Fanfic:Calder Arches

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Calder Arches
Author(s)
  • Dan
Character(s)
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The Master of Soldiers lead Calder into a chamber with high ceilings. Around the Arches where the pillars of the great ter'angreal meet the marble floor sat three Asha'man. The Indigo brother's eyes were open. He lead the other two, a plain-faced White and a Yellow brother whose eyes were closed. Three other Asha'man stood to one side of the domed room, near a table which held three chalices. A seventh brother closed the doors through which the Soldier and the Master of Soldiers entered. Seven of the eight Asha'man, this count including the Master of Soldiers, wore their cords. There was an eight, awaiting in the shadows.

The Master of Soldiers turned to face the Soldier, and the other standing Asha'man moved closer. "No man hears these words until he stands where you stand now, Soldier. Once you begin, you must continue until it is ended. If you refuse at any time between entering the first Arch and leaving the third, you will be put out of the Tower as though you had approached the Room of the Arches three times and each time refused." He paused. "To seek, to strive, is to know danger.

"Some men have entered the Arches and never come out." His face held the briefest hint of what might be compassion. "Even when the ter'angreal was quietened, they did not reappear. Not then, and never since. To survive, you must remain resolute. Falter once, and you will fail and . . . " His unforgiving face hinted at what that might mean.

"This is your last chance. You may refuse now, and it shall be counted as the first attempt. If you choose to go on, then there will be no turning back until you either return from the third Arch, or remain lost in the Arches for the rest of the Ages. It is no shame to refuse, many Asha'man could not face the Arches the first time. Choose, Soldier. Accept, or refuse."

"I accept," Calder told him.

He nods and said, "then ready yourself for the Arches." Belatedly, Calder realised that he was meant to enter the Arches naked. The Brown brother, who closed the doors, stepped forward and took his clothing and personal items. When the Soldier was ready, the Master of Soldiers lead him towards the brother who wore the green cord and stood foremost of the poised Asha'man.

"Whom do you bring before the Arches?"

"I bring one who comes as a candidate for Dedication," the Master of Soldiers replies steadily.

"Is he ready?"

"He is ready to leave behind what he was and, passing through his fears, gain Dedication."

"Does he know his fears?"

"He has never faced them, but is willing."

"Then let him face what he fears," With that, the Green Asha'man stepped aside. The two other Asha'man with him also moved out of the way.

"The first time is for what was. Be steadfast. The way back comes but once," the Master of Soldiers informed Calder. He approached the first Arch, the stone floor cold beneath his bare feet.


His angry, vengeful wish was realized, as a flight of arrows rained from the dark sky, catching both both of his enemies, an Aes Sedai and her female Warder, in a small volley of death, the arrows killing them both within brief moments. The Great Lord's humor was evident, each woman having a light blinded eye pierced by an black arrow. He was in shock, sick, and could only stand there with a half smiling, half shocked expression, completely stupefied. He could only watch as a group of men in dark clothing came shortly after, who went and stripped both bodies of all of their possessions. They then pushed both of the bodies into the water.

When both bodies were gone, naked and quickly being eaten by strange, large fish, a short man approached Calder, hooded, his features covered with a black cloak. The man's cold voice explained; "The Great Lord shall use you, child, you should feel privileged."

As the man man looked coldly upon Calder, the latter could see, and feel, a strangeness coming from the hooded man. Malevolence radiated from his hands. Blurry tendrils snaked from pale fingertips, so very slowly making their way towards Calder. He knew he was in danger from those things, but was unsure how he could possibly know the danger, nor did he understand how he could see them. He felt hot, and cold. His hands were clammy, his face flush, and his heart was racing so bloody quickly!

He was confused about many things, from the Aes Sedai and her Warder chasing him, to that brown haired warrior he had seen at the inn. But there was one thing that was plainly clear. His freedom was now at risk.

In defiance, he took his dagger firmly in hand, and slashed at the approaching tendrils. He felt so very hot, yet chilled to the bone! Something beyond the dagger cut through the tendrils, leaving Calder feeling light headed, and unsteady on his feet.

The hooded man recoiled,vexed, and hissing in surprise!

His enemy, which was definitely what the hooded man was to Calder! Was at a clear disadvantage. He was clearly at a loss, confused by what Calder had done. The younger man steadied himself, confused, yet accepting what had been done as luck. Facing his enemy, he was tempted to rush forward, to end the man's life, to thrust his blade into the man's chest. The hooded man's men at arms would quickly shoot him down with their arrows, but he did not care. It would be a good death, better to die a free man, than live as someone's puppet.

"The first time is for what was. Be steadfast. The way back comes but once," He heard from everywhere. His eyes darted from left to right, yet the voice came from no one he could see.

He could take a step forward, and attempt end a life. Oh, how he wanted to feel the steel pierce through flesh, to make the clear and obvious choice. But from the corner of his eye, he could see an arch. He vaguely recalled something about an arch, remembered enough to know that it meant life, and salvation. Gazing upon the hooded man, he knew that he had lost his moment. The hooded man stood tall, ready, and in control. Tendrils began snaking towards him once again, thicker, darker, and faster.

There were choices, and then, there were choices. He chose to live, to live as a free man! He rushed through the arch. The tendrils failed to make him a slave to another's ambition. As the arch closed behind him, he realized his choice had been more significant than he had first realized.

His hands were not stained with blood.

Memory flooded back as Calder was confronted with the face of the Master of Soldiers. An Asha'man emptied a silver chalice over his head. "You are washed clean," he intoned, "of what sin you may have done, and of those against you. You are washed clean of what crime you may have committed, and of those committed against you. You come to us washed clean and pure, in heart and soul."

The Master of Soldiers lead him to the Second Arch. "The second time is for what is. The way back will come but once. Be Steadfast."

He stepped into the second arch and was enveloped by bright light.


"Bloody Nani Hatherton!" Calder screamed in rage, as the woman walked away in a fit of anger. "Don't bloody come to me when they come seeking you out, asking you bloody questions!" He added for good measure. He doubted the woman had even heard him, the woman was very good at ignoring what she didn't want to hear.

Turning around, he stomped away himself. He shook his head in disbelief, unable to comprehend how such a beautiful woman could be so bloody stubborn! Calder walked away from the hidden meeting spot within the gardens, crushing a flower or two as he passed by. He took satisfaction at the fact that Nani would be angered at such cruelty to such things of beauty. He eventually made his way to the Tower, entering via a delivery entrance often used to supply the Tower's kitchens.

It was difficult keeping that bloody woman from getting to him, she had the temper of a rabid dog! For the twentieth time that day, he wondered why he had bothered saving the fool woman. And for the twentieth time that day, he answered his own bloody question with the same bloody answer.

"You're lucky i like you, woman…" He grumbled.

Smelling something sweet, he followed the scent, struggling to control his raging emotions. Calder eventually found one of the kitchens, where he stole a slice of freshly glazed ham from a cutting board. Looking around, he felt a slight bit of relief, there was no one around. He quickly ate it, before the Mistress of the Kitchens returned. He cut another, and walked away with the prize in his hand. He felt his heart calming, stealing good food was always a good way to vent his frustrations. By the time the Mistress of the Kitchens had returned to her work, Calder was long gone.

He took his time getting to his next class, knowing that the Dedicated who taught it had a bad streak of tardiness himself. As long as he got there before the Dedicated, he would be fine. Besides, his teacher would be a fool to complain about bad punctuality, it would make him seemed like a hypocrite in front of his own pupils. Calder began grinning at the petty thought.

Turning around the corner, he stopped in his tracks. Before him stood two Asha'man, and two hooded Gaidar. The two women held a person between them. It looked like it was a woman, from the noticeable bust. It was also clear that the her hands were tied behind her back. The captive woman was only upright due to the other two women holding her up.

He felt a cold pit in his stomach, Calder realized who it was. Beneath the blood on the face, and the tangled hair, the woman's features were so very familiar. In his anger, he had blatantly ignored the bond, and his bondmate. Before him stood Nani Hatherton, the woman he had secretly bonded. Nani Hatherton, who he could barely sense through their shared bond.

"The way back will come but once. Be Steadfast."

"Calder Selm, you disappoint me." The Asha'man on the left said. He was the shorter of the two. Brown eyes, pockmarked face, and a belly earned from one too many ales. He had an accent he did not recognize. "You stole something that was not yours to take." He added casually. The other Asha'man, who was thinner, and quite taller, unsheathed a wicked looking dagger. The light shined upon the curved blade.

"Now, we'll take what is yours."

Calder knew exactly what the man was talking about. The strange Ter'Angreal dagger he had found, not long before he had chosen to return to the Grey Tower. The Ter'angreal, a key of sorts, to break a fist of trollocs out of their prison. A blade, that helped sever the threads of the One Power.

He remembered the place vividly, knowing what could have happened made him shudder. Remembering the Asha'man that had sacrificed his own life, so Calder could escape with the object of power. The last thing the Borderlands needed was another fist of trollocs running rampant!

Before he could sort out his thoughts, and make the necessary rude reply, the tall Asha'man thrust his blade into Nani's abdomen. With a twist of his wrist, he dug the dagger deeper. He then pulled the curved blade down, making a show of the woman's death.

He had taken Nani's life, cutting her broken heart in half. Death would come soon. The woman had deserved a better fate then this! Calder felt the injury though the bond, making him feel sick to his stomach.

"The way back will come but once. Be Steadfast."

As shock flowed through the bond, Calder could not focus, could not grasp Saidin, could not avenge Nani. As the life faded from her eyes, he could not do right by her. Seeing the woman feebly shudder, the life pouring from her gaping wound, all he could feel was regret. The short time he had been bonded to that woman, he had wasted with arguments petty and pointless little battles of will.

He could not save her, her life was fading fast! He could not avenge her, he could not make them pay for what they had done. Could not make them suffer, for making such an incredible woman suffer.

But what he could do was step to the side, abandoning Nani, breaking his own heart in the process.

He stepped through the arch, his vision blurred by tears.


As he stepped through the Arch, he yet again felt the cold water flow over over his head, and down his body. Shivering, he heard one of the Asha'man say ""You are washed clean of false pride, You are washed clean of false ambition. You come to us washed clean, in heart and soul."

The Master of Soldiers gently took his arm, and lead him to the last Arch.

"There is but one left child," he said, smiling softly. "Come back to us."

"The third time is for what will be. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast."


"Out of my bloody way, you flaming goat kissers!" He growled, barreling through a group of visibly drunk men. Shoving one with his right hand, he did not even have the time to enjoy the sound of his victim landing in the mud. His target was already ahead, way to ahead for his liking.

Turning out of the alleyway to the main street, he almost slipped in mud himself, but was able to twist, and balance himself by grabbing onto the side of a small cart that was being pulled by the ugliest mule he had ever seen. Planting his foot firmly, he steadied himself and began running once again, seeing his target getting further ahead in the distance.

He ignored the smell of mud, the stench of unwashed bodies, and the scent other, fouler things. The Ajah had revealed a traitor amongst it's rank, and it was now his job to capture him, alive, and to drag him back for his trial. He personally did not see the point, the man had only stolen gold, and a great amount of it. It's not like he was Black ajah. At least he had not been accused by the Ajah of such a thing. That would merit a swift execution, whether the Tower wanted it or not.

He could feel water and mud seeping through his boots. His socks already felt moist and slimy. His hip was getting sore as well, from his scabbard slamming repeatedly against his leg with every step. He growled again, pushing the discomforts from his thoughts. He had to focus! He had never lost a target before, he was not about to let his record get tarnished now by a mere thief.

In the distance, he saw his target run through a group of townsfolk. Cursing between breaths, he felt anger at losing sight of the man. He could only hope that he could pass the group before his target changed streets, or entered somewhere to hide.

Feeling his foot slide, he rolled dived forward, and rolled to the side. He got back up swiftly, losing but precious seconds. He decided that it was better to have a muddy jacket, then slipping and making a fool of himself in front of everyone. He shook his right hand, flinging mud off of his fingers. It was times like these he was glad his second sword was at the blacksmiths. Was never good trying to roll with a scabbard at each hip.

Shoving townsfolk out of his way, it took a few moments for him to get his bearings. To his right, he spotted a silvery arch that no one seemed to see. To his left, his target. He got a good look at the face, and felt as if he should recognize the man. For some reason, the sight brought Nani to mind. He swore, for the hundredth time that morning. Stomping his foot in a puddle of mud, causing a small splash. He heard a familiar voice echoing. Frowning, he was not sure if it was a voice, or simply something in his mind.

"The way back will come but once. Be steadfast."

He let his target go, knowing that his Ajah would not be pleased. He took to the right, towards the silvery Arch. Frustration led to feelings of failure. Feeling like a failure set a burning rage blazing in his gut. He also felt as if he had left vengeance unfinished, but he did not understand why.


Soldier's Exit

The silver Arch flashes before Calder's eyes for a third time. He steps through the light. The Master of Soldiers leads him to kneel before the M'hael, who holds the last chalice in his hands. Clear water streams over the younger man's body and hair, as the M'Hael proclaims to all present,

"You are washed clean of what you were. You are washed clean of all ties that bind you to the world. You are a Dedicated of the Grey Tower." The last droplet of water dribbles onto his hair. "You are sealed to us now."

He pressed the sword pin into Calder's hand and helped him stand. "Welcome, Son," he took the younger man's hand. "Welcome," he finished, shaking the hand.