A fortnight ago, Dragonsworn with the use of Saidin, Saidar, and brute muscle attacked the City of Tar Valon and the Tower itself. Five brave women of the White Tower, offer their stories of that day, to remind you of the threat the Dragonsworn potentially pose to us and other nations.
(Characters invovled: Chloro, Coshe, Maddy, Erulissie, Aleera)
For your reading pleasure, we give you, “The day the Dragonsworn attacked!”
Glittering large flakes of snow fell softly upon the shining walls as Chloro Sedai sat perched on a gilded chair in the tea house to the south of the White Tower. Hints of ginger and lime wafted from her teacup as she took a sip, her eyes focused on the latest edition of the “Shining Walls Times”. It was a wonder what scandal and shenanigans those outside of the Tower got up to on a daily basis, if they only knew what the sisters were capable of. Her mind continued to wander as she sipped from the cup hoping it would ease the tension in her head and the lump in her stomach. Today simply felt like an odd day.
Chloro’s exotic gray eyes lifted to see the commotion between a Lord and his “niece”, how she did hate that term being used for a fling between and older man and younger woman, but they had been using it since before she was born. What could it be, not enough money, not enough time, had the Lady of the house found out where the money was going? Odd though it may be, in Chloro’s mind, outside the Tower, there was very little that could not be persuaded to happen with a pouch a gold, a vial of poison, or a well-placed whore. Ah how fondly she remembered the days, before she knew how the world actually turned.
Chloro flinched as the tearoom shook, only slightly, but enough to sway the decorations strewn about it. A rumble could be heard in the distance afterword, she half wondered if the Browns or the Whites had actually managed to blow up part of the Tower this time. Taking the last few swigs of her tea she set down the cup and saucer leaving a gold mark on the table as payment and tip. With ease she donned her red slashed gray Kandori cloak with black mink fur trim and gathered her walking stick. It was simple, made of yew with a silver serpent-like hand. Who knew if a dagger might lie within it.
Making her way towards the door she froze, she could sense Saidar and a large amount of it throughout the city. Very few Aes Sedai were strong enough to pull enough of the power for her to sense it this far from the tower. She could count them on one hand, and it included the Amrylin seat herself. With Vigor in her step, she left the tearoom looking left towards the tower and nearly shivered. Smoke was rising and she could see battle weaves being flung back and forth. Stepping quickly, she nearly avoided two men rolling in the heat of battle together down the street.
Chloro’s eyes moved with the tumbling pair scanning them, one was a youngling the other she could spot with the uniform all too well, a Dragonsworn. How could that be, the broken militia group that held that name was silent since the false dragon had been captured and gentled. Were the reports true, that activity had resurfaced and male channelers were joining them? Either way it was not good. Extending out her right arm she caught the foot of one of the Dragonsworn giving enough of a pull to separate the pair. Her eyes blazed cold fury as her face stayed serene and calm.
Chloro firmly voiced, “what is the meaning of this!”
A flow of air slammed into Chloro’s left side as she waited for a response, knocking her off her feet and into the tearoom wall. Holding her left side she tried to regain her senses and her footing as she heard a man cry out for the last time, and a cackling woman yelling insults. Her mind kept repeating the same phrase, “this cannot be happening!”
Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
The winter chill nipped at Coshe Neofedd as she moved quickly and with purpose through the busy streets. She pulled her cloak close, barely covering bands along her dress, brown hair neatly tucked into the hood, and cheeks becoming a little red from the chilly wind. As she walked towards the Bean Tree Tavern, the smells of roasting meat, and ale began to fill the air.
"Maybe another day" she whispered to herself. "I have errands to run." Even though an accepted, she knew what would happen if she failed to gather a specific herb Mistress Laras had requested. Unconciously, she rubbed her gloved hands together, thinking about the hours spent as a Novice cleaning and scrubbing pans when she had drifted off to sleep in a lesson taught by Verin Sedai. She had vowed to become better, be what she can and serve all who needed it. This was part of why she came to the Tar Valon, that and of course a chance encounter with a Blue Aes Sedai while in the marketplace of Lugard while servingLord Neald. Not a powerful Lord by any means, but her family had always served Lord Neald. Being a servant under Lord Neald provided some advantages, he always wanted his servants to be skilled in reading, writing, interpreting and of course listening. He valued his servants for that, it was common place for nobles to forget that servants even existed and information was usually rewarded. Who would have thought that a trip to meet a wine merchant would change Coshe's life forever.
As she moved closer to Serpent Street, the bustle of the crowd began to change. Coshe slowed her pace and began listening closer, she began to change her direction and head towards an overhang to steer clear of the chill and snow. As she reached the overhang near the eastern intersection, she slowed her breath to listen closer, trying to discern the different noises she heard coming from a distance. They started to get
louder and closer. Coshe looked quizzically down the street unable to see much between the crowds. The sounds began growing, becoming clearer. A scream rang out as an arrow struck a man on the other side of the intersection. Coshe immediately felt the embrace of saidar, the warmth of the river flowed over her, embracing her.
"Remember what you've learned, help where you can help" Coshe whispered to herself. Coshe began to weave using flows of spirit to place armor over herself and moved quickly across the street to the man now bleeding heavily from his shoulder. She leaned down and says to the man "I am an accepted of the white tower. I am limited in my healing ability but I am going to try and help you, do you understand?" The man groaned in pain, as Coshe began to pull the arrow out and weave clumsily to heal the shoulder. She knew itwas not her strong suit but it will stop the bleeding until someone more skilled could assist. Her focus was solely on the man until the weaving was completed.
Coshe looked up to see people scattering and running towards the tower. Trumpets began blaring in the distance calling for the Valon Guard.
"What is happening? Is Tar Valon being attacked?" This hadn't happened since Artur Hawkwing, even the Aiel War the Aiel did not attack the city. The man who had been weaved began to clamber to his feet and started running towards the White Tower. "I need to get to the White Tower,
I need to help who I can, I need to get people safe," she thought to herself as she looked behind her. The calmouring of metal on metal could be heard getting closer. Coshe stood and turned to see what she could see while moving slowly backwards. As she backed away she could not make out what was happening but knew she had to head to the tower to do what she could to help.
She turned on her heel and began to gather speed moving towards the tower. As she rounded a bend she ran into a man's chest with a loud thunk. Coshe fell to the ground, dazed and confused grabbing her head,trying to shake the stars from her eyes. Looking up she saw a large man, scarred with mismatched armor holding a bloody sword staring down at her. "Who are you? why are you doing this?" she screamed loudly.
"We preach the gospel, have you not heard the words of the Karaethon Cycle and the Prophecy?" the man said with a near fervor in his eyes, spittle running down his chin.
"Dragonsworn? How did they get into the city? Why would they attack Tar Valon?" she thought. The man moved forward towards Coshe, raising his sword.
"Those who will not follow he who was born of the dawn will fall for they are nothing more than servants of the dark" he growled. Coshe began to weave quickly, almost unnoticed by the zealot who approached her. The man stopped in his tracks dropping his sword and clawing at his eyes, blinded and screaming, with a growl.
Coshe stood up and began running to the White Tower again in the distance. "I need to get to the tower I need to try and help, I don't know where I will be needed but I know I need to support those who need it."
Coshe's thoughts raced as quickly as her feet as she ran to help who she could.
"Maybe another day" she whispered to herself. "I have errands to run." Even though an accepted, she knew what would happen if she failed to gather a specific herb Mistress Laras had requested. Unconciously, she rubbed her gloved hands together, thinking about the hours spent as a Novice cleaning and scrubbing pans when she had drifted off to sleep in a lesson taught by Verin Sedai. She had vowed to become better, be what she can and serve all who needed it. This was part of why she came to the Tar Valon, that and of course a chance encounter with a Blue Aes Sedai while in the marketplace of Lugard while servingLord Neald. Not a powerful Lord by any means, but her family had always served Lord Neald. Being a servant under Lord Neald provided some advantages, he always wanted his servants to be skilled in reading, writing, interpreting and of course listening. He valued his servants for that, it was common place for nobles to forget that servants even existed and information was usually rewarded. Who would have thought that a trip to meet a wine merchant would change Coshe's life forever.
As she moved closer to Serpent Street, the bustle of the crowd began to change. Coshe slowed her pace and began listening closer, she began to change her direction and head towards an overhang to steer clear of the chill and snow. As she reached the overhang near the eastern intersection, she slowed her breath to listen closer, trying to discern the different noises she heard coming from a distance. They started to get
louder and closer. Coshe looked quizzically down the street unable to see much between the crowds. The sounds began growing, becoming clearer. A scream rang out as an arrow struck a man on the other side of the intersection. Coshe immediately felt the embrace of saidar, the warmth of the river flowed over her, embracing her.
"Remember what you've learned, help where you can help" Coshe whispered to herself. Coshe began to weave using flows of spirit to place armor over herself and moved quickly across the street to the man now bleeding heavily from his shoulder. She leaned down and says to the man "I am an accepted of the white tower. I am limited in my healing ability but I am going to try and help you, do you understand?" The man groaned in pain, as Coshe began to pull the arrow out and weave clumsily to heal the shoulder. She knew itwas not her strong suit but it will stop the bleeding until someone more skilled could assist. Her focus was solely on the man until the weaving was completed.
Coshe looked up to see people scattering and running towards the tower. Trumpets began blaring in the distance calling for the Valon Guard.
"What is happening? Is Tar Valon being attacked?" This hadn't happened since Artur Hawkwing, even the Aiel War the Aiel did not attack the city. The man who had been weaved began to clamber to his feet and started running towards the White Tower. "I need to get to the White Tower,
I need to help who I can, I need to get people safe," she thought to herself as she looked behind her. The calmouring of metal on metal could be heard getting closer. Coshe stood and turned to see what she could see while moving slowly backwards. As she backed away she could not make out what was happening but knew she had to head to the tower to do what she could to help.
She turned on her heel and began to gather speed moving towards the tower. As she rounded a bend she ran into a man's chest with a loud thunk. Coshe fell to the ground, dazed and confused grabbing her head,trying to shake the stars from her eyes. Looking up she saw a large man, scarred with mismatched armor holding a bloody sword staring down at her. "Who are you? why are you doing this?" she screamed loudly.
"We preach the gospel, have you not heard the words of the Karaethon Cycle and the Prophecy?" the man said with a near fervor in his eyes, spittle running down his chin.
"Dragonsworn? How did they get into the city? Why would they attack Tar Valon?" she thought. The man moved forward towards Coshe, raising his sword.
"Those who will not follow he who was born of the dawn will fall for they are nothing more than servants of the dark" he growled. Coshe began to weave quickly, almost unnoticed by the zealot who approached her. The man stopped in his tracks dropping his sword and clawing at his eyes, blinded and screaming, with a growl.
Coshe stood up and began running to the White Tower again in the distance. "I need to get to the tower I need to try and help, I don't know where I will be needed but I know I need to support those who need it."
Coshe's thoughts raced as quickly as her feet as she ran to help who she could.
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
Maddy was snuggled in her favorite reading spot in a hidden corner of the library, snacking on dried fruit and sipping honeyed tea whilst taking a much needed break from the endless chores allotted to a Novice. As she devoured her latest book on Cadsuane Sedai, she felt the warmth of the fire on her face and stocking feet. She glanced out the window observing the snow falling gently on the majestic towers of Tar Valon, coating them in a delicate blanket of white. This brought to mind happy memories of the family vacation home in the mountains. Feeling a sense of peace, she snuggled further into the cushions, her eyes drooping gently.
Startled awake by a loud bang that shook the Tower, Maddy quickly jumped to her feet, scattering the dried fruit over the cushions in her haste to put on her boots. Glancing around frantically trying to make sense of what was happening she heard an Aes Sedai shouting
“All Novices to the upper floors. The Tower is under attack”.
She ran to the window watching the black smoke billowing up and darkening the sky. The falling snow was no longer visible in the sky. The pungent smell of the smoke mixed with burning flesh hit her suddenly, making her retch.
Maddy had no intention of hiding with the other Novices, she was determined to help and put to use all she had learned. Steeling herself from the dust, smells and chaos, she slipped past the Aes Sedai herding the Novices out of the library. Almost without thinking she embraced saidar, weaving spirit around her as she ran out to the hallway.
Startled awake by a loud bang that shook the Tower, Maddy quickly jumped to her feet, scattering the dried fruit over the cushions in her haste to put on her boots. Glancing around frantically trying to make sense of what was happening she heard an Aes Sedai shouting
“All Novices to the upper floors. The Tower is under attack”.
She ran to the window watching the black smoke billowing up and darkening the sky. The falling snow was no longer visible in the sky. The pungent smell of the smoke mixed with burning flesh hit her suddenly, making her retch.
Maddy had no intention of hiding with the other Novices, she was determined to help and put to use all she had learned. Steeling herself from the dust, smells and chaos, she slipped past the Aes Sedai herding the Novices out of the library. Almost without thinking she embraced saidar, weaving spirit around her as she ran out to the hallway.
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
It was surprising how rarely being right corresponded with being happy.
The thought formed perversely in Erulisse Sedai’s mind as she watched a ball of fire careen across the surface of South Harbor. It was the size of a small ox and seemed to skitter on a trail of superheated steam. The Gull, a river trader Erulisse had chartered to delay her return to Tar Valon, had no chance to evade. Even if it had been quick enough, the vessel was caught square between the massive pillars which marked the entrance to the harbor. The ball of flame smashed into her bow like a battering ram, blowing the thin timber scantlings to kindling and throwing burning pieces of rigging and sail cloth in all directions in a spectacular pyrotechnic display.
“Aes…” Captain Chastain managed before a storm of splinters swept into him, qulling him like a porcupine and making his frog-like eyes bulge as his mouth gouted blood onto the Brown Sister. The stocky captain staggered backwards, reaching for his own ruined back before he went over the railing and crashed to the lower deck with a wet thud. The Gull was already lurching down into the water as South Harbor rushed into her shattered bow. The dark waters of the river churned like a mill race, completing the fireballs work in a matter of moments. The sailors below might still be alive, but those on duty, and that was most of them, were down, riddled with splinters or simply blown apart. They were dead men, though the unlucky among them weren’t quite done dying. Erulisse herself was unharmed, shielded by Captain Chastain’s body from the lethal cloud of splinters. Cheap at the cost of a spray of aspirated blood.
Another ball of fire was lifting from the quay. She wouldn’t be lucky a second time.
Erulisse leaped over the transom a moment before a second blast struck. There was a moment of vertiginous drop before she hit the icy surface of the river. Thirty pounds of plate armor dragged her down, fish, flotsam, and sinking body parts visible as black silhouettes against light of the burning ship. The cold, the pressure, and the lack of air were triple hammers in her mind as the dead weight of her armor dragged her inexorably to her death.
There was no struggle. There was only surrender.
Saidar blossomed around Erulisse like a halo as knives of air slashed the buckles and straps of her armor in a dozen places. The heavy steel came apart around falling away into the depths like the petals of a flower. Euphoric from oxygen deprivation and the sudden cocktail of Saidar and freedom, Erulisse kicked upwards towards the fire lit surface. Sweet air filled her lungs as she breached, stinging her chest with its chill but delightful compared to the freezing river. Debris rained down around her at irregular intervals, burning timbers quenching with queasy pops as they struck the icy water.
The Gull was nothing but smoking flotsam, and Tar Valon was burning. It was going to be a long day.
The thought formed perversely in Erulisse Sedai’s mind as she watched a ball of fire careen across the surface of South Harbor. It was the size of a small ox and seemed to skitter on a trail of superheated steam. The Gull, a river trader Erulisse had chartered to delay her return to Tar Valon, had no chance to evade. Even if it had been quick enough, the vessel was caught square between the massive pillars which marked the entrance to the harbor. The ball of flame smashed into her bow like a battering ram, blowing the thin timber scantlings to kindling and throwing burning pieces of rigging and sail cloth in all directions in a spectacular pyrotechnic display.
“Aes…” Captain Chastain managed before a storm of splinters swept into him, qulling him like a porcupine and making his frog-like eyes bulge as his mouth gouted blood onto the Brown Sister. The stocky captain staggered backwards, reaching for his own ruined back before he went over the railing and crashed to the lower deck with a wet thud. The Gull was already lurching down into the water as South Harbor rushed into her shattered bow. The dark waters of the river churned like a mill race, completing the fireballs work in a matter of moments. The sailors below might still be alive, but those on duty, and that was most of them, were down, riddled with splinters or simply blown apart. They were dead men, though the unlucky among them weren’t quite done dying. Erulisse herself was unharmed, shielded by Captain Chastain’s body from the lethal cloud of splinters. Cheap at the cost of a spray of aspirated blood.
Another ball of fire was lifting from the quay. She wouldn’t be lucky a second time.
Erulisse leaped over the transom a moment before a second blast struck. There was a moment of vertiginous drop before she hit the icy surface of the river. Thirty pounds of plate armor dragged her down, fish, flotsam, and sinking body parts visible as black silhouettes against light of the burning ship. The cold, the pressure, and the lack of air were triple hammers in her mind as the dead weight of her armor dragged her inexorably to her death.
There was no struggle. There was only surrender.
Saidar blossomed around Erulisse like a halo as knives of air slashed the buckles and straps of her armor in a dozen places. The heavy steel came apart around falling away into the depths like the petals of a flower. Euphoric from oxygen deprivation and the sudden cocktail of Saidar and freedom, Erulisse kicked upwards towards the fire lit surface. Sweet air filled her lungs as she breached, stinging her chest with its chill but delightful compared to the freezing river. Debris rained down around her at irregular intervals, burning timbers quenching with queasy pops as they struck the icy water.
The Gull was nothing but smoking flotsam, and Tar Valon was burning. It was going to be a long day.
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
She was seated near the north-facing windows in the library’s large reading room. Generally she sat and studied here to enjoy some of the natural light, but that was in short supply with the sky hung with heavy clouds and snowfall. No, today this behavior was controlled purely by habit. Notes sat before her, a multitude of half-formed thoughts, outlines, and ideas. Off to the side were several books, curated by her mentor, Aelrena Sedai, to help better prepare her for a meeting with Catisune Sedai. In the stack were Blood and Dirt, Milking the Sky’s Tears, and the Prophecies of the Dragon. The latter was not her focus, although perhaps it should have been. Instead, today, she had before her a compilation of poetry curated by Caitsune Sedai. She was reading a fragment of a poem:
We rode on the winds of the rising storm,
We ran to the sounds of the thunder.
We danced among the lightning bolts,
and tore the world asunder.
There were no notes on the author, where they were from, when it was written, the intended audience; it was all a big question mark. This could have been written yesterday, a year ago, a decade, a century, a millennia, or more. The last phrase, certainly, could be taken as alluding to The Breaking or Tarmon Gai'don. Written at a different time, it could be far more metaphorical. Whether written today or in a previous Age, we might be inclined to state there were significant differences in those times and the people that lived then. On the other hand, one might very well argue that the nature of people doesn’t change much at all. We strive. We succeed, we fail. We love, we hate. We speak truths, we deceive. We seek to help, we seek to dominate. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. We are different, we are the same.
Her eyes lifted toward the large windows, peering out and watching the snow drift down. There was a light breeze, causing the falling flakes to flit to and fro, a delicate dance. The flakes certainly did not ride on the winds of the rising storm. No, ‘rising’ spoke of the moments that came -before-. Moments where one might feel anxious, or have a sense of foreboding. Intensity. Power. Certainty … no, inevitability. The storm was rising. It would not be ignored. One would smell it on the air as it came, announcing itself. The breeze would become a gust, the gust a gale, and the gale eventually would become a storm.
Her eyes tracked from side to side, and ever downward, as she watched a twirling pair of snowflakes fall groundward, joining their previously fallen companions. Her eyes lifted then to motion about the yard outside. She followed a number of folks about their business of the day: servants, bundled up and with baskets in hands; a youngling headed around towards the Warder’s Yard; and a pair of novices leaned in close to one another, sharing some secret before bursting into giggles. She left the book and her notes at the table, soft steps carrying her up to the glass, giving her a better vantage of those outside; on the outside each of them was a picture of relative calm and normalcy, although almost certainly each faced their own challenges, whether external or internal. But those challenges were hidden beneath the surface in this present moment. This moment, such a contrast to the passage of the poem.
We rode on the winds of the rising storm.
CRACK
A deafening boom from outside. The facade of calm shattered, fears always lurking beneath were made manifest in the time it took to draw breath. The people in the courtyard scattered.
We ran to the sounds of the thunder.
She allowed herself the moment to embrace Saidar and place a quick weave of protection about herself before she hurried off, abandoning her books and notes. She passed the formerly giggling pair of novices as she left the White Tower. They were hurrying, joy and mischief now absent from their expressions. She moved into the yard that surrounded the White Tower, her own footprints joining others in the snow. She headed south into cacophony and the smell of smoke. People were running, but running without direction. Fear had gripped them, a contagious thing that pulled in others, hastening their descent. It threatened to sweep her up as well, but she had faced worse fears before, she had faced the very personal and she had come out the other side. On the inside, her mind raced, taking in the overwhelming sights and sounds. Externally, calm. Calm needed to be projected to help those around her. A young woman, hands lacerated and shoulder burnt, stumbled and fell. Aleera was by her side within moments, crouched down, hem of her dress growing wet and soiled. She took the young woman’s hands and held her eyes for a moment. Her words were soft and even, but well-heard; not in spite of that, but because of that. “Go inside,” she urged the young woman, gesturing to the north, “You will find those who can help tend to your injuries. You -will- be safe.”
She could feel it now, women channeling nearby. From too many directions to readily make sense of.
She saw the lightning come down from the sky this time, further south.
CRACK.
Screams to the east and west. -This-, whatever -this- was, was happening all about her. Hurried steps carried her south. Lightning continued to flash, called down from the skies, accompanied in this dance by thunderous blasts.
We danced among the lightning bolts.
She turned a corner only to be buffeted by a number of people running in the opposite direction. Fear tore at their expressions; they pushed, they shoved, they knocked down their fellow citizens in their attempts to escape. She saw what they fled from for a moment. She reacted too slowly as she saw his hands moving. She didn’t feel him channel, she couldn’t, of course, but she felt the effects of his use of the One Power. A booming explosion, a blast causing the earth to erupt. It flung rocks everywhere with great force as the ground was rent apart, sending her and others sprawling, even as the rocks battered and slashed.
And tore the world asunder.
We stood on the ramparts, the storm rising against us,
Thunder boomed, but we stood tall.
Lightning lashed, people feared, people turned,
And yet we held the world to prevent its fall.
We rode on the winds of the rising storm,
We ran to the sounds of the thunder.
We danced among the lightning bolts,
and tore the world asunder.
There were no notes on the author, where they were from, when it was written, the intended audience; it was all a big question mark. This could have been written yesterday, a year ago, a decade, a century, a millennia, or more. The last phrase, certainly, could be taken as alluding to The Breaking or Tarmon Gai'don. Written at a different time, it could be far more metaphorical. Whether written today or in a previous Age, we might be inclined to state there were significant differences in those times and the people that lived then. On the other hand, one might very well argue that the nature of people doesn’t change much at all. We strive. We succeed, we fail. We love, we hate. We speak truths, we deceive. We seek to help, we seek to dominate. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. We are different, we are the same.
Her eyes lifted toward the large windows, peering out and watching the snow drift down. There was a light breeze, causing the falling flakes to flit to and fro, a delicate dance. The flakes certainly did not ride on the winds of the rising storm. No, ‘rising’ spoke of the moments that came -before-. Moments where one might feel anxious, or have a sense of foreboding. Intensity. Power. Certainty … no, inevitability. The storm was rising. It would not be ignored. One would smell it on the air as it came, announcing itself. The breeze would become a gust, the gust a gale, and the gale eventually would become a storm.
Her eyes tracked from side to side, and ever downward, as she watched a twirling pair of snowflakes fall groundward, joining their previously fallen companions. Her eyes lifted then to motion about the yard outside. She followed a number of folks about their business of the day: servants, bundled up and with baskets in hands; a youngling headed around towards the Warder’s Yard; and a pair of novices leaned in close to one another, sharing some secret before bursting into giggles. She left the book and her notes at the table, soft steps carrying her up to the glass, giving her a better vantage of those outside; on the outside each of them was a picture of relative calm and normalcy, although almost certainly each faced their own challenges, whether external or internal. But those challenges were hidden beneath the surface in this present moment. This moment, such a contrast to the passage of the poem.
We rode on the winds of the rising storm.
CRACK
A deafening boom from outside. The facade of calm shattered, fears always lurking beneath were made manifest in the time it took to draw breath. The people in the courtyard scattered.
We ran to the sounds of the thunder.
She allowed herself the moment to embrace Saidar and place a quick weave of protection about herself before she hurried off, abandoning her books and notes. She passed the formerly giggling pair of novices as she left the White Tower. They were hurrying, joy and mischief now absent from their expressions. She moved into the yard that surrounded the White Tower, her own footprints joining others in the snow. She headed south into cacophony and the smell of smoke. People were running, but running without direction. Fear had gripped them, a contagious thing that pulled in others, hastening their descent. It threatened to sweep her up as well, but she had faced worse fears before, she had faced the very personal and she had come out the other side. On the inside, her mind raced, taking in the overwhelming sights and sounds. Externally, calm. Calm needed to be projected to help those around her. A young woman, hands lacerated and shoulder burnt, stumbled and fell. Aleera was by her side within moments, crouched down, hem of her dress growing wet and soiled. She took the young woman’s hands and held her eyes for a moment. Her words were soft and even, but well-heard; not in spite of that, but because of that. “Go inside,” she urged the young woman, gesturing to the north, “You will find those who can help tend to your injuries. You -will- be safe.”
She could feel it now, women channeling nearby. From too many directions to readily make sense of.
She saw the lightning come down from the sky this time, further south.
CRACK.
Screams to the east and west. -This-, whatever -this- was, was happening all about her. Hurried steps carried her south. Lightning continued to flash, called down from the skies, accompanied in this dance by thunderous blasts.
We danced among the lightning bolts.
She turned a corner only to be buffeted by a number of people running in the opposite direction. Fear tore at their expressions; they pushed, they shoved, they knocked down their fellow citizens in their attempts to escape. She saw what they fled from for a moment. She reacted too slowly as she saw his hands moving. She didn’t feel him channel, she couldn’t, of course, but she felt the effects of his use of the One Power. A booming explosion, a blast causing the earth to erupt. It flung rocks everywhere with great force as the ground was rent apart, sending her and others sprawling, even as the rocks battered and slashed.
And tore the world asunder.
We stood on the ramparts, the storm rising against us,
Thunder boomed, but we stood tall.
Lightning lashed, people feared, people turned,
And yet we held the world to prevent its fall.
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
Cold air assaulted her lungs as Chloro used her black lacquered cane to stand, no physical ailment required her to have it, but for Grays, the pomp and show of nobility often provided more leverage than not. Pain radiated her side from the blast of air, dulling the ache of her muscles on the right side of her body from hitting the wall. Gray eyes began to focus on the scene in front of her of the youngling still alive with a Dragonsworn sprawl out, the cloudy dulling of death in their eyes. A Red had joined the youngling as the woman channeling Saidar for the opposition assaulted them with hail, pelting the pair.
The bond quivered in her mind as she could feel Finan’s pulse raise and anger build, if the wool-headed lummox got himself killed in a berserk state, she had half a mind to find some weave to bring him back and slap him for it. Moving with a slight limp she looked to the Red and the woman shared a knowing look as Chloro moved past the battle weaves north towards the tower. Merchant Square for the most part was untouched. Charr marks stained the paving stones in odd patterns, but the fountain stood without a mark. For a moment it seemed like the square was the eye of the storm.
Her waking stick aiding her she moved through the square without being assaulted to find three Aes Sedai facing a man in his prime, each sister holding the maximum of what she could as they deflected random fire balls and launched their own. Internally Chloro rolled her eyes, of course they had to male channeler’s, the first war had not taught them how dangerous they were. With her mind she reached out, Saidar flooding her as weaves of air pulled from the area around the now four Aes Sedai. Weaving them she formed a wall of air to launch at the tainted male.
A sudden cracking came from above as a large icicle, melting from the mans own use of fire broke off the second story of a home striking the idiot square on his shoulders. The man dropped instantly with the wind knocked out of him. A brown among the woman already engaged with him snapped a shield into place as the other two linked with her to maintain it. Fortunately, Chloro did not have to weave in this battle, no one won in this, both sides would suffer heavy casualties. Maintaining her hold on Saidar and letting the wall of air unravel she moved northward again, towards the tower square and the flicker, flicker of multiple Sedai battle weaving.
Her eyes widened as an Accepted stumbled south, the child’s dress marked and stained with a deep open wound to her abdomen. Pain fleeing her at the sight of one of her charges heavily wounded she rushed forward dropping to her knees catching the girl as she moved jerkily forward nearly collapsing.
“Rest child, the bleeding will not stop if you keep moving” Chloro offered in a motherly tone wrapping her arms around the accepted allowing the girl to rest against her.
“They came from no where Chloro Sedai, the Tower square burns, I barely escaped but Reeta Sedai has fallen.” Gikarta offered as she slumped against Chloro breathing raggedly.
Reeta had been of the White, though she could easily have gone Green, and her warder was sought after by half the Green Ajah. She had perfected the use collapsing cages that could be woven on shadow spawn out of air and spirit that would crush the life out of them. Any sister lost; was a loss the tower could not afford. Chloro stayed with her back straight and her face a mask of serene calm while her emotions turmoiled inside. Flows of spirit came to her as she delved at the girl, her eyes not seeing Gikarta’s chest had stopped moving moments ago.
A guttural feral agonized scream could be heard south of the tower square, as a women lost a child in the snow-covered streets of Tar Valon
The bond quivered in her mind as she could feel Finan’s pulse raise and anger build, if the wool-headed lummox got himself killed in a berserk state, she had half a mind to find some weave to bring him back and slap him for it. Moving with a slight limp she looked to the Red and the woman shared a knowing look as Chloro moved past the battle weaves north towards the tower. Merchant Square for the most part was untouched. Charr marks stained the paving stones in odd patterns, but the fountain stood without a mark. For a moment it seemed like the square was the eye of the storm.
Her waking stick aiding her she moved through the square without being assaulted to find three Aes Sedai facing a man in his prime, each sister holding the maximum of what she could as they deflected random fire balls and launched their own. Internally Chloro rolled her eyes, of course they had to male channeler’s, the first war had not taught them how dangerous they were. With her mind she reached out, Saidar flooding her as weaves of air pulled from the area around the now four Aes Sedai. Weaving them she formed a wall of air to launch at the tainted male.
A sudden cracking came from above as a large icicle, melting from the mans own use of fire broke off the second story of a home striking the idiot square on his shoulders. The man dropped instantly with the wind knocked out of him. A brown among the woman already engaged with him snapped a shield into place as the other two linked with her to maintain it. Fortunately, Chloro did not have to weave in this battle, no one won in this, both sides would suffer heavy casualties. Maintaining her hold on Saidar and letting the wall of air unravel she moved northward again, towards the tower square and the flicker, flicker of multiple Sedai battle weaving.
Her eyes widened as an Accepted stumbled south, the child’s dress marked and stained with a deep open wound to her abdomen. Pain fleeing her at the sight of one of her charges heavily wounded she rushed forward dropping to her knees catching the girl as she moved jerkily forward nearly collapsing.
“Rest child, the bleeding will not stop if you keep moving” Chloro offered in a motherly tone wrapping her arms around the accepted allowing the girl to rest against her.
“They came from no where Chloro Sedai, the Tower square burns, I barely escaped but Reeta Sedai has fallen.” Gikarta offered as she slumped against Chloro breathing raggedly.
Reeta had been of the White, though she could easily have gone Green, and her warder was sought after by half the Green Ajah. She had perfected the use collapsing cages that could be woven on shadow spawn out of air and spirit that would crush the life out of them. Any sister lost; was a loss the tower could not afford. Chloro stayed with her back straight and her face a mask of serene calm while her emotions turmoiled inside. Flows of spirit came to her as she delved at the girl, her eyes not seeing Gikarta’s chest had stopped moving moments ago.
A guttural feral agonized scream could be heard south of the tower square, as a women lost a child in the snow-covered streets of Tar Valon
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
As Coshe made it closer to the sunrise gate, she saw the crowds beginning to thin.
“That can be only one thing,” she thought as she raced closer, “there must’ve been a fight near here.” Skirting the corner gave her the confirmation she needed. Bodies scattered along the ground, some the Tower guard, some wearing mismatched armor, some simply people caught in the wrong place or trying to make it to safety. To the north, a fire raged in what used to be a home. Coshe sped towards the gate as a Tower Guardsman looked to her, pike in hand. He seemed near exhausted, and his face looked like he had seen things he would sooner forget. She let her cloak drop to reveal her white and banded dress and he lowered his pike. Coshe slid to a stop near the gates.
“Bannerman I need to get into the tower to help who I can” Coshe exclaimed, nearly out of breath.
“I understand, but we cannot open the gates while Tar Valon is under attack” was the quick response. Coshe nodded to herself. It made sense, you need to protect the many to prevent those from entering that would do harm to the tower. Coshe’s thoughts were stopped suddenly by the Bannerman yelling “Look out, more of them!” Coshe turned to face the attackers, the looters, the zealots. At this point she didn’t care what they were called, all she knew was they intended to do harm to her, and her family, the family she made in the tower.
“I know I need to protect them. I may not be the strongest, but I can fight to help those that are close to me,” Coshe thought to herself, and she felt the warm embrace of saidar rushing through her body again. A handful of Dragonsworn charged at the guardsmen that remained at the gate, the usual grouping of 10 men protecting the sunrise gate had been cut short to 4. She didn’t have to think about why, all she had to do was look around to understand where they were. Reaching deep into her mind, she began to move almost as if in a dance, weaving water and air to form spikes of ice that she launched towards the attackers. A man fell… she had never had to defend herself from a man before. She had fought a trolloc while studying a waygate once. As she studied the leaves and the stone, the waygate winked to life and out popped a beast ready to tear her to pieces. That made sense, but a man, even a crazed zealot, it seemed more real, more impactful and pulled at her soul knowing what she had to do. But she would because she needed to protect those that could not protect themselves.
She didn’t have too long to think as she backed away weaving again, this time focusing on just fire to launch streaks of flames at a man running at her with an axe. He screamed as he dropped his axe, the burns running over his hands. A guardsman quickly drove his pike into the man’s shoulder forcing him down. Coshe turned just in time to see a shield hit her across her body, knocking her to the ground, oxygen taken from her like a thief.
“Get up or you’re dead! Get up or you’re dead!” She screamed in her own mind. She began to rise as she heard a roar from the Bannerman bringing the shaft of the pike across the man’s head, dropping him to the ground. He reached down to help her up and she looked behind him to see what had happened to the rest of the men, attackers and defenders. The answer was clear in a quick glance, half a dozen dragonsworn lay in various states around the gate, and with them the remaining guardsmen. Coshe took the bannerman’s hand, as he helped her rise to her feet.
“Thank you,” she coughed out. As she stood up, the bannerman looked around.
“I’ll need help…. “ he stated in a desperate tone. “I’ll open the gate, but I need you to bring back more help to defend this position, I cannot do it alone” Coshe nodded quickly, not passing up a chance to help those that are in need and went to the gate as the bannerman unlocked it.
“I’ll be back, with help, I promise.” Coshe knew what those words meant, she may have yet to take the oaths on the rod, but she knew to always tell the truth, and a promise like this would not be broken by her.
“That can be only one thing,” she thought as she raced closer, “there must’ve been a fight near here.” Skirting the corner gave her the confirmation she needed. Bodies scattered along the ground, some the Tower guard, some wearing mismatched armor, some simply people caught in the wrong place or trying to make it to safety. To the north, a fire raged in what used to be a home. Coshe sped towards the gate as a Tower Guardsman looked to her, pike in hand. He seemed near exhausted, and his face looked like he had seen things he would sooner forget. She let her cloak drop to reveal her white and banded dress and he lowered his pike. Coshe slid to a stop near the gates.
“Bannerman I need to get into the tower to help who I can” Coshe exclaimed, nearly out of breath.
“I understand, but we cannot open the gates while Tar Valon is under attack” was the quick response. Coshe nodded to herself. It made sense, you need to protect the many to prevent those from entering that would do harm to the tower. Coshe’s thoughts were stopped suddenly by the Bannerman yelling “Look out, more of them!” Coshe turned to face the attackers, the looters, the zealots. At this point she didn’t care what they were called, all she knew was they intended to do harm to her, and her family, the family she made in the tower.
“I know I need to protect them. I may not be the strongest, but I can fight to help those that are close to me,” Coshe thought to herself, and she felt the warm embrace of saidar rushing through her body again. A handful of Dragonsworn charged at the guardsmen that remained at the gate, the usual grouping of 10 men protecting the sunrise gate had been cut short to 4. She didn’t have to think about why, all she had to do was look around to understand where they were. Reaching deep into her mind, she began to move almost as if in a dance, weaving water and air to form spikes of ice that she launched towards the attackers. A man fell… she had never had to defend herself from a man before. She had fought a trolloc while studying a waygate once. As she studied the leaves and the stone, the waygate winked to life and out popped a beast ready to tear her to pieces. That made sense, but a man, even a crazed zealot, it seemed more real, more impactful and pulled at her soul knowing what she had to do. But she would because she needed to protect those that could not protect themselves.
She didn’t have too long to think as she backed away weaving again, this time focusing on just fire to launch streaks of flames at a man running at her with an axe. He screamed as he dropped his axe, the burns running over his hands. A guardsman quickly drove his pike into the man’s shoulder forcing him down. Coshe turned just in time to see a shield hit her across her body, knocking her to the ground, oxygen taken from her like a thief.
“Get up or you’re dead! Get up or you’re dead!” She screamed in her own mind. She began to rise as she heard a roar from the Bannerman bringing the shaft of the pike across the man’s head, dropping him to the ground. He reached down to help her up and she looked behind him to see what had happened to the rest of the men, attackers and defenders. The answer was clear in a quick glance, half a dozen dragonsworn lay in various states around the gate, and with them the remaining guardsmen. Coshe took the bannerman’s hand, as he helped her rise to her feet.
“Thank you,” she coughed out. As she stood up, the bannerman looked around.
“I’ll need help…. “ he stated in a desperate tone. “I’ll open the gate, but I need you to bring back more help to defend this position, I cannot do it alone” Coshe nodded quickly, not passing up a chance to help those that are in need and went to the gate as the bannerman unlocked it.
“I’ll be back, with help, I promise.” Coshe knew what those words meant, she may have yet to take the oaths on the rod, but she knew to always tell the truth, and a promise like this would not be broken by her.
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
The clash of swords and the crackle of saidar echoed through the corridors. Maddy stealthfully moved to the entrance hall, her pace quickened by her fear, her feet moving forward with bravery. The air hummed with energy and the clash of steel. The roar of men and women screaming in pain and anger drowned out all other sounds. With a racing heart she surveyed the destruction. Maddy watched as Aes Sedai, Warders and Accepted were frantically engaged in a desperate defense of the Tower's inner chambers. The Aes Sedai’s colorful shawls billowed in the heated air as they channeled the One Power. The Warders cloaks shifting, making it hard to determine which way they were moving. The Accepted banded dresses all covered in blood and grime.
Slipping unnoticed to the Warders Practice yard, her attention was drawn to a secluded corner of the courtyard under her favorite reading tree. She observed Laras, her girth surprisingly nimble as she moved from person to person assessing the injured and calling out orders to everyone in her earshot, using her most commanding voice. Her many chins wobbled as she used her apron to distribute bandages and ointments. Maddy made her way to the triage area and began moving deftly from body to body checking for life, assessing wounds, drawing weaves of earth water and spirit to heal those who needed, offering comfort to those beyond help.
Her attention was drawn to the entranceway where she heard loud voices, screams and watched as people stepped over each other to get away from something that was terrifying them. A man was there, moving his hands as if he was weaving. Fear and panic set in as she realized he really WAS weaving. Before she could react a blunt force of air hit Maddy directly in her chest knocking the wind out of her. Without thinking, before catching her breath, she embraced saidar rapidly channeling earth, fire and spirit, blinding him. The Dragonsworn stumbled and reached for a fast hold. Simultaneously a passing Warder entered the yard wildly swinging his double bladed axe. With one mighty blow, he deftly chopped the weaving man’s arm off at the shoulder. Blood and gore splattered throughout the yard, leaving clumps and stickiness over all as the blinded man crumpled in agony.
Slipping unnoticed to the Warders Practice yard, her attention was drawn to a secluded corner of the courtyard under her favorite reading tree. She observed Laras, her girth surprisingly nimble as she moved from person to person assessing the injured and calling out orders to everyone in her earshot, using her most commanding voice. Her many chins wobbled as she used her apron to distribute bandages and ointments. Maddy made her way to the triage area and began moving deftly from body to body checking for life, assessing wounds, drawing weaves of earth water and spirit to heal those who needed, offering comfort to those beyond help.
Her attention was drawn to the entranceway where she heard loud voices, screams and watched as people stepped over each other to get away from something that was terrifying them. A man was there, moving his hands as if he was weaving. Fear and panic set in as she realized he really WAS weaving. Before she could react a blunt force of air hit Maddy directly in her chest knocking the wind out of her. Without thinking, before catching her breath, she embraced saidar rapidly channeling earth, fire and spirit, blinding him. The Dragonsworn stumbled and reached for a fast hold. Simultaneously a passing Warder entered the yard wildly swinging his double bladed axe. With one mighty blow, he deftly chopped the weaving man’s arm off at the shoulder. Blood and gore splattered throughout the yard, leaving clumps and stickiness over all as the blinded man crumpled in agony.
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
Cold. The surface infront of her was hard. Her hands, what she thought were her hands for they gave no report of sensation, batted against the hard thing. Erulisse felt irritation at whatever the thing was. She was trying to move her hands and the thing was stopping her. She opened her mouth to command it to get out of her way and something cold rushed into her mouth and down her throat. She choked, tried to scream, but it was too late… strong hands seized her and hauled her upwards out of the water. She did scream now, the air cut into her flesh the way the water hadn’t and it jolted her out of the delirium. Someone set her down on stone. South Harbor? Shivers wracked her body and her teeth chattered. The cold seemed to cling to her like a fog, making it hard to move, hard to think. Someone was talking to her but the words were an irritating buzz on the edge of her consciousness. Burning liquid poured into her mouth and she screamed, sneezed and vomited all at once. Bandy gyezerd out of her mouth and nose, spraying a shocked looking sailor in an old tarpaulin coat. He dropped the leather flask of brandy to the stone in fright.
“Aes Sedai are you…”
The Dragonsworn. Erulisse sat bolt upright, ignoring the odd phantom flickers of pain. The shivering of her body stilled as she employed the old Aes Sedai trick for ignoring physical discomfort. Her hands throbbed, she looked down at bruised fingers and broken nails. She had been pounding her hands against the stone quay and would have drowned if the sailors hadn’t seen her. They were concealed by low crates and bails of goods that had been piled between the quay and the water. Saidar crackled in the air to the north around the great spire of the White Tower. Sadin she could not see, but the taste of brandy in her mouth seemed to curdle with something dark and malevolent.
She had told them. Warned them. Over and over. At every turn she had been ignored and now they were reaping the whirlwind. Had there been Sisters involved as with the portal world? Probably the Yellows in this world rather than the Blues. For a long moment she considered simply leaving, weaving a gateway and vanishing into the wilds of the South. She had no love for Tar Valon. No love for the city where she had been twice imprisoned. Little enough for the sisters who had punished her for doing what was right because they themselves were cowards who would rather gnatter in the Hall than act. She could leave now and let the so-called Amyrlin seat to whatever fate they could find.
“Aes Sedai what should we do?” the fishermen were asking. Erulisse pushed herself to her feet, icy water streaming from her body.
“Hide out till dark and then flee the city,” she instructed. Judging by the smell of burning meat on the air, their lives might depend on it.
Erulisse embraced Saidar. The pain got better and worse at once and she dried herself with a flicker of fire. It was a risk, the Dragonsworn had female channelers amongst them, even though the greatest of them were little better than Wilders, but the Power was raging in the air.
“What are you going to do Aes Sedai?” one of the fishermen asked, nerves rather than genuine curiosity.
“What I have to,” Erulisse replied and started walking towards the smoke that wreathed the base of the White Tower.
“Aes Sedai are you…”
The Dragonsworn. Erulisse sat bolt upright, ignoring the odd phantom flickers of pain. The shivering of her body stilled as she employed the old Aes Sedai trick for ignoring physical discomfort. Her hands throbbed, she looked down at bruised fingers and broken nails. She had been pounding her hands against the stone quay and would have drowned if the sailors hadn’t seen her. They were concealed by low crates and bails of goods that had been piled between the quay and the water. Saidar crackled in the air to the north around the great spire of the White Tower. Sadin she could not see, but the taste of brandy in her mouth seemed to curdle with something dark and malevolent.
She had told them. Warned them. Over and over. At every turn she had been ignored and now they were reaping the whirlwind. Had there been Sisters involved as with the portal world? Probably the Yellows in this world rather than the Blues. For a long moment she considered simply leaving, weaving a gateway and vanishing into the wilds of the South. She had no love for Tar Valon. No love for the city where she had been twice imprisoned. Little enough for the sisters who had punished her for doing what was right because they themselves were cowards who would rather gnatter in the Hall than act. She could leave now and let the so-called Amyrlin seat to whatever fate they could find.
“Aes Sedai what should we do?” the fishermen were asking. Erulisse pushed herself to her feet, icy water streaming from her body.
“Hide out till dark and then flee the city,” she instructed. Judging by the smell of burning meat on the air, their lives might depend on it.
Erulisse embraced Saidar. The pain got better and worse at once and she dried herself with a flicker of fire. It was a risk, the Dragonsworn had female channelers amongst them, even though the greatest of them were little better than Wilders, but the Power was raging in the air.
“What are you going to do Aes Sedai?” one of the fishermen asked, nerves rather than genuine curiosity.
“What I have to,” Erulisse replied and started walking towards the smoke that wreathed the base of the White Tower.
Re: Shattered Porcelin – A White Tower Mini-series
Her ears were ringing, head spinning, precluding a proper sense of up and down. Confusion reigned until she recovered her bearings. She shifted, palms pressing flat to the ground, helping provide stability. Her feet slipped and slid in the slushy mess caused first by a trample of people and second by the earthen burst, but she got to her feet at last. The man, yes, she thought she’d seen a man, thought for a moment he was channeling. In retrospect that must have been her own fearful thoughts bubbling up. A man who could channel would not willingly come to the White Tower and then actually -channel-. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she’d heard of Dougan doing exactly that. Maybe a man who was too far gone might. Her lips turned downward in a frown as she shook everything off and took assessment of the area.
And tore the world asunder.
Rubble and wreckage were strewn everywhere. The street was torn apart, multiple buildings were severely damaged. She could see over a dozen people all injured to varying extents. Some were getting to their feet, some could only crawl, and some were not moving at all. She made her way through some debris. Among those not moving was a boy; no, that was not fair, he was a young man. There was blood running down the side of his face. She found herself kneeling by his side, although she didn’t remember the actual act of kneeling. She was still dazed, probably concussed. She swallowed heavily, centered herself and pushed through as she allowed a calm to fall over her. She set a hand gently on his shoulder and squeezed as she spoke to him, tone level and reassuring, “Are you awake? Can you speak?”
He jerked at her touch, eyes opening and blinking. That was a good sign.
She opened herself and embraced the Source, feeling the warmth of the One Power flow through and fill her. “I’m an Accepted, I can heal you. Will you allow it?” she asked.
His dark eyes widened at that and he began to push himself away, body shuffling through the muddy slush. His effort was weak, but it was a discernible choice. “Get away from me, don’t touch me,” the words bubbled out from his mouth. There was more he wished to say, but there was some measured fear mixed in with his fervor. He kept those additional thoughts to himself.
Her brow furrowed, she hadn’t expected that. Her expression shifted to concern as she watched the injured man crawl away from her. She let go of his shoulder and didn’t try to stop him. “Get help,” she implored him, before looking elsewhere.
She heard the cracking sound, not of thunder, but of stone. A burst of air flowed out from her as some damaged stone fell from above towards a nearby elderly woman lying battered near to a shop front. The stone was forcefully thrust aside. She followed through, quickly making her way through the street and dropping again to her knees. “Ma’am,” she prompted gently. After a moment’s hesitation she also reached out her hand, placing it on the woman’s own upper arm before prompting again, “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
She didn’t hear the follow up crack from above as more stone broke loose and tumbled, but she did hear the harsh clang of stone on metal from directly above her head. She looked up into the face of one of the warders’ students. She didn’t know his name, but she had seen him in the yard before. His eyes were bright and his jaw was rimmed by a well-trimmed beard. She’d never thought terribly much about it before, about men generally, but perhaps Elmitsu was on to something about a bearded man. Just as quickly, she thrust that thought aside. She was no school girl and now was not the time for whatever the blood and ashes that nonsense was. She smiled her gratitude to the young man and breathed out, “Thank you,” and then, “Can you help me get her away from the building?”
The two of them gently dragged her away. He didn’t really need her assistance, but was gracious enough to allow it nonetheless. More safely now, away from any buildings, Aleera gently prodded the woman, who stirred and then acquiesced to some healing. She rose up and helped the elderly woman also get to her feet. She then turned, wanting to again thank the young man, but he was already gone.
The ground shook then, violently. Someone, somewhere, was channeling and causing an earthquake. Her hands went out and away from her sides as she struggled to maintain her balance. More rubble fell from all around. She cried out, urging everyone who could to move away from the buildings. When the earth took a pause from its violence, she spoke more forcefully, directing a few able sets of hands to help drag those less able, or unable, to move away from the buildings and began to triage as best she could under less than ideal circumstances. Again, the earth shook and groaned with violent temper.
Light protect us all.
All around her, she saw destruction; of people, of property, and of spirit. In this moment she felt an understanding of the mission of the Grays. Intellectually she had understood the mission before and even expressed it, but she felt it now as she looked about. There would be no winner today, no victor. There would be only loss. Profound loss. This is what they tried to prevent every day.
And tore the world asunder.
Rubble and wreckage were strewn everywhere. The street was torn apart, multiple buildings were severely damaged. She could see over a dozen people all injured to varying extents. Some were getting to their feet, some could only crawl, and some were not moving at all. She made her way through some debris. Among those not moving was a boy; no, that was not fair, he was a young man. There was blood running down the side of his face. She found herself kneeling by his side, although she didn’t remember the actual act of kneeling. She was still dazed, probably concussed. She swallowed heavily, centered herself and pushed through as she allowed a calm to fall over her. She set a hand gently on his shoulder and squeezed as she spoke to him, tone level and reassuring, “Are you awake? Can you speak?”
He jerked at her touch, eyes opening and blinking. That was a good sign.
She opened herself and embraced the Source, feeling the warmth of the One Power flow through and fill her. “I’m an Accepted, I can heal you. Will you allow it?” she asked.
His dark eyes widened at that and he began to push himself away, body shuffling through the muddy slush. His effort was weak, but it was a discernible choice. “Get away from me, don’t touch me,” the words bubbled out from his mouth. There was more he wished to say, but there was some measured fear mixed in with his fervor. He kept those additional thoughts to himself.
Her brow furrowed, she hadn’t expected that. Her expression shifted to concern as she watched the injured man crawl away from her. She let go of his shoulder and didn’t try to stop him. “Get help,” she implored him, before looking elsewhere.
She heard the cracking sound, not of thunder, but of stone. A burst of air flowed out from her as some damaged stone fell from above towards a nearby elderly woman lying battered near to a shop front. The stone was forcefully thrust aside. She followed through, quickly making her way through the street and dropping again to her knees. “Ma’am,” she prompted gently. After a moment’s hesitation she also reached out her hand, placing it on the woman’s own upper arm before prompting again, “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
She didn’t hear the follow up crack from above as more stone broke loose and tumbled, but she did hear the harsh clang of stone on metal from directly above her head. She looked up into the face of one of the warders’ students. She didn’t know his name, but she had seen him in the yard before. His eyes were bright and his jaw was rimmed by a well-trimmed beard. She’d never thought terribly much about it before, about men generally, but perhaps Elmitsu was on to something about a bearded man. Just as quickly, she thrust that thought aside. She was no school girl and now was not the time for whatever the blood and ashes that nonsense was. She smiled her gratitude to the young man and breathed out, “Thank you,” and then, “Can you help me get her away from the building?”
The two of them gently dragged her away. He didn’t really need her assistance, but was gracious enough to allow it nonetheless. More safely now, away from any buildings, Aleera gently prodded the woman, who stirred and then acquiesced to some healing. She rose up and helped the elderly woman also get to her feet. She then turned, wanting to again thank the young man, but he was already gone.
The ground shook then, violently. Someone, somewhere, was channeling and causing an earthquake. Her hands went out and away from her sides as she struggled to maintain her balance. More rubble fell from all around. She cried out, urging everyone who could to move away from the buildings. When the earth took a pause from its violence, she spoke more forcefully, directing a few able sets of hands to help drag those less able, or unable, to move away from the buildings and began to triage as best she could under less than ideal circumstances. Again, the earth shook and groaned with violent temper.
Light protect us all.
All around her, she saw destruction; of people, of property, and of spirit. In this moment she felt an understanding of the mission of the Grays. Intellectually she had understood the mission before and even expressed it, but she felt it now as she looked about. There would be no winner today, no victor. There would be only loss. Profound loss. This is what they tried to prevent every day.