The Grey Tower

Traveling by Gateway always seemed somewhat anticlimactic. Almost with a snap of someone’s fingers, you arrived at your destination without complications that tend to go with any journey. When Tia was an Accepted, she traveled by Gateway to the remote plateau in the middle of the Mountains of Mist with the Blue sister and her Warder so Tia could continue practicing her skills with Cloud Dancing.

The Aes Sedai realized she hadn’t Traveled since. . .since she and Zeen found themselves in the middle of the Seanchan camp. She found her heart beat a tad harder than she would have liked, and once again she wished she could grasp the Void as easily as her Mother could. Perhaps she’d quit being so stubborn and actually ask her mother to help her better grasp the concept. She couldn’t help but take a deep breath before she mounted up and rode Storm through the Gateway.

Going from the traveling Yards to the outskirts of the Citadel was a bit of a shocking transition, but Tia maintained a calm facade as she stroked Storm’s neck. The ride up the hill to the Citadel proper was short, and as they all entered and dismounted, those who were regular residents of the outpost seemed to watch each and every one of them with keen interest. For Tia, this was her first visit to the Citadel, though she’d heard of the place.

Riahana had regular visits to the Citadel to make sure there were enough supplies, enough men, and to get a sense for the level of tension so near the Blight Border. Before Tia wore Novice whites, her mother would tell her stories of her time out there. Ironically, it was her mother’s return from one trip to the Blight border that triggered Tia’s ability to channel when she saw her Mother crumple from her horse and into her Father’s arms.

Going from what had been childhood stories to standing in the very same place gave the Aes Sedai goose pumps. She watched as one of the stable hands led Storm away, and was sorely tempted to follow. Knowing nerves were likely at play, she took a slow, but deep breath and decided on finding her room.

The Citadel was large, but not as large as the Tower, so it didn’t take Tia long to find her room. Having only recently gotten used to her personal quarters in the Green Ajah, the Aes Sedai didn’t need a huge room to be content. Hers contained a bed with a small side table, a desk, a small fireplace and a trunk. Simple, but functional. She laid her saddle bags over the trunk, and went to stand by the fire to get warm. If they went into the Blight, she knew being warm wouldn’t be an issue, but she felt chilled, and was happy to take advantage of the heat.

~~~

Dinner at the Citadel was not so unlike dinner in the mess hall at the Tower. The party from the Tower all seemed to gather near one of the hearths in the dining hall. Some of the Citadel’s residents came by to share in stories with those from the Tower. Tia listened, though she didn’t contribute to the stories that were thrown about. Aes Sedai she might be, but she felt green as a newborn filly. Some of her seniors said her experience with the Seanchan was like a crash course on channeling, though such ‘assurances’ did little to put Tia at ease. She wasn’t in control then, as any channeling she’d done was directed by Aluana.

When her thoughts went to her time in the collar, Tia stared off into the hearth. Realizing she was lost in thought, Tia looked up and met Zeen’s seemingly knowing gaze. She gave him a small smile before turning her attention to one of the Gaidin who was telling a story about a scouting mission that ran into about twenty Trollocs, and the chaos that followed.

The hour grew late, and Tia excused herself to retire to her room. The fireplace made the room as cozy as she could hope, though it still felt drafty. Sliding into bed, and pulling the blankets over her, she found she missed her bed back at the Tower. You sound like a spoiled chit with such thoughts. You didn’t become a Green to stay in your comfortable rooms in the Tower. Best get used to this, Tia, she chided herself. She drifted off to sleep moments later.

”I had plans for us, you know,” came a familiar voice out of the darkness.

Tia looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. She felt a chill crawl up her spine as she slowly spun in place, not able to see through the darkness. A mist swirled around her legs, and it seemed to ebb and flow to its own rhythm.

“You would have made us great, pet.”

Dread filled Tia. The one word. . .the nickname Aluana used for her. Pet.

Turning around, the Aes Sedai saw someone materialize from the blackness. Aluana faced her. . .or a bloodied, battered version of the woman. “And then that kin of yours took it all away. I underestimated her.”

Tia reached for the One Power and Aluana laughed, “You fear me even in your dreams, pet? Good. You should. Not everything is as it seems.” Whatever distance between her and Tia was gone, and her hand was around Tia’s throat just as the Aes Sedai let out a scream. . .

The scream was muted as Tia bolted upright in bed. It wasn’t the first time she dreamed of the Sul’dam, but never before had Aluana addressed her. Did it mean anything?

The fire was down to embers. Her heart raced and Tia forced herself to take slow breaths. It was only a dream. Doubtful she’d be able to get back to sleep, the Green dressed herself, and prepared for the long day ahead.

~~~

Tia had every intention of talking to Mia about the dream, but the morning was more than a bit chaotic as the group ate and prepared to leave. She’d try talking to her Memma once they arrived at the outpost. She was an Aes Sedai now, and she was determined to carry herself like one. To her, it meant being independent and not desperate to discuss every little concern with her kin (at least, not openly).

The Green tensed as she felt Mia reach for Saidar, and found herself doing the same.

“Trollocs!”

Tia’s eyes went wide as she saw a group on either side of the roadway they were on. She’d learned about Trollocs and other forms of Shadowspan, of course, but she’d never seen one in person before, and the sketches in the books she’d read didn’t do them justice. Storm seemed to dance underneath her, and Tia stroked her mount’s neck, reassuring the beast and herself alike.

The Trollocs seemed to accelerate their charge, and Tia pulled air and fire together, directing lightning towards one of the bigger ones who seemed to be leading the charge from the left. It didn’t stop. . .not right away, but staggered to its knees until it convulsed and finally stilled. Two others on either side were knocked back by the lightning bolt, and started to get up and continue their charge.

The newest Green pulled threads of air and water together sending spikes of ice hurtling towards the two. It slowed their advance, but didn’t stop them entirely. Threads of air came from Tia as she created a vortex and launched it towards the pair. This time, they could do nothing when they were lifted from their feet and launched into a copse of trees with a sickening crack. They weren’t dead, but the way their legs stuck out suggested they wouldn’t be advancing on the party any time soon.

Beyond them, and the other Trollocs, Tia thought she saw something. . .or someone, but she couldn’t quite focus, and didn’t have time to worry about it further as a Trolloc got a bit too close for comfort. She directed tight tendrils of air to grip the beast, lifting him off his (her?) feet. Narrowing her eyes, Tia forced the whisps of air to constrict and flung him into another group that was getting too close for comfort.

Door’s seemed to open and shut at random as Terric wandered through the Citadel’s halls. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind, he just could not sleep. Pacing didn’t seem to help either, an omnipresent feeling of eyes on his back only put him further on edge. He climbed a flight of stairs, soft booted feet coming to rest on a runner that occasionally changed color and pattern. The place was eerily quiet. Shouldn’t there have been servants or soldiers about on duties? He didn’t even hear any snoring from the barracks. Climbing another spiral staircase took him out to the walls. There were no guards in sight. Terric was beginning to worry. Where were the guards? He began to run along the walls, occasionally looking over the ramparts. His spears were in his hands and his face was veiled. Who had come upon the Citadel so silently? Some creature of the Blight?

Terric ran along the wall, a giant moon backlighting him, an eternity of stars stretching above him into the inky blackness. He was above the stables. He didn’t even hear the horses. “Hello?” he called out, ready to duck behind cover. No response. “Avrya!” he called again. Nothing. He slowly kept walking along the wall, angled north. It had to have been something from the north. Nothing but some sort of Shadow Spawn could have done this. He didn’t even know if they had been attacked. He watched a crossbow appear than disappear and reappear a few feet away. Maybe none of this was real. He continued walking and placed his hands against the ramparts, looking out across the land in the direction of the Blight. Maybe this was some sort of strange dream. He had been incredibly worried for the past few weeks. His dreams had consistently revolved around the Blight.

Looking off into the distance, he almost thought he could see— The world lurched around him, blurring and elongating. Next thing he knew, he was crashing through branches and undergrowth and tumbling and sliding across rancid decaying things on the ground. Jumping to his feet, spear and buckler in hand, Terric looked around. He was back in the Blight. It had been years, but he remembered the stench vividly. Trees and bushes shifted unnaturally. Everything seemed to be covered in a mass of black spots. Leaves fell to the ground but instantly reappeared. Tightening his grip on his weapon, Terric began to creep along, avoiding the trees. How had he come here? It was just a dream, he could go when he wanted. He could— The world lurched again and this time, he found his feet better. This time he was standing on a familiar rock outcropping. He’d stood here before, planning an assault with Zail. Looking down the incline, he could see it. The Black Fortress. The last time he’d seen it, large chunks of the walls had been simply erased by those strange white bars of light. He’d watched men vanish to the bars. Roran had fallen to one of those bars and the bandage he had just tied on Terric’s arm vanished with him. Among all of the sights he had not been prepared for that day, that little oddity had almost slipped his memory.

Taking a step forward he slid down the slope kicking up a plume of red dust in his wake. He looked out across the valley floor. The occasional bedroll or cook pot appeared and disappeared. He could remember charging the Trolloc’s before they could fully form a defensive line. He fought alongside Jilla and Murin that day as his Red Shields led the way. Not wanting to take his chances with the massive wooden gate, which also seemed to open and close at random, Terric climbed the walls. The memories of battle still followed him. They had scaled these walls to open the gates.

The fortress courtyard was just as deserted as the Citadel had been. The silence as unnerving. This courtyard had been the sight of fierce battle, but he couldn’t even see a sign of it. Dreams were odd, wouldn’t he dream this location the way he remembered it? Corps scattered, the den of battle, Trollocs and darkfriends falling to Aiel arrows as they sacrificed themselves to defend the vile school within.


He didn’t need to be here. This place had been cleared out ages ago. Its masters long fled. Terric wanted to turn back, but something drew him forward. Quietly, spear at the ready, cadin’sor shifting to blend with the black stone walls, Terric made his way through the eerily empty halls. Even in the silence, he felt he could hear screams of terror and wails of despair. This was a place of pain and fear. It was a place meant to stamp out love and hope. Terric hated it. Still, he was drawn along. The carpets here were a deep green and torches did not burn. There was an omnipresent light however. The feeling of watchers still pervaded the place.

Ahead in the long hallways, Terric could see flickering light. On silent feet, he crept forward, spear ready. There was a door open at the end of the hallway. He could see a fire in a hearth and an armchair with its back foolishly to the door. Anybody who would make themselves at home in a place like this probably wasn’t a friend. Quietly slipping into the room, Terric placed his hand on the back of the armchair. With a steadying breath, he yanked tipping it back, pointing his spear at the chair’s inhabitant. A bald man with deep mahogany skin glared up at him. He wore fine Wetlander clothes of blacks and forest greens.

“A bloody Aiel? I didn’t think any of you would ever comeback,” he said in a rich voice, completely devoid of fear.

“This is my dream, Wetlander, I’ll ask the questions,” Terric growled, poking his spear against the man’s neck.

“Your Dream?” he scoffed, imbuing “Dream” with a special significance.

“What are you doing in this fortress?” Terric asked, pressing the point a little harder against the man’s throat.

“This is my home, it was before you savages drove me out, and it is mine again,” he said with an arrogant sneer, seemingly oblivious of over a foot of steel pressed against his throat.
Terric’s eyes widened with a surge of recognition. He’d seen this man before, at this very Fortress. He’d short an arrow at him to stop him from hurling fire at his allies. It had struck him in the shoulder. He pressed down on the spear, cutting into the man’s neck. This time he’d finish the job. The world went white, then red as pain exploded across his body. It felt as if he’d been slapped a rock face, with his entire body. His stomach lurched and he was falling, or he would have been if direction had any meaning. He careened through a vast landscape of stars before slamming home into his own body. He rolled over, clutching himself. He felt as if he’d been whipped.

He staggered to his feet for a drink of water before laying back down. He slept fitfully for the rest of the night, plagued by recurring dreams of trollocs.

~~~ The next morning as the party rode out, Terric trotted along on foot, Dog Gaidin at his side. He stifled a yawn, but by the looks of several of the others, he wasn’t the only one to have slept poorly. Despite his bad dreams, it felt liberating to be out here, running in the open country side. It had been ages since he’d been able to do more than run along the walls or through the Tower grounds. Since he’d become a Ji’Val and he’d begun to run in the city, but it was not the same. So far, this trip seemed to be going fine, maybe his and Avyra’s fears were misplaced. He could almost begin to believe that until he remembered the haggard look on some of faces of the Aes Sedai and Asha’man.


Around lunch time, he fished a tightly wrapped sandwich of bread, sharp cheese, and jam from where he’d stashed in in Avrya’s saddle bags and began to eat, bow in his other hand. The party was pushing relatively quickly and they weren’t planning on stopping to eat. He was just offering Dog Gaidin the last bite of his sandwich when the golden dog stiffened and began to sniff.

“What is it, boy?” Terric asked, immediately on the alert.

His dog began to growl and bark, looking up the slope to where the trees grew thicker. There was movement in those trees. Dog Gaidin spun to bark in the other direction as well. Terric turned shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and drawing an arrow. Ambush!

Just then, the cry went up, “Trollocs!” and stones began to crash off of a shield somebody made with the Power.

As the monstrous creatures began to howl and charge forth, Terric drew the fletching back to his cheek and released at a trolloc in the lead. It staggered as it was struck low on its armored chest. He adjusted his aim and shot it again through the neck. Drawing a third arrow, he let fly into the mass. Every trolloc that fell to an arrow was one he wouldn’t have to kill with his spear. Swallowing the rest of his sandwich, he looked over his shoulder, check on Avyra. She was ok for now, he stepped to the side, placing himself closer to her, and the other unbonded Channlers. He was training to be Gaidin, if the Trolloc’s broke their lines he would fall before he let them harm any of them. He knocked another arrow and fired.

It had been as though waking from a slumber. Their journey from the Tower to the Citadel. Even the morning’s ablutions in the lukewarm bath before leaving now felt less tangible as a cry took the air.

Trollocs.

Saidin rumbled awake, a leviathan stirred by the promise of violence. Miahala Sedai’s voice had scarcely reached Valadin’s ears when the One Power leapt to the forefront of his consciousness. Beneath him the gray gelding danced nervously atop the quaking ground.

Armored in black and moving with an unseemly uniformity to their ranks, the Shadow’s abominations charged towards the group. Beaks, maws, and jaws working doubly hard to shout obscenities and gruesome predictions towards their prey. Sparing enough time for a glance towards Miahala Sedai then the group of learning ranks, Valadin’s judgement was made swiftly. Flows of Fire and Air came together explosively at his bidding as twin lances of crackling lightning tore through three of the beasts rendering their corpses to steaming, foul-smelling piles of refuse.

Encompassed in the Void Valadin did not immediately fall prey to that dark delight that slowly boiled beneath his cool veneer of an Asha’man; not immediately.

The rest had already joined in when the next of his Weaves of formed--precise lines of red that sliced through the air before striking at the furthest of the monsters to avoid endangering any allies. Controlling Air and Fire so compactly had been a spur of the moment innovation gleaned from another Asha’man, a survivor of the Seanchan invasion. The burning filaments sheared whole limbs as a knife would skewer warm bread. Satisfaction swam just beneath the detached composure of the Void.

Arrows flew as [i}Gaidin[/i] and Gaidin-to-be began to ply their bloody trade. Strangely none of the creatures balked as was their nature. A Fade then, Val decided, eyes sweeping the surrounding forest for sight of the Blight-cursed creature. A wolf-faced Trolloc skirted the destructive vanguard comprised of the full raised members of the group and raced towards the pretty brown haired Accepted only to find the girl more capable than expected.

As the creature screamed in agony during its final moments, a ghost of a smile tugged at Valadin’s lips. Perhaps the Tower was not so helpless as it had once been.

More Trollocs shared the same cowardice as their dying compatriot, dashing to flank the group rather than face the overwhelming offensive of the other full Raised Brothers and Sisters. Valadin was happy to show them the error of their rationale. Spurring his now calm mount to the Accepted’s side more he Wove Fireballs in quick succession, his brow dampening with the effort. Saidin fought for control as much as it was subdued; every channeling man knew the struggle, but with the Battle Fury at its peak, Valadin found fighting of the seduction to fill himself to the brim with the roaring might of the Creator difficult as time went on.

How many of the bloody things are there? he fumed silently as another Trolloc torso collapsed to its knees, its neck fountaining an acrid, black spume into the air. Nearby, its neatly severed head remained animated for a few more heartbeats before death stilled its feature.

Somehow watching the sight of the fallen Shadow creation inspired a gleeful flutter in Valadin’s gut.

Sturveyn.

Zeen surveyed the area warily, the tension that stiffened his spine working its way up his neck. The sensation that prickled between his shoulders was one he recognized, and it was all he could do not to give in to the urge to touch his throat to reassure himself that he was not still collared. He glanced at Tia, then Avyra, taking comfort in the fact that they were both unharmed. He shook his head abruptly and answered Miahala’s question with a slight bow of his head.

“Minor,” he said with a slight quirk of his lips. “I will survive.”

As they took inventory of the injured, the Amadician dismounted. While the others arranged Healing and triage, he studied the small gathering of soldiers that hung back. Haggard, drawn faces met his gaze before moving quickly elsewhere. Haunted eyes, empty eyes... he knew that look well. This was a Blightborder outpost; he knew it would not be all sunshine and rainbows, but he could not seem to shake the oddly oppressive feeling that pressed down on him, made it just a little bit more difficult to breathe.

The Captain-General rubbed at his shoulder absently, grimacing faintly. There would be a bruise there. He pulled the Void around him and tugged on the reins. The large nameless gelding followed.

---

He tore a chunk out of the stale bread, a whiff of the pungent cheese making his eyes water. Zeen pushed the crumbly yellow block further away from him, irrationally hoping that the cutting wind would catch the wrapper and pitch the entire thing off the side of the battlement. His arms and elbows rested on top of the plain grey stone. The watered down ale did not taste like much but he did not expect it to.

He could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, though he could find no evidence that pointed to the likelihood of that. And yet that itch between his shoulderblades... it was still there. The Green gave himself a self-deprecating smile. He could not afford this... jumpiness. He sighed, steadying himself with several deep breaths. Perhaps the others would have more information after the evening meal. If not... he only hoped that the hollow-eyed looking soldiers in this outpost would be willing to talk.