The Grey Tower

Janel Merrinas wiped the dirt and sweat out of his eyes as he scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of the village those Emond Fielders had called Elman’s Creek. Surely he was close enough now to see evidence of a nearby village. Interesting lot, those in Emond’s Field, he thought. A hardy people for Southerners, almost hardy enough to call Shienar home, like him. He gave a shake, he thought he had schooled himself enough by now to stop thinking about home, about everything he’d lost. The blacksmith, Luhan or Lohan, something like that, with arms thick as a man’s legs from years in the forge, was kind enough to point him part of the way to the Grey Tower.

“Or should I call it Manetheren now?”, he mused to himself. There was no mistaking that Red Eagle banner, although Janel did not understand the one with a Wolf’s Head. Something about a new Lord with yellow eyes, but that did not interest him much. Only the Grey Tower, and his duty, kept him walking in boots with enough holes in them to no longer be considered boots. There will be time enough for luxuries once I arrive, he thought ruefully. His horse, long since stolen by brigands, would have been great help over these hills as he traveled further into what the blacksmith had called the “Mountains of Mist”.

Janel had journeyed for several months to make it this far, hopefully before it was too late. He was a man who could channel. This thought was still foreign to him as much as the thought of the Last Battle looming closer and closer. “Light,” he breathed to himself, “I’m almost there, but what will happen next”? As much as he kept a firm hold on his thoughts, he couldn’t help but think back to that day in Fal Dara. The day Shadowspawn made it into the city for the second time in as many years, the day that changed everything…

“Heron in the mist!”, snapped Swordmaster Baeshal as he walked among his various students, his infamous willow branch tucked into his armpit, attempting to hold a sword without stabbing themselves. Janel tried to imitate what he had been shown, but only earned a red stripe across his bare back for his troubles. That nearly broke his concentration, nearly caused him to lost what the swordmaster called, the Void. Focus, he thought furiously, this is what you wanted. This is your life now. “Alright, that’s enough,” barked Swordmaster Baeshal, “Every one of you flaming fools get out of my sight, wash, and fill your bloody bellies. You’d best fatten up for those trolloc cookpots, since that’s all you’re good for!” He stalked away, letting those unlucky enough to stray too close know his displeasure with end of that willow branch.

Janel stood panting for a moment, lost in thought, imagining himself in a trolloc cookpot, and shivered before he realized he must not show fear in front of the others. Jaenar and Rahem, both older and larger than Janel, gave him odd looks as they walked by, but thankfully nothing more than that. At least I don’t have to hear any insults about farmers and swords, he thought. After only a month, Janel thought he could at least not cut himself shaving with a sword, but he was a long way from being considered a true soldier. He was further than most since his background came from a small trading and farming village not many miles from the Great Blight, north of Fal Dara. Well, at least it used to be there. A trolloc raid when he was very young, no more than 10, ended that. He fingered the scar above and below his left eye out of habit. He always did when he remembered what the trollocs had done to his family. He could still hear their screams at night, in his dreams.

This raid was not like most, when trollocs came to fill their pots with a few villagers, it was to destroy its very existence. They had come during the day, most unusual, and seemingly from nowhere, since they had bypassed all the scouts. His mother, Daenis, hid him under the floorboards of their home while she took up his father’s fallen sword to defend what was left of their life. He still remembered his father’s screams as he struggled to escape a huge trolloc dragging him out of the house. He still remembered the Fade that strode in, cloak black as night, and hanging straight down despite the wind outside. “The look of the eyeless is fear”, an old saying in the Borderlands went, and Janel understood all too well. Even from his vantage point under the floorboards of their modest home, he could not move a muscle, paralyzed by fear as the Fade strode, unhurriedly, toward his mother. She glanced down at him, not too obvious about it to keep the Fade from discovering Janel’s hiding spot, and caught his eye with a look so full of love, Janel could feel it. With a sudden yell, she lunged at the Fade, slashing wildly with his Father’s sword. Contemptuously, the Fade knocked her blade away with a hand and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her completely off the ground. Janel could hear the Fade crush her throat after a moment, drop her like a piece of trash on the ground, and stride away in the same methodical manner. Janel closed his eyes tightly and waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore, meaning the trollocs finally killed everyone, or that had taken what they needed to fill the massive cookpots that must have been in the Blight, waiting for human flesh.

He cautiously removed the loose floorboard above his head, climbed out, and held his mother in his arms. Janel could not stop crying, could not stop trying to pull his mother closer in an attempt to pretend like nothing bad had happened. All of a sudden, he heard loud footsteps outside and gasped as a trolloc appeared in what was left of the doorway. It had a wolf’s face, walked on hooves instead of feet, and wielded a giant scythe like sword, covered in what appeared to be blood. Janel backed away on all fours, all the way up to the wall, where he felt the hilt of his father’s sword under a small dresser, where it had fallen from his mother’s lifeless hands. The trolloc laughed and reached toward Janel, not seeing that he had found the sword, and with a guttural shriek, Janel swung the sword up with all his might and severed the trolloc’s hand. Blood soon covered Janel and the wall as the trolloc cried out in pain, leaving its midsection wide open. Janel somehow found the strength to drive the sword up to the hilt into the trolloc’s belly before the beast could regain any composure. With a grunt, it fell on its side and convulsed as the life flowed from its wounds. On its way down, however, the beast’s sword fell toward Janel’s face. Janel managed to duck out of the way enough to keep his eye, but the sword still met flesh, starting about half a hand above his left eye and ending nearly at his mouth. Janel screamed at the piercing pain caused by a blade likely coated with something nasty in the way of trollocs. Darkness began to envelope him as he crawled toward his mother’s lifeless corpse.

After that, Janel only remembered seeing a pair of finely made shoes walking slowly toward him. A gentle hand turned him over and he gazed into the eyes of a woman. He could not say for sure how old she was, but the darkness quickly came back and he did not wake again in his old house. He came to in a sick room in Fal Dara. The healers there told him he simply appeared three nights prior, left on their doorstep, with only a half healed scar to show from the trolloc raid. Janel waited two days before he made his escape, I have to find my father, he thought. He had no idea how he would accomplish this, but his hopes were quickly dashed when the town guard refused to let him pass through any of the gates. Rather than go back to the healers, he begged in the streets until an old farmer named Haram had taken him in, and tried to look after him best he could, considering Haram’s wife had died the summer before from fever. Janel was willful and rebellious, no doubt aided by the violent loss of his family, and Haram forbid him from joining Lord Agelmar’s army, knowing only death awaited at the end of that road…

Janel managed to wipe a single tear away as he thought about Haram’s death, only a month gone. It had been hard, seeing Haram so frail and sick after a long fever never broke, and it had also been a release for Janel. He joined the Fal Dara Guard not long after, and worked diligently this past month. With a jolt, Janel realized he was the only one left in the practice yard and hurriedly put up his practice sword and washed for the evening meal.

Once he was stretched out in bed, Janel idly thought about how many trollocs and fades he could kill when the Last Battle came, and had as good a dream as any he’d had before, filled with the blood of Shadowspawn flowing down hills like rivers.
With a sudden crash, the stout wooden door to his roof flew open and a Fade entered his quarters, that eyeless gazed fixed almost in a smile. “They forgot about you,” its voice rasped like rotting paper, “None will channel unless you swear to the Great Lord.” “I can’t channel!”, Janel yelled as he scrambled for his sword, realizing that it was in the armory for repairs. A sudden feeling came upon Janel, as the Fade walked closer, its black as night cloak hardly moving. He felt a rushing fill his ears, felt his whole body filled to the brink with a river of molten fire and ice. The sudden urge to release all this energy was overwhelming, Janel knew he would burn up otherwise. With a scream of rage, he directed that energy toward the Fade, not even noticing the surprise in its face as it burst into flame. Darkness closed in on Janel as he fell back onto his bed. Did that come from me? was his final thought.

A boot kicked Janel in his ribs, softly at first, then harder when he refused to wake. “Swordmaster Baeshal, is that you?”, Janel asked wearily. “Get up boy, you have to go”, was all the reply Janel received. “Wh-Why, what happened, there was a Fade, and…”, Janel trailed off. Now he remembered, and a cold feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. Did I channel? Did I kill that Fade? Blood and ashes, will I go mad? As if reading his mind, Swordmaster Baeshal looked at the pile of ash where the Fade had stood and merely shook his head. “Boy, I don’t know how you came into this, and not long past you would be sent to the Blight to meet your fate, but Lord Agelmar has ordered you to leave Fal Dara at once. To leave Shienar. You will be given supplies enough to reach the Lord Dragon’s Black Tower, or perhaps it’s the “Grey” for you”, he mused, “Remember what you learned here and perhaps you won’t cut off your own bloody foot on the way”. With a laugh and another head shake, Swordmaster Baeshal strode off, leaving Janel no choice but to start packing, fear of the unknown bubbling into his every thought.

A half day, and whirlwind of activity later, Janel found himself on a fine warhorse, saddlebags packed with food, with a stout Shienaran horse bow and good Shienaran steel sword on his waist. Given a map, and no farewells, he decided to make for the Grey Tower instead of the black. Word had reached Shienar of a tower made of those from both the White and Black, of a tower united instead of divided. Haram had taught him the value of learning from those of different skills, and it sounded as if this tower was the best of both worlds. Perhaps I can find purpose there, Janel thought as he turned his horse south, Perhaps I can make it there in time before the One Power kills me”…..

Janel snapped himself out of his reverie, and continued to walk, feeling every mile of his journey from Shienar. As he came to the top of another small hill, he saw a huge tower emerge from the mist. This must be it, he thought, I’ve finally made it! As he started down the hill, he saw a sprawling compound encircling the Tower, as well as a town around that. He could see many people going about the day’s business, and quickly located what could only be the main gate. He received some strange looks as he angled toward the main road, I’m sure I look like a bloody beggar at this point, he thought glumly. Nothing to be done for it though, it had been a hard journey, and he had better things to do than worry about what strangers might think.

He passed by an inn called the “Band of Brothers”, and heard a cacophony of laughter and music. I’ll have to pay this place a visit another time, he thought as he paused at the door, nearly entering. Realizing he was much too road weary for such revelry, Janel turn and quickly began walking toward the gate to the Tower grounds, an eager bounce to his step that had not been there in some weeks.

Janel could not help but gawk at the size of the battlements encircling the tower grounds, even though he grew up in Shienar, a land used to trolloc raids, this place dwarfed anything he was used to. Light! This place seems bloody ready for the Last Battle as it is! He continued to stride with a purpose through the open portcullis and emerged in front of the Grey Tower. He stood there with uncertainty now, however, and wondered, so where do I go now? All this bloody way and I don’t even know where to flaming begin!

The fresh air was a welcome feeling as Leala exited the seamstress's shop. Her usual seamstress had retired to a different place, and her replacement did not understand Leala's tastes. The younger woman, who thought herself older, had insisted on pieces that Leala simply would not accept. This new woman had come highly recommended from her predecessor, but that was likely to keep the business going. After an hour of being spoken to in a condescending tone, Leala simply left without ordering anything. She would have to find a new seamstress in the future. In the mean time, she would go back to the Grey Tower and continue her work.

Shifting her white-fringed shawl, she walked through the streets of Hama Valon. People bid her good day, nodded, some even knew her name and bowed. A blacksmith's apprentice called her "Lady Leala" as she passed by. Vin had known her since she was a child, as Leala owned the lands where her family had grown up. The girl had wanted to follow her and become a novice, but she did not have the ability to learn how to channel. The girl had found love in Hama Valon, though, so she stayed. She would need to visit her family's lands soon, to check on things, to make sure that things were running smoothly, and make them run a little smoother. Her keepers were good at their jobs, but in the end, it was not their land, and they did not benefit financially from them as much as she did, so their dedication, while sincere, sometimes lacked.

Accepted and Dedicated milled around the streets, giving her a wide berth but the due deference of an Aes Sedai. Brothers and Sisters of the Tower gave her cordial acknowledgement as she walked past, which she returned. Her visit with this new seamstress was trying, but it was nice to get out of the Tower. She had planned on leaving more often, but guiding the White Ajah sometimes demanded that stay there, even if she would rather not. As she approached her home for the last few decades, she spotted someone standing at the gates. It was a man, and while standing at the gates of the Grey Tower was not a bad thing, it was still an unusual thing.

As she approached the man, she noted his height. A few inches taller than her. His hair was pulled back, and while she wasn't entirely certain of the origin of that particular style, it spoke of the Borderlands. He seemed battle-worn, and his eyes said that his mind was surely somewhere else. He seemed to be fighting to make a decision. He didn't seem to notice that she was there at first. She had not said anything, watching as he looked at the Tower. Finally, though, she spoke. "Welcome to the Grey Tower, Sir. My name is Leala Sedai. I would be happy to guide you to where you need to go. What business do you have with the Grey Tower today?"

Janel, was lost in thought about about what to do next in the Tower, when a voice next to him nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. The tone sounded cool, and collected, and belonged to someone who seemed to embody those terms. She was clearly a Lady of these lands, just by the way she carried herself, and the way she was arching a single eyebrow at his reaction only confirmed her Nobility. She was tall for a Southerner, only half a hand shorter or so than Janel, with pale skin and hair almost silver. Janel struggled to recall what she said to him, and remembered something about what his business was.

"I am Janel Merrinas, m'lady", Janel said saluting with his right fist to heart, "and I have come from Fal Dara to learn to wield Saidin. I discovered this during a raid of Shadowspawn when I turned a half-man to dust. I was, encouraged, to leave Shienar and begin my training in either the Black or Grey tower. I chose the Grey Tower because it only seems right to have both men and women training together for the Last Battle.....", Janel trailed off when he realized he was babbling. She truly makes ice seem cold, but I must remember I'm not here for a pair of pretty eyes, he thought glumly. Then gave a start when he remembered the honorific Sedai at the end of her name, which had been Leala.

Janel quickly added a belated, "m'lady...I mean Aes Sedai....I meant...", and he stuttered into silence, face reddening. Great, he thought, now she must think me a bloody fool. Janel held his tongue now, and waited under Leala Sedai's weighing gaze.

The young man seemed to jump a bit when she spoke. She simply raised an eyebrow in his direction at that. Judging by his eyes, she could tell that he had seen much. The sight of the Grey Tower must have captivated him to make him drop his guard this much. He then proceeded to explain that he was there to train as a soldier, calling her "m'lady" all the while, even after she had introduced herself as an Aes Sedai. It was rather amusing, but she would not laugh in his face. He corrected himself after his explanation, and Leala nodded. "You will need to speak with the Master of Soldiers, then," she said, after he had finished. "It is good that you were encouraged to come here, Master Janel. Had you continued without training, it could have easily been dangerous for you and those around you. The One Power can be volatile without the proper training, no matter if it is Saidin or Saidar. Here, you can learn to control your ability."

She began to walk toward the Tower, simply expecting him to follow her. "And, I quite agree with you," she continued, "I believe men and women must learn more cooperation before the Last Battle. It is good that we have a place like this. I was rather glad to know that the Aes Sedai that had tested me was one of the Grey Tower, rather than the White. It is the whole of humanity that must band together to defend it when the Last Battle comes, not simply separate groups." She knew that sometimes when she spoke of the Last Battle, she sounded like a Green, but she was simply following her own train of logic. She allowed him to see a small smile as she said her next words, "And, as for my title, you are correct on both counts. I also oversee my family's lands in Andor," she explained. "But, while in the Grey Tower, I must remain Leala Sedai."

Janel hurried to catch up to Leala Sedai, without appearing to of course, and forced himself to stop gawking at the rest of the Tower. I must focus if I am to surive, he thought furiously. He was glad she agreed with him about men and women learning to cooperate for the Last Battle and she almost seemed eager at the prospect, although that could have been Janel's imagination. Janel noticed a small smile as she finished speaking, and nearly tripped on his own feet. That's the first smile I've seen that's from someone who didn't want to rob or kill me. Light! It feels good to relax.

Janel's own smile evaporated quickly as he remembered what happened to his horse. Burn me for a fool for allowing that girl in Whitebridge to trick me into thinking she actually needed my help! His cheeks reddened slightly as he remembered her cries for help against some brigands who had stolen her locket. At least those other arrows missed their marks, he thought, soberly aware of how close they came to ending his journey as he fled into the woods after his horse was shot dead from under him. Bloody lucky is what it was! He continued to follow Leala Sedai as she guided him to the Master of Soldiers.

"Yes of course, Aes Sedai, I will remember your proper title while here in the Tower," Janel said while allowing himself to take in the sights of the Tower. "If I may ask a question though, how soon will the Master of Soldiers allow me to train? I must admit I know nothing of the One Power but I am eager to begin, today if I'm allowed," after a moment he added, "I would also like to continue to train with the sword. I received only a month's worth of training in Fal Dara, but since I have come to understand how a solid piece of steel can help those who know how to wield it." He followed along, and awaited her response with an eagerness he had not known in months.

Leala continued up the entrance pathway with Janel in tow. She was about to begin explaining the general layout of the Grey Tower that they were approaching when he began to ask about his training. "I'm sure once you've been enrolled, the Master of Soldiers will instruct you further on your training. While you are here, you will not only train in the One Power, but you will also receive a rather thorough education as well. History, maths, the Old Tongue, you may even enroll in my class on logic and deduction at some point. You'll likely begin your training some time today, after you have been issued your black coat and given quarters. As far as your arms training goes..." She paused. She had never trained in weapons, and she really had no intent to do so. "You will have to ask the Master of Soldiers, but I'm sure there is a way that you can take those classes as well."

After she answered those questions, she decided to begin explaining what they were seeing. "Now. What we are approaching right now is the Tower proper. The tower in the middle is where the Hall meets, where the offices are for the Amyrlin Seat and the M'Hael are, and where the Grey Tower operates as an entity," she explained. "These smaller, circular buildings around it are the Ajah Halls, where Asha'man and Aes Sedai live and work." They made a turn to the left when their pathway did. "While you are a soldier, you will be residing in the Great Serpent, on the soldier's half. Novices are on the other side," she said, indicating the hall that was now in front of them, as they had turned away from the Grey Tower. "The office of the Master of Soldiers is there. He will supervise you and oversee your training. He is also responsible for any punishment or commendation you should receive, until you reach the rank of Asha'man, then those matters will be handled by whichever Ajah you should choose at that time."

Janel listened intently as Leala Sedai answered his questions regarding training. The enormity of the Tower was truly impressed upon him as she described just how thorough his training would be. The regimented lifestyle would be welcomed after such chaos travelling. He perked up at the mention of being issued new clothes and finally having a real bed to sleep in. This doesn't sound half bad, he thought, everything might just work out.

As they turned away from the Tower, Leala Sedai mentioned the office of the Master of Soldiers and gestured to the door a short distance from them. The sturdy door stood closed, yet beckoned Janel like a lantern in night. "I thank you for your assistance, Leala Sedai, and I hope to bring honor to the Grey Tower and death to the Shadow," Janel stated. Janel then straightened, saluted fist to heart, and said, "By your leave, Aes Sedai, I will speak to the Master of Soldiers and begin." Once Leala Sedai began walking away, he faced the door, squared his shoulders, and knocked. Janel didn't know what to expect, but he knew he had found his place in a world only a hair's breadth from being overrun by the Shadow. His lips curled back in a smile that never quite met his eyes as he contemplated how many trollocs and fades would die by his hand. I will do my duty, no matter how heavy it is.