Tar Valon, the shining city. The city that was supposed to rule the world,
with the power centered in it. That power, that ruling power, was the Aes
Sedai and their Warders. The people that could make kings dance and queens
bow. A young man, held by the ideals, could easily be seduced by this city,
as could a young woman with nothing else to loose, or one drawn by the
Power itself. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. Raekal was one such
young man. He had been born in Caemlyn while his family was on the move to
Shienar from Illian. His mother had stayed while his father had gone on
ahead to settle into their new home. He was supposed to of sent back for
them once the house was ready for her and his son. But he never had.
When Raekal turned five, she decided that five years was much too long of a time, and she and him left for Shienar. They went to where the house was supposed to of been. Nothing was there. All was gone, lost . . . all that remained was a few rocks and a low wall that ran for about twenty feet and terminated in a hillside. Raekal was still too young to understand why his mother broke down then . . . he couldn't comprehend the possibilities of death. He couldn't possibly understand that his father whom he had never known was forever gone, forever dead. His mother took him to the local village and left him there under the care of a kind young lady named Alaine. She had raised him as her own from then on. His mother went out into the countryside to search for his father, but had never returned. Raekal started learning the art of the sword from Alaine's husband, a renowned blade master, and was soon as graceful with a blade as any of the men in the village, and he was only sixteen.
Being in Shienar however, carried it's own dangers, especially being as close to the Border as they were. One night Trollocs raided their village. Alaine fought with her husband and Raekal, but the numbers attacking were too great. The Trollocs overwhelmed the defenses, and the defenders themselves were scattered. Raekal was separated from both Alaine and his "dad" and ran on his own back to the next village. There he found Alaine, injured but alive, and the story of how his "dad" had fallen and been lost. The village formed a small militia group to fight the Trollocs that came pouring towards them. However, the numbers were still too great and this village also went up in flames while some determined men continued the fight. Raekal was one of them, trying to buy more time for Alaine and the rest to flee. Raekal helped another man in the defense group fight and kill the leading Fade, and the Trolloc army fell apart and retreated for the time. Several died.
Still running, still fleeing, the survivors fled back to the army coming up to defend against the invasion. Raekal joined in a heartbeat, and marched back into battle again to defense his home. The battle against the reformed, reinforced Trolloc horde was hard, long, and extremely bloody. In the end, the Trollocs were defeated and pushed back into the Blight. Raekal left the army to travel south, to Tar Valon. He had nothing left to live for. Nothing. The Trollocs had destroyed his home, his family, and now he was running from them again. To Tar Valon. To hope . . . to a possible future.
Raekal looked up at the great shining white walls of Tar Valon in awe. He had never seen anything like it, anything even remotely similar. He walked towards the walls across one of the great bridges. A train of people moving in both directions paid no heed to one man walking alone across the bridge with all he had in the world slung on his back. His clothes were filthy, his hair matted and uncombed. He was growing a nasty looking beard. His cloak was travel stained and ragged. His purse was empty. His sword hanging on his side was beginning to rust now and in desperate need of a new hilt and a good polishing. He stumbled, not paying any attention to his footing, and almost fell. He caught his balance and resumed the long walk across the bridge. He reached into his bag and pulled out a moldy piece of cheese. Picking off the mold and casting it over the edge into the river, he but into it. It was starting to go bad . . . but beggars couldn't be choosers. He entered the city and went straight towards the Tower. His last hope to stay alive was to become a warder. To become involved with Aes Sedai. He frowned.
"Hey! You!" someone shouted. Raekal turned to see three men approaching him. They looked worse than he did, if that was possible.
"Me?" Raekal asked, wondering what they could possibly want.
"Yeah. Hand over that sword. I bet I could get a pretty penny for that."
Raekal looked at the sword on his hip. "This?" He pulled the blade up out of the sheath and examined it. "I doubt it."
"I don't. Come on, hand it over. We don't want to cause a scene, now do we?"
Raekal spun the blade expertly and flipped it into the air. Without looking, he caught the hilt in his right hand. The move attracted a few eyes. "I'm rather attached to this sword. I'd rather not part with it, and I doubt you can take it from me." He sheathed it and turned his back on the men. They seemed smart enough for the moment, and left him in peace.
He continued on till he came to the Tower itself. Night was getting close, and people were being turned away from the gates. He cursed. Another night under the stars, most likely in an alley somewhere. "Blood and ashes, the Light has almost surely forsaken me now," Raekal muttered as he turned back to try to find a suitable place to unroll his ragged blanket.
Night fell quickly and with it brought relief from the intense midsummer heat. He stretched out in a garden, on the cropped grass, and rolled up in his blanket. He didn't sleep, not yet, and so he heard the footsteps drawing nearer. He sat up and saw two men wearing swords and short brown cloaks walk past, laughing. He lay back. Most likely Tower Guards . . . men able to bond but unbonded to the current moment. He sighed. Soon enough, he would be one himself.
Minutes later, he heard more footsteps and looked up again. This time it was those three from earlier, and they knew where he was. "Again? Blood and ashes!" He stood slowly as they drew nearer. "Still want my sword?" he asked, and the leader, the man who had spoken before, narrowed his eyes, only just visible in the flickering torchlight that dimly lit the garden.
"Yeah. And this time, you will either give it to me, or I will take it from your lifeless hands. Is a sword really worth that much to you?"
Raekal shrugged. "This one is." With that he drew it again. The silver blade shone in the dim light, but the three looked undaunted as they drew their own blades, of a remarkably lesser value than his own. He smiled. Too easy. There was only three.
"Take him!" the leader exclaimed, and the three came forward at once. In a flash, Raekal spun on one heel, his other foot lifting as the sword clanged off on blade. The man staggered as Raekal's kick embedded itself in his stomach and he fell backwards, out of breath. As that foot touched ground, Raekal was spinning, his other foot flying through the air, connecting to the second's jaw. An audible crack was heard through the still night air, and the man dropped like a sack of potatoes. The third managed to lock blades with Raekal and for a split second they were face to face. "Tonight you die," Raekal said, and spun back, his blade sliding off of the others. He came after him as the first came back at Raekal.
The first wasn't nearly as good as the third and swung wildly at Raekal. He ducked under the slash and as he stood, he used one of the few swordforms that he knew an official name for. Tower of the Morning. The man was opened from navel to jaw and flew backwards and crashed to the ground, never to rise again. The first roared inaudibly and charged forwards, thrusting his sword at Raekal's heart. Raekal twisted to the side and brought his blade down on the others. Not only did the man loose feeling in his hands, the hilt slipped to the ground as the blade itself disintegrated under the blow. He gasped and held his hands up as Raekal pointed his sword at the man's throat. "Shall I take your life now as well? You surely tried to take mine." The man shook his head, still in shock at what had happened to his blade.
"Hey! What's going on over there?" a shout came, and Raekal looked up to see those two Guards come running. He grimaced, but when they arrived, they said nothing about Raekal himself. "You! Attacking this man unprovoked! You should be sent to the prisons!"
The man looked between the two dumbly. "He's the one who done murder here!"
The first guard stepped up. "He was defending himself. We were watching you."
Raekal nodded. Of course, warders in training would watch for anything suspicious. He sheathed his sword. "I suggest you leave and help your friends here too. Do that and we won't call the patrol," the second said, and the man helped the injured one to his feet, and they each grabbed an arm and dragged the dead man away. The two guards turned back to face him. "You alright?" the second asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He straightened. "You didn't need to do that. I could have killed them all myself and been rid of them."
The first laughed. "We weren't interfering for your sake. We were for theirs." He looked back at the retreating pair. "What brings you to Tar Valon?"
"The Tower," Raekal said simply.
"Ah . . . looking to be a Warder, huh? Well, with those skills you got that won't present much a problem!" the second laughed as well.
Raekal looked at them. "You are Guards, right?" They both nodded. "My name is Raekal Dunshain. I would appreciate it if you took me to see the Master at Arms."
The first nodded. "Of course, first thing in the morning. We'll get you set up with a room, new clothes, and a new blade, if you so desire. Your training will start immediately too, but by the way you performed some of those forms, I wouldn't say you needed very much of it." He grinned broadly. "My name's Ren, by the way, and this is Korl. We both plan to bond greens soon. Should be interesting." His grin grew.
Raekal smiled for the first time in Light-knew how long. He liked these two. They were like him. Ready, waiting for the next battle against the Shadowspawn. "In the morning huh? What do you have planned for tonight?"
Korl grinned. "Well, we were going to see the local girls and make sure they were all doing all right, but since that doesn't seem to be happening anymore, perhaps we'll take ya back up to the Barracks and introduce ya to some people."
Raekal brightened. "Any chance of a hot bath? And a shave? I could use one badly." He rubbed his whiskery chin and cheeks. "Seems like forever since I've had a good hot meal too." It had been quite some time. For the last few weeks he had been on the road, surviving off of stale bread and moldy cheese or whatever some kind traveler would share, or when he would get lucky and find himself a rabbit or two.
Ren laughed. "Yeah, you can use my room for that. I'll have the tub filled with good hot water for you. SO you can look better for your presentation to the Master at Arms tomorrow."
Raekal lowered himself gingerly into the hot water and couldn't hold back the sigh that seemed to explode from him. He could literally feel the dirt and grime of days of unwashed travel lifting off of him. He dunked his head, and grabbed some soap and lathered his hair up good before dunking again. It had been ages since he had had clean hair. Ren came in with a pair of scissors and went to work on his long, ragged hair, trimming it nice and shorter and even for him. Then he left and pointed Raekal to his razor and stuff on the basin table.
After a relaxing soak, Raekal climbed out of the tub. A layer of dirt lay at the bottom. He wrinkled his nose at it. He had needed a washing. Even he could smell the difference. He shaved quickly, and looked at his hard face in the mirror. His hair was straight and brown, and now hung around his face in an orderly, groomed fashion. It came to the bottom of his ears all the way around, and on the back of his neck the hair was shaved short to match the cut. His eyes were a smoky blue, not bright, but not dim, and unclouded. He had sharp features and looked like a warder already. He blinked at himself and dressed in the new clothes that Ren had laid out for him. After finishing up, he made his way out to the main room. Four Guards were gathered now, sitting around, waiting for Raekal to appear. Korl whistled.
"Sure looks better than he did when we sent him in there!"
"That's for sure," Ren added. "How do you feel now?"
"Excellent," Raekal said, and sniffed. He could smell beef. How long had it been since he had had fresh beef? His mouth instantly began to water.
"Dinner's on its way," Korl said, seemingly just understanding Raekal's thoughts. "We knew you'd like some good meat," he added with a grin.
Raekal spent the rest of the night eating and talking and, for once in his life, laughing.
When Raekal turned five, she decided that five years was much too long of a time, and she and him left for Shienar. They went to where the house was supposed to of been. Nothing was there. All was gone, lost . . . all that remained was a few rocks and a low wall that ran for about twenty feet and terminated in a hillside. Raekal was still too young to understand why his mother broke down then . . . he couldn't comprehend the possibilities of death. He couldn't possibly understand that his father whom he had never known was forever gone, forever dead. His mother took him to the local village and left him there under the care of a kind young lady named Alaine. She had raised him as her own from then on. His mother went out into the countryside to search for his father, but had never returned. Raekal started learning the art of the sword from Alaine's husband, a renowned blade master, and was soon as graceful with a blade as any of the men in the village, and he was only sixteen.
Being in Shienar however, carried it's own dangers, especially being as close to the Border as they were. One night Trollocs raided their village. Alaine fought with her husband and Raekal, but the numbers attacking were too great. The Trollocs overwhelmed the defenses, and the defenders themselves were scattered. Raekal was separated from both Alaine and his "dad" and ran on his own back to the next village. There he found Alaine, injured but alive, and the story of how his "dad" had fallen and been lost. The village formed a small militia group to fight the Trollocs that came pouring towards them. However, the numbers were still too great and this village also went up in flames while some determined men continued the fight. Raekal was one of them, trying to buy more time for Alaine and the rest to flee. Raekal helped another man in the defense group fight and kill the leading Fade, and the Trolloc army fell apart and retreated for the time. Several died.
Still running, still fleeing, the survivors fled back to the army coming up to defend against the invasion. Raekal joined in a heartbeat, and marched back into battle again to defense his home. The battle against the reformed, reinforced Trolloc horde was hard, long, and extremely bloody. In the end, the Trollocs were defeated and pushed back into the Blight. Raekal left the army to travel south, to Tar Valon. He had nothing left to live for. Nothing. The Trollocs had destroyed his home, his family, and now he was running from them again. To Tar Valon. To hope . . . to a possible future.
Raekal looked up at the great shining white walls of Tar Valon in awe. He had never seen anything like it, anything even remotely similar. He walked towards the walls across one of the great bridges. A train of people moving in both directions paid no heed to one man walking alone across the bridge with all he had in the world slung on his back. His clothes were filthy, his hair matted and uncombed. He was growing a nasty looking beard. His cloak was travel stained and ragged. His purse was empty. His sword hanging on his side was beginning to rust now and in desperate need of a new hilt and a good polishing. He stumbled, not paying any attention to his footing, and almost fell. He caught his balance and resumed the long walk across the bridge. He reached into his bag and pulled out a moldy piece of cheese. Picking off the mold and casting it over the edge into the river, he but into it. It was starting to go bad . . . but beggars couldn't be choosers. He entered the city and went straight towards the Tower. His last hope to stay alive was to become a warder. To become involved with Aes Sedai. He frowned.
"Hey! You!" someone shouted. Raekal turned to see three men approaching him. They looked worse than he did, if that was possible.
"Me?" Raekal asked, wondering what they could possibly want.
"Yeah. Hand over that sword. I bet I could get a pretty penny for that."
Raekal looked at the sword on his hip. "This?" He pulled the blade up out of the sheath and examined it. "I doubt it."
"I don't. Come on, hand it over. We don't want to cause a scene, now do we?"
Raekal spun the blade expertly and flipped it into the air. Without looking, he caught the hilt in his right hand. The move attracted a few eyes. "I'm rather attached to this sword. I'd rather not part with it, and I doubt you can take it from me." He sheathed it and turned his back on the men. They seemed smart enough for the moment, and left him in peace.
He continued on till he came to the Tower itself. Night was getting close, and people were being turned away from the gates. He cursed. Another night under the stars, most likely in an alley somewhere. "Blood and ashes, the Light has almost surely forsaken me now," Raekal muttered as he turned back to try to find a suitable place to unroll his ragged blanket.
Night fell quickly and with it brought relief from the intense midsummer heat. He stretched out in a garden, on the cropped grass, and rolled up in his blanket. He didn't sleep, not yet, and so he heard the footsteps drawing nearer. He sat up and saw two men wearing swords and short brown cloaks walk past, laughing. He lay back. Most likely Tower Guards . . . men able to bond but unbonded to the current moment. He sighed. Soon enough, he would be one himself.
Minutes later, he heard more footsteps and looked up again. This time it was those three from earlier, and they knew where he was. "Again? Blood and ashes!" He stood slowly as they drew nearer. "Still want my sword?" he asked, and the leader, the man who had spoken before, narrowed his eyes, only just visible in the flickering torchlight that dimly lit the garden.
"Yeah. And this time, you will either give it to me, or I will take it from your lifeless hands. Is a sword really worth that much to you?"
Raekal shrugged. "This one is." With that he drew it again. The silver blade shone in the dim light, but the three looked undaunted as they drew their own blades, of a remarkably lesser value than his own. He smiled. Too easy. There was only three.
"Take him!" the leader exclaimed, and the three came forward at once. In a flash, Raekal spun on one heel, his other foot lifting as the sword clanged off on blade. The man staggered as Raekal's kick embedded itself in his stomach and he fell backwards, out of breath. As that foot touched ground, Raekal was spinning, his other foot flying through the air, connecting to the second's jaw. An audible crack was heard through the still night air, and the man dropped like a sack of potatoes. The third managed to lock blades with Raekal and for a split second they were face to face. "Tonight you die," Raekal said, and spun back, his blade sliding off of the others. He came after him as the first came back at Raekal.
The first wasn't nearly as good as the third and swung wildly at Raekal. He ducked under the slash and as he stood, he used one of the few swordforms that he knew an official name for. Tower of the Morning. The man was opened from navel to jaw and flew backwards and crashed to the ground, never to rise again. The first roared inaudibly and charged forwards, thrusting his sword at Raekal's heart. Raekal twisted to the side and brought his blade down on the others. Not only did the man loose feeling in his hands, the hilt slipped to the ground as the blade itself disintegrated under the blow. He gasped and held his hands up as Raekal pointed his sword at the man's throat. "Shall I take your life now as well? You surely tried to take mine." The man shook his head, still in shock at what had happened to his blade.
"Hey! What's going on over there?" a shout came, and Raekal looked up to see those two Guards come running. He grimaced, but when they arrived, they said nothing about Raekal himself. "You! Attacking this man unprovoked! You should be sent to the prisons!"
The man looked between the two dumbly. "He's the one who done murder here!"
The first guard stepped up. "He was defending himself. We were watching you."
Raekal nodded. Of course, warders in training would watch for anything suspicious. He sheathed his sword. "I suggest you leave and help your friends here too. Do that and we won't call the patrol," the second said, and the man helped the injured one to his feet, and they each grabbed an arm and dragged the dead man away. The two guards turned back to face him. "You alright?" the second asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He straightened. "You didn't need to do that. I could have killed them all myself and been rid of them."
The first laughed. "We weren't interfering for your sake. We were for theirs." He looked back at the retreating pair. "What brings you to Tar Valon?"
"The Tower," Raekal said simply.
"Ah . . . looking to be a Warder, huh? Well, with those skills you got that won't present much a problem!" the second laughed as well.
Raekal looked at them. "You are Guards, right?" They both nodded. "My name is Raekal Dunshain. I would appreciate it if you took me to see the Master at Arms."
The first nodded. "Of course, first thing in the morning. We'll get you set up with a room, new clothes, and a new blade, if you so desire. Your training will start immediately too, but by the way you performed some of those forms, I wouldn't say you needed very much of it." He grinned broadly. "My name's Ren, by the way, and this is Korl. We both plan to bond greens soon. Should be interesting." His grin grew.
Raekal smiled for the first time in Light-knew how long. He liked these two. They were like him. Ready, waiting for the next battle against the Shadowspawn. "In the morning huh? What do you have planned for tonight?"
Korl grinned. "Well, we were going to see the local girls and make sure they were all doing all right, but since that doesn't seem to be happening anymore, perhaps we'll take ya back up to the Barracks and introduce ya to some people."
Raekal brightened. "Any chance of a hot bath? And a shave? I could use one badly." He rubbed his whiskery chin and cheeks. "Seems like forever since I've had a good hot meal too." It had been quite some time. For the last few weeks he had been on the road, surviving off of stale bread and moldy cheese or whatever some kind traveler would share, or when he would get lucky and find himself a rabbit or two.
Ren laughed. "Yeah, you can use my room for that. I'll have the tub filled with good hot water for you. SO you can look better for your presentation to the Master at Arms tomorrow."
Raekal lowered himself gingerly into the hot water and couldn't hold back the sigh that seemed to explode from him. He could literally feel the dirt and grime of days of unwashed travel lifting off of him. He dunked his head, and grabbed some soap and lathered his hair up good before dunking again. It had been ages since he had had clean hair. Ren came in with a pair of scissors and went to work on his long, ragged hair, trimming it nice and shorter and even for him. Then he left and pointed Raekal to his razor and stuff on the basin table.
After a relaxing soak, Raekal climbed out of the tub. A layer of dirt lay at the bottom. He wrinkled his nose at it. He had needed a washing. Even he could smell the difference. He shaved quickly, and looked at his hard face in the mirror. His hair was straight and brown, and now hung around his face in an orderly, groomed fashion. It came to the bottom of his ears all the way around, and on the back of his neck the hair was shaved short to match the cut. His eyes were a smoky blue, not bright, but not dim, and unclouded. He had sharp features and looked like a warder already. He blinked at himself and dressed in the new clothes that Ren had laid out for him. After finishing up, he made his way out to the main room. Four Guards were gathered now, sitting around, waiting for Raekal to appear. Korl whistled.
"Sure looks better than he did when we sent him in there!"
"That's for sure," Ren added. "How do you feel now?"
"Excellent," Raekal said, and sniffed. He could smell beef. How long had it been since he had had fresh beef? His mouth instantly began to water.
"Dinner's on its way," Korl said, seemingly just understanding Raekal's thoughts. "We knew you'd like some good meat," he added with a grin.
Raekal spent the rest of the night eating and talking and, for once in his life, laughing.