By Toseth Briel Aseld
It began at High.
Toseth sat where he always did for lunch--close enough to some of his friends that he could hear them, yet off to the side so that he did not have to be part of the conversation unless he wished not to be. And this day, he wanted his privacy. The Ji’ sat in silence, barely picking at his food, his interest saved for the thoughts in his mind.
His training was beginning to chafe. At first the freedom of a Ji’alantin over a Drin’far’ji was blinding and he threw himself into his studies with some fervor. He’d thrived, learned things he’d never expected to, and found contentment in his life. But time had dragged on, and one by one his fellow Ji’alantin had earned the fancloak. Even some of those raised to Ji’ after him had become Gaidin. It had fostered the worry that he might not be fit to be a Warder, and with the added pressure that he had finally found someone to Bond Toseth grew more and more frustrated that he didn’t have the fancloth around his shoulders.
He was mindlessly stabbing at a slice of roast with his fork when a folded piece of paper flapped onto the table at the side of his plate. Toseth saw only the normal mill of Gaidin and Trainees as he looked around, searching for whoever had delivered the missive. Frowning, he broke the unfamiliar seal of the letter and straightened the paper, reading the few words written.
The Ji’ left the table unnoticed, the note stuffed into his pocket and his plate in hand to be dropped off for the kitchens to clean before he briskly set off for the Yard. Summons came often enough, but hardly in letters and never sealed, so he was quick to respond to this. He reached the south end of the Yard and found a Gaidin awaiting him, all stone-faced and silent. Most cliché.
Toseth bowed, pulled the letter from his pocket to present, but was left looking foolish when the Gaidin simply nodded and turned to walk away. The Ji’ followed, now more frustrated that after being interrupted in his free time he wasn’t even offered an explanation. But he went without word, covering his frown and taking it all in stride. At first he’d thought that he might be needed to watch over something or other concerning training, but now, with this treatment, he wondered if perhaps he was going to be punished for something. It certainly seemed like something dour was going to happen to him.
Mind racing to come up with a reason on why he was going to be punished--he was certain this was the case, now--Toseth didn’t even notice their destination until he bumped into the Gaidin’s back, blushing and murmuring his apologies. He looked around, tried to figure out where he had been led, and came up with one, illogical conclusion. “The Channeling Yard?” he asked aloud, glancing curiously at the Gaidin. There was no response, of course. Only the sound of nature around them, and then the unique sound of something he’d heard only a few times before.
Toseth turned, saw the Gateway just finishing its rotational opening, and felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Then he was propelled forward without a word, stumbling through the tear in space into an unfamiliar room with a dreary mood to it. He spun on his heel and searched for an answer among the veteran eyes watching his departure, but the Portal snapped shut in his face, leaving him alone. Panic set in, irrational thoughts flying through his head before he could even take notice of his surroundings. He turned once more, searching the walls, and found a doorway. Without hesitation the Ji’ pressed towards it, only to find it solidly locked. An irrepressible sense of being caged slowly settled into his bones, and he backed towards the center of the room, then kept going. He felt a ledge against the small of his back, after a moment, and turned to find a well-prepared table awaiting him.
A sword, daggers, his preferred armor... it all sat there, immaculately placed, waiting.
A primitive understanding bloomed in Toseth’s mind, and he fell into routine. The daggers fit around his right ankle and left bicep, snugly placed, and he tested their sheaths to find that everything had been perfectly oiled. Content with his last-ditch weapons, he slid on the provided chainmail shirt, then fit himself into the thin leather jerkin that would prevent the metal links from making too much noise when silence was needed. It was all a very comfortable armor, hardly fit to take much punishment, though with the added mobility the disadvantages were easily balanced out.
Finally came the sword. He buckled the belt around his waist, and tugged the blade free easily, appraising the metal, the sharpness, the hilt... something told him this sword would be his crutch for the days to come, and he wanted to make sure it would support his weight. Being in the care of the Warder Yards, it was in pristine condition, and made the satisfyingly sweet sound of metal on leather scabbard as he Folded the Fan. Swinging on the brown cloak bundled off to the side, Toseth rolled his shoulders and twisted this way and that at the waist, shifting until everything settled into to place. Then he turned to face the door, and waited.
Someone must have been watching over him, for his wait was not far passed a minute when the single door swung open. A dry wind swept in through the portal, kicking up the bottom of his cloak and sending his hair into a tussle before Toseth could even leave the room, and it caused havoc with his clothing when he finally did step outside. Wrapping his cloak tight about him, the Ji’ continued on towards a semi-circle of figures standing in the middle of a square, stoic courtyard. Four he recognized easily, knew them from training and punishment and celebration. He bowed deeply, enough respect in the single gesture to cover the whole of them, and offered another, slightly lesser bow for the Aes Sedai to his right. Her he did not know, not right away, but he thought the face familiar. Either way, turning back his attention to the gathered Council, he felt a rush of excitement up his spine.
“Who comes before the Warder Council?”
Toseth’s eyes roamed to Caden Gaidin, who had spoken the first words he’d heard since receiving the note that had begun this interesting turn of events. There was some response to be given, but Toseth was hesitant. He had been brought, not come on his own volition. Though, perhaps, that did not matter...
“I, Toseth Ji‘alantin of the Grey Tower, come before the Council,” he finally responded, straightening his back, trying to look worthy of the honour. Light help him should he botch this opportunity and find himself back in the Tower with shame written on his face.
The Warders all nodded, and Sigmund stepped forward from the curved line to address him. “You have trained in our ranks and have been deemed worthy of a final assignment,” he began, and Toseth’s heart stopped. “Ji’alantin, you are called to prove yourself worthy of the fancloak in the wilds of the Blightborder.“
For the first time Toseth was hit with the realization that he was no longer in or near the Tower. The wind should have told him so, or the functional courtyard, or the need to Travel, or any other of a number of hints... but he’d been so blinded by his surprise and his worry that he hadn’t noticed. But now, apparently, they were in the Borderlands, and he was about to be set loose.
“You have three chances to approach this task.” Sigmund continued, and Toseth snapped back to attention. “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?”
Toseth stood deathly still, staring blankly at the chest of the Master of Training while he absorbed all that he had missed. The armor, the weapons, the silence he had endured while traveling to, what he assumed was, the Citadel. It all made sense, now that the blanket had been lifted from his eyes. He felt foolish for missing it all and a small blush crept across his cheeks.
Only when he realized he was standing in front of the Warder Council, dumbfounded, did his cheeks truly explode and he quickly nodded his head. “I do, Gaidin.”
“Then you are called to protect this Aes Sedai, the symbol of your desired duty,” Sigmund announced, quite ominously to Toseth’s ears. “Return with some token of your struggle; do not return to this fortress until you can bring some proof of your protection before the Council. If you return without such proof, or if you fail in your protection of this Aes Sedai—if she should fall under your care—you will be put out of the Tower permanently.” Quite ominous indeed.
Toseth could only nod and cast a quick glance to the Aes Sedai who was now under his protection. He didn’t have time to notice much, as his attention was quickly returned to the Master of Training when he received a blessing on his test. The Light guide my sword, he repeated in his mind, give me the strength to endure this.
A horse was at his side before he knew it, and a Gaidin forced him to quickly mount. Toseth met his Aes Sedai charge at the looming oak gates, but held his tongue, looking back only once into the Citadel before they were outside its walls and the doors had closed behind them.
The magnitude of the situation hit him only when the silence of the Blightborder began to dominate the environment. Toseth looked over at the Aes Sedai, sizing her up, realizing that she was the line between a life of purpose, and something darker. One stumble of her horse and he would be sent out of the Tower, forgotten and shamed. And where would he end up, then? On the streets? Or as a hired sword, more likely. People might pay a good sum to have a near-Gaidin in their employ.
Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized that the surroundings had changed, become more desolate if indeed it were possible. Turning in the saddle, he found that the Citadel had disappeared behind a hill and that they were truly alone. The Ji’ moved closer to his Aes Sedai, offering a weak smile that did little to hide his worries. “Toseth Aseld, Ji’alantin,” he greeted, swift to have introductions out of the way so they could reach the real business at hand.
“I know,” replied the Aes Sedai, never once moving her eyes from the dirt road ahead.
Toseth waited for more, but found nothing forthcoming and sighed heavily. “My life is in your hands, woman. Make this easier and I might live long enough to take it back. What is your name?”
He could see her fingers clench on the reins, and decided quite happily that his wreckage of proper etiquette had sufficiently riled her. “I am an Aes Sedai,” she sputtered with heat, “of the Brown Ajah, and no woman to you, Ji’alantin. Respect that or I will turn around right this minute.”
“Of course, Aes Sedai. Forgive me,” he replied smoothly, turning his gaze back towards the horrors of the Blightborder. Already something inside him was screaming to stop, to turn around and head right back into the safe arms of the Citadel. But those arms will not be open, if I return, he countered, and that ended the discussion in his mind.
The Aes Sedai said something to his side and Toseth snapped his attention towards her, “May I hear that repeated, Aes Sedai?”
“I said that you would not have disrespected me so the last time we met,” was the curt reply, and it set Toseth’s mind spinning more than it ought to have. When had he met her before? Her face was familiar, granted, but around the Tower that agelessness was all too common.
Unable to think of something to say, he changed the topic, his face suddenly taking on a hint of curiosity, “Might I ask why you volunteered for this position, Aes Sedai?”
“I didn’t,” she said simply, and appeared ready to leave it at that if not for Toseth’s inquisitive smile. “All right... I am here because it does the Tower good for me to be here. I also wish to study how the Blight interacts with the land it is encroaching upon. It’s amazing how the two lands appear to battle, and how the presence of the Borderlanders has done so much. It’s just like...”
She’s going to be marveling at the plants when they wrap around her throat, Toseth realized as the Aes Sedai’s voice trailed off into murmurs to herself. He watched as she drew out a small pile of papers from a satchel behind her saddle, watched as she filed through them and lost herself in the short, clear notes he could only assume she had gathered through her life. There was probably a library of the Blight in her rooms back at the Tower...
“Where are we going?” he blurted out, catching her off guard so that she almost scattered her papers in the wind.
Calming herself and regaining her Aes Sedai face, she turned to look back at him. “We,” she said simply, “are going on a camping trip.”
It was Toseth’s turn to be shocked, having expected so much more from one of the Aes Sedai, legendary for grand schemes and plots. “That’s all? No destination? We’re just supposed to wander the Blightborder while you fawn over plants?”
“Well, where would you prefer to go, Ji’alantin?”
Toseth stopped, blinked, shook his head. He knew nothing about attractions in the Blight. Light shine upon him if he could even find a suitable place to spend the night in such blasted lands, and here he was chained to an Aes Sedai who expected no complications while she trimmed the hedges. “Sorry, Aes Sedai,” he said, resigned and already thinking ahead to how, exactly, he could keep the pruning shears away from her neck.
They rode on at a steady walk, nothing between them but silence for a few hours. Occasionally the Aes Sedai would stop, dismount and check over some sort of plant, note it in her files and then they would continue. The thirteenth time they halted--Toseth had been counting--he couldn’t help but break the relative rhythm of their journey. “Something is wrong, Aes Sedai. It cannot yet be supper-time but the sun has almost already set.”
“Nothing is wrong, Toseth,” the woman responded as she scribbled something in her papers and climbed back onto her lanky gray horse. “The sun is still relatively high back at the Tower, but here it is low. That may mean you have trouble getting to sleep until well into the night, but...” she paused to glance around the area, shaking her head, “that’s for the best. Ignore it and the Wheel will keep spinning.”
“It had better,” the Ji’ muttered under his breath as they continued, and again a silence grew as the day drew to a close. But for the horses’ hooves and his own breathing, Toseth would have worried that somehow he had gone deaf.
Finally the light was too faded to go on and Toseth scouted out a decent patch of grass to set up camp. While the Aes Sedai borrowed his flint to strike a fire, Toseth walked around the perimeter and set up basic traps that would not only alert them to any approach, but slow that approach considerably. As he sharpened the end of a stick for a trap designed to impale a man’s foot, the Ji’ sincerely hoped they’d not be needed.
You’re out of the Tower if they’re not, he reminded himself grimly, setting the stake into a quickly-dug hole and spreading over some cracked leaves from a nearby tree.
The Aes Sedai was warming herself over flames of interchanging orange and blue when he returned and sat across from her. “How long must we risk our necks out here before you are content with the explanation that the Blight is a plague on the land and its interaction with nature is nothing more than that of a parasite?”
The Aes Sedai rubbed her hands together as she looked at Toseth over the fire, smiling in a way that was unsettling, “That sounds a decent enough explanation. Let us return to the Citadel, then, and we shall see how the Council responds to your submission of opinionated knowledge as the example of selfless protection.”
Irritated as he was by the way she flaunted her power over his passing, Toseth could say nothing back and instead nodded, “Point taken, Aes Sedai. Wise as always, Aes Sedai.”
“Obedient... I like that.”
It was the last of their conversation until, minutes later when the Aes Sedai was just settling herself down to sleep, a howled cry pierced the night and sent goosebumps across Toseth’s skin. He rose quickly to his feet and faced the direction of the source, drawing his sword while the Aes Sedai moved to soothe the startled horses.
Shadows drifted around the edge of the firelight, suggested shapes of things that Toseth did not wish to see, harsh growls and heavy footsteps taking away the hope that they were just illusions of tired eyes. Turning to face each sound as it came from the darkness, Toseth soon grew frustrated of spinning circles, “What are they waiting for?!”
The shadows vanished in that instant, the footsteps fading away and the soft, tormented wailing of whatever had speared itself on a trap was ended sharply. Toseth threw the rest of the wood on the fire, causing the flames to flare up and reveal nothing but disturbed earth and a Trolloc corpse. After checking that the area seemed safe, Toseth walked over to the carcass, glancing first at the punctured foot and then at the brutally slashed throat. He considered taking its badge as a sign of accomplishment, but the kill had not been his.
Since the smell would not be too terrible until the sun rose again, they neither moved the heavy corpse nor shifted camp, and once the flames had died a little the Trolloc wasn’t even visible.
The Aes Sedai fell asleep while Toseth gathered a few more dead branches to keep the fire lasting through the night. Sitting, wrapped in his cloak to ward off the chill night air, the Ji’ had a good long time to search the ageless face across from him and try to puzzle just why she was so familiar to him. She certainly acted as if they had met before, but he could remember no such instance of ever being under her supervision within the Tower.
As it was, lost in thought and over-energized with the time change, the sun rose quickly at his back and another day of worry was born. Toseth checked the area to find no other signs of visitors after the first scare, and had taken apart what little of their camp there was even before the Aes Sedai first blinked her eyes open.
“I spent all night wondering, and I still cannot think of where I know you from.” Toseth tried to sound nonchalant on the issue, but he was highly irritated that hours of thought had left him with nothing.
“Aes Sedai business, most likely,” she responded, climbing onto her horse.
That seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day, as they traveled in a familiar silence with the same number of stops to look at the local plantlife. Their direction was different, however. The Aes Sedai seemed happy to follow the Blightborder, rather than moving deeper into it or back towards the Citadel. The day was slow, to Toseth, who only stretched his legs twice and ate little when finally the sun deemed the time worthy to set.
Instead of waiting for the Aes Sedai’s leisure to stop, Toseth took her horse by the reins and led her off the beaten path. She was still indignantly squawking at him about the importance of her research while he circled the camp and set down spear-traps. Growing tired of her incessant chirping, the Ji’ tore an ugly brown flower from the ground and shoved it into her hands, telling her in no uncertain terms to study it since she was not allowed to leave the protective ring of traps.
“I’ll report this to Sigmund,” she protested, shaking the flower at him menacingly.
“You’re hurting your research,” Toseth noted, watching a dried petal flutter to the ground.
With the closest thing to a sulk the Aes Sedai could decently manage, she set herself down in the center of the circle and began comparing notes to the flower in her hand. When Toseth heard the first, “Interesting...” from her, he knew there would be little arguing for the rest of the night. So with his free time, Toseth added a little more protection to the camp and drove the dead trunk of a small tree into the ground. He had already led the Aes Sedai’s horse to the impromptu hitching-post and was leading his own mount over when the setting sun ducked behind a dark cloud and sent the world into an early night. That in and of itself wouldn’t have been surprising, but shadows of hulking creatures burst to life surrounding them and a multitude of cursed growls filled the air. Toseth was immediately jerked off his feet as his horse screamed and tried to bolt. Determined not to lose his only way of escape, the Ji’ held on, reaching out with his free hand to clasp! onto a tree as he was pulled by. He could feel the muscles tear in his left shoulder when he was stretched and pulled, but his horse reluctantly stopped. For the moment, at least.
“Stand your flaming ground,” he shouted to the horse, looping its lead around a low branch. The animal reared, nearly pulling the tree--roots and all--out of the ground. But the sapling held firm and Toseth found some comfort in that. Leaving his horse to deal with its own fears he turned and faced the milling Trolloc party, which still seemed hesitant to encroach upon the circle of the camp. The Aes Sedai was standing in the center, keeping watch.
“Light a fire, quickly,” she ordered as Toseth came to her side, sword drawn. He looked at her in disbelief, but she shooed him on to the task with little patience, “Do it!”
Toseth dropped to his knees, gathered the measly scraps of wood they’d collected, and struck a spark into the kindling as quickly as he could. When the flame had taken, he added the larger pieces and got to his feet again.
“...whenever you have the time, throw as much wood on as you can...” she was saying, still watching the Trollocs and looking more and more like a Green sister rather than the Brown she had claimed to be. “The fire will discourage them, and when it grows dark we’ll need the light.”
“We’ll be gone by the time the sun sets,” Toseth answered back, turning to face a Trolloc as it came too close and stumbled into one of the traps, breaking its ankle with a grunt. “We’re going back to the Citadel as soon as we can. Burn me if we’re going to die trying to prove I’m worthy of a cloak. The moment you can, get on your horse and ride. Understand?”
“Well enough,” she replied. The two of them stood, ringed by Trollocs with only a sputtering fire keeping the night at bay, while the minutes passed by and still none of the beasts made a move. “There’s a Myrddraal,” she said at length, “Linked. Its keeping them held back.”
“Nice to know,” Toseth said dryly, edging closer to the outer limits of the circle to retrieve a few pieces of wood to keep the fire alive. The Trollocs howled and gnashed their teeth and beaks, but not a one crossed over the unspoken boundary into Tower territory.
More minutes dragged passed, and a gnawing agitation grew in Toseth’s instincts. “They’re waiting for reinforcements, or a mistake. We’ve got to do something.”
“That would be the mistake,” the Aes Sedai replied calmly, checking the fire to see that it was to her standards, then turning to face Toseth with little regard for the monstrosities behind her. “Stir them up and they will all attack. For now they are willed back, and that is good for us.”
“The Dark One take this waiting!” Toseth retorted, spinning to face her in a flash of anger. “Hit them with a bloody fireball and let this begin, if it’s going to. I’m starting to ache from being so tensed up.”
The Aes Sedai regarded him calmly for a moment, tilting her head to the side, “You truly wish that?”
“Yes! We can’t get through them when they’re walled up like that. Start them moving and there’s at least a chance to make a break for safety.”
Studying the Ji’s anxious posture, the Aes Sedai nodded slowly and turned to face the nearest side of Trollocs. “I will leave this call up to you, Ji’alantin. It is your life you are trying to forge.”
Unphased by the chilling control of the Aes Sedai’s emotions, Toseth quickly added a few more pieces of wood to the fire and wiped the nervous sweat from his sword-hand onto his shirt. Just as he opened his mouth to order the attack, a black whisp of a man drifted behind the Trolloc line. Fear paralyzed him so that he could not speak, could hardly even breath so long as the Fade was in his vision. And even when it disappeared he found it difficult to move, struggling to recover from the instinctive terror such a misshapen creature caused.
The Aes Sedai had been awaiting his cue, enveloped in saidar with the weaves for a fireball already in mind, but the cue never came and she was forced to release a bit of focus to glance at her younger companion. “Toseth!” she called sharply, snapping the Ji’ from the hold the Myrddraal’s presence had taken.
Once free, Toseth called immediately for the attack and a flash of light behind him was his own order to go. Three Trollocs had fallen immediately, charred by flames, and the others quickly broke ranks in a howling frenzy. Toseth met the scythes and barbed axes of the first few Trollocs with the plain, functional Tower sword he had been given, battling sheer numbers with years of training and preparation. He clove the hand off of a goat-faced monster, turned to deflect a vicious jab from a mangled excuse for a pike and gave its owner a wicked gash in the face that sent the beast to the ground, writhing its hoofed feet. The Ji’ took full advantage of his enemy’s slower movement, darting between opponents to deliver infuriating injuries between the chinks in the mismatched Trolloc armor, using the dagger on his left arm as a sort of shield to ward aside attacks he could not reach with his sword. To his left, his right, everywhere there were bleeding and cursing! Trollocs all determined to have his head, and somewhere outside of the melee his Aes Sedai was blasting down man-beasts with an array of battleweaves that no ordinary Brown would know so well. Every so often the ground would shake or the heated blast of a fireball would cause those Trollocs around Toseth to pause, and in those moments he felled even more, until he could not get a decent foothold on the ground for all the blood and corpses.
It was then, naturally, that the Myrddraal entered, tired of watching the minions fail. Toseth had been scrambling to find a better patch of earth to fight when the Aes Sedai cried out a warning. “Markin, behind you!”
Toseth only had a moment to puzzle why he had been called Markin when the Myrddraal blade slashed across his back, splitting his leather jerkin but glancing off the chainmail beneath. The Fade had not expected his prey to have a shell, and Toseth wasted no time in turning, using the momentum to deliver a blow at the Myrddraal’s arm and then fall back to safer ground.
He continued backing up as the Fade gave chase, circling slowly to work his way away from the terrified horses. “Go!” he shouted, jumping back as black Thakandar steel flashed before him. The next time he was forced to meet the attack or lose his face, and the sheer force of the Myrddraal’s blow was enough to send him stumbling. Toseth recovered in time to send the black sword off to his left, and regained his balance to launch his own attack, pressing the Fade with heavy overhand chops before feinting a low slash and stabbing for the gut.
The tip of his blade almost snapped when it hit the Fade’s plate, jarring Toseth’s hands and forcing the Myrddraal to retreat momentarily. Seeing his chance, Toseth broke into a dead run towards his horse, vaulting over a Trolloc on his way. He had no time to stop, no time to pluck the badge from its shoulder to prove what he had done, but it did not matter. The Fade was at his heels for a moment, and then gone.
Toseth didn’t slow, but instead leapt up into the saddle and lifted the horse’s lead from the straining sapling. The mount was all too eager to bolt, heading straight and true back to the protective home it knew. Toseth breathed a sigh of relief that quickly caught in his throat. The moment he left the dying light of the fire, the Myrddraal appeared in the shadows in front of him and prepared to deal a deathstroke to the galloping horse. Rather than lose his way home--and risk a broken neck in the fall--Toseth gathered what courage and strength he had left and simply jumped from the saddle with his sword aimed at the Fade’s throat.
Again Thakandar steel flashed up to meet him, pushing aside his haphazard thrust just before it took off the cursed thing’s head. Toseth felt a stinging pain rake across his cheek, and another explode through his chest as he hit the Myrddraal and went rolling through the dry dirt of the Blightborder.
Both combatants regained their feet in moments, with the Fade approaching purposefully and Toseth stumbling back, trying to regain his senses. He was dizzy, bleeding, and suddenly sweating beyond exertion. It took all his concentration to turn aside the first volley of attacks, swinging his sword in wide arcs to drive aside the thrusts and slashes of the Myrddraal as fever swiftly hit him. The Fade’s advances were coming closer and closer to his skin with each passing moment as the strength was sapped from the Ji’s body by the mysterious illness passed on by a cut from Myrddraal steel. Toseth could feel the air hit his face as a slash broke through his defenses, but he jerked his head back in time to avoid it. The Myrddraal hissed, slashed again, broke through, but the air Toseth felt from the attack was not a soft brush. It was a concussive wave of heat that knocked him to his back. So this is what death feels like, he thought hazily before he lost co! nsciousness.
When his eyes opened again they did not see the cradling arms of the Creator nor the eternal damnation of the Dark One’s pit, they saw a smooth, familiar face hued golden by the rising sun. He turned his head slowly, saw the road ahead as something he had traveled before, saw it all between the perked brown ears of a horse. With a groan he sat up, set a hand on the pommel of his saddle to steady himself, and looked back to the Aes Sedai. “Where are we?”
“Headed back,” she said softly, looking him over carefully. “How do you feel.”
“Hungry,” Toseth responded immediately, “And tired... But I can’t sleep. We have to stop, I need to... I need to prove myself.” He reined in his horse and began to slip off the side when a firm hand rested on his shoulder.
“There are thirteen badges in your saddlebags, Ji’alantin,” her voice whispered soothingly, much the way Toseth would have spoken to a horse to calm it, “Thirteen badges, and an ugly brown flower I was able to keep because I had so much free time I could store it safely away. I will, of course, want it back before you return to the Tower, but you may keep it for now as proof of your accomplishments.”
Half-on and half-off his horse, Toseth could only listen, then reluctantly drag himself back into the saddle. “What accomplishments? That Fade had me until the Creator stepped in. I should be dead.”
“I hardly think I am so powerful, but thank you nonetheless, Ji’alantin.” The Aes Sedai seemed quite proud of herself, smiling smugly, and her horse pranced a little as it caught the mood.
Toseth was too tired to be startled right away, but soon a look of surprised anger crossed his face and he glowered sourly at her, “You? I told you to run when you had the chance.”
“The last time I listened to orders like that from my Warder,” she replied matter-of-factly, “it cost him his life. I was not, nor will I ever be willing to make that sacrifice a second time. Besides, the Tower does not spend years training you headstrong men to swing swords just for you to die chasing a silly cloak. I expect you to stay around for a long while, repaying the debt you owe the Tower.”
“As you command, Aes Sedai.”
When at last the walls of the Citadel appeared before them, the waning sun was just beginning to touch the horizon. Toseth splashed a bit of water on his face to wake up, and set all his gear in order so as not to look like some vagrant. The Aes Sedai was already preened and ready to meet the Council once more, presumably to share the story and discuss the goods and bads of Toseth’s performance as a Warder. The heavy oak doors swung open before them and Toseth dismounted with an ease that belied his sore muscles and overall fatigue.
He bowed as deeply as he could as Sigmund Gaidin stepped forward from the eerily quiet Warder Council that stood to welcome them back. “Do you come bearing proof of your success?”
Toseth gathered the badges from his saddlepack and presented them, then carefully pulled out the brown flower and offered it, as well, though clearly the badges had more significance outright than any plant would. He hoped somehow the meaning of the flower would become clear, but he could never be sure.
And he did not have time to wonder, either, as two servants quickly approached. One took his proof, the other led him out of the courtyard to a room that was so bright and immaculately clean that it made his eyes hurt. Once he was settled in the bath--with his armor and clothing leaving a trail to the tub that demonstrated his progression through undressing--Toseth had a few minutes alone to clean both himself and his mind. Whatever he could think to do, his opportunities were behind him and all that lay ahead was a ‘yay’ or ‘nay’ from the Council. He was just preparing to dry off and put on the provided clothing when the door opened and a servant stepped in. “A message from Sharine Sedai.”
Toseth blinked at the man, “What?”
“A message, sire. She says she’s glad to have been able to see you re--”
“Forget the message. Who sent it?”
The servant shifted a little, “Sharine Sedai, sire. She wishes to--”
“Thank you, give her my regards.” Toseth turned and sank back into the water, running a hand through his hair and frowning, troubled.
“But sir, you haven’t even--”
“Go!”
The servant bowed, glared, and left with nothing more than a curt, “Sire.”
Toseth sat in the bath a few minutes longer, staring dumbly into the murky water. Finally he broke from the trance and dressed, meeting another of the Tower’s servants to be led back to the courtyard. The Council had convened again, but in all truth is mind was not on whether or not he was to become a Gaidin. His eyes were trapped on the ageless woman off to the right, who smiled knowingly at him.
Even when Ellisande stepped forward he could not rip his gaze away from Sharine Taldah Sedai. The Aes Sedai who had started his life over for the second time. She had sent him to the Tower ten years ago to begin his training, and now she was there to finish it...
“Come forward. Kneel.”
Toseth moved forward, he knelt. He cried.
