Fanfic:Street Fight
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Dax had his hands wrapped palm-inward around a rod above his head. He dangled there with knees bent, sweat rolling down his bare back. Twenty. He breathed out and pulled himself up, body and arms curling until his chin rose above the bar. He lowered himself carefully, then planted his feet on the ground and let go of the bar.
His vision swam and his stomach lurched, an uncomfortable reminder of how much he had had to drink the night before. He fell back against the wall, head in hands, and forced himself to breath evenly until the feeling passed. He paid the toll for his nightly escape every day; his duties as one of the Gaidin did not end simply because an Accepted had taken up residence in his head. Especially since no one knew –no one could know- what had been done to him.
Just tell them what happened. Be free. That voice in his head, the one that sounded like Jemis, had become far too familiar in the last few weeks. It whispered to him every time he drank, every time he raised his voice or his fist, every time he sat alone in the dark of night. This time, the Gaidin refused to listen. Instead, his fist met the wall with destructive force and the pain knocked him back to something resembling clear thought. No. He knew what the Tower did to women who bonded before they became Aes Sedai. Why does it matter to me what happens to Aikaterine Riatin? She brought the consequences on herself!
Some questions had no answers. Instead, he dropped to the floor with his hands on either side of his head, bruised knuckles protesting angrily as he shifted his weight. Body straight, he lifted himself to balance on extended arms and toes. One. He lowered himself until his nose nearly touched the ground, then back up again. Two. As his body rose and fell in smooth rhythm, Dax began to feel his mind clear and settle, until he floated in something resembling stillness. Katrie still claimed a corner of his mind, but he could ignore her.
I’m staying sober tonight, he decided. If for no other reason than to prove that I can.
Dax spent the day drilling Drin’far’ji, struggling to keep his temper in check as the storm of emotions inside of his head built up beyond all tolerance. At long last the bell rang for dinner and he was able to escape. Katrie was…excited? Perplexed, he headed for the dining hall.
At dinner, he realized that his erstwhile bondmate had gone to Hama Valon. He knew without being there that she had not gone alone; the fact that she had company did not bother him. Every so often, however, a feeling drifted through the bond, a burst of something hot that he wanted but could not have. When it happened his thoughts fell to pieces and memories rose to torment him in their place. I can’t turn it off, Katrie! She couldn’t hear. Would she stop even if she could? Probably not.
He covered his eyes with his hands. When he let them drop, the clay jug on his desk caught his eye. He turned away, staring blankly into space as he bore silent witness to the chaotic tangle of interchanging emotions that Katrie brought to his mind. Abruptly he realized the Accepted’s feelings had swelled, distorted, taken on a slightly fuzzy edge. She’s drunk! He felt the moment when she recognized his attention, felt when she took everything she was feeling and focused it at him. Go away, Dax. He didn’t have to hear the words to know what she wanted.
He reached for the bottle.
Dax supposed that he might someday run out of taverns to frequent in lower Hama Valon if he did not drown in liquor quickly enough. Thankfully, the type of establishment he preferred typically turned a blind eye so long as he left fancloak and sword at the Tower and provided them with coin- two things he was more than willing to do. The haze of alcohol set in quickly that night, but rather than dulling his connection to Katrie, it amplified it.
Eventually he left, pushing out of the suffocating common room and into the cooler night outside. Once there his head cleared a little, though the brewing frustration and anger still lurked in every corner, distorting every thought. He walked a few steps then let himself fall against the nearest wall, slouching there with eyes closed for long moments. Katrie was enjoying herself, and yet there was a raw feeling as well, one he had become intimately acquainted with. It resonated within him, reminding him of countless nights in his past.
He felt the air move, and realized he had company. He cracked one eye to observe the three men in rough clothes who had gathered to face him. Two were of average build, but the third and closest had a half a head on him. He didn't need anyone to tell him that trouble had found him alone in the dark.
The Gaidin straightened and shifted his feet, one hand on the wall behind him to steady himself as the world tilted sideways. They stepped forward and Dax reacted, years of training and instinct guiding his movement where his intellect could not. He twisted and spread his arms, the side of his right hand catching the closer assailant across the jaw. The stranger choked and doubled over, but Dax had already shifted his attention.
The larger one rushed him, head low. Dax grabbed at his face and shoulders, grappling with him for a moment as his fingers sought for eyes, nose, mouth, ripping, clawing, inflicting damage in whatever way he could. A moment later he had twisted the man's head down and to the side; Dax allowed his opponent's own momentum and the weight of his left arm to carry him down, blocking the other two from drawing too near with the larger one's very bulk.
He ducked his head down and brought his right arm up just in time to absorb a punch from the man he had already hit; he shifted from the block to push that one away by the face. Then he brought his knee up into the larger man's throat, shoving him backward into his third opponent. That one stumbled back, but did not fall; while he was still off balance, Dax clocked him with his left fist.
He went down and rolled; Dax stepped forward, his boot connecting solidly with the bigger man's ribs. Once, twice, three times; he felt ribs crack, and then he shifted, his foot crashing into the man’s face. The second and third approached again, and Dax saw the glint of metal in the smaller one's hand.
He had no hope against two men without the element of surprise, let alone if one had a knife. Dax stepped backward, turned, and ran. As he fled, he realized the bundle of emotions that was Katrie had exploded into fury; her emotions practically pulsed with a frustration and rage that he knew all too intimately. He found himself smiling, grimly amazed. Welcome to my world, kitten.
He turned a corner and stopped with his back against the wall, listening intently for his pursuers. Mind still ablaze with Katrie's fury, he nearly missed his mark. As it was, his fist found its target on the man's nose with a satisfying crunch, but the other man's knife bit deep into the soft part of Dax's forearm before he could pull away.
The Gaidin cursed, kicking the blade wielder away from him. It required little effort, as Dax had broken something in the man's face with his earlier punch. The man dropped his blade and put both hands to his face, then fled. The third crouched, a feral grin showing above a graying beard. Their eyes met as Dax's scrabbled with his good arm for- ah. His fingers wrapped around smooth wood and he yanked the tool up and around. The shovel blade smashed into his final opponent's face flat side first, and the man fell.
In the sudden silence, Dax half crouched, his right hand wrapped tightly around his forearm. Stupid! That cut would need care, and his arm would be useless until it had healed. How am I going to explain this to Amayani? His head spun, struggling to function through Katrie's rage, his own pain, and the fog of alcohol. He would have to figure that part out later- that cut needed help. He made for the Grey Tower.
