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Darian Gedwyn
Part Two : A young boy in a land up north. “If one has lived a troubled life as I have, he might be inclined to forget about the parts without grief. Any normal human has had a youth, even I have. Some memories are pleasant, others are rather painful. Mine are no different…” ~ Darian Gedwyn
Eighty-one years it has been since my mother was born, sixty-two since my father’s birth and thirty-two since my own… Looking back upon my youth now gives me such a nostalgic feeling. As you’ve read before, I was born in the same Shienaran Citadel that saw the birth of my father. And maybe the birth of his father too; my fathers family has lived and served in this Citadel for a long time. Its fate is linked with the fate of my family, so it seems. As any scion of my family, I grew up with severe discipline and military training. The soldiers at the Citadel made it a point of honor to teach me the profession of a soldier as well as they could. Since I was very young, they brought me up with swordsmanship and warfare. I accompanied soldiers on patrol even before I could read or write. At age 8, I could read tracks that were more then a week old. At age 9, I could ride on horseback as any other soldier could: without hands. At age 10, my parents took the responsibility for my advanced education. My mother would teach me everything she knew about manipulation, negotiation, Aes Sedai politics, etiquette, the ropes of Daes Dai’mar and so on and so on. My father and I trained several hours per day. He wanted to make me ‘at least into a Gaidin’, but I realize it was his secret ambition so see me grow into a Blademaster one day. Time passed and everything felt the way it had to be. I had a busy life, but as my father used to say: “Who sticks to freedom will eventually become a slave to his desires. Who maintains discipline will attain freedom…” Among many other things my father was a philosopher, and a wise man. But a youth embodies more then just moments of rest and training. It also embodies moments of great grief, and one of the gravest of all, one of the two images that are carved the deepest in my heart was about to unfold. That specific day my mother took me along on an audience with the local landlord. They had made it a habit to replace my father on occasions like that, since he had an aversion of all sorts of formalities or official meetings. I was thirteen years old and allowed to go along… I had the time of my life; I could finally put all the lessons my mother had given me into practice. During my time there I subtly observed the people around me, while pretending to be but an innocent child. And by watching the people around me, I learned… I learned a great deal. On the way back home, I was delighted. I kept on talking without end about the things I had seen and done. Despite my harsh discipline and my strict education, I was but a thirteen-year-old after all and my eyes must have been sparkling like there was no tomorrow. Then, within an hour from our estimated arrival at the Citadel, we were ambushed. Sometimes a hoard of looting trollocs or highwaymen would make it all the way here. The former in an attempt to get back into the blight without risking their necks on the dangerous mountain paths that led around the Citadel, the latter if they hoped to loot a prosperous courier or a rich traveler. After all, there are as much criminals in Shienar as in any other country. Regardless, we were ambushed. It turned out to be a whole fist of trollocs, along with a couple of myrddraal. They were heavily loaded with booty and prepared to take a risk or two to get back home soon. Our escort immediately spread out to fight off the attack, while my mother tried to get me to safety. As I said before, despite my training I was nothing more then a child. A whole fist of trollocs against a Shienaran escort makes an even battle, but unfortunately that still leaves the myrddraal. Noticing a woman and child make their way out of battle awakes all their bestial instincts and immediately they pursued us. After a wild pursuit, our horse finally collapsed. My mother hid me along the side of the road and returned to a nearby bridge to make a last stand. Soon, the two myrddraal arrived. Their horses were exhausted as well, so they were surprised to see they prey still within their grasp. My mother, Aes Sedai as she was, knocked down their horses using the One Power. I can only describe the effects of what she did, as the One Power was even invisible to me as the breeze that blew through the cleft.
The myrddraal rolled out of their saddles and immediately had their swords in their hands. They split up, trying to attack my mother from both sides. Recalling all my lessons on strategy and small unit tactics, I could conclude these two were used to fighting as a team.
The details of that fight are still engraved in my memory. The myrddraal fought like demons, and my mother like a wolf protecting its cub. At long last, both myrddraal lie defeated on the bridge. Relieved, my mother set the dying creatures ablaze and turned around. Paralyzed and speechless by fear, I saw one of the burning Fades get up. It must have been out of its mind from pain, since no living being can bear that much pain. Blinded, its hand reached out for a weapon and its fingers touched the hilt of one of their cursed Trakan’dar blades. With a horrifying scream the burning myrddraal jumped up and attacked. As in slow motion I saw it happen. I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t even scream. All I ever could do was watch… At the sound of steel scraping on the ground, my mother turned around. She had a head-on collision with the living torch and I saw the cursed midnight-steel bore through her body. The flames immediately leaped over to her robe and hair. The myrddraal sank on its knees and fell backward. He moved no more. My mother turned around slowly. I could see the hilt of the sword against her chest. The sword had pierced her heart. Her head was wreathed in flames, her eyes wide from astonishment. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say some last words to me, then fell over the brink and tumbled down the cleft. I saw her fall; it seemed like an eternity before she disappeared below the surface of the river that flowed on the bottom. Only then my paralysis was broken and my voice restored. I screamed out the unbearable pain of the loss and tears rolled down my cheeks. I ran to the brink and stared down into the abyss, but couldn’t find a single trace of my mother. I don’t know how long I lay on the bridge, all I know it that I hadn’t moved a muscle till nightfall, when the remaining soldiers of our escort finally found me.
When reflecting on it later, their leader had a sad look in his eyes. He said he hardly recognized me as the boy I had been seen a few hours before. At first, he said, he feared I was out of my mind, driven mad by the loss. The sparkle in my eyes and the careless tone in my voice had vanished. From that day onward, my eyes have been the cold, frozen pools they are till present day. That was the day something died within me. The carelessness of my youth, everything young and pure-hearted Seigan stood for died, it fell down the chasm along with my mother.
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