Fanfic:Derren's Arches
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Derren Jolstraer steps into the first arch...
Derren stomped his way down the stairs of the small home he shared with his parents and his twin brother, Kerren. The latter was following close on his heels. As they were not identical, Derren's heavier form was making more of a clomp, clomp noise while Kerren's smaller and lighter feet skipped along with him, trying to keep apace with his brother's angry charge.
"Kerren!" the former, who according to their parents was older by exactly the length of time it took their mother to shout 'Peace, you mean I have to do that again?!', shouted as he whirled around to face his twin. "Did I not tell you to cease following me?"
"You did," Kerren said, coming to a halt so fast that he almost slid into the former. His face, more like their mother's than Derren's, was twisted into a stubborn expression.
In truth, Derren had already forgotten what the fight had been about. Kerren probably had too. It was a matter of teenaged honor by this point that both of them wanted to win. For his part, Derren just wanted to be left alone. He had no need to be "right." He just had a need for the incessant noise in his ear and through his skull to cease and give him a few moments of peace before he lost control.
That control was dangling by a thread now as it was, and if anyone knew how to pluck his strings, it was his brother.
"Then why are you still following me?!" Derren demanded, exasperated.
"Because you're not the boss around here. I had a point and just because you decided to storm off like a boy still in short pants doesn't mean that I have to follow your order like you're a bloody king. You're just a woolheaded lummox who doesn't want anyone else to have an opinion!" Kerren shouted with the same veracity.
"You--" The thread snapped and red flooded into Derren's head. He grabbed his brother by the shirt front, hauling him close for a rage-filled moment before shoving him hard. Kerren stumbled back several steps before crashing into the sideboard. Heavy cookware and dishes fell off the top and from the hooks hanging just above it, all raining down on Kerren's head.
Blood dripped in a slow red line down his forehead and over his eye. Derren gasped and immediately came out of his fog when he saw it.
"Kerren!" he exclaimed and rushed to his brother's side. His twin looked disoriented as he lay in a heap against the heavy piece of wooden furniture.
A flash of silver through the window drew Derren's attention up, and he frowned.
Be steadfast.
It took a moment, but then Derren remembered. He cursed inwardly, looking at the confused expression on Kerren's face. How could he leave when he didn't know how much damage his temper had done this time? But the glimmer of silver light caught his eye again.
The way back comes but once.
Clenching his fists, he pushed himself up and ran for the door.
"Where are you going?" Kerren called weakly. "Derren!"
Derren rushed ahead, through the room, and grasped the handle. "What is going on here?" He heard his mother's voice. "Derren, what's happened? Derren! Where are you going?!"
Swallowing hard as he yanked open the door, Derren said, "I'm sorry." Then threw himself headlong and out of his family home, into a street of startled pedestrians and then through the shimmering silver arch...
Derren Jolstraer steps into the second arch...
Flipping the page, Derren scanned the next page and scratched out notes on the parchment that was arrayed on the table beside him. This class for Fericia Aes Sedai was perhaps the hardest he'd had so far, but he didn't mind. He didn't mind the work, really, and liked the excuse to spend as much time as possible in the quiet of the library.
"Soldier Derren?" It was a nasally voice from above him that made him lift his gaze to the narrow, frail-looking Soldier. "The Master of Soldiers wishes to see you." He paused. "Now."
Derren frowned, feeling a pit of anxiety open up in the bottom of his stomach. The demand of the Master of Soldiers was not to be ignored, so he closed the book and gathered his notes, immediately leaving the library and heading to the office of the Master of Soldiers. He was permitted entry after a moment and sat before Lembrit Asha'man.
In the chair next to him was Dedicated Gerit, the boy that had worked to make his life trouble. This had something to do with him, he was sure.
Within just a few moments, his crime was laid out quite plainly: he was accused of lying to the Dedicated, which as a superior rank was...bad. The lie he was accused of he found particularly egregious, and his temper flashed like molten liquid in his veins. His temper was about to explode at the lying, smug, sanctimonious face beside him when the word 'expulsion' iced him instead.
"For lying?" Derren asked, incredulous.
"So you admit to it?" the Master of Soldiers said, brow raised.
"No!" Derren exclaimed, flustered. Panic flooded him. He couldn't be expelled! Would he have his ability to touch the One Power burnt out of his brain, sent to a life of coldness and emptiness as... whatever out in the world? He had found a goal here. A life he wanted, and a purpose and a meaning. He was honored to follow in the footsteps of tradition...
Horror gripped him hard. He couldn't be expelled.
Control. He had to find control. Aside from his purpose in progressing to Asha'man, he knew that control was the cornerstone of his successful existence.
Taking a deep breath, he prepared to defend himself. It was his word against a Dedicated, but not against an Asha'man or Aes Sedai or Gaidin... He had a chance here. It was not as hopeless with this as it might be in that.
Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he looked behind him to see the flash of a silver arch.
The way back comes but once...
He felt himself fracture inside. His honor demanded that he stay here and clear his name. And yet...
Be steadfast.
Derren all but threw himself out of his chair, rushing out the door. He heard Gerit's shocked but pleased exclamation. He heard the threats from the Master of Soldiers. He ran forward, through the door and the arch...
Derren Jolstraer steps into the final arch...
Derren Asha'man tugged at the edges of his black coat for the third time in as many moments, the dual pins on his collar flashing in the peripheral vision of his imagination. He knew that he couldn't actually see the sword and the dragon, but he felt like he could. The grey cord just adorned it all the best.
He had done it, and now here he stood on his first full mission as an Asha'man of the Grey Ajah, serving to oversee the negotiation of a treaty on behalf of the Grey Tower.
"You're making your family proud," Fericia Sedai, also of the Grey and there on the same mission, said as she stood beside him. There was no smile on her lips, but he saw it in her eyes and it warmed him. He offered a faint smile in return and bowed his head. He tried to not think about his family too much, because he would intimidate himself, but he enjoyed the thought that he was doing his grandmother--the somewhat infamous Miahala Sedai--proud.
And his grandfather, even though he'd never known him.
Now he just had to not fail this assignment. The parties were not quite aggressively contentious, but neither were they amicable. He had Fericia to aid him, but it was his mission. He was the one who had been dispatched. Despite the fact that he was the junior channeler, she had acknowledged that he was leading it and that it would be up to him to direct matters. She was there to support him, but he needed to find his "Grey legs" and make the most of his new rank.
He knew that his uncertainty would be forgiven by his youth, but his pride would not allow it to show. His pride from his family, his pride from the work it took to attain his rank, and his pride in his long-worked-for/hard-achieved self control... They all built a wall around the desire he had to look at the Aes Sedai beside him and ask, "Are you sure I can do this?"
Before them sat a long table. They stood, side by side, but would not sit until the parties due had entered and taken their seats. It was a matter of respect, of formality, and of setting up their power for this meeting.
"I don't think you're breathing," Fericia whispered.
He realized that she was right. He'd been so focused on keeping himself straight and together, he'd started to hold his breath. It was a bad trait that had started when he was a Soldier. Derren didn't let the air in or out in the great, graceless gush that he wanted. Instead, he inhaled carefully and slowly.
The door opened at the front of the room and one group of three men walked in, followed by a group of four with two men and two women. He schooled his face to pure serenity and tried to exude power and experience. He opened his mouth to greet them...
...and then through the door they had entered, which remained open at the other end of the room, he saw a flash of silver.
He blinked and felt cold horror enter his stomach.
Be steadfast. The way back comes but once.
No...
Closing his eyes, he felt a gentle and discrete nudge from Fericia. He opened them and looked at her, seeing confusion in her gently ageless face. He wished he could explain, but he knew he could not.
"Forgive me," he whispered and then sprinted around the table in a distinctly not Asha'man like way, running for the door.
"Where are you going?!" she called. "Your family would never run because they were scared!"
He swallowed hard and all but threw himself through the door, and the arch.
