Into the Wolf Dream

Elgaide wasn't used to being thrown to the ground, especially not in the manner that he had just been subjected to. If only he had a sword on him at a time like this - but no, he was the son of the Dragon Reborn. Hands couldn't defeat him, and yet his bleeding cut lip said otherwise. Elgaide raised his arm to protect his ribs, anticipating Dylan's next blow - but Dylan rounded his leg upwards. His feet connected his chin. Elgaide fell on the ground again, this time not ready to get back up.

Dylan's face was pure fury. Elgaide was surprised at how good Dylan was at hand-to-hand combat. No wonder he was trained by an Aiel - he wondered whether he should find himself an Aiel trainer as well, even as he spat blood and got back on his feet. If there was one thing the first son of the Dragon Reborn knew, it was that he didn't know how to stay down.

"By the Light!" Dylan screamed, racing at him again. Dylan looked happy that Elgaide was back on his feet - happy to pummel him some more.

Elgaide quickly brought his fists up - but again Dylan Aybara was too quick for him. Bloody Aiel techniques, how do I counter that? Dylan's fist connected his temples and blood rushed to his head. For a moment it was all white, and when vision returned to Elgaide, he found himself back on the ground.

"Fight me with a sword, you coward!" Elgaide's raspy voice barely escaped his mouth.

Dylan grabbed his collar in response and stood over him.

"You call me a coward? After you took your sword to attack me, you light forsaken lump of goat droppings!"

And so Dylan proceeded to punch his face - once, twice, thrice, before he was literally hoisted off the ground.

Perrin Aybara picked up his son off Elgaide like a wolf picking up its cubs. His expression was of disappointment and annoyance. He pushed Dylan off to the side, and when he made to rush at Elgaide again, Perrin simply rested one giant hand on his son's shoulder.

Perrin extended an arm to Elgaide and brought him back to his feet.

"What happened to Conler was unfortunate, but it is something I will take care of. Dylan, you need to learn how to calm your temper. This kind of behaviour will not be tolerated. Do you understand me, boy?" Perrin's booming voice commanded obedience.

"Now we are in Saldea, and we need to be careful. Best not people see this debacle. If you boys cannot be civil to each other, I suggest you go on your separate paths. Is that clear?"

The two boys mumbled under their breath.

"Dylan. Am I being perfectly clear?" His golden eyes could not be lied to.

"Yes, father."

"Then leave."

Dylan left, pushing through the tent flaps. Perrin looked at the First Prince of Andor.

"Thank you," Elgaide felt the need to say.

"I have met many arrogant brats, boy, and all of them have found their way beaten on the ground, one way or the other."

Elgaide bristled hearing that.

"How… How can you call me an arrogant brat! I am the First Prince - "

"Do you think I somehow forgot who you are, boy?" Perrin gave him a level look.

"My mother - "

" - is an arrogant brat too. You can tell her I said that."

Elgaide was silent. He didn't sense any animosity from the man, despite his words. He wasn't looking for a fight. He is just saying it as it is. Elgaide also understood this wasn't a man he could boss around - nor would he tolerate nonsense of that sort.

"Your mother was a real pompous arrogant woman - but she learned, and then she changed. You can, too. There is a big difference between ego and honour, boy, big difference, indeed. And they rarely go hand-in-hand. Regardless of what you choose, know this. What happened with Conler wasn't your fault. Don't beat yourself to it."

Saying so Perrin left the tent as well.

Elgaide limped out of the tent. It was early morning hours in Saldea - and it was terribly cold. Elgaide had just come to the latrines of the camp after awaking from the cold, when he had stumbled into Dylan. There were a thousand or so soldiers gathered in this camp, as a ceremonial assembly for the Queen. There were camps like this all around the field outside the walls of Maradon; flags of Carhein flew from one, the golden crane of Malkier, the flag of Tear and Arad Doman. All the Borderland royalty had gathered, of course, but even Illian had made an appearance - astonishing this far north.

Stumbling into Dylan with his breaches barely tied properly had been, perhaps, the most embarrassing thing Elgaide had been subjected to in his life. And then Lord Aybara's appearance was - it was something. He entered the tent he was searching for (after fumbling through various tents - one of which had been Aiel, and the men laughed at seeing his beaten up face. Aiel humour was beyond him.) and found Eloise awake in her bed robes.

"Oh, Light, did you just dance with a lion? What happened to your face?"

"Can you heal me, Eloise?"

Eloise sniffed, then sat across him. She placed her palm on his forehead.

"Was it Dylan?" She asked.

Elgaide didn't respond.

"Hope you didn't hurt him. Light, do you really have no brains, Elgy? Just try not getting into fights - how is it so hard?"

Again, Elgaide didn't respond.

"So Conler hasn't woken up, I gather?" She asked, as the glow of Saidar enveloped her. When Elgaide remained silent, she just put her hands up in frustration.

"You know, I have heard mother whisper how if we had a father, we would have turned out better. But honestly, we have made it fine with or without him. Or so I like to think. I don't have any pent up rage or anything like that. Having said that,"

Eloise gave her brother a long look.

"Elgaide, if there is anything you would like to talk about, you know I am there for you, right?"

Silence again. Elgaide just poured himself some water, gulping down the glass in a hurry.

"Why are you so angry all the time, Elgy?" Eloise asked, pleadingly.

"I don't know." Elgaide responded truthfully. He made for the tent flaps, then turned.

"I had a talk with Lord Aybara."

"Really?" Eloise said, surprised, "He never talks to us. I thought he was kind of shy. And scary."

"I think… He isn't like the other nobles in Caemlyn." Elgaide said, struggling to find the words.

"Like how? He is a Two Riverrun, maybe that's what it is. You know how these small town people are like - "

"I don't know, I don't mean like that. He is different. He said that I shouldn't blame myself for what happened to Conler."

There was a silence. Elgaide looked at his sister, who looked away. By just a tiny fraction, but enough. Elgaide found that immensely contradicting. His own sister obviously blamed him for what happened to Conler, but the father of the victim did not. He didn't know what to make of that.

"Well, do you?" Eloise asked.

"Do I what?"

"Blame yourself?"

Now that was a question that really mattered, Elgaide realised.

Perrin walked through the camp with a certain pace. He was instantly recognisable. Men and women bowed when he passed them by, regardless of their nationality or allegiance. He was a living legend to most men who had lived through the Last Battle. Perrin usually acknowledged every bow and every nod, but today he rushed to his tent. Today was a day for the wolf.

His wife sat at the edge of their bed, Conler resting in the middle.

"Perrin," Faile said.

"Conler is fading away, Aybara. He may enter the dream in the flesh."

Seonid, ever business-like, today had a shake in her voice. Grady was sitting in a chair in the corner, hands on his forehead, helplessness clear in his face. Beside him, Gaul sat on the ground, still and expressionless.

"Waiting wasn't a good idea," Seonid continued.

"No matter, now. I will search for him. I am going to the wolf dream in the flesh."

"Is there no other way?" Seonid asked him. "Maybe if we used these ter'angreals I have to send him another message…"

"We have tried it, and it has failed." Faile broke her long silence.

"Con is in the dream too strongly, I must go now."

That quiet statement from Lord Aybara was enough. Gaul stood up from the corner.

"I will accompany you, Perrin Aybara."

"There is no need, Gaul." Perrin replied calmly.

"Perhaps not. But if I had trained Dylan better, he would not have feared to take on a man with a sword. I have toh."

Perrin knew better than to object any further. You don't mess with an Aiel's toh.

"Then Grady, we would need you to open the gateway Rand taught you. The gateway into the wolf dream."

Grady immediately got on his feet, glad to be of use. He loved the boys as much as Gaul did. He opened a gateway in the middle of the tent. The carpet sliced, and the gateway expanded. Perrin and Gaul stepped into now familiar uncertain territory.

Conler didn't know what had happened to Emond's Field. The town was never this empty, but that was beside the point. People kept shifting in and out in the markets. That scared Conler, so he kept to the town walls. He had spent the last night (Was it night? By the hours passed, it should be day, but the night sky never passed) in the mansion. It had been completely empty, except for servants appearing out of nowhere and disappearing.

Everything about this town was surreal, and that caused Conler to panic. He was sure he had seen Master al'Vere yesterday and he had recognised him. Just when Conler ran up to him, he vanished into dust. What's more, the wolves never stopped howling. The entire night they howled. Today Conler had seen wolves prowl in the streets. Conler hid himself - he was afraid of them. They had entered the Green with their noses in the air, as if searching for something. Conler had a strange feeling that they were searching for him.

Conler ran on top of the town wall. He didn't know what else to do. He was scared to leave the town, but at the same time, scared to stay. The town wall served as a great metaphor for his indecision. What had happened here? The air smelled different too, stale, old. As Conler ran thinking these thoughts, suddenly the wall shifted, and Conler started to fall down a height of sixty feet. But the wall shifted back in place the next second and Conler stumbled and simply fell on his face on the floor of the wall. Heart racing from that near death experience, Conler remained on the ground, sitting up slowly.

He looked towards his home. The wolf flag rippled in the air unnaturally. The streets were empty. His temples sweating, Conler pushed himself up. When he looked at the Wolf Manor again, it was now a cave, and one of the wolves that had prowled into the city sat there, looking at him.

Conler yelped, fearful of the worst. He ran towards the closed gate, racing his way down the stairs. The gate had a mechanism to open it, and Conler did not know how to operate it. Thinking about the dilemma he was in for a while, he came to a conclusion - he gently pushed the gate. The giant gate opened at his touch. Delighted Conler started running.

Immediately Conler noticed how fast he was running now, faster, faster still. The woods flashed around him in two steps, and already he was halfway down the Quarry road towards Caemlyn. No wolf could keep pace with him, he was faster than the wind! This was exhilarating, he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, it seemed to him. He skipped and the world skipped with him – he shifted and now he was well into the Braem woods.

You learn fast, Softpaws, but go steady or you will fall.

"What? Who was that?" Conler exclaimed when he heard that voice in his head. More than a voice – it was as if glimpses and visions combined together to form a sentence.

The fear coming back to him, Conler didn't wait for a response and shifted again. Now he was on Whitebridge (not in the town of Whitebridge, but quite literally on Whitebridge). He felt tired from all the running and planted his hands on his knees, breathing in and out, trying to calm himself. What was happening to him? He wanted to go home, but now he was unsure what that was. That wolf-den was his home? He had spent a day there he was sure, but neither his father nor his mother had called for him. That was just unnatural – mother would call for breakfast every morning and father would greet him and Dylan with a huge smile and a customary "Morning, young wolves." Not a single day had this not happened – except today. It was all wrong.

The Whitebridge was enormous, and spectacular to behold. The white road stretched on and on for such a long length, and a low mist covered the night to such a point, Conler could barely make out shapes of the town on the other side. Hence, it was no surprise that he hadn't seen the peddler sitting on his wagon until he approached close, a bell on his cart announcing his appearance. The mist subsided around the wagon, and a strange glow glittered the white bridge. The peddler stopped his horses once he saw Conler, raised a greying eyebrow, and then proceeded to step down from his wagon.

"Oi! Why are we stopping?" A woman stepped down from the back of the wagon as well. She was in her middle years, so was the man, and they had a kind and clean look to them, despite their dirty clothes.

"What are you doing here, son?" The man asked kindly. He had black hair, long and unkempt, and a beard too – much longer than his father's. Grey hair peaked out here and there, and the wrinkles against his eyes curled up in a kind smile.

"I don't know." Conler replied truthfully, "I don't even know where I am."

"Why, it's the Whitebridge, child." The woman said. She had an all knowing face and red hair, frail and greying.

"I know that it's the Whitebridge!" Conler snapped back, "I mean where is this? This place? Strange things are happening all around me, people disappear all the time and bloody wolves are after me – "

"What's that?" The man asked him.

"Wolves! Big wolves – "

"Big wolves?" The man echoed.

"Yes, wolves," Conler repeated, exasperated.

"What's your name, child?" The woman asked.

Conler took in her brown blouse and white skirts, and the cloth wrapped around her red hair. And the accent she used.

"Are you an Aiel?" Conler asked, pretty much convinced. It was strange though. Aiel didn't sit at the back of a wagon and they generally didn't travel with a wetlander. For the man next to her was definitely a wetlander.

"I am." She said levelly. "Now, what is your name, child?" She asked again.

"Conler," he replied.

"Ah, Perrin's youngest. That explains it." The man said, more to himself, scratching his beard. Conler's eyes narrowed. He had never heard anyone say his father's name with that much familiarity – except mother and Queen Elayne, of course.

"You know my father?" Conler asked. The man chuckled. He knelt before Conler, his face now eye-level with him. Conler noticed he had extremely blue eyes – but more shocking, he noticed his right eye had a strange mark. The Dragon's mark swirled in his eye.

"Who are you?" Conler rephrased his question. The man smiled kindly.

"Just a sheepherder. But the more important question to ask here is who are you, Conler?"

Conler mused over the question for some time. He was Conler Aybara, that was who he was. What a ridiculous question. He was about to say so to the man, but the old woman suddenly turned to look towards the west.

"A wind blows, sheepherder. My time will come soon."

The man called sheepherder chuckled again.

"Sit down, Nakomi, there is still a long time before the creator has a need for a champion."

"You cannot tell time any more than a Capar can. I tell you, sheepherder, my time is coming soon."

"But then again, a thousand years is soon for the creator." The man told her gently.

"Hmmpf," Nakomi said, then sat back down.

"Now Conler," the sheepherder said to him, "this isn't a safe place. Do you not wish to return to your mother and father?"

"Of course I want to!"

"Then go back the way you came." The old man said simply.

"But … "

"And be nicer to the wolves. Running away from them like that, no wonder their feelings are hurt."

"Feelings?"

"Oh yes, child," Nakomi said, "the land feels, the animals feel, and you feel too, yes?"

"And what perfect timing! Here they come. They are here to take you home, son." The old man exclaimed with delight.

Conler turned to look at the other end of the bridge. Three wolves slowly approached.

"Bloody!"

"Now, now, be nice." The old man reminded him.

"Show some decency to your kin," Nakomi sniffed angrily.

"Kin? They are wolves!" Conler exclaimed.

Nakomi gave him a quizzical look.

"So are you, child."

Conler looked down at himself. His fur was white, his fangs were sharp, his claws extended. He was still a cub, but a strong cub. A wolf.

What is this? Conler asked.

Half of who you are, pup. The wolf leading the three answered.

Young Bull looks for you. Off you come now. Another said. When he said Young Bull, the image of his father filled his head.

Conler's golden eyes looked at the sheepherder. He gave him a kind look back, and waved a hand to push him on.

How do you know my father, master sheepherder? Conler asked.

He laughed. "A story you already know quite well, dear Conler. Goodbye now."

Conler made towards the wolves, and when he looked back, the wagon was gone, the sheepherder was gone and Nakomi was gone. A glow remained where they were, glowing fireflies covered the ground where they stood.

Conler joined the three wolves, and the one in lead howled loudly into the sky. A moment later, there was a loud crack and Perrin and Gaul appeared.

"Conler!" Perrin yelled, hugging the white wolf cub.

Gaul looked at the fireflies at the other end of the bridge.

"Perrin Aybara, you must see this."

Perrin looked up to see the fireflies forming a strange pattern with darkness and light. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai.

"What … Conler did you meet anyone here?"

Not really. Just a sheepherder. Conler answered.