Fanfic:Arakasi's Pledge
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The cold winds of fall was swirling around Arakasi and Athanar as the two men made their way down the mountain trail towards Far Ridge, a town at the edge of Arad Doman. Both men was Domani of birth, but from the coast, not the mountains. They had grown up together, yet they were as different in looks as any could be. Arakasi was tall and lithe, his body grown strong from years of martial training, and wielding Saidin as a weapon. Athanar on the other hand was short and broad, with shoulders and arms bulgin from muscles. He carried two axes on his belt, and a larger axe on his back, in opposition to Arakasi's slender longsword. Arakasi was dark of both skin and hair, his shortcropped hair being almost black and his skin a deep tan. Athanar was fair, his skin light and his shoulderlong hair so blond that he was almost whitehaired. Arakasi's eyes were bright green, while Athanars shone the yellow of a wolfbrother. Arakasi wore a green coat, brown leggings and bl! ack kneehigh boots, and a deep green cloak rippled in the icy wind. Athanar wore dark gray and black, and his short boots made no sound as he walked. The only thing the two men had in common was the amulets hanging from their necks, the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai, a disc of black and white.
The wind might be icy, but neither Asha'man nor warder seemed to notice as they rode down the winding path towards Far Ridge. They passed farms that stood deserted in the winter, shuttered off against the cold and rain, as well as two- or fourlegged marauders. Silent, leafless forests covered the mountainsides and in the gloom of early evening the howl of a single wolf was heard from far away. arakasi looked at Athnar. He knew his warder and friend's wolffriends well enough to identyfy the howl as coming from Swift Wind, the leader of Athanars little pack.
"What knews of the Wind my friend? " He asked in his soft, yet knifeedged voice. Arakasi's green eyes calmly searched the treeline as he spoke, never risking ambush by unawareness. Athanar kept lookout to his side of the path as he spoke, his yellow eyes unblinking.
"Grim tidings Ara... " Athanar, with his deep rumbling voice that sounded like stone on stone was the only living man permitted to call the Asha'man by that name. "Burned farms and game slain for sport. The scent of Twisted Ones and Neverborn hangs strong on the slopes of the heights... Grim tidings Ara... " He didn't look worried as he spoke, his face as stony as ever, but Arakasi knew from his friends satnce, and from the frustration flowing through the bond that his friend was uneasy. It was dark times, where the Dragon walked the world and Tarmon Gai'don was fast approaching if the legends were true. Silently the Asha'man loosened his sword in it's scabbard and checked his daggers on the insides of his steel-and-silver bracers. come what come will... We will be ready
It was full dark as the two entered Far Ridge, as small town on the edge of the Mountains of Mist. Silently they rode through the town, and was seen only by a dog that whimpered and drew into the shadow of the barrel it slept in. Slowly they rode, looking around, yellow and green eyes piercing the gloom, scenting the fearladden air. Something was not right in Far Ridge.
From a large building in the center of town, strands of music floated on the icy wind, and light shone through unshuttered windows, illumintaing the sign proclaiming 'The Dancing Jug'. Arakasi dismounted outside, and waited for Athanar to rouse a stableboy to take their horses. Silver flashed in the dark, and the sleepy stablehand grinned and bowed deeply to strangers, immediately taking Racer and Winner, the twin stallions they rode, into the stable. And the two entered the inn.
Inside, the mood was merry. The commonroom was brightly lit, two large hearths roaring in each end of the room. Torches was on the walls, and lanters hung from the high ceiling. Tables was scattered throughout the room, and serving maids made their way between them, bringing food and drink to the guests. On a raised square in one corner, a man with long mustaches and long black hair was makeing grand gestures the flourished his cloak, covered in a multitude of coloured patches, as the gleeman recounted the tale of the Greath Hunt for the Horn. With a slight smile playing on his lips, Arakasi moved through the room to sit down at a table in the corner fartherst away from the gleeman. The asha'man was in no mood for stories tonight. As Athanar sat down at the table, the two of them shed their cloaks and settled back to wait. It was not long before a plumb serving maid came to ask them if they wanted food or drink. Athanar ordered food and wine for the two of the! m while Arakasi studied the room. Even in here, through all the merrymaking, the battletrained channeler felt it. Fear. It hung in the room like a mist, made a memory by the laughter, the wine and the food, but it was there. Araksi echanged a glance with Athanar, and as if by argrrement, both loosened weapons on their belts.
Their food was brought them and they ate in silence, both keeping an unnoticed eye out for trouble. None arose though, and as the room slowly emptied, Arakasi rose, swiftly folowed by Athanar. Together they walked to the bar where the landlord stood talking silently with one of the maids. He was a large man, with somewhat more girth than he should, and he was balding. But his smile was real as he greeted the two men.
"Ah master Grady, so good to see you again. It's been a long time since you last visited the Dancing Jug. You will want the usual rooms for you and master Tomas, am I right? " Arakasi smiled and nodded.
"It's good to see that the Jug is still the same Alton. " He extended a hand to the other man, who shook it firmly. Alton R'nuri might be a fat old man now, but in his youth he had been an acclaimed warrior, and his old claymore still hung over the fireplace, and most who knew him didn't want to face him with the notched Bleeder in hand. "And yes, we want the usual rooms, if they're available. "
Alton smiled at him and nodded. "Yes of course. I've few enough customers lately, with all them bandits roving the mountains... " The old man shook his head, but Athanar suddently looked straight at him.
"Bandits Alton? " His brows had drawn down into a single, bushy string as he frowned. "I didn't hear any talk of bandits in the common room? "
Alton frowned. "Blimey no! People here don't like talking about it. It's bad luck they say, but everyone knows that there's bandits in the mountains as of late. There's been farms burned and merchants have been found dead on the trails. People are scared master Tomas. They're afraid to leave the town. " The old man fell silent for a while, and then shook his head. "You needn't worry yourselves though. We've a contingent of the Kings Lances coming up from Bandar Eban. They'll take care of things all right. " Athanar didn't push the subjekt, but the fast look he shot Arakasi let no doubt. The slender Asha'man remembered the wolves warning well enough. The scent of Twisted Ones and Neverborn is strong on the high slopes.
"Now master Grady, your room is not locked, and here's your key. " He handed Arakasi a key and one to Athanar. "And yours master Tomas. " He smiled at Arakasi then. "I'll send Desra up with water for you, as usual, right? "
Araksi couldn't help but smile. It was no secret to old Alton that Arakas was very fond of the young maid Desra, and often made sure that they had time together whenever Arakasi and Athanar was in town. "Yes Alton, that would be fine. " And with that, the Asha'man and the Warder made their way upstairs. Their rooms was adjactant to each others, and identical. Large, comfortable rooms that fetched a fair price from passing merchants, but since the two of them had helped Alton fund the inn, they always slept there for free. Arakasi bid his warder goodnight and went into his room to prepare for the night. In there, a pleasant fire was burning, and the shutters had been closed to stave off the cold. At the bedside table, a single flower rested, a ayraka, a light blue flower that had the scent of a rose. Arakasi smiled. Desra had been here already then. Only she knew of his love for the fragile flower, and sometimes took great pains to make sure there were at least ! one in his room. Slowly he started removing his coat, taking care to place the daggers and his sword where he could reach them swiftly. He was in his shirtsleeves, standing in front of the fireplace when a soft knock sounded on the door.
"Enter. " Arakasi kept his voice neutral, as he didn't know who would be outside. He heard the door open, and heard a person enter. Still, he didn't turn, but by reflex his mucles tightened. Only when he heard a tray being place on the bedside table, he relaxed. Soon he felt a light hand on his shoulder and turned to smile at Desra.
She was a pretty girl, with ravenblack hair, and eyes so brilliantly blue that even the summer sky could not compare with them. She was small and delicatelooking, but Arakasi knew that she could could defend herself well enough. His voice was soft, without it's usual knifes edge when he spoke. "I've missed you Raven... " That was his name for her, a name that men had recieved wounds for calling her, but never him. At him she merely smiled and snuggled against him as he took her in his arms.
"I know Ara. " Her voice was low and soft, with a note like song in it. She looked up at him with those brilliant blue eyes, and Arakasi felt every waryness drain away. He knew that if someone wanted to murder him, now would be the perfect time, but he didn't care as he bend down to kiss her softly. And as the fire burned low, and the night grew old, they shared what pleasures a young couple might.
It was a cold morning when Arakasi made his way downstairs. Athanar would already be up he knew. He was always up with the sun, no matter how little he had slept. And true enough, as he entered the commonroom, he spotted Athanar a table, eating porridge from a bowl. As Arakasi seated himself, the other man looked up at him.
"Got late I suspect? " Athanar said with a grin that showed clearly that he didn't suspect, but knew. Arakasi merely grinned back
"You know that Tomas. " He said without missing a beat, and called for some porridge to be brought him. "What knews from the Wind? " he asked as if nothing was wrong. But by Athanar's frown something was indeed wrong.
"Twisted Ones wander the night, and Neverborn watch the town from the rocks " he muttered so low that noone else would hear. "Trouble is brewing in the Mists. " They ate in silence, and as if per agreement, they both left a silver coin on the table, and left the Dancing Jug. In the grey morning they mounted their horses, and rode out they way they had come, leaving Far Ridge behind them swiftly as they rode into the mountains.
Hours passed, and Far Ridge was reduced to tiny dot's below them as they entered the leafless forests of the Mists. Suddently, wolves were around them, and Arakasi easily identified Swift Wind, Dancer, Three Ears and others of Athanars pack. And from the expression on his lifelong friends face, their tidings was grim. He looked at Arakasi suddently and spoke.
"The pack hunted this night. Twisted Ones fell to their teeth, but the Neverborn eludes them. I fear they know we're here... " Athanar's voice was calm, but his eyes were roaming the forest, searching for signs of danger. Arakai reined his horse and dismounted. Removing saddle and headpiece from it he looked at Athanar doing the same. They had done this before. The horses would come back when called, and they would be safer at foot than mounted. And as they moved on, Arakasi dipped into Saidin, feeling his senses pick up as he felt the torrent of ice and fire that was the male half of the Power swirl around him.
Like shadows they stalked the forests, the wolves fanning out with them, telling Athanar where they last smelled the neverborn. For hours they searched, and suddently both wolves and Athanar froze. Arakasi stopped, and listened. Suddently Athanar whispered.
"They're here. They're all around us, moving in the shadows. " His yellow eyes darted back and forth, and suddently his axes was in his hands. The wolves had made a ring around them, snarling, eyeing the darkness. Arakasi's longsword slid soundlessly from it's sheath. And suddently the shadows came alive. Huge horned shapes, shapes that was not men and not beasts moved among the trees. The wolves snarling got deeper and fangs was glittering as they prepared to defend their friends. Arakasi looked around, and smiled grimly. He might as well start it. He grapped strands of Saidin and wove Earth and Fire, and the ground below three trollocs exploded in a shover of molten stone, flinging the huge shapes around like rag dolls.. And then the world went berserk. Trollocs and wolves howled as the battle was joined, and steel flashed in the light of his Powerwrought fires. Arakasi parried a lunge from a trolloc and wove a Rending weave, tearing the thing apart. But two ! more took it's place, and Arakasi cursed the fate that had kept from his the weave of death that would have instantly slain any trollocs within a mile of him. Instead he was forced to pary and duck, flinging a small fireball into the face of one while spinning to kick the legs out under the other, baring it's throat to Swift Wind. But there seemed to be no end to the beasts. For any that fell, two more took it's place, and Araksi wove Saidin in an endless string of destruction feeling himself tire as he swung his sword, tearing the throat and the life from a trolloc. He caught a glimpse of Athanar, whirling in a dance of death as his axes felled trollocs like they were trees. But he was wounded, blood dripping from half a dozen cut's, and Arakasi realized that he himself had sustained injury as well. Immersed in Saidin, he had not felt the wounds. And as aother trolloc was torn apart by Saidin he saw it. The Myrdraal was moving through the battle, straight at Athanar, it's deadly blade bared. His warder met it, and time seemed to slow. Desperately he tried to weave, but trolloc blocked his vision. Savagely he tore them apart, slashed them with his sword, but they wouldn't move. They shielded Athanar from view, but Arakasi felt his friend throught the bond, and heard every ring of axe against sword over the din of battle. And suddently the trolloc wall was gone, the last of them torn apart by the Power. And then he saw it. Athanar was put off balance, for the first time in many years. And slowly, the black blade, forged in the fires of Thakan'dar decended. Time seemed to stop, and Arakasi knew that the image of Athanars defiant growl as the Myrdraals sword stole his life would always haunt his dreams. And as the blood of his lifelong friend sprayed up over the Myrdraals armor he heard his own voice roar a scream of denial as he wove fire and huge fireball engulfed the Myrdraal, forcing Athanars corpse away from it. And even throught the wrenchi! ng pain of the severed bond, Arakis saw the myrdraal fade from view, fadeing into that shadows and disappear. Stunned, Arakis looked around. No trolloc still stood, but three of the faithful wolves had fallen, and the rest were injured. With weary resignation, and with a numbing pain inside, Arakis knew what he had to do. He wove earth and air, raising boulders out of the ground, making a hollow in the rock. Gently, using the power only enough to lift Athanar in his arms, Arakis placed his friends body in the grave, settling his head back as gently as he would have that of a child. And with the power he replaced the boulders, and drowe the swords of the fallen trollocs into the ground around the grave. Then he placed the twin axes crossed over the grave and rose, looking down on the monument of his friend.
"Friend, Warder, Brother you was to me, Athanar of Six Brooks. Now return to the creator in peace. Your death will be avenged, I swear that. I pledge on my life, that even if I have to go to the very slopes of Shayol Ghul to find the beast that caused your death, I will, and I will tear the life from it, along with any that stands beside it. This I swear, on my life and on my salvation by the light. "Arakasi's face was grim as he spoke, and as the wolves lifted their voice in the song of death, a last tribute to a friend, a brother, lost, Arakasi howled with them, not caring who might hear. He sang with the wolves who had been as much brothers to Athanar as he had, sang to the friend who had died protecting him.
