Fanfic:Ravak Darrow's Fancloak Test
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A Summons
In the well-lit interior of a Ji'alantin's quarters, an iridescent quill moved smoothly across a page, black ink marking the sheet in a very careful hand. This letter was the most important message the Ji had ever written, and its content and delivery had to be perfect. A flow of ink moved from the inkwell into the quill, so fine even in this bright light, that it was hard to notice unless you knew what you were looking for. It made the task of writing this letter no easier, however. Blotting the paper was far from his main concern.
There was a knock at the door, and Rav set the quill down on his desk carefully, moving the letter in the opposite direction to dry. He heaved himself onto his feet, the lethargy of the morning numbing his lower legs. He turned the door handle without any expectations, and a grim-faced Gaidar stood opposite. Rav wasn't able to attach a name to that face before she thrust a letter at him. She said nothing to go along with that, so he took the letter wordlessly. The paper was finer than what he had, and was unmarked aside from a seal on the reverse. The seal of the Mistress of Arms. Externally, he kept his features plain, but on the inside he was tense. There had been some transgressions of the rules in the last few weeks, soberly acknowledged if drunkenly undertaken. Nothing that could have merited a letter from the Mistress of Arms; surely this would just be a matter for the Master of Training. Master Carbern he knew, albeit not as well as Mistress Bryne. Rav wasn't sure that more than a few words had passed between himself and Riahana Gaidar, and all of those at the ceremony when he was raised to Ji'alantin.
He put a nail under the wax, and broke the seal. It was curt. "Your presence is required at the south edge of the Training Yard. Please be prompt." He read it over three times, in case there was anything to divine from the note beyond what it said. Rav hated Daes Dae'mar and all of those self-serving political games, but when a letter came from the Mistress of Arms, he wanted to be sure. Reentering his room, the Ji placed the note on an empty patch of table, and looked to collected his cloak and swords. For a wonder, both of his weapons and his winter cloak weren't where he had left them. The weapon rack that held his Tower-forged longsword was empty, his father's sword-breaker wasn't beside his desk, and the winter cloak over his chest was absent. He turned to face the Gaidar, but she had already departed. Confused to the point of befuddlement, he moved slowly towards the door, continuing to look around. How someone had taken or stolen his possessions without him noticing... Confused, he pulled the door shut behind his back and locked the door.
It was a warm day for Hama Valon, which meant that it was slightly too warm for Rav's comfort. He was paled skinned and reddish hair. These two factors meant that he burned quite easily in sunlight, and today would be hot enough to make his skin red. Some people tanned as the seasons changed, but not Rav. Despite the heat, Rav wished he had his cloak to wrap around himself. That would have protected his hands and parts of his neck from the sun. He walked through the Warder Yards, sparing a few nods for people he knew.
Following the path south, a Gaidin appeared not twenty feet away, completely unseen by the Shienaran despite a lack of cover. The telltale fancloak hid most of the warrior's body, but bells jingled in his hair, seemingly incongruous with the stealth used to mask his approach. "Follow me." An order simply stated and expected to be followed. Rav dropped in line beside the Arafellin as they marched briskly around the Grey Tower.
When they moved past the Gardens, Rav was left wondering where they were heading. Only two places remained, the Channelling Yards and the Novice and Soldier Halls. Rav had been to the latter a few times in his two and a half years at the Tower, but never the former. The scarcity of Drin and Ji in both of those places outside of errands puzzled him more and more.
Eventually the Arafellin moved into the Channelling Yards, Rav following on his heels. An Aes Sedai was near the entrance, the rest of the wide courtyard empty. Suddenly there was a flash of silver, and a rectangular fissure appeared in the air. Without any time to ask or think of a question, the Gaidin pushed Rav through the fissure.
Ceremony
The Ji'alantin found himself in a small, stone antechamber. A familiar, almost homely chill seeped into his body. "Travelling," he muttered to himself. Rav had Travelled twice before, although not with such inelegance. He had another look around at the walls and at the door behind him, and recognised where he was. The Citadel, the Grey Tower's bastion along the Blightborder. Rav wasn't entirely sure where along the border the Citadel lay, but it was either in or close to Shienar.
Feeling a little more reassured, even if he had no clue why he had been summoned, Rav explored. There was a single table pressed against one wall. On it were objects he recognised. He gripped the brown leather hilt on his longsword and pulled it free from its scabbard. He inspected the markings of the Flame and Fang and the Great Serpent, convincing himself that it was his sword. He didn't need to draw the sword-breaker, the design so unlike that of the Tower's manufacture, and the size oddly positioned between a short sword and a longsword. There was also a mail hauberk and padded jacket. That was the second signal that the reasons for his summons had a clear and serious intent. He pulled the jacket on and buttoning it up, before leaning low and pulling the chainmail over his head. It covered both his upper arms and legs, in addition to his torso. He fitted his scabbards to his waist, with a belt fitting over the armour. The last object on the table was his winter cloak. When the door to the antechamber opened, he will still affixing the clasp around his neck.
Stepping outside into colder air still, Rav realised that he had been waiting just off a courtyard, not somewhere deep in the Citadel as he had expected. He breathed deeply, and smelt a recent battle on the wind. Not Shadowspawn, those beasts held a particular taint that was as distinctive as it was foul. Brigands possibly, except only the most foolish or foolhardy brigand would venture in the Borderlands. Inhaling again, he caught just the hint of something familiar. Torellion?
"Who comes before the Warder Council?" The moment of remembrance passed, as Rav became aware of the four figures standing in the courtyard. The one who had spoken was Amayani Gaidar, the Gaidar Captain. To her right was Ferran Carbern, the newly chosen Master of Training. Next to the hulking Gaidin was the Mistress of Arms, Riahana Ferria. On seeing her, he suddenly remembered she was Saldaean, and unlikely to play Daes Dae'mar; the note she had sent had all of its purpose clearly stated. Lastly in the gathered semi-circle was an Aes Sedai, new to the shawl from the lack of agelessness on her Domani face. Unbidden, images of Katrie came to mind. He forced them away with a grimace, even though he couldn't look at her without thinking of the Cairhienin.
With those mental introductions out of the way, Rav recognised what this assemblage was for. The test. The time had come for him to prove himself worthy of a fancloak, and the title of Gaidin. That anyone thought he was ready meant that they had little idea about the events that had transpired over the last few weeks and months. He felt less prepared now than when he walked into Hama Valon on that first day. But he knew the procedure. Giving a bow, he replied with "I, Ravak Darrow, Ji'alantin of the Grey Tower, come before the Council."
The three Gaidin nodded ceremoniously, before Carbern stepped apart from the group. "You have trained in our ranks, and have been deemed worthy of a final assignment. Ji'alantin, 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?"
The Shienaran had to pause to consider. Had he not just felt as unprepared as a fresh recruit? The answer should have been easy. The last time he rode out from the Citadel with a woman, she had not returned. Not an Aes Sedai admittedly - a Gaidar - but a woman all the same. He glanced at the Aes Sedai, ignoring the Accepted that strained to come to mind with those same Domani features. She was beautiful, stunningly so. Tricked by a pretty face before, he forced himself to look beyond that. Her expression was serene, hands clasped behind her back. She was perfectly poised, but as eyes of flawless green swung up to meet his, he was struck by the fervor of her gaze. An Aes Sedai new to the shawl perhaps, but that gaze was intense, measuring him like a goodwife judged suitors for her daughter’s affections. That was made all the more worse by the fact he could almost picture her as Katrie’s mother, if she were older and a smidgen less diminutive. “I do.” Resistance against that gaze welled up. If I am to be judged, I won’t let you do it from looks alone. He was really starting to dislike Domani right then.
Master Carbern spoke again. “You are called to protect this Aes Sedai, the symbol of your desired duty. If you do fail in your protection of this Aes Sedai - if she falls under your defense - you will be put out of the Tower permanently.” It galled him that such a thing needed to be said, although some small part of him distantly accepted this. If the Aes Sedai falls... This may have been a rote part of the ceremony, but the fact it needed to be said warned him of the potential for danger ahead. That distant part knew that a life as a Gaidin, or a Warder, would of course hold dangers. He was no babe wrapped in swaddling cloth, and hadn’t been for many years. But if something was to befall the Aes Sedai, in all likelihood that would be his fate as well. No need for the threat of being put out of the Tower.
Rav nodded in acknowledgement of Carbern’s command and warning. “Then Light guide your sword, and may your test be one of enduring strength.” With that, the ceremony was ended. The Warder Council made their way towards a door on the right side of the courtyard, leaving Rav and the petite Aes Sedai. He took a moment to examine her in the same way she had done to him. The red shawl looped around her arms seemed at odds with the blue dress of Tairen cut she wore, slashes of sea green throughout suggestive of the Sea of Storms. She was also short, unlike most Domani. He had at least a hand and a half on her. Raven hair was bound tightly into thick coil just above the nape of her neck, held in place by at least half a dozen jeweled pins, and a small decorative comb.
That forceful gaze remained on the Shienaran a little while longer, before she turned her attention to the archway. A liveried handler was leading three horses towards them. Each mount was stocked with supplies, the pack horse at the rear doubly so. Enough for at least a week, he guessed. His last excursion into the Blight had only lasted a few hours, but an entire week. Light.
“By all means, continue gawking. I can wait.” The tone was mild, accompanied by a hint of a smile that curved at the corners of her lips. Rav flinched under that remark. Not just for the words, and the fact that he was standing around like an idiot waiting on Tarmon Gai’don, but how that voice got to him. He shuddered. A pretty woman is going to be the death of me one day.
The mount that had been chosen for the Shienaran was a tall stallion, a dappled grey that reminded him a little of Nothru. His last foray into the Blight had started with three horses, and only Nothru had survived. It was no use thinking about that, or about Monika. You’re already in the fire. It’s too late to step out now. He put a foot in the stirrup, and raised himself onto the dapple’s saddle. He was not a natural horse rider, but not a hopeless one either. Before she mounted, the red shawl around her shoulders came off, and was casually shoved into a saddlebag. Young, and not one for ceremony. Light, if he had worked his way up to Aes Sedai, he’d be wearing the shawl brazenly. That was his intention when - if - he earned a fancloak.
Settled in their respective seats, the Aes Sedai led the way towards the outer gate that dominated the final wall of the courtyard. Rav heeled the dapple into step beside the Domani’s mare, the pack horse tied to his stallion following afterwards. “My name is Ravak Darrow,” he said by way of introduction. The look she returned, patient and amused, reminded him that he had already given out his name before now.
“I would have known you without the introduction,” she said far too casually, a raven brow lifting. “You may call me Kaia Sedai, or Aes Sedai. Whichever you prefer.”
A Simple Trick
Ravak had started to believe that his memories of the Blight couldn’t have been as bad as he remembered. They were far worse. Under the layers of mail and padded cloth, he felt like his skin was going to broil away and leave him an empty husk. Even the uncovered parts of him - his head and lower arms - were glistened thickly by sweat, day or night. He was grateful for the plentiful supply of waterskins, but he wished he could imitate Kaia Sedai. In two days, she hadn’t made a single word or noise of protest considering the heat. Worse yet - although he knew it for a trick of the One Power - was that she was unadorned by a single bead of perspiration. Gaidin knew that trick too, somehow. I bloody wish I did. That was just his foul mood getting to him, he recognised, but recognising a fault and being able to do something about it wasn’t the same thing.
When they set up camp for the night, in the bottom of a long-since dried out river, he found her watching him. His sullenness was manifesting itself in small grunts and groans as he unsaddled the horses, checked over his weapons, laid out the bedrolls, and all of the other menial tasks expected of a Gaidin. He didn’t begrudge her - he understood his role in this undertaking - but keeping all of his disquiet about the heat and the smells that only he could sense was taking a strain on his temperament. When the last chore was done, both of them sat around on their bedrolls. His armour was off, the grey tunic unbuttoned to let the stuffy heat of the Blight in. After a day cooking in armour, it was some small relief to let his skin breathe again.
Kaia’s head tilted to the side and for a brief time, Rav thought that cool Aes Sedai serenity slipped away to be replaced by a look of amusement. Green eyes lingered for a moment over his bared chest and stomach. Light, a young Aes Sedai looking for a Warder. If it wasn’t so bloody hot. Sometimes he was too comfortably a Shienaran. Nowhere else seemed to have bath houses like Shienar, and the sight of a naked body quickly ceased to be a novelty under those conditions. Thankfully, her gaze suddenly turned thoughtful. “Comfortable?” Still asked in that velveteen voice, but at least she was no longer ogling him like a prize at a faire. “You looked positively miserable earlier.”
He shrugged. In truth he wanted to sleep, and not to have her watch him so, but there was no value in being rude to an Aes Sedai. She continued. “There is... a trick I can teach you. To ignore the heat.” It was her turn to shrug then, although she managed to make that a pleasing gesture. “If you’d like, that is?”
He nodded slowly, just about all of the energy he could muster in response. If she could teach him this method of ignoring the heat, it could make the rest of the journey considerably easier. If she was doing this in order to form some sort of bond - attachment, not Bond - then the rest of this test was going to roll by very slowly.
Kaia straightened, and all hints of softness vanished. Green eyes bore into his again. “Does this have anything to do with the Flame and the Void,” he interjected. If it was just a case of holding onto the ko’di - the Borderlander term - then he already knew of that trick. And it’ll save whatever embarrassment is to come.
She considered his words carefully. “Yes, and no. It isn’t just about emptying your mind of thought, or assuming the Void. It is a matter of turning your concentration inward, and conditioning your body so that it does not acknowledge the heat or the cold. You will still feel it; you simply will not acknowledge it.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “It’s a breathing technique.”
Not for the first time, he acknowledged ruefully, he was gawking at her. “A breathing technique?” he asked slowly. There had to be more to it than that. Incredulity shone on his face, but that little knowing smile on her face said more than enough. “A breathing technique,” he said with more certainty. “You can show me?”
“I already said I would, did I not?” She waved at him derisively. “Sit up straight. Now the first thing you must know is…”
Purpose
The third day began better than the previous two. A breathing technique. It explained a great deal of those superior Aes Sedai and Asha’man looks, that they could ignore the uneasiness of any climate just through- It didn’t even bear thinking about, but Rav grinned all the same.
“You are quiet and dutiful.” Kaia Sedai’s voice was completely neutral, inflection and tone perfect. “If I tell you to fetch me the handful of dirt beneath your feet, would you?” Her look at him was sidelong and flat.
“If you wish it, Aes Sedai.” He returned her a levelled tone, and studiously avoided looking at the ground. “I thought I may have some greater purpose on this journey than to be your lap dog, but if you choose not to share it with me, I can retrieve dirt for you.” As he went on, his voice acquired that steel-over-gravel note.
She smiled suddenly, the expression genuine. “Good. So you do have a backbone.” The petite Domani nodded at him before the warmth faded from her, green eyes hardening. “We will need it. I am Red Ajah. You know this. I have been sent to… retrieve a channeller from one of the border outposts and see to it that she is escorted back to the Citadel.”
“An escort for a fellow Sister?” He meant it as a rhetorical question, but that look in her eyes told him that he’d missed the mark.
“No, dear boy,” Kaia said quietly. “Not a fellow Sister. A Dreadlord.”
He almost snorted at the “boy” - she looked no older than Elia - but at the mention of a Dreadlord, that snorting became a hacking cough. Goosebumps prickled across his skin, thankfully concealed by the layers of armour. “A Dreadlord,” he stated grimly as soon as the hacking abated. There was no sense of amusement now. “How far away are we from the border outpost?” It seemed odd that they were riding through the Blight to get to a border outpost, but who knew how the Blightborder snaked its way from the World’s End to the Spine of the World?
“We should reach there before the sun sets.” That the sun was still cresting the horizon didn’t say much for the distance yet to travel, but at least - he hoped - he could sleep in an actual bed tonight. Kaia surely didn’t plan to leave immediately with the- Peace, a Dreadlord. He swallowed hard. The Red Sister was already mounted, and watching him with an authoritative stare.
The Outpost
The sun was at its zenith when the land started to return to mud and sickly grass, instead of the orange chalky dust that stuck to everything that it touched. Rav had already sensed that they were near the Blightborder a couple of miles back, the smell of corruption becoming more bearable to his faculties. The horses too seemed calmer, with whatever assaulted their senses receding too.
By the time they reached the outpost, a squat stone structure that resembled the Citadel in miniature, the sky was a shade of red. Despite another long day of riding, Rav was glad for the rest that surely was to come tonight. In the morrow, they could depart back to the Citadel, but for one night he could sleep under a stone ceiling, on top of something that approximated a mattress.
Kaia seemed to get quieter and more reserved - if such a thing was possible - as they rode closer. Rav began to pick out reasons for this disquiet. There were a lack of sentries on the balustrades. Only half of the building seemed to be lit up - any Shienaran knew that not an inch of shadow should be left this close to the Blight. There was also a rent near the main gate, a jagged beam of light shining through what should have been solid stone.
“That,” she said tersely, pointing at it, “was made by the Power. See how the edges are… melted, almost?” Then softer, to herself, almost as if it was not meant to be heard. “I don’t like this.”
Ravak eased his longsword from its sheath long before he had any need for it, but that moment of need seemed fast approaching. He caught the faint reflection of the Flame and the Fang on the blade, and looked towards the same symbol replicated on the entrance to the outpost. Something had seared the gate, the ancient emblem of the Aes Sedai now an almost featureless black circle.
“We should dismount here,” the Shienaran suggested as they rode up alongside the outer wall. “No point in taking the horses into danger.” There had certainly been danger. That grimey, bitter taste on his tongue had reemerged, and sniffing the air, he could sense... murder. He knew the smell of Trollocs and the murder they wrought, but this wasn’t the doing of Shadowspawn. Sniffing didn’t tell him how recently the murder, or murders, had taken place, but it had been recent enough that the strength of it was unmistakable.
The charred gate was ajar, one of the huge hinges destroyed from the breach in the wall. Someone had wanted to get out of the building. “This may not have been an attack from the outside,” he murmured in a voice loud enough for the Aes Sedai’s ears alone.
Watching each step to an effort to minimise the noise of crunching snow underfoot, he reached the doorway and peered beyond. The interior had been a battlefield. Men in the liveried wrappings of Tower guards lay amongst the bodies of women, clearly Aes Sedai from their dresses and their ageless faces. The frames of Warders lay concealed under their own fancloaks, the pools of coagulated blood revealing their camouflaged locations. If he had any mind to stop Kaia from seeing this charnel house, her appearance at his shoulder killed any plans of that. “Flaming Light,” was all the Aes Sedai said, the grinding of her teeth audible.
They pushed on through the outer chamber towards the inner corridors. Kaia had some insight into the layout of the building, although he took the lead. The stench of murder followed the directions she provided. It was a Warder’s duty to safeguard his Aes Sedai, so that meant he was first around each corner, the first head that peered inside open doorways. When they came to a junction, he started moving left but a surprisingly firm grip grasped his elbow. “Right.” Her voice brooked for no argument but he gave a firm shake of his head. The scent leaned to the left.
“Trust me, Kaia Sedai. We should go left.” Not an order - he wouldn’t dare order even a young Aes Sedai around - but a firm proposal. Green eyes were calculating, her gaze heavy and searching. She nodded once, acquiescing to the look of conviction she saw in his face.
They passed two obscured forms, a Gaidar and a Gaidin, both seemingly scorched by an intense fire. Further along, and this turning led towards a chamber, the door that once sealed it turned into mere splinters of wood. Inside, scorch marks covered the walls, two charred remains the obvious victims. The smell of murder was still clear, but fainter. “This is where it started.”
She stood very still for several long moments. There was sadness in her eyes, quickly hidden, followed by anger. That she didn’t bother hiding. “They held the witch here.” Kaia looked around the damaged stonework, picking her way forward to inspect the two bodies. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as she pulled something away from one of them, her anguish audible. “May the embrace of the Mother welcome you home, Sister.” A singed piece of red fabric was placed over what was once probably a head.
“With your permission, Kaia Sedai, I would like to scout the rest of the rooms. It’s possible someone may have escaped unharmed.” She never looked at him, but she gave him a curt nod. Green eyes focused resolutely on the two fallen sisters, but also seemed to peer at something beyond. If it had anything to do with the One Power, he could not help her with that task.
He retraced their steps, looking into the rooms and corridors they hadn’t previously explored. There were the clear signs of tasks being left abandoned as Warders and Aes Sedai rushed towards the entranceway. There were no bodies anywhere else in the stone structure, nor the signs of combat. As observed from the outside, half of the building was in darkness. Wax or oil had run out on the candles and lanterns that lit this section. Shadows concerned the Shienaran this close to the Blight. He was still accustomed to bright evenings of torch-lit streets in Fal Dara. No man even walked with their head covered in the north.
Discarding the notion of constructing a torch - it was quicker and simpler to take one of the lit lanterns - Rav moved through the lightless corridors. His Tower-forged longsword reflected a shimmering bar of light against the walls. He eased doors open carefully, making sure the lantern didn’t tip or knock against anything. The only break in the uneasy silence was the soft brushing of his boots against the stone floor.
Pulling the door closed on a bedchamber, the faintest shimmer of something moving made Rav turn his head back towards the passageway he had just come from. A shape moved against the backdrop of shadow, blacker still than the lack of light should allow. Black mail boots made no impressionable sound as they approached, the rest of the figure’s form veiled behind a body-length black cloak that bore no ornamentation. Bony fingers reached up to pull back a hood, revealing a face that made Rav recoil in disgust. A full set of pointed teeth hid behind a contortion of a smile; a smile that delighted in the abject misery it caused. The man’s skin was pallid, almost literally colourless, lantern light illuminating a filmy secretion that coated its face like sweat. Rav’s gaze drew ever upwards, meeting a gaze that froze the marrow in his bones and threatened to stop his heart dead.
The look of the Eyeless is fear was a Borderlander truism, although before that night, Ravak Darrow had never known the actuality of it. There were no eyes in that pale visage, just fatty flesh covering where eyeballs should be. The gaze held true regardless. Moving in a slow and sinuous gait, the Myrddraal took its time to pace down the corridor. One bony hand held a long sword that seemed to be made of blackened steel. Lessons in the Warder Halls told him that the blade was forged in Thakan’dar on the very slopes of Shayol Ghul. A single cut from that weapon could be deadly without Healing. He had heard stories of soldiers that had fallen to the smallest of wounds from a Myrddraal’s black blade when he was growing up, and had heard how viciously and skillfully they fought. Fear paralyzed any concern over how his training would match up to the Fade’s prowess with a sword, or if Kaia had any talent for Healing.
The world, for all the little he could see of it, shrunk suddenly. Rav was dimly aware that he was inside the cold, collected focus of the ko’di. His body seemingly refused to respond to any instructions, but at least he was able to think clearly once more. The lantern had fallen from his open grasp. Arms hanging limply by his side, he could only feel the brush of leather against his fingertips. With at least one sword in his hands, he had a standing chance against the Fade. Well, more of a chance than if I stand here numbly.
Unblinking eyes watched inevitability approach. If he could have closed his eyes, Rav would have pictured his sister one last time before the end came. She was the closest friend he had, and was also the nearest person in his heart. She had even joked - if it was a joke - that he could serve as her Warder, once she earned the shawl. It made a certain kind of sense. They were already loyal to one another, and as close as two people could be without romantic entanglements. There was nothing unnatural about letting Elia lead, although it would be strange that he was meant to protect her. Growing up, they never defended one another. ”You’re both big enough and ugly enough to look after yourselves.” Their father’s little saying.
As Death drew closer, that joke seemed to extricate some of the fear that gripped his heart. Well, not the joke precisely, but everything that he just recalled. Elia needs a Warder. Faintly he recalled his survival test, how thoughts of being a Warder pulled him through that ordeal too. Calloused fingertips wriggled against the scabbards by his side. Blood replaced the ice in his veins. A foot slid backwards, as he moved into a defensive stance. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the scar across them, as he Unfolded the Fan. Tower-forged steel and Shienaran steel appeared in his hands. If it gave the Fade any pause, he missed it. If anything, it’s advance hastened.
The Thakan’dar sword met both of his weapons as the Myrddraal launched a downward strike. Rav slid the sword-breaker along until the black blade slid into one of the notches. The Fade pulled its sword away before the Shienaran had a chance to disarm it. Twice more the creature attacked, and twice more Rav blocked. There was no great tug of war between them as they exerted their strength against one another. The Fade was an equal match, despite its bony thinness. The black sword pulled back once more, as its wielder looked for another opportunity to strike.
Ravak reacted to the next attack with textbook precision. Again, the Fade came down with an overhead strike. Using the flat side of his sword-breaker, Rav deflected the attack to the right. Simultaneously, Rav thrust his left arm forward, driving two feet of steel into the Myrddraal’s side. It howled in pain and anger. The black sword in its hand whipped around like a live snake as he pulled his sword free. The Ji’alantin was back on the defensive, parrying with both weapons as a renewed fervor gripped the Shadowspawn.
The Fade bared its sharp teeth, pale lips pulled back in a rictus snarl. Rav used every ounce of his skill and energy to keep the Myrddraal’s sword from striking true, and it was a true struggle. The parrying and blocking of strikes made a rapid, cacophonous din down the corridor as Rav slowly found himself moving backwards especially his best efforts. Twice he caught the black sword in the notches of the sword-breaker, but he couldn’t pry the weapon from the Fade’s sturdy grip.
The rhythm of the attacks began to peter out as they neared the end of the hallway. A black river of blood ran back half its length, pouring from the wound in the Fade’s side. Rav could almost feel the shift when he became the one on the offensive. The creature was back lit, only its silhouette now visible, but the look that was fear still pricked against the ko’di. Except that the pricking had also waned as the assault did. It was the Ji’s turn to grin.
Lightning of Three Prongs continued into The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, into The Moon Rises Over the Lakes. The well-oiled blade marked with the Flame and the Fang crashed through the Fade’s defenses over and over again. Rav could only dimly feel the weakness that this arduous duel was causing on his muscles. Each successful strike was less powerful or penetrating than the last, but the combination of blows was leaving its mark.
Finally the Myrddraal toppled, booted feet seeming to slip on the slickened ground. Backwards it fell, the black sword falling from its grasp and clattering halfway into an open doorway. Rav heard the dull thud as it finally landed, and with that, the ko’di vanished.
Pain flooded in from a thousand sources, and not just from the intensity of the fighting. He thought he could feel each and every muscle burn from the strain he had just been under, but there was other pains too. The Myrddraal had landed its own strikes, mostly along his arms and chest, but his left trouser leg was sodden with blood. Yes, a Fade was dead by his hand, but any one of these injuries would claim him. He staggered, his back crashing hard against a wall for support, almost dropping his swords in shock. At least I did my duty. It was a distant thought. The angry roiling in his stomach felt like churning waves in the middle of an open sea, and had the same ferocity. What little will he had left was needed to keep himself from sicking up the day’s pack rations, although the dead had no need for food.
Leaden eyes and ears fell upon the Fade’s corpse. It was dead, but training had told him that a Fade never accepted death immediately. All four limbs writhed in constant death throes. It slammed them against the stone floor or nearby walls with a force strong enough to break bone. He could hear the bones breaking with a nauseating sound. Once more he needed to direct his concentration just to simply keep his guts at bay.
A blue dress came into view just then. Kaia had emerged from the shadows with her own lantern. “Light, but I hate Fades. Come away,” she beckoned. A strong grip on his elbow guided him away from the wailing Myrddraal, around a corner. As glad as he was to be away from the sight of the Shadowspawn, he could still hear the thrashing corpse scuff and thump against the stone ground. “Fades don’t die until the sun sets. It should not be long before that one stops its writhing, but nothing beyond then will stop it.” He nodded numbly, still drawing in huge breaths. He still felt the clamminess of its sight upon him, although it was only an after-image, a mere fragment of what he had actually felt.
Soft hands reached up to hold his temples. He looked questioningly at the Domani, before the world exploded into burning frost and frozen flames. Ice replaced the marrow in his bones, and his veins sung with the heat of liquid fire. All of the air in his lungs was expelled in a single, perpetual outcry. Time stood still, even as all of the sensations seared his mind with cold and heat. Then the sensation ceased, as if it never was. He shivered as fingers pulled away from his head. All perception of the ice and fire was gone, replaced by a impression of having rested for a week, despite the desperate battle he had just fought. “Thank you,” was all he could think to manage.
Her smile was faint. “Don’t thank me quite just yet. I’ve Healed you and washed away your fatigue. When the weave wears off, you’ll feel your exhaustion twice as keenly.” She stepped away, appearing tired herself for a moment, before the hallmark serenity of Aes Sedai returned to her features.
Together, they returned to the outer chamber and to the corpses. It said something that human corpses were less distressful than the sounds of a dying Fade. Kaia went from body to body, examining each one with the same grace she had shown in the holding chamber. He stood in the doorway facing out, peering into the darkness and moonshadows. The air was refreshingly cold, although he wouldn’t need to sleep for a long time to come. Kaia’s constitution was the greater concern between the two of them now.
After a few minutes, she joined him in the open doorway. “The Dreadlord will need to be retaken.” Delivered in that neutral tone, it would have been easy to mistake that calmness for complacency. Bearing witness to the carnage behind him, and having spent time with the Red sister, he knew it for resolute determination on her part. He nodded once in agreement, not that she was looking for his input. “You’ve been taught now to track, I take it? Can you follow her trail?”
He turned to face her instead of giving immediate assent. “I can track her, although the snow is not so thick here. I could follow her tracks up to the Blightborder, and then I would be likely to lose her.” Her eyes sharpened fractionally. Not the answer she desired. He couldn’t help by give the slightest smile before continuing. “However, I can follow her using another method.” Self-consciously he rubbed at his nose, before sniffing the air discreetly. “Her... scent is strong.”
A raven brow lifted. Her look became appraising, green eyes studying him intently. “Scent.” She repeated the word as if tasting it. Then a look of genuine surprise crossed her face, quickly smoothed out. “Wolfbrother?” The measuring look intensified. “No. You mean something else. Tell me.” It came out sounding both like a question and a command.
“I can smell violence.” He rubbed at his nose again. “A family trait,” he added, by way of explanation.
“A Sniffer.” There was a hint of something in her voice. “Incredible.”
Rav was not sure what to make of that. Sniffer? He had never heard that term before, but it seemed apt. And it wasn’t as long winded as “having a nose for violence”. That was how his father had phrased it. Sniffer, eh? Succinct. He gave the Aes Sedai a shrug that told her he had no idea, but she seemed to accept it as fact.
A silence hung between them for a minute, Kaia studying him intently as he thought about tracking. It was possibly a bold statement to make, sniffing out a Dreadlord across the Blight. But she needed to track the escapee down, and it was his duty to serve her. He started to step out of the door without comment. A moment later, she followed him into the moonlight.
On The Trail
Ravak was glad for the familiarity of his saddle, even if he had planned on a bed for the night. A bed is a luxury we have no time for. Somehow he suspected that this would not be the first night he’d have this thought, assuming they survived the journey to come. Going to fetch a shielded Dreadlord and accompanying them back to the Citadel was one thing; riding out into the Blight to find a newly liberated Dreadlord, assisted by the Light knows how many Shadowspawn, was an entirely different affair. But whether this was the intended test that the Warder Council had set for him or not, he had a duty of care towards Kaia Sedai, and well as the righteous burden of bringing this Light-forsworn channeller to justice.
Despite the pressure of the task before him, Rav found the role of thief-catcher oddly freeing. His talent was no longer a secret, at least between himself and the Aes Sedai, and he could voice his thoughts and opinions without needing to hide anything. Sniffing out the trail of the Dreadlord wasn’t a challenge, but trying to put words to what he was smelling or how he was tracking the scent was more than impossible. The tracking was almost instinctual, although he could reason out the logic in his own mind. He could trace the scent, know it’s rough direction, and even have some idea of how recent it was, at least in comparison to other moments. Whether the Darkfriend had escaped that night or five nights ago would have been more evident from the state of the bodies back at the outpost than from the trail he was tracking, but he knew they were gaining ground nonetheless. The particulars of different crimes was still an unsolved mystery, but murder was clearly murder. That level of depravity was patently clear, even to his untrained nose.
The darkness of the evening faded into the morning’s dawn, and whilst the Ji knew they were gaining ground, he couldn’t tell by how much, or how long there was to go. The Dreadlord was as likely to be over the next hill as she was to be in Shadar Logoth already. After watching Kaia sag in her saddle more than a few times, Rav called for a brief halt, feigning some problem with the air that meant he had to stop to refresh his senses. That was all an excuse to cover the Aes Sedai’s need for rest, although food and water would have to be the poor substitute for that. He recalled a saying from some book: ”It is a Warder’s duty to take care of his Aes Sedai.” A smile crossed his face. Better yet, he thought, if you can do it without her noticing.
Cheese and dried meat was nothing new, nor was the customary check he made on all three of the animals, but the candid look of weariness she showed was. Maybe that was proof of how truly expended she was, that she couldn’t hide all of her feelings behind that Aes Sedai mask. Rav also wondered if she was warming up to him, the layers of trained repression being worn away from his presence. Youthful thinking. That she was young - at least to the shawl - likely meant she was looking for a Warder. He tried to move that thought away, but now that the idea had substance, it wouldn’t go away. She glanced at him, as if he had been speaking aloud. Those eyes lingered a little too long, a little too knowingly for his liking. Finishing the rest of the meal, he scratched with some effort at an itch between his shoulderblades.
“You can stop looking at me like that, you know.” Her voice was warm with amusement.
“My apologies, Kaia Sedai,” he responded. “I have a question for you, if I may?”
“Ask.”
He found himself swallowing the last of the cheese with a bit more force than the action warranted. “What qualities are you looking for in a Warder?” No need to ask whether she already had one, that was apparent from the fact he was here and not some Gaidin or Gaidar. And from yesterday’s looks and her openness now, no need to ask if she was considering her options.
Green eyes widened for a moment, before she threw back her head and simply started laughing. It was not meant to be unkind, he thought, but it was some time before Kaia was able to bring herself back under control again. “I… apologise. That was more direct that I’m used to.” She smiled at him, making an inarticulate gesture with her hand. “I am not looking for a Warder, dear boy. I haven’t looked for one in years.”
Keeping the look of surprise from his face took obvious effort. Years? It didn’t seem possible. Unless she had found her future Warder when she was still an Accepted. That made sense, but that clearly wasn’t what the Aes Sedai meant.
He cleared his throat. “I meant in general, what does an Aes Sedai look for in a Warder. I didn’t mean...” he let his words tail off under that smile.
Her look became thoughtful, her attention directed inward. “That isn’t something easily answered. It is likely that each Sister will have her own set of criteria. If you are asking what I personally would look for, then it would be trust.” Green eyes met his and there was the faintest hint of a sparkle in those emerald depths. “And a sense of humour.”
The Shienaran scratched at his beard. Well, trust I can do. Returning a smile, he hoisted himself back into his stallion’s saddle. “I have the scent again.”
The Dreadlord
The snow had given way to the heat in the mid-morning, and the ground became the orange dust of the Blight no more than an hour later. Kaia wore a flamboyant dress of burgundy silk this time, Domani in style and in cut. Somehow, it suited her. The only change to his attire was that the thick winter cloak was folded in one of the saddlebags. It did almost nothing to lessen the heat, and it was only the Aes Sedai’s trick that stopped the sweat from drowning him.
The trial was getting stronger. Not far beyond the Blightborder, they had discovered a small Trolloc camp, no more than seven Shadowspawn. There was nothing to say how many humans were also at the encampment, but the smell of murder was a lot stronger north of the camp. It didn’t help that the fetid stench of the Trollocs trialed alongside. Rav had to stop and doubleback on three occasions in order to assure himself that they were still following the Dreadlord, and not just Trollocs.
The patience and caution paid off. Three hours of riding after the camp and a dust cloud became visible ahead. That image brought back memories of his first incursion. They - meaning Dakson Torellion and himself - had been rescued by Shienaran lancers. No such assistance would be coming today. He had been a Drin’far’ji then, and he was on the cusp of being a Gaidin now. I’ve killed a Fade. What is a small band of Trollocs compared to that?. It was that sort of foolhardy thinking that got men killed. Some women too. He knew he wasn’t so insolent as to believe that thought. He also recognised that fighting one opponent was different from fighting many.
He felt an itch between his shoulder blades. Turning in his saddle, he found emerald orbs upon him. “When we reach them, it may take everything I have to disable the Dreadlord. You will have to deal with the Trollocs and whatever else is with them.” The intensity of that gaze bore into him. ”I will have to rely on you to protect me.” He heard those words in his mind as if she had said them aloud. This was the real test. Not the test for the fancloak, but the test of Ravak Darrow as a soldier and as a man. One woman had already died under his watch. He prayed there would never be a second, but he also knew he would die before letting harm come to Kaia. He recanting a familiar adage in his mind: Duty is heavier than a mountain; death is lighter than a feather.
As the Grey Tower party drew nearer, Kaia explained the limits of her power, of the Power. “I shall be able to shield her as long as I can view her clearly, and she doesn’t feel me before we strike.”
“Feel you?” He believed he knew the answer to that question, but it was safer to ask, especially with what was coming.
“If I embrace saidar, the Dreadlord will feel my presence. Female channellers are able to sense one another in that fashion. She may not be able to pinpoint where I am right away, but she will know. Which means she will have time to prepare. And that cannot be allowed to happen. So I must have a clear view of her before we begin, to shield her before she channels.”
“What if she is already channelling?” He regretted asking the moment the words tumbled from his mouth, but instead of laughter, her eyes sharpened, hard enough to cut.
“Then I will need every bit of saidar I can hold. And this.” She touched the small comb nestled in her thick coil of hair. “It is an angreal.” A faint smile ghosted across her lips, flawless emerald orbs glittering at him. She lifted her hand, placing light fingers against his elbow in a brief attempt at reassurance. Her touch withdrew just as quickly. “This isn’t my first battle against another channeller, Ravak.”
He grimaced in acknowledgement. No point asking how she would shield the Dreadlord. Either she would triumph, or they wouldn’t live long enough to regret their mistakes. That said, he had no desire for either of them to end up in a Trolloc’s cookpot. Assuming she succeeded in her task, he would still have to accomplish his own - defending them against Trollocs. He was relying on her talents as much as she had to trust in his skills.
There was a large stone outcrop that ran along the Trollocs’ expected path that could mask their approach; riding at the band of Trollocs in the open would serve no purpose if they were noticed. Galloping horses would be both visible to anyone with regular vision, what with all of the dust that would kick up. Galloping horses would also be clearly heard by any Trolloc with good hearing, and he knew that some Trollocs hunted based on sound alone. It would also serve as a natural defense against any arrows, although Rav hoped they weren’t equipped with any. He only knew of Trolloc arrows from classes and books, and the idea of dodging spear-sized arrowheads was far from appealing.
They positioned the mounts so that they would be out of sight from the Trollocs. He was not going to ride into battle astride any of the horses; he had never taken any class on horseback fighting. Likewise, Kaia couldn’t risk the possibility of her mare bounding away from the charging Shadowspawn and breaking the shield. If all went as planned, all of the fighting would take place out of their sight, and there would be no reason for any of them to bolt.
Minutes passed. Rav held a spot just at the edge of the rock, waiting for the band to move into sight. Kaia stood beside him, concealed from view. As the first Trolloc appeared, he made the slightest gesture, and she stepped around him. For a few moments, she simply stood in place. There was nothing to discern how successful the Domani’s efforts were, or if she was doing anything at all. Green eyes flared with emotion, presumably directed at the Dreadlord. He held his breath in anticipation.
All of a sudden there was a shout from a human’s mouth, followed by barking and yelling from Trolloc tongues. That concerned Rav as much as Kaia’s stillness and silence had. He strided round his cover, both swords still sheathed. Four Trollocs moved towards them, the rest staying with the Dreadlord. He made out wide eyes on an expressionless and ageless face, before the giant hulking forms of the Trollocs blocked his view. Immediately he enveloped himself in the ko’di. Concerns about the horses and the Dreadlord and the Blight faded out of conscious thought, every sliver of his concentration directed at the approaching Trollocs instead.
Rav made towards the Trollocs in what appeared to be a slow and measured walk. Both hands rested on sword hilts, and his eyes moved quickly from one inhuman face to the next. Outside of the ko’di, he knew the form as The Leopard in High Grass. Inside of it, this was more than just muscle memory. The form was a part of his very being.
It was oddly calm, approaching the Shadowspawn in such a measured gait. Watching the enormous forms close in, he felt strangely distant from the action, as if everything was happening to someone else. There was no unnatural fear pricking at his mind this time. He was encased in armour and duty and the ko’di.
As a fox-faced Trolloc bounded within reach, Rav stepped sideways as two blurred streaks of silver flashed. Unfolding the Fan, two rending wounds split its face. It shrieked, clawing at its face. A second Trolloc appeared, hefted a greatsword over its head. Sword-breaker rose to block as the Shienaran slashed at the fox-faced Shadowspawn’s neck. The tip of the blade sliced deeply through the unprotected side of its throat, cutting off the shriek in a bloody gargle. His right arm felt the impact of the greatsword, teeth catching the tainted weapon. With a twist, he pushed the sword and its wielder off-balance. Without pause, his longsword struck out again, this time finding a thigh to skewer, then stabbing lower at the side of the knee. Rav stepped away from the crippled beast towards open ground as other Trollocs drew near.
The next two moved in unison, a pair of boar-faced creatures each wielding a massive boar-spear. They spread apart in a small arc as they closed in, spear points aimed at his head. He had to bob and weave to dodge a few tentative thrusts towards him. One of the Trollocs made a snorting noise that may have been laughter, and the other joined in on top of the first.
The two Trollocs had continued to fan out until they were almost opposite, with the human in the middle. They made a more concerted effort to gore him then. He parried and blocked, whirling around to face each strike as it came. One blow landed solidly against his side, the chainmail and padding blocking the blow, but the force of the impact was enough to wind him. He continued to dodge and block, but a second strike slashed across his right forearm as he failed to get his sword-breaker up in time. He spared the briefest of glances to inspect the injury. Blood poured out, and the injury was wide and long. Time was now an additional adversary he had to face.
When the next thrust came in, Rav used both blades to push it aside, as he ran into the Trolloc’s guard. It had no time to pull its weapon near to defend, as dual blades thrust at a loose plate in its scale mail. Dark blood poured out from the wound almost immediately. Rav twisted the blades as he extracted them, angling them wide through the gap in the scales. When the two swords pulled clear, the Trolloc’s eyes had already glazed over.
With the second boar-faced Trolloc, Rav waiting to do the same trick again. Trollocs were a lot of things: huge, powerful, brutal, uncaring, and simple-minded. That latter was the key to his success. As it thrust a mighty blow towards his head, he ducked under the blow, charging with his head low. He had spotted no weakness in this Trolloc’s armour, so he slicing down at the beast’s unprotected legs. As his blades drew across the creature’s hamstrings, a sudden unseen blow knocked the Ji sideways. He unwillingly rolled across the ground away from Kaia. His motion disturbed the ground below, orange dust choking his lungs as he spluttered and coughed. He was getting to his feet as soon as the rolling stopped, just as his opponent buckled and collapsed.
By the time the last Trolloc fell, there had been another victory. With the sound of blood pumping loudly in his ears, Rav almost missed Kaia speaking, her voice a velvet purr. “I have her.” Even wrapped in the ko’di, he felt palpable relief hearing those words. The Dreadlord was still wide eyed, a visage of despair upon her face. It was clear that bonds of Air held her in place, as only her head peered around desperately at her retinue of guards. Those remaining Trollocs seemed trapped by indecision between abandoning their escort and avenging their fallen comrades. That choice was taken away from them as bolts of lightning struck each of them down one by one, leaving the Dreadlord standing alone in a pile of charred bodies. The Red Sister smiled as two more bolts hit the fallen Trollocs nearer by.
Kaia made her way unhurriedly towards the bound woman, indifferent to the corpses that littered her path. The embroidered hem of her silk dress swept across pools of blood, and her slippers were undoubtedly receiving worse treatment. Green eyes were fixated on the female Dreadlord. Rav took a more careful path beneath the bodies, although he was more concerned that some of the Shadowspawn still somehow drew breath, instead of whether his boots got more blood on them. His pain in his right arm barely touched the stillness of the ko’di, but he sheathed his swords and held the wound closed as tightly as he could.
The Dreadlord seemed like any Aes Sedai Rav may have come across in the Tower. Long, golden tresses framed an ageless, oval face. Brown pools watched with worry as the two of them strided towards her, eyes darted between the two of them. Kaia stopped in front of the bound woman with a pleased look on her face, the satisfied smile she wore, icy. The raven head tilted to the side ever-so-slightly, before the Dreadlord’s head lolled backwards, as if she was suddenly asleep. Only the invisible bonds of Air had to be holding her upright. The Red Sister glanced over her shoulder, then turned to lay two hands on Rav’s split arm. Ice seared and fire froze as she Healed him. He shuddered and cried out silently for an eternity, before the Power rescinded away. She swayed slightly, and he put two strong hands on her shoulders to steady her.
“Again, I’m indebted to you.” A little voice cried out at the back of Rav’s mind, making it clear that such words were a dangerous thing to say to an Aes Sedai. A louder presence drowned it out, stern appreciation that he wasn’t going to bleed out in the middle of the Blight. Kaia snorted outright at him, although he didn’t understand what for. She spared him a fondly amused look before the expression was replaced by perfect serenity.
“Be ready to catch her, though I’m sorely tempted to simply let her fall face first onto the ground.” The cool tone had returned, and Rav stepped towards the blonde-haired woman. She began to fall towards him, presumably as the prison of Air disappeared, and he scooped her up in both arms. “Put her on the packhorse. And bind her tight.” He nodded acquiescently, carrying the woman back up towards the outcropping, past the dead Shadowspawn. Physically placing the woman on top of the packhorse and securing her was easy. Rav only hoped that Kaia kept enough of her strength in order to shield the Dreadlord all of the way back to the Citadel.
Return
The three days that followed were as uneventful as they were tiring. Kaia had been right concerning the toll that Healing would have on his body. The following two days after capturing the Dreadlord, he sagged when awake, and frequently found himself waking up with a start in the saddle. Kaia kept the Dreadlord under with whatever ability she had used, the packhorse still tethered to his mount. She also said that she was maintaining the shield, even when they stopped for the night to sleep. Rav thought unconsciousness was a good enough tool, but he was still grateful for the Aes Sedai’s assurances.
On the third day, heat and dryness gave way to blessed snow, and the winds of a Shienaran spring. The freshness of the air kept him awake. He pulled his crumpled cloak out from his saddlebags, closing the clasp around his neck. Soon, hopefully, he would have a new cloak to wear.
The tall, stark walls of the Citadel came into sight not a moment too soon for the Ji’alantin. He wanted to heel the stallion, to get to the Citadel as soon as humanly possible, but all of the animals had endured seven days of travel, and a quick burst may finish off the stallion in a way that a steady canter would not.
As they neared the Citadel’s gate, it pulled open slowly. The three riders crossed the threshold just as the doors reached their widest point. Once more in the courtyard, the Warder Council had assembled. Rav glanced from Ferran to Amayani to Riahana, all three faces expressionless and unreadable. As they drew near, Ferran took a single step forward, his accentless voice clear and commanding. “Dismount, Ji’alantin.” Rav raised a leg over the high pommel of his saddle, and slipped off the stallion with no small amount of grace.
A look passed between Ferran and Kaia, before the bald man looked Rav up and down. I am done, Rav thought, let it be done! Part of it was eagerness to have the fancloak, to be Gaidin. The other half was the desire to collapse and sleep for a week, or at least until the effects of Healing had completely disappeared. Ferran stepped silently back in line with the Gaidin Captain and Mistress of Arms. A liveried servant moved into view, having entered the courtyard from behind where Rav’s vision was directed. A deliberate look was on the face of the servant. That same look was on the faces of each of the Gaidin too. With a start, Rav forced himself into motion, following the woman with the Flame and the Fang on her garb into the corridors of the Citadel.
She led him into a small room, bright and clean and warm despite the chill outside. A singular object dominated the room - a bath. He began to strip before the door was shut behind him, and slid into the tub with a relieved sigh.
Some time later, Rav emerged from the bathing chamber. He was now clad in a red robe over a black doublet over a white tunic. Each item of clothing was marked with a small sigil of the Grey Tower. The same servant was waiting outside the door, and led him back towards the courtyard.
The scene that greeted him was not at all what he expected. The group of three had turned into a huge semi-circle, all clad in a fancloak. Rav suspected it was every Gaidin and Gaidar that had been in the Tower. His eyes scanned several familiar faces, including Dax’s. He shunted the Tairen from his mind as his attention turned to the Mistress of Arms at the centre of the group.
“Come forward,” Riahana directed. “Kneel.” He did as commanded. The Mistress of Arms’ voice became ceremonial. “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?”
Ravak dipped his head, his eyes on Riahana’s boots. “I do.”
“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.”
Raising his head, the Mistress of Arms held his Tower-forged longsword in both hands. “May the Light bless this blade and its bearer, and may the Light illumine the path of this warrior.” She outstretched her arms, presenting the sword. He took it reverently.
“Rise.” A bundle had been passed to Riahana, a folded piece of fabric that shimmered as she moved it. With a quick gesture, the fancloak unfolded to its full length.
“I grant you the title of Gaidin; you are a Brother of Battle, and a Warder under the banner of the Grey Tower.” She draped the cloak over Rav’s broad shoulders, hooking the clasp at the neck. “Welcome.”
