Fanfic:Ravak Darrow's Old Biography

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Ravak Darrow's Old Biography
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Ravak stepped backwards slowly. He had his longsword stretched out, forming a natural barrier between Elia and the Fade that was snaking towards them on his left flank. In his right hand, he pointed the sword-breaker towards the two Grey Men that were approaching from his other side. His brows furrowed in outrage.

"Give up Shienaran," the Fade hissed, even as he approached with the blackened steel forged in Thakan'dar.

"Give up," one of the Grey Man echoed, "and maybe we'll spare your life."

Ravak blew out an exaggerated sigh. These Shadowspawn would strike him down, even if he did surrender on the spot, and there was Elia Sedai to think about as well. "I take my chances," he growled softly, "Who's first?"

One of the Grey Men moved forward at a jog, sword pulled back behind his back as he approached. The blade swung forward as he moved, and Ravak easily caught it in a notch on his sword-breaker. Twisting his wrist, the Grey Man's sword hurtled away along the cobblestones.

The Fade hissed in anger, and urged the second Grey Man forth. This one was more practiced with his sword, and Ravak had to move backwards a number of steps to give himself time to parry each blow. The Grey Man gripped the hilt with two hands, and with an overhead strike brought the sword crashing down towards Ravak's head. Rav half-ducked as he barely got his longsword up in time to stop the killing blow. For what seemed like an eternity, soldier and Shadowspawn were locked in a duel of strength, Ravak attempting to push the Grey Man away as the plain-looking fellow tried to drive his sword downwards.

"You will fall, Shienaran. Then Shienar will fall, and it will be all your fault." The Grey Man taunted him with a knowing smile.

"Duty," Ravak murmured through gritted teeth, "is heavier than a mountain."

"And death," the Grey Man taunted, "is lighter than a feather. You seem the light type."

Ravak looked down in resignation, but in an instant his eyes flashed. Lost in the pain of his left arm straining, he had forgotten about the sword-breaker in his right. With a couple of short strikes, the Grey Man was toppling backwards, crying out in pain as it clutched at its ankles.

Slowly, Ravak stood erect. He brushed his shoulders, and dead skin fell to the ground around him. As he turned his attention towards the Fade, he was able to make out Elia's form in the corner of his eye. She seemed unhurt. Just as it should be, he thought.

"You struck down two of my best." the Myrddraal rasped. Ravak adopted a stance, longsword parallel with the ground, sword-breaker held in a underhand grip.

"Time to add your life to the tally, Shadowspawn."

"Ravak!" a man's booming voice cried out, "Ravak." Ravak glanced around the narrow street of Fal Dara, unsure where the voice was calling from.

"You're in trouble now," came his sister's goading voice, "He doesn't like it when you fight in the street." Ravak reddened as he looked amongst his friends. Haruki had already recovered his sword from where Rav had scattered it, but Shiro was still rolling on the ground clutching his ankles. Rav reached down and tried to pull Shiro up.

"Hey, you've hurt me enough," Shiro cried, "Did you need to hit me so hard?"

"You should feel my arm. You know I'm not that strong." Shiro blew out a sigh, but got to his feet. "Take my weapons, and hide them," Ravak pleaded. Shiro gave a brief nod, just as the man's voice called out again.

"Next time, Shienaran." Eka gave an elaborate bow, and then he was away with Shiro and Haruki, blackened practice sword in hand.

"Ravak!" Rav turned, and his father stood in the doorway to their house, fists on his waist. "I didn't just hear fighting, did I?"

"No," Ravak said quickly, as his sister Elia said "Yes." Their father looked to Elia, sitting on the steps to the house, then back to Rav. He could feel his cheeks reddening again.

"Inside."


Ravak stirred from a restless sleep, a yawn already leaving his mouth before he had a chance to stop it. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he saw it was night-time, only the street lights illuminating the small room. He moved forward on the chair, the wood creaking under his shifting weight, as he leaned forwards.

Beside him, wrapped up in blankets up to her neck, was his sister Elia. Despite the lack of light, Rav could see her skin was pale, and there was a sheen to her forehead. He shifted again, reaching towards the bowl of water and the cloth that sat near the two of them. Dipping the cloth into the bowl, then straining the worst of the water back in, he carefully lay the cloth over Elia's forehead. She moaned as cold droplets splashed on her face, but aside from slightly turning her head from the window, she was still.

Rav scratched at his forehead. White flakes drifted down to settle on the front of his shirt. He idly brushed it away, but kept his eyes on Elia. "I wish there was something I could do," he whispered softly. He lay a hand over the blankets, roughly where his sister's hand was.

He leaned as far back in his chair as he could, whilst maintaining his hold of Elia. He had next to no idea what was wrong with her, but she was hot, and the water helped. He had been reassured by his parents that Elia would be fine in a few days, but she looked pale, and slept almost constantly. He hadn't moved away from her side since the morning, and wasn't going to go anywhere until she was better.

Ravak jerked awake, unsure how long he had drifted asleep for. It was still dark, but Elia was facing away now, and his hand had slipped from the bed. She was murmuring something, but too softly to make anything out. He bent forward and laid a hand on her. Reassuringly, he said "I'm here. I'm here." He wasn't sure if he was comforting Elia or himself.


"Strike strike strike! Strike strike strike! Strike strike strike!" Like the worst marching tune, the sound of wood on wood made a cacophony of noise in the training yards. Ravak struck three times in a rhythmic fashion with his sword, then parried incoming blows in three quick successions. The slap of the practice swords made him think of his childhood, maybe only a couple of years ago, but now seeming like a distant memory. He struck out again, the clack clack clack reminding him of playing with Haruki and Shiro and-

He yelped as the practice blade smacked him between his neck and shoulder, and instinctively he spun around to cradle the pain. One of the instructors swiftly caught the cradling hand, and pulled him round to face both the instructor and his partner.

"What's going on here?" the instructor barked.

"I struck too fast." Kayen sounded too defensive.

"I got distracted," Ravak stated as he straightened.

"You get distracted, and you die. And maybe take a few others you think you'd got their back with you." The instructor's tone was firm but not overall unkind. "And there's not a measured pace to combat. You strike when we tell you to strike here, but there's no too fast in actual fighting." Both Ravak and Kayen nodded after their respective reprimands. "Well, carry on."

Ravak struck out three times at Kayen, and shared what he thought was a appreciative look. But Kayen grimaced slightly, and they carried on their training.


Elia stood with her head against the door, as Ravak paced across the floor of their room. Aside from boots scuffing against stone, all he could hear was the raised voices of his parents from the other side of the house. He moved back and forth, and starting intentionally scuffing his boots in frustration. "Shh," Elia chided, "I can't hear with you stomping about." Ravak frowned deeper, and glared at the back of his sister's head. For a few moments he stood there, wishing to bore a hole in Elia's head, wishing to bore a hole through the walls and out of Fal Dara. He realised he was grinding his teeth, stopped, and then slumped down onto his bed.

"Well?" he asked after a further silence.

"Mother's going on about duty," Elia stated curtly, "and Father is. Well, he's not winning."

Ravak shook his head in despair. The argument was about him. He was behind where he should have been with his training, and the consternation of his instructors had got to his father, who had shared it with his mother. He understood that not every man was born to fight, but he also wasn't Shienaran. He was also a thief-taker, and didn't fight regular battles like the Shienaran soldiers.

"I should go," Ravak said. Elia turned away from the door to glower.

"You've said that before. Where would you go? And with what money? You haven't enough silver for more than a few nights at an inn, and where would a few days take you?"

They had this argument before, many a time, and Ravak had no more answers now than he had before. His scowl deepened. "I'm no use here. Not to the army. Not to Mother and Father with their quarreling."

"And what about me?" Elia interjected. "What am I to do with you gone?" She shook her head, then rested it against the door. She continued to stare at him. "Come with me." It was half a suggestion, half a question. The thought hadn't occurred to him before, nor did he know why it occurred to him now. Elia blew out her cheeks in exasperation.

"A fine plan. We'll get half as far towards nowhere." She nestled her head against the door, and closed her eyes to concentrate.

Rav shook his head, and let himself fall back to lie on the bed. He stared at the stone ceiling. A nice mess I'm in here, he thought.


Ravak stared back at the slanted, wooden roofs of Fal Dara, feeling incredulous that he was so far away from the city. A murky mist made the features of the city indistinct, but he could see the keep clearly for now. In a few miles, that would be hidden from view. He turned to face away from the city, falling the road south. The weight of the longsword and his bedroll and other essentials weighed him down, but the sense of freedom gave a lightness to his step. His father's sword-breaker and scabbard swayed on his belt, and he touched the hilt to remind himself that it actually was there. He still found it a little hard to believe that his father had given him the weapon, and the silver and gold. That latter he had no idea where his father had scrounged that from. He frowned, thinking of his father, and what his mother's reaction would be. And Elia, he thought, how is she going to take this. Light, I should have said something to her. He bit his lip, and kicked the ground with anger. What in the Light am I to do now?