Chapter 1: A Fine Day
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose above the city of Whitebridge. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
Children were running around in the streets playing tag and having fun. Adults milled about the street as well, merchants and wagon drivers cursing the people who ran in front of them. Salesmen and women cry out their wares in hopes of a sale. Beggars were everywhere, pleading for a silver mark and just getting in the way. No one gave to the beggars so it was a surprise they kept asking about; Whitebridge was not a very wealthy city, and its inhabitants were no wealthier. It was not a very large city either, though certainly larger than its neighbors to the west who lived in The Two Rivers. Whitebridge got most of its food and cloth from The Two Rivers folk. Two Rivers tabac brought in more money than cloth and food combined. This was not odd considering almost everyone smoked. Whitebridge is known for its tall white bridges that extend over the river connecting the city to the main roads. People who hadn't seen a real city such as Cairhien or Caemlyn might think this a big city, and stop to gawk at the huge white bridges. But people who lived in the city, or have been up to bigger cities just see it as a normal if not small city. Men at the docks loaded and unloaded the heavy cargo from the ships, while captains dealt with the prices.
Flusk observed all this while sitting outside the Wayfarer's Rest, his father's inn. He wasn't his real father and Flusk knew it. Flusk had been found as an infant somewhere near Tar Valon, while his "father" was on a trading route with packages for the grand city itself. His fathers name is Bartim. He always tried to make believe that Bartim was his real father, especially after he had saved his life as a baby. While his father was on the trading route, he ran into a group of bandits who were looting and burning a house. He and his team scared away the bandits except for one. The man managed to kill 6 of his father's men before Bartim himself clubbed the man on the head with a shovel, knocking him unconscious. But the man didn't leave Bartim untouched, there's a gash on his fathers arm where the mans weapon cut him cleanly. Bartim then went into the house and found Flusk in a crib. Bartim never could bring himself to kill the bandit; he really was a peaceful man. Bartim looked around the house and in the surrounding area of the house for Flusks's parents, but never found them, so Bartim took Flusk in as his own son.
Flusk clutched the silver medallion around his neck with the word FLUSK inscribed in it. It was around his neck when his father found him in his crib all those years ago, and he seldom took it off. It felt cool in his grip; the air in the city was unusually cold for this time of year. Flusk was about 5'11" with dark hair and brown eyes. He had never had the time to really take a good look at himself, but of late he had been getting compliments from the women in the city. He had been noticing some of them eyeing him differently and he rather liked it. Flusk had just turned 20 last month, yet he had been working at his father's inn for as long as he could remember. Helping the workers in the kitchen clean plates and wash forks was his job for 5 years. After that he served the tables and kept at that until this day. He didn't get to go out and play with the other kids often, if at all. He couldn't be mad at his father for keeping him inside, he needed help with the inn, and his father wasn't a very wealthy man. The few moments Flusk could get to himself, he spent sitting where he was now, on a rickety old chair outside the inn, observing.
Flusk was an observer, and he liked to think a lot on things. Puzzling out riddles had been his specialty because he would take time to look at the whole riddle and really spend time thinking of solutions. One thing Flusk really disliked was gambling; taking a gamble was nothing like thinking something out. It was leaving things to chance; Flusk never took chances.
The sun was just up over the horizon and Flusk had barely begun to work. Music drifted from inside the inn and laughter from the patrons. It was unusually packed for so early in the morning, which could only be a good thing money-wise. Flusk decided to go inside and start his long day's work, which he had become used to in the past years. I'll go in, go up to my room, and change into the bloody serving clothes that I "love" oh so much. Then I'll come down the flaming stairs and get started on the orders of old fat men who drink their life away. What a bloody joy it is to live here eh? Light! Flusk thought to himself glumly as he opened the door to the inn. If people could hear his thoughts, they would certainly complain about his language. Of course Flusk made an asserted effort not to ever repeat those words when he spoke. Foul language was safe in his mind, as long as it never passed his lips.
Inside the inn he saw he had not been far off in his thoughts of it being crowded. Every table was full of patrons and on stage was a gleeman. Music seemed to flow from his harp as elegantly and natural as breathing is. Flusk hadn't seen many gleemen over the years, maybe about 5 in total. So this is why the inn is full. Flusk thought with a grin. All these patrons meant more work for him, but the money his father reeled in was worth the effort. Flusk walked over to where his father was standing ordering about serving girls and listening to the gleeman at the same time.
"I assume you'd like me to get to work dad?" Flusk said in a tone that meant he didn't need an answer to know it was yes. His dad gave him a huge smile and hugged him strongly. Contrary to common belief, his father was quite a strong man.
"My boy, you can take the whole day off, enjoy yourself a bit and take a well deserved break." Bartim said happily. Flusk looked at his father with a puzzled look on his face.
"The whole day off?" Flusk exclaimed. "Are you feeling well dad?" Flusk said cautiously. His dad nodded and said, "Of course I am boy, I always do things for a reason, now come with me." Bartim said as he herded Flusk into his room in the back of the inn. Once the door was closed, Bartim went to the back of the room and opened up a secret compartment behind a dresser that only Flusk and Bartim knew of. He pulled out a chest and opened it up with a key at his belt. Flusk gaped at what he saw. Gold and silver marks littered the entire chest to the rim. "Blood and bloody ashes…" Flusk breathed as he gaped at the chest full of money. Bartim frowned at him and Flusk snapped his mouth shut and looked down sullenly. He rarely let his mouth slip, and his father was not a man to tolerate foul language. But with all that money, they could buy a nice manor out in the countryside with horses and servants.
"Dad, where in the Light did you get all this?" Flusk said when he could conjure enough moisture in his mouth to speak.
"Found the chest in at the bottom of the river ma' boy, snagged it on my second cast. And you said I wasted my time fishing." Bartim said triumphantly. It was true; Flusk did often say his father wasted his time fishing. Bartim handed Flusk 5 gold marks and snapped the chest closed. He then slipped it back in its spot behind the dresser and placed the dresser back.
"Now go out and have yourself a good time, you deserve it. As for me, I'm going to go out and spend a little money myself, maybe find myself a wife in the process." Bartim said jokingly as he led them out of his room and locked it. Flusk doubted that was the case, Bartim had never married. He said he didn't like the idea of being bossed about like some of his married friends did. He then went off to ordering the serving girls around again. Flusk stared at the gold marks in his hand. This was the most money he'd held in his entire life. Well he would not squander his gold on a woman, not today at least. He was going to enjoy himself. Today's going to be a fine day. He thought to himself as he walked off with ideas in mind.
Dan barely had enough time to lift his sword high enough to block his opponent's sword from coming down on his head. The force of the swing almost threw Dan off balance, almost. Almost was not enough when it came to sword fighting, it was either win or lose. Almost winning never held any importance at the end of the day. Dan shoved back from the swords, well staggered back at least. Light that was a hard swing! Dan thought to himself as he regained his composure. He glared over his sword at his opponent, judging what method of attack would be best. The problem was, his opponent knew all his techniques, he had faced this man many times over the years, and Dan was always one step behind him in acting. There was only one choice: he had to come up with a new technique and fast. The man opposite him did not give him much time to think, he rushed forward and assumed the poise of Wind Over Hills. Dan knew this technique all too well and was ready with a counter attack.
He'll rush forward with his sword ready to attack me on my left side, and then if I block his initial attack, he will bring his sword back and swing diagonally across my right shoulder. Dan used this technique a lot himself and his opponent knew it, so why would he use it? The man rushed forward as expected and slashed at Dan's left side. Dan easily parried and brought his sword up to block the slash that would fall down on his right shoulder. Unfortunately, the blade never came from that direction. The man swept his left leg into the back of Dan's knees and Dan's legs buckled. The man stood up as Dan fell backward, and slashed his sword down at Dan. Dan hit the ground with a thud and rolled out of the way as the sword hit the dirt where he was laying. Dan bounded to his feet across from his opponent and again they exchanged glares.
"Can't say I remember that part being in the technique." Dan said warily toward his opponent.
"Improvise my friend, improvise." The man replied simply.
Improvise, eh? Dan thought to himself. He could improvise also. An idea for a technique popped into his mind and Dan acted. Dan sought the calmness of an impenetrable barrier that allowed him to be aware of all his surroundings more clearly. He had come to call this the Void. His vision and hearing sharpened a bit and he was one with his weapon. Dan sought this state of mind before doing any technique for the obvious benefits it granted him. No sooner than Dan formed the barrier did he spring into a charge. He ran at his opponent with his sword held directly in front of him. I'll call this one The Charging Bull, Dan thought as he rushed forward. A shift of the man's boot was the only warning Dan had before his opponent leaped from his motionless stance. The man swung his sword upward and quickly knocked Dan's outstretched sword out of his hands. In the same instant, the man spun on his toes and brought his sword down on the back of Dan's neck. The sword made contact with a thud and Dan gasped as the breath was knocked out of him. The invisible barrier Dan had shattered as he collapsed on the ground, trying to gather his breath.
"You're dead, cousin." The man said as he smiled down at Dan triumphantly. Dan stirred from his position on the ground and slowly pulled himself to his knees.
"That was some quick moving Garc, I don't know how you do it" Dan replied as he thumbed the back of his neck which still throbbed in pain.
"Just be lucky these are wooden swords" Garc said and held out a hand for Dan. Dan gratefully took the hand and Garc pulled him up.
"Well it was a pretty close match Garc and you know it, I almost had you." As Dan said the word he wanted to take it back. Almost was never enough. Garc looked a little shocked that Dan said 'almost' as well.
"Heh, well you might have had me if you didn't make such a noobly move. What were you thinking anyway?" Garc asked a bit curiously, but didn't let Dan say anything before he plowed on. "Usually you're more careful than that, and some of your techniques have surprised me quite a bit, but that," he said motioning to Dan's sword, "was a pitiful display of experimentation."
Dan would have had a strong word with Garc about who taught whom, but Garc had a point. He was foolish in using that sad attempt of a technique, and also he was a still a bit dazed, and might stumble over his words if he tried to argue now. Dan was 22 years old, with dirty blonde hair and sea green eyes. Light hair was uncommon around this part of the world. He stood about 5'9", which was about the same height as his cousin Garc, who was about 5'10". Aside from their height, nothing about their physical appearances was similar. Garc had slightly curly black hair and brown eyes. Garc was only 19, which made Dan slightly angrier that Garc could keep up with him and even beat him while sparring. Garc has had a keen eye for swords since the day he first saw Dan's. Garc was 15, and Dan was 18 when Dan first began teaching Garc how to wield a blade. Garc caught on rather quickly and in a short period of time had begun to beat Dan.
Garc lived with Dan and his family out on the farm. Garc had moved here when he was 10, forced from his parent's house because they wanted him to live life outside of a bustling city. If a non-city life was what Garc's parents had wanted, then they could not have sent him to a better place. Although the farm was not a work free place, it did provide a sort of calm that a city just could not give. Dan had been to a city before, Whitebridge he believed it was called. It was located a few miles from here. He defiantly preferred the calm farm life to the bustle and crowding of a city. On the farm here, lived his mother, his father, and his brother. His brother, Peter, was only 16, yet he already had taken a liking to Dan's swords he kept in the shed. Dan often caught Peter going through the forms he had seen Dan do in his many spars with Garc over the years, and he was actually pretty good in doing so. Now, Peter sat with delight in his eyes at seeing his older brother schooled by his own cousin and pupil at one time. Peter was not one to let losses go lightly.
"Hahaha! Dan you got owned! In fact you are the picture of all that 'owned' is!" Peter spat out happily as he drummed his heels on the ground in laughter. "Garc, you are way better then Dan!" Garc's cheeks went red with the compliment, but Dan just stared at his brother flatly. Light the boy must be mad! I could strike him down where he sits and he knows it! Dan thought to himself in wonder. He did think the boy was mad, he even found him talking to himself at times, but there was a line between madness and insanity. And Peter was certainly not insane. He must be trying to win Garc's favor for some reason. But why? Dan thought to himself curiously. Only time would tell.
The sun was low on the horizon, with the day barely beginning. Chores had to be done on the farm: milking the cows, shearing the sheep, plowing the fields, cleaning out the shed, tending to his swords. He was lucky the inside chores were done by his parents and Peter. Garc and he were stuck with the fieldwork. Figures. Dan thought glumly as he and Garc turned toward the farm with Peter at their heels. The little time they got to spar, not a moment was ever wasted. Peter crept into Dan's thoughts once more as they neared the farm. Peter may be only 16, but he was taller than both Dan and Garc, with his height being 6 foot. His hazel blue eyes were full of mockery humor as they watched Dan's back. His black hair was cut short so that the cool wind that blew did not disturb it. He's never going to let me live it down that I lost will he? Light, that kid's got enough guts in him to fill twenty fish. Dan did not mean it as a compliment. That mockery in him would get him killed one day.
Dan's mother met them at the door waving a spoon at them and motioning them to come in. Breakfast would be extra bitter today, especially with the side order of shame for losing the spar. Dan never let it show of course, he did not like letting his emotions get the best of him. Bad things happened when he did, but he did not take losing well, even if it was just for fun. He would work harder tomorrow. Garc would not stand above him long.
As they entered the farm they were greeted with the aromas of the food, fresh mutton and soup from the smells of it. Dan's anger faded with the smell of mutton, it was his favorite meal. He was not going to let a little loss come between him and his favorite meal. But I almost won. Almost. Dan thought to himself.
They all sat around the table in the dining area. His father seated at the head of the table as he always had, with his mother at the opposite end. Dan and Peter sat to his fathers left, and Garc sat alone on the right side of the table. As breakfast was passed out, Peter somehow let it slip that Dan got "owned" by Garc just then.
"You know," Dan's father began, "if you boys want to take your sword training seriously, you can go off to Tar Valon and train under the Warders." He intended it to be a joke, his father loved to joke, but no one seemed to like talk of Warders, joke or no joke. All except Peter that is, at the mention of Warders, Peter's face brightened hopefully. Light, he really wants to become a Warder doesn't he? Warders and talk of anything related to the One Power in general were avoided topics in this family, and in most places this side of the world. Warders were the sworn guardians of Aes Sedai. Dan shivered as he thought the word. Aes Sedai were woman who lived in the White Tower in Tar Valon who wielded the One Power. The same Aes Sedai who made kings and queens bend knee to their will. Dan hoped he never had to come within one mile of a woman who could channel. Warders were not much worse than Aes Sedai. They followed and obeyed the Aes Sedai's every whim without a question or any sign of doubt. Completely loyal until they day they died. Dan shivered again, and this time the One Power had nothing to do with it. A bond that extreme, that lasted your whole life. Dan could not commit himself to that, ever. It was almost like slavery. Almost. Dan breathed.
Dan blinked in surprise at the sight of everyone staring at him. He was not aware he had spoken aloud. Even Peter looked concerned.
"Well uh," Dan began uncertainly, "So, the weather anyone? It's been unusually chilly for this time of year, do we have our cloaks all out and our heavy blankets ready just in case of a freak snowstorm?" Dan said uneasily. He did not like all those eyes on him, and the mention of the weather did not shift their gaze. He began fidgeting under their stares until Garc saved him.
"Well that's enough talk of all this gibberish," he said with a laugh, "I think we should be concentrating on getting through breakfast and on to our chores don't you?" Their gazes finally dropped from Dan and nodded agreement. Dan could not stifle his relieved sigh when they stopped staring at him. He owed Garc one, which was another thing he disliked, being in debt.
"Chores are not your concerns today boys." Dan's mother said to Dan and Garc. "I am running low on supplies, and I wouldn't mind restocking." That meant that Garc and Dan had to go into the city. Light how Dan hated the city. It was full of noise and filthy beggars. No matter how much copper Dan managed to give out amongst the beggars last time, they always came looking for more. Dan now knew why you weren't supposed to feed the birds.
"Mother if we have to go to the city today, can Garc and I get in a little more sparring before we leave. We'll have to spend the night in the city anyway, unless you want us to walk home at night." Dan pleaded. His mother nodded hastily and said, "Yes, yes now finish up your breakfast, it's getting cold. And be careful out there, just because those swords are wooden doesn't mean you can't get hurt. That much at least Dan knew was true. His neck still felt a little sore from the hit.
"Hey Garc could you teach me some of those moves you owned Dan with later?" Peter said to Garc with a hopeful look at him. So that's what the little weed wants from Garc. Well let him get all the training from Garc he wants, next time Dan sparred with Garc, he would win. Dan would not lose twice in a row! Today's going to be a fine day. He thought to himself sarcastically as he gulped down the last of his breakfast.
