say. At last she managed to convince him-after much bickering-that Tar Valon was worth seeing and performing in no matter how many Aes Sedai were there. And he, reluctantly, agreed. That was how, after two months of travelling together, the pair found themselves wandering the streets in the shadow of the White Tower, searching for a decent inn.
It was dark by the time they found one that suited both thier tastes, and as they had no money to speak of Darian made the usual deal: room and borad for himself and Anya in return for entertaining the guests. Darian seemed unusually uncomfortable, but Anya attributed it to the fact that he was still worried about Aes Sedai--though what they could possibly do was beyond her. In any case, the innkeeper agreed quickly, and soon Darian was out in the common room, reciting "The Hunt of the Horn". Anya, as usual, sat near teh door in case trouble should arise. She was totally absorbed in the story--it was one of her favorites--when she suddenly felt a presence behind her. Turning, she was momentarily struck speechless by by the ageless face which confronted her. An Aes Sedai.
"May I sit with you a moment, child?" she spoke coolly, with no identifying accent and no Warder in evidence nearby. Anya nodded assent, and cast a glance at Darian. He had never skipped a beat, but he looked paler than usual and took a longer swig of ale from the glass at his side--he was nervous.
The woman spoke again. "You are not from Tar Valon, I take it?"
"No, I'm not," said Anya. "I come from Ebou Dar."
The woman nodded, surveying Anya in a way that made her nervous. "How old are you, child." More a question than command, but Anya answered readily. "18, Aes Sedai."
The Aes Sedai pinned Anya to the wall with her gaze. "Tell me more of yourself, child."
What followed was a grueling interrogation in which Anya felt like a rabbit with a hawk. The woman's questions were sometimes plain, others oblique. At one point she asked if Anya had ever considered joining the White Tower. She had to admit that she wasn't averse to the idea, but there was Darian to think of. All the while, she kept an eye on him. He had been getting far too friendly with his ale mug in between stories--it was time to get him upstairs. Excusing herself and mumbling apology, Anya slipped away from the woman's steely gaze, working her way over to where Darian sat.
"Come on, friend, you've done enough for one night...best get some sleep."
He glared hazily at her. "I'm not drunk."
Anya rolled her eyes as she hoisted him to his feet. "I never said you were. Don't change my mind. Now come upstairs." Reluctantly he did so; muttering all the while that he wouldn't drink so much if she didn't worry him so. Though she didn't show it, she was concerned. Darian drank, but she had never seen him drunk before--he said it affected his performance. Why had he done so tonight? Instead, she said, "How, praytell, have I worried you? I've been worrisome before and you were never driven to drink." Doggedly, she continued up the stairs.
At last they made it to thier own room, where Anya was obliged to help Darian into the bed--she always took the floor. He lay quietly, his unruly curls tumbled about on the pillow, and Anya started. He was about ten years her senior, but somehow he had always looked older: until now. She gazed at him in silence a moment, and then he spoke.
"What did that...Aes Sedai want with you?"
So thats what was worrying him; he thought she'd been persuaded into joining the Tower as a Novice. Anya shrugged, saying, "She asked if I would like to train in the Tower; she must have thought I could channel..." trailing off, she stared at the change in Darian. He sat bolt upright, eyes burning and breathing hard. He practically spat out his next words.
"Train in the Tower? Train to become a Tar Valon witch??"
Anya was surprised. Darian was hardly ever angry, and she'd never seen him so furious as at that moment. "I told her I'd think about it--"
"Think about it???" Darian was shouting now, his face flushed. "Do you have any idea what those...women...do? And you have the nerve to stand there and tell me you're thinking about it?"
Now Anya was angry in her turn. "You don't own me! I can do what I like when it pleases me, and light burn the man who tries to stop me! Especailly you, Darian Tormad!"
She never even saw the blow that knocked her to the floor. Sight swimming, Anya looked up to see Darian standing over her. The light of fury in his eyes was replaced by horror, and his face paled as he sank to his knees beside her with a moan of despair.
Not yet trusting that his anger was past, Anya pushed herself up and into a defensive posture. She quickly saw there was no need. Darian was kneeling on the floor with his face in his hands, the picture of pure misery. When he heard her rise, he looked up. His voice was barely above a whisper as he pleaded.
"Forgive me, Anya."
It was in that moment that Anya knew how much she'd changed. Life on the streets had put a tough shell over her naturally sensitive nature, but it was only a shell nonetheless. She couldn't bear to see Darian so unhappy. Dropping to her knees beside him, she spoke softly.
"I forgive you."
*****
A short time later found Anya resting on the bed, while Darian sat beside her and bathed the bruise that was fast appearing. He was silent, but Anya could see by the trace of fear in his eyes how frightened he was--of what he'd done, and of what Anya might do because of it.
At this point, she could have no peace until she asked the question that had been on her mind so long. "Why do you hate Aes Sedai, Darian?"
He froze for a moment, even his breathing stilled. Then, he began his tale.
"I was twenty four, and still living in Tear. I had only just become a gleeman, and to celebrate I went to the nearest inn to perform. I thought I was having the time of my life, and being the young fool I was I drank more than I should have. That was when I noticed the woman. Light, she was beautiful--long reddish blond hair, blue eyes deep enough to drown a man....and an ageless face. I thought I'd never seen a more beautiful woman, and when I was done performing, I went over to talk to her. Oh, she was cunning...she flattered me at every other word, but I was too stupid to see it. Finally she asked if I would like to travel with her. Light, I had no idea she was Aes Sedai...but wanting to travel, especially with her, made me agree. She...invited me up to her room. She sat me down on the bed, and before I knew what was happening...her hand was on my forehead...I felt a flash of heat. I could...feel her thoughts. It was like having two people living in the same body...she'd bonded me, against my will.
"I tried to leave then and there. I was even at the door, when she told me to stay...and I wanted to. She used compulsion on me. After she'd explained what she had done...she ordered me to saddle our horses to return to Tar Valon. As we rode off, we were attacked by robbers. They seized us, and I wondered why she couldn't defend herself with the Power...that was when she started screaming about not being able to touch the source. I was too scared to realize, but one of them must have beem carrying something that prevented channeling. Whatever it was, she was as helpless as I was. After they'd taken what little money we had..."
Darian trailed off, leaving Anya in suspense. Taking a deep breathe, he merely said, "You don't want to know what men can do to a helpless woman. All the time I could feel her pain, her fear...her accusation because I couldn't help her. Bound hand and foot, I lay there until it almost drove me crazy...until I felt something snap. She was dead, and I was close enough for them to pass over once they left.
"I passed out, and after I worked myself free, I started travelling."
Anya waited for him to finish, but it appeared he was. She shuddered in distaste--no wonder he hated Aes Sedai...
At that moment there was a knock on the door. With one surprised glance at Anya, Darian rose and answered it--only to leap back as though the door handle had burned him. Anya was about to ask why, when the person stepped into the room. It was the same Aes Sedai Anya had spoken to earlier. After a brief and serene glance at Darian, she moved over towards Anya. She reached out for Anya's forehead, and before she could pull back she felt a flash of heat--the bruise was gone. Gingerly touching her forehead, Anya shifted until there was a good portion of the bed between her and the Aes Sedai. Only then did she ask, "What do you want?"
"An answer," the woman replied calmly. "You promised to consider my offer--will you come to the White Tower?"
A flat out refusal could be dangerous, so Anya took the middle road. "I cannot channel, Aes Sedai." a weak excuse at best.
"You can." Darian jumped slightly and stared at Anya with a new eye. "Everything you told me, not to mention that I sensed it as soon as I spoke to you, fits. You told me you often do dangerous things, and afterwards feel ill or feverish, and it passes within the hour. You are lucky, for you are one of the few to actually manage some control over the power--a crude form of channeling, if you will." The contempt in her voice was cloaked, but there. Anya and Darian exchanged glances, each recalling the many incidents that the Aes Sedai had described. Meanwhile, the woman continued. "What is your descision? Will you come to the Tower, to learn true channeling? Great are the responsibilities, but the rewards are even richer." She noticed Anya's eyes unconsiously flicker towards Darian, and smiled. "As for your friend..." she stood and circled Darian thoughtfully, a curious weighing expression on her face. "I'm sure something can be found to occupy him." In any other situation Anya might have laughed, but right now she was tensed. She recalled Darian's words--I almost went insane. Fervently she hoped he would not do anything stupid. His fists were clenched tightly, enough to draw a trickle of blood, and Anya had no doubts he was recalling the last time he was cornered by an Aes Sedai.
Nevertheless the thought was tempting. Anya knew well the power and respect that Aes Sedai had throughout the lands. If she really could channel--and Aes Sedai did not lie--it could all be hers with a single word: yes. She looked to Darian. His wide eyes met hers, and he knew what she was thinking. His face was a mask of pain as he spoke, "I..I'll not hold you back, Anya." His voice held such sorrow and loss Anya felt as though he'd thrust a knife into her heart. Her mind was abruptly made up. It all came down to a simple choice: power or friendship. And when the chips were down, Anya knew which one she would choose.
"I cannot go to the Tower, Aes Sedai. My path is elsewhere, and nothing you can offer me is worth what I already have."
Slowly the woman nodded. "The choice is yours, I will not hinder you," she said, and though her tone suggested she thought Anya was giving up great things, she said nothing further as she slipped gracefully out the door.
Jumping up, Anya ran to support Darian, who looked ready to faint. "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously.
"Fine," he said, so weakly that Anya didn't beleive him for a second. The worst, though, was past--they still had each other. And that was good enough for them both.