The World of Dreams was desolate and beautiful. Everything was hazed in an eerie haze that fascinated the mind. Valadin had grown used to the suspicion of being tracked by hundreds of unseen eyes; used to it, yet still aware of the gooseflesh on the nape of his neck. Here, the throb of the Bond—evidence that Nykkolaia was still with him—was a weak, but perceptible persistence in the corner of his mind.
Night had barely touched the Waking World when he’d fallen into the trance-like sleep that immutably resulted in his arrival here. Time holds no hold meaning in the World of Dreams, reminded a gentle voice from years past. Accepted Siera.
It was a name that had not been thought of for many months now. Other names jumped to memory like firebugs to a hearth. Cynn, Kiellan, Daelar, Betrys, Saml, Garyas, Miahala Ives… The list went on without an end in sight until a conscious effort was made to stifle the thought. In Tel’aran’rhiod errant notions were dangerous distractions…specifically once given form and were of a mind to turn against their creator. Recalling a visit with Siera rekindled the unease that had kept Val from this place for so long despite its ethereal attraction.
Drawing a deep breath helped to cast away the troubles that ailed in the Waking World: the anger, the lust for battle, and the self-loathing. All that remained was wonderment, the Bond, and Saidin’s dull flame—dimmed here, but never extinguished.
For some nights now a voice had called from the Dream, crying for help. The person must have possessed considerable familiarity with the Dream to so clearly leave an impression and that was the reason for Valadin’s wariness in answering the call.
Unconsciously his attire was of the everyday garb for an Asha’man: dark slim-fitting trews, an equally dark collared jacket with a simple shirt of muslin beneath it, and tough boots fit for many occasions. Oddly, the pins and cord that signaled his rank or affiliation never manifested consciously…something Val saw no need to alter. Though it was largely unnecessary in a world where the imagined became corporeal, feeling the weight of a short sword at his waist offered security in a setting where little else was permanent.
The Grey Tower was a mass of stone and maze-like sections that sprawled for as far as the eye could see. In Tel’aran’rhiod his monolithic home was far more vast than its counterpart, but just equally easier to traverse as result of the Dream’s properties. I’m stronger than I was before, Valadin noted vaguely. Where once his thoughts strained to effect his person, now they could mold objects in his vicinity with relatively facility.
Danger…need aid…no hope...
Val closed his eyes, another act that served little purpose, yet it yielded results when circumstances demanded it. The haunting plea for rescue resonated within the World of Dreams making it seem to come from a thousand different directions, but there was a sense that its source was the Grey Tower—somewhere deep and inaccessible to those who knew not what to look for.
Filling his heart with a desperate need to be within the stone walls, Valadin’s next Step rushed him from the main grounds into the Ajah Quarters which had been fixed in his mind. Usually the lodgings that housed the various Ajahs was a never-ending hive of activity whether by servants or Brothers and Sister. To see them so vacant now should have been disconcerting, but each time a chair jumped from one place to the next or an outline of a person materialized before vanishing suddenly Val knew that was as it should be.
Beginning the search was difficult. Stone was everywhere and the corridors extended every which way like the innards of some great beast. Trying to listen for the voice again Valadin felt himself growing impatient as nothing came to him. Rather than waiting he took to roaming the hallways in the hopes that something would reveal itself in the process.
Since becoming Asha’man the only other Ajah that he’d visited was that of the Blue and that was solely when the need to see Nykk overcame him. It seemed to be the way of things among Asha’man and Aes Sedai; purpose and belief separated what should have been united army. Mired in these thoughts Val was startled when a woman materialized at the heart of the White Ajah rectory. Acting before rational thought could take root, Val Stepped towards the nearest shadow and willed the darkness to cover him like a living thing. He hadn’t been able to do that before.
From his hiding place he berated himself for being so foolish. He was in the Grey Tower. No Shadowspawn or Darkfriend would dare attempt to wreak havoc in the midst of so many gifted in the Power’s uses. Likely the woman would fade away harmlessly like all the others he’d come across this day.
Still something told him to hold fast so remain hidden he did studying this intruder to what had previously been his domain.
Night had barely touched the Waking World when he’d fallen into the trance-like sleep that immutably resulted in his arrival here. Time holds no hold meaning in the World of Dreams, reminded a gentle voice from years past. Accepted Siera.
It was a name that had not been thought of for many months now. Other names jumped to memory like firebugs to a hearth. Cynn, Kiellan, Daelar, Betrys, Saml, Garyas, Miahala Ives… The list went on without an end in sight until a conscious effort was made to stifle the thought. In Tel’aran’rhiod errant notions were dangerous distractions…specifically once given form and were of a mind to turn against their creator. Recalling a visit with Siera rekindled the unease that had kept Val from this place for so long despite its ethereal attraction.
Drawing a deep breath helped to cast away the troubles that ailed in the Waking World: the anger, the lust for battle, and the self-loathing. All that remained was wonderment, the Bond, and Saidin’s dull flame—dimmed here, but never extinguished.
For some nights now a voice had called from the Dream, crying for help. The person must have possessed considerable familiarity with the Dream to so clearly leave an impression and that was the reason for Valadin’s wariness in answering the call.
Unconsciously his attire was of the everyday garb for an Asha’man: dark slim-fitting trews, an equally dark collared jacket with a simple shirt of muslin beneath it, and tough boots fit for many occasions. Oddly, the pins and cord that signaled his rank or affiliation never manifested consciously…something Val saw no need to alter. Though it was largely unnecessary in a world where the imagined became corporeal, feeling the weight of a short sword at his waist offered security in a setting where little else was permanent.
The Grey Tower was a mass of stone and maze-like sections that sprawled for as far as the eye could see. In Tel’aran’rhiod his monolithic home was far more vast than its counterpart, but just equally easier to traverse as result of the Dream’s properties. I’m stronger than I was before, Valadin noted vaguely. Where once his thoughts strained to effect his person, now they could mold objects in his vicinity with relatively facility.
Danger…need aid…no hope...
Val closed his eyes, another act that served little purpose, yet it yielded results when circumstances demanded it. The haunting plea for rescue resonated within the World of Dreams making it seem to come from a thousand different directions, but there was a sense that its source was the Grey Tower—somewhere deep and inaccessible to those who knew not what to look for.
Filling his heart with a desperate need to be within the stone walls, Valadin’s next Step rushed him from the main grounds into the Ajah Quarters which had been fixed in his mind. Usually the lodgings that housed the various Ajahs was a never-ending hive of activity whether by servants or Brothers and Sister. To see them so vacant now should have been disconcerting, but each time a chair jumped from one place to the next or an outline of a person materialized before vanishing suddenly Val knew that was as it should be.
Beginning the search was difficult. Stone was everywhere and the corridors extended every which way like the innards of some great beast. Trying to listen for the voice again Valadin felt himself growing impatient as nothing came to him. Rather than waiting he took to roaming the hallways in the hopes that something would reveal itself in the process.
Since becoming Asha’man the only other Ajah that he’d visited was that of the Blue and that was solely when the need to see Nykk overcame him. It seemed to be the way of things among Asha’man and Aes Sedai; purpose and belief separated what should have been united army. Mired in these thoughts Val was startled when a woman materialized at the heart of the White Ajah rectory. Acting before rational thought could take root, Val Stepped towards the nearest shadow and willed the darkness to cover him like a living thing. He hadn’t been able to do that before.
From his hiding place he berated himself for being so foolish. He was in the Grey Tower. No Shadowspawn or Darkfriend would dare attempt to wreak havoc in the midst of so many gifted in the Power’s uses. Likely the woman would fade away harmlessly like all the others he’d come across this day.
Still something told him to hold fast so remain hidden he did studying this intruder to what had previously been his domain.
