Fanfic:Caith Gaidin
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The bread was somewhat stale, and it had not been entierly cleaned of weevils, but Caith did not pay it much heed. In fact, he was struggling to stay focused on the rapport he was currently reading concerning the progress of his unarmed combat students. Munching mechanically he only looked up as a shadow fell across the parchment.
A stony-faced Gaidin stood before him.
"May I be of service, Sir?" Caith asked politely, putting his bread down. The man did not answer him, but instead, presented him with a note, and left. Caith regarded it with a frown. It would've been plain, had it not been for the sigil inprinted in the wax, which belonged to Alyna, the Mistress of Arms. He hesitated for a moment before breaking it open, reading swiftly. Your presence is required at the south edge of the Training Yard. Please be prompt.
It was unsigned, but the sigill could be assumed to be sufficient identifier, but somehow he doubted. This was odd, so very odd. Was Alyna playing him a prank? No, she would never use her position so carelessly. Pushing the bread aside he stood up and started to make his way out. Only as he walked out of the room did the first Drin'far'ji begin to trickle in for breakfast, barely breaking stride he ordered one of them to gather the report from where he left it and bring it to back to his room.Yet, as he walked is brows furrowed, what was this all about? He knew he had not scheduled for any private training, or tutoring at this hour, and it seemed an odd place for someone to wait for an escort, something was not quite as it should be here.
The Gaidin who were waiting for him at the appointed spot was unfamiliar to him, old and grisled. Perhaps one of the Greens who spent a lot of time at the Citadel? It was not much more than a guess though, he really did not know, and the mystery increased.
"Caith Delvin Sa'ji'alantin. As summoned so I have-"
"Follow me."
Interupted in mid-sentence, mid-bow Caith frowned once more and followed. After a moment or two it sunk in on him that they were, in fact, approaching the channeling yard.
He had waited for so long for this that he had almost begun to despair, but the pieces fit. Keeping a tight hold on his hope he followed, he dared not hope and be utterly dissapointed.
"A Gateway" Caith stated in quiet surprise, but none answered him, instead, the Gaidin gave him an impatient push at the small of his back, herding him through uncermoniously. The Aes Sedai, newly raised by the young look on her face, said nothing and appeared completely focused on her task, and then he was through and the door closed behind him.
The first thing he noted, was the chill in the air. He knew that chill, was familiar with it. It was the chill of the Citadel air and there could no longer be any doubt of what this was:
The fabled Test of the Fancloak.
A shiver of mixed excitement, anticipation and anxity went down his spine. He looked about himself.
In front of him was a simple wooden table. On it however, were things he knew intimately, his weapons and armour.
Stepping up to it he felt an odd surreal calm befall him. He had waited for this moment for such a long time. Alternately patient and impatient. He had dreaded it longed for it, prayed for it to come, begged for it to be further off and now, he was here. The final test lay before him.
Calmly picking up a cloth armour, he slowly and ritualistically dressed himself. Before his mind's eye, a single flame burned in the darkness, slowly consuming anxiety, fear, hope and excitement. Cloth armour, chainmail, mail-gloves, helmet. Threading his sword-belt on, he was almost ready, and when he gripped his ashandarei, there was nothing but him, and the void.
Time did not matter in the void, after some time, a door opened and he was led out into the courtyard.
He was familiar with the place, having served his time there not too long ago. Had he ever noticed the small room he only just emerged from? The question slithered on the glossy surface of the void and dissapeared, it did not matter. In the middle of the Courtyard, four figures he recognized stood, the members of the Privy Council, and an unknown Aes Sedai. Excitement rushed through him, like a brief sharp spike, and then he was calm again. The void was everything.
"Who comes before the Warder Council?" the Gaidin Captain, spoke up. He shivered, in spite of the void, and spoke in return, as if he instinctively knew what to say.
"I, Caith Delvin, Sa'Ji'alantin of the Grey Tower, come before the Council." The Council nodded in eerie unison and The Mistress of Training, Kira Gaidar stepped forward. Caith regarded her silently, with her yellow, wolfkin eyes she appeared to be the very essence of all that he had aspired to, all his hard work during the years summed together in one wolf-like woman.
"You have trained in our ranks and have been deemed worthy of a final assignment," Kira spoke up, "Sa'ji'alantin," I knew it! I knew it! He thought jubilantly. She continued, "you are called to prove yourself worthy of the fancloak in the wilds of the Blightborder. You have three chances to approach this task. If you choose to step down today, you may come before us twice more. Once you agree to continue your test, however, you may not turn back without immediate failure. Once you accept your test, you must complete the test or you will be put out of the Tower permanently. Do you wish to continue?"
His response was swift and fervent.
"I do, light, I do." For one moment, as he spoke those words, everything appeared to tin out. There was no wind, no noise, no nothing. And in this moment, there was clarity, this was it, and then the spell broke as the Wolfkin spoke up once more.
"You are called to protect this Aes Sedai, the symbol of your desired duty.
"Return with some token of your struggle; do not return to this fortress until you can bring some proof of your protection before the Council, If you return without such proof, or if you fail in your protection of this Aes Sedai-if she falls under your defense-you will be put out of the Tower permanently."
A nod of understanding.
"Light guide your sword, and may your test be one of enduring strength."
"Do you have a specific goal in mind, Lindia Sedai?" Their departure had been dazzlingly swift, so swift that Caith had had no time to speak to his charge until only just now.
"Yes, I do." The woman was dressed in a practical gray Riding Dress which spoke of a Saldean heritage, with a modest indigo embrodiment along the sleeves and the hems. No doubt what Ajah she belonged to. "We are in the search of a ter'angreal." Her darkbrown hair was drawn back into a strict, practical bun, this woman was all buisness, and not very talkative at that Caith noted dryly. Keeping his attention on their surroundings he continued their conversation.
"Tell me more about it, how was it lost?" She frowned at him, no doubt disturbed by the distracted lack of reverence in his voice and words. All there was to show was a slight tightening of the lips, but when she spoke up, her face was Aes Sedai smooth again.
"It is the sister of this" Lindia plucked something from her dress, momentarily abandoning his guard against the Blight, Caith saw that it was a silvernecklace with a berlock. "It does not require channeling to activate. The wearer of one will always know where the other is, and by opening the berlock" Lindia flicked it open to demonstrate briefly before clicking it shut again "the two wearers can communicate with each other, as if they were standing next to each other." "Useful" Caith commented. The landscape was calm, but they were only just now nearing the blight.
"'tis." Lindia Sedai nodded "However, the other necklace was lost last month, a scouting party were attacked and the wearer of it, fell."
"And now, we will retrive it." Suddenly happening upon a problem, Caith frowned. Trollocs were known for theyr love of flesh, any kind of flesh. "Aes Sedai, how do we know that the necklace hasn't fallen in the hands of the Trollocs?"
"It hasn't moved from the spot of the attack, and she lost it."
"How? If she was wearing it around her neck-"
"Beheaded. Myrdraal caught her from behind."
"Oh."
They did not speak more of the necklace that day and as they passed between the guard-towers, a shiver ran down Caith's spine. They were now truly, on their own in the blight. His testing had begun at last.
Morning came slow and bleak in the blight, and as Caith awoke, he was greeted by the stench of Decay. I hope Liana never gets the idea to travel here, he thought bleakly. Liandia had put up a ward last night, hiding them from the eyes of the shadow. Not that he had slept much better for it. He had awoken on several occasions, taking several rounds around the camp, searching the area for enemies.
Breakfast was short and quiet, before they set off again. Soon enough, they had reached the fringe of the blight. It was autumn, yet the moist air was warm, almost unbearably so after a while. The area was lush, after a fashion. Every leaf mottled red and yellow, every fruit ripe and rotten, every flower wax-like, as if feeding off a corpse. The way the ground squilched around the hooves of their horses, it could very well have been.
Attempting not to gag on the vile stench, Caith rode up alongside the Aes Sedai.
"How far is the necklace from here?" he asked quietly. There were things in the blight who hunted by sound, and he had no wish to rouse them.
"No more than half a days ride." Not far into the Blight then, always something. He did not think he could stomach this smell for very long.
He should've known it was a trap. The blight had been too calm, they should've heard something, but they hadn't. At least we got out of there with the necklace and our lives. Small comfort, they had lost a horse, and they were being followed. It was only a matter of time before they caught up to them.
Leading the horse swiftly and silently, Caith orientated himself towards a small hill they had passed on the way, they would have to make a stand.
Trollocs were foul creatures, vile and cruel. However, they were stupid, and when they saw a lonesome Aes Sedai on a small hill, they rushed at her, howling in brutish delight.
Admittedly, the thin line of air, sharp as a razor, was all but invisible in the grass.
Placed at knee-level, none of them escaped it and they fell as they came, howling.
Caith stepped in swiftly, and methodically begun a mass beheading. He had to be careful, they were still alive, and the pain-mingled fury filled them with strength.
It was when he cast a glance up the small hill that his heart, previously safe in the void, froze.
The horse, tired and weary, kicked out at the Myrdraal behind it and set off, down the hill. Lindia fell off and suddenly, Caith was flying across the ground.
Ashandarei clashed against shadow-tained steel.
"Lindia! Get the horse!"
For one moment Caith stared into the eyeless face, stared into the fear as blade pressed against pole in a test of strenght, and remembered...
Up trough the floor it rose, with sleek gracefull movements. A jarring contrast to the beastiality of the trolloc. The Myrdraal was smooth and elegant. Gentleman Death. And when it's eyeless face came to rest on him he began to tremble like a rabbit caught by the fox.
As it moved towards he felt almost hypnotised. What a beautiful thing it must be to be killed by this. Such a perfect predator that moved so sleekly and effortlessly that it was like seeing it move smoothly thorough water.
He had been but a child back then, but time had a way of changing things. And when the Myrdraal threw him to the side, down the slope, he rolled to his feet and came up inside the Void. This time you will be mine.
Battling a Myrdraal is a strange thing, you are fighting it as much you are fighting yourself and the fear. The beast within you that would have you moaning and whimpering like a child. To defeat it, you would have to step away from the child you once were, and embrace the man you desired to be.
Even so, it was no easy task, and when the blade grazed an uncovered spot on his legs he knew he had to move fast, lest he failed and died.
The Falcon dives, steered to the side with an elegant slap, which then turned to a similar attack in turn, but Caith was one step ahead. Pivoting forwards to avoid the attack, he closed the circle and nearly clove the Myrdraal in twain. Barely pausing for though, he separated head from body and it was done.
Caith stood still for a moment, breathing heavily, sweat pouring from every pore in the damp atmosphere. He dropped the ashandari, and drew his sword. The body was still trashing and he had no wish to be further cut by an aimlessly flailing blade. Hand was separated from arm, and the now still blade became the prize he had to bring back to prove his worth.
"Are you hurt?" He started at Lindria's question and twisted to look at her. Her hair was a mess, but apart from that she was Aes Sedai in every inch. Regal and cool.
"I am f-" He cut himself off, mid-step, as he was reminded of the cut across his leg. "Almost fine." he corrected himself. "Fade got me in the leg, just a scratch."
"Let me see that"
The healing was swiftly over, leaving him feeling refreshed and weary.
"Alright, all we have to do now, is get back to the Citadel-" A howl in the distance interuppted him, he turned, gripping the Ashandarei to scan their surroundings.
"They're still out there" Lindia remarked.
"I heard them."
"We only have one horse"
"You ride, I'll jog beside you."
If there was one event in his life Caith never wished to relive, it was scurrying through the edges of the blight.
A race against the molten sun on it's slow slide downwards,hiding in bushes that might bite and with the grunts of the trollocs constantly nearing. There was no time for rest, no time to eat, no time to think. The sickening, sweet smell of decay surrounded them. Pausing, hidden behind some rocks as a pack of trollocs passed them by Caith watched a large pink flower open, taking it's energy from the night rather than the sun, and the creator. The Blooms of evil. Corrupted. They drove on, mercilessly, by nightfall, they were at the very edge of the blight, and they did not stop.
It was oddly fitting, that the looming figure of the Citadel should appear before them together with the first rays of the sun, Caith was too weary to truly care. They were both riding now, they could not risk it on open ground, and they had shaken off the Trollocs in the blight. The horse, did not appear to be tired, but Caith knew better, how far till it fell down from the exhaustion it did not feel? He will last. He has too.
As the Great walls of the citadel loomed even closer he had the odd feeling that their return should've been different, more dramatic perhaps. Approaching the Citadel at breakneck speed with an army of trollocs at their heels. The gelding continued at the same steady, ground-eating trot. The doors swung open before them in eerie silence.
At the courtyard, the Privy Council were waiting for him once more.
"Dismount, Ji'alantin." Kira, the Mistress of Training stepped forward. Swinging a weary leg off the horse, he assisted Lindia Sedai in dismounting. "Do you come bearing proof of your success?"
"I do" The ritualistic words made the situation feel strange, unreal. The Myrdraal blade glittered dully in the sun, he carefully offered her the handle. She grasped it with asolemn nod, her yellow eyes glittering, and stepped back. A hand laid itself softly on his shoulder and he flinched, he had not seen nor heard the tower servant approach, light! That could've gotten him killed! It took him a moment to realise She wished for him to come with her. He followed, glancing back to where the Privy Council stood with Lindia Sedai, conferring quietly over the sword.
The room was small, bright, clean and warm. Comfortable, almost cozy. It stood in stark contrast to the sweet, rotting decay of the blight. It was blissfully quiet. He shed his weapons and armour almost carelessly, suddenly eager to be rid of the blight, of the decay, of the smell. But as he stood naked before the water he suddenly hesitated. He knew, when he stepped out of that water again, he would never again be a child, a boy, a Ji. This, was the final turning point. The last opportunity to leave the path he had chosen. He drew a deep breath.
He stepped in.
It brings out your eyes. That's what his mother would've said of the red robe. Caith touched carefully at the fine fabric of his clothes. The robe, as well as a white tunic and a black doublet. All embrodied with the insigna of The Grey Tower. They were waiting for him at the courtyard. He had expected it to be just as when he came. Him, and the Privy council, the presence of a large body of Gaidin and Gaidar surprised him. His eyes wandered along one half the semi-circle they were in, and landed on Alyna, The Mistress of Arms, standing in it's centre.
"Come forward." She said quietly, the wind carrying her words. "Kneel." The ground was gravelly and hard, but he barely felt it. He felt light, as if his bones had turned to air. He was kneeling, yet his spirit was soaring so high he almosted worried it would bring his body along with it.
"Do you come before your assembled brothers and sisters with a noble and just heart, wishing to join us as a Gaidin of the Tower?"
"I do." He could not keep a smile, a serene smile, from his face.
"Do you promise to uphold the Light in all you do, to live a life of duty, truth, and goodness?"
"I do."
"Do you swear to serve and guard the Grey Tower faithfully?"
"I do."
"And finally, do you vow to devote your life to this cause, to swear yourself to the Light, the Tower, and the pursuit of justice?"
"Under the Light, and by my hope of salvation, I do."
Taking his sword in hand she paused. He studied her featuresalmost curiously, as if seeing her for the first time in the proper light and realising: She went through this too. Each and every person in the courtyard had.
"May the Light bless this blade and its bearer, and may the Light illumine the path of this warrior." The sword felt different in his hand somehow, like it was only now, that it truly belonged there.
"Rise." The Warder-Channeler Representative stepped forward to hand Alyna a bundle, it took him only a second to recognize the fluid, ever-changing fabric. It was draped across every person present in the courtyard save the two Aes Sedai. A fancloak.
"I grant you the title Gaidin; you are a Brother of Battle, and a Warder under the banner of the Grey Tower." With great care She draped it across his shoulder. It was not overly difficult, they were about the same height, and hooked the clasp. "Welcome." He couldn't help but smile, his thoughts darting backwards to his very first day, so many years ago. The first step on a journey he had only just finished, and the beginning of something much greater. He could see his smile reflect in the faces of his equals. His brothers and sisters.
The Warder-Channeler Representative stepped forward, her Aes Sedai shawl at her shoulders. "By the power vested me by the Amyrlin Seat and M'Hael of the Grey Tower, I acknowledge and witness the raising of this Gaidin of the Grey Tower. You are entrusted to protect one Aes Sedai or Asha'man of your choosing to fulfill your destiny."
Caith could find no words, he merely bowed his head in gratitude. It was done.
