Yaema had been floating in the odd mist above the battleground for
days. He had wept for his lost life in that time, mourning over a loss that
was meant to be. He had known he would die ever since he had found out he
could channel Saidin, ever since he had known he would go crazy some day.
Even so, he wept, he had never guessed that he would have had to see his
own dead body. He had thought that with death would come an end to his
torment.
Yaema felt a strong hand placed upon his shoulder. He jerked around at a nearly inhuman speed, sword flying out of its sheath ready to be used, he drew on Saidin and prepared to kill whoever this violater of his personal space was. His sword rang out as it met with this newcomers blade, sparks flew about, his normal blade versus this newcomers curved blade marked with a heron.
Suddenly it dawned on him, he was drawing on Saidin, he could channel once again! His sword clattered to the floor, all danger forgotten; he fell to his knees and he cried tears of joy, no longer were they tears of sadness.
Yaema looked up after drying his face on his sleeve, he gazed into the face of this newcomer, this blademaster. Somehow he knew, he was looking up at the face of Artur Hawkwing, long dead kind of the wetlanders. "Yaema, it is time to go. You have been chosen to join us. We are the heroes of old, living in Tel'aran'rhiod until the Horn of Valere is blown or we are reborn." All Yaema could do was sit there and stare up at Artur in awe.
Artur offered a hand to help Yaema up. Yaema took it and got up, grunting as his joints popped, he had gotten stiff sitting over the battlefield for so long. Artur chuckled, "As you can see, you are nearly as alive now as you were in your body, discomfort will still bother you, but eventually you will be born into another body, and not remember your old self until after you have died once again. This is how you must live now, many of us have hundreds of memories from different lives that we have lived. You will know sorrow, and you will know to accept it, for the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. Just remember, we need you in Tarmon Gai'don, or else you would never have been chosen. Retrieve your sword and we will go, you have many people to meet." As he started walking away Artur mumbled to himself, loud enough so only he could hear, "Who'd have thought, an Aiel blademaster and channeler...A member of the Heroes of Old."
Raem quickly retrieved his sword and walked over to Artur as fast as he could without appearing overenthusiastic. First he had died, now he was semi-alive and traveling with Artur Hawkwing! Now he knew, his life was worth something, and he was being given a second chance at showing it.
Yaema felt a strong hand placed upon his shoulder. He jerked around at a nearly inhuman speed, sword flying out of its sheath ready to be used, he drew on Saidin and prepared to kill whoever this violater of his personal space was. His sword rang out as it met with this newcomers blade, sparks flew about, his normal blade versus this newcomers curved blade marked with a heron.
Suddenly it dawned on him, he was drawing on Saidin, he could channel once again! His sword clattered to the floor, all danger forgotten; he fell to his knees and he cried tears of joy, no longer were they tears of sadness.
Yaema looked up after drying his face on his sleeve, he gazed into the face of this newcomer, this blademaster. Somehow he knew, he was looking up at the face of Artur Hawkwing, long dead kind of the wetlanders. "Yaema, it is time to go. You have been chosen to join us. We are the heroes of old, living in Tel'aran'rhiod until the Horn of Valere is blown or we are reborn." All Yaema could do was sit there and stare up at Artur in awe.
Artur offered a hand to help Yaema up. Yaema took it and got up, grunting as his joints popped, he had gotten stiff sitting over the battlefield for so long. Artur chuckled, "As you can see, you are nearly as alive now as you were in your body, discomfort will still bother you, but eventually you will be born into another body, and not remember your old self until after you have died once again. This is how you must live now, many of us have hundreds of memories from different lives that we have lived. You will know sorrow, and you will know to accept it, for the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. Just remember, we need you in Tarmon Gai'don, or else you would never have been chosen. Retrieve your sword and we will go, you have many people to meet." As he started walking away Artur mumbled to himself, loud enough so only he could hear, "Who'd have thought, an Aiel blademaster and channeler...A member of the Heroes of Old."
Raem quickly retrieved his sword and walked over to Artur as fast as he could without appearing overenthusiastic. First he had died, now he was semi-alive and traveling with Artur Hawkwing! Now he knew, his life was worth something, and he was being given a second chance at showing it.
