Post by Temanin on May 10, 2004 19:10:37 GMT -5
“Herlic, how did you ever live down here in such heat?” Tarac inquired as they traveled.
“What do you mean? This is what it feels like in winter in Tear. This is extremely comfortable.” Herlic gave him a little smile.
“Well on the Blightborder we had a wide range of temperature, but I never much cared for the warmth of summer.” He looked off into the distance for a few moments. “I’m just glad we were taught to overcome such things as weather. Mental control definitely has its advantages.” With that, Tarac removed the dark blue cloak he had been wearing and placed it into a saddlebag as he rode.
They had been traveling for some time, and Far Madding was only two days away. After they had been a couple days out from the Black Tower, they had shed their black coats and pins and opted to wear more normal apparel. They had encountered little to no one on the road all the way south. The only occurrence of mention occurred after they had been out for three days...
It was a late afternoon; the sun was sinking below the horizon. As they came around a bend in the road, searching for a place to make camp, they were set upon by ten men, six of which brandished drawn bows.
“Welcome, weary travelers, to our little stretch of the road. If you would so kindly hand over all your possessions, we shall let you pass.” The man, a strong able-bodied youth of perhaps nineteen, placed his hand upon the sword hilt at his side.
Tarac looked at the man and tilted his head to one side slightly. “You wish to steal from a small group such as ourselves? Wouldn’t your skills be better suited for a caravan from Tear or Caemlyn? Why must you bother such lowly folk as ourselves, who have little more than basic food and dress?” Out of the corner of his eye he connected with Herlic and the man nodded his head slightly.
“Basic food and dress is exactly what we need, good sir. If you do not provide us with what we demand, we shall have to take it from you.” He then drew the blade from its sheath, a slight hum rising as he did. A wicked smile grew upon his face and Tarac and the others knew immediately that he planned to see human blood upon the ground that day.
“So be it. Here, take what you will.” Tarac lowered himself from the back of the horse and made his way to the first packhorse. Unbeknownst to the highwaymen, Tarac had strapped his blade to the side of the beast, underneath the saddlebags. He slowly walked the horse over to the man. As he was handing it over to him, Tarac slid his hand underneath the saddlebags. He quickly drew the blade out and held it before him.
“They are armed! Raise your bows, men, and…” His words were cut short as Tarac’s blade slid across his throat. At the same moment, all the bows held by the men shattered in their hands, sending splinters into the men. A terrible wail went up as they clawed the wood from their flesh.
Then men without bows advanced on Tarac. He held is blade ready and, after a second’s contention, he fell the first. Just as he was ready to bring his blade home on the second, the man burst into flames before him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Herlic’s outstretched hand. He smiled, then followed suit. He incinerated the next two men, their burned bodies falling to the ground in a heap. He then looked to the others. The three men from the Legion of the Dragon had retrieved their crossbows and were downing the men that attempted to flee. Likewise, the two Dedicated were lashing out with the One Power, doing as much as they could. Tarac eyed three men running at a distance and the Legion men were having trouble hitting them. Tarac embraced the Source once more and reached to them with flows of air. He grabbed them and held them a few feet from the ground, stationary as targets. He simply held them there until the Legion men put bolts into their backs.
He then looked about at the death. “This is a shame. We could have used them in the Legion.” That was all he had to say.
That had been many days ago, and it was completely out of his mind, now. As dusk approached, they found a simple place and made camp. One of the Dedicated settled into guard position, raised a simple warning ward, and the rest slept.
The following morning they awoke early, ready to get into the city at last. After traveling for half the day, they at last saw it, the city of Far Madding. Tarac and the others rode in, the ter’angreal cutting them from the One Power.
“What do you mean? This is what it feels like in winter in Tear. This is extremely comfortable.” Herlic gave him a little smile.
“Well on the Blightborder we had a wide range of temperature, but I never much cared for the warmth of summer.” He looked off into the distance for a few moments. “I’m just glad we were taught to overcome such things as weather. Mental control definitely has its advantages.” With that, Tarac removed the dark blue cloak he had been wearing and placed it into a saddlebag as he rode.
They had been traveling for some time, and Far Madding was only two days away. After they had been a couple days out from the Black Tower, they had shed their black coats and pins and opted to wear more normal apparel. They had encountered little to no one on the road all the way south. The only occurrence of mention occurred after they had been out for three days...
It was a late afternoon; the sun was sinking below the horizon. As they came around a bend in the road, searching for a place to make camp, they were set upon by ten men, six of which brandished drawn bows.
“Welcome, weary travelers, to our little stretch of the road. If you would so kindly hand over all your possessions, we shall let you pass.” The man, a strong able-bodied youth of perhaps nineteen, placed his hand upon the sword hilt at his side.
Tarac looked at the man and tilted his head to one side slightly. “You wish to steal from a small group such as ourselves? Wouldn’t your skills be better suited for a caravan from Tear or Caemlyn? Why must you bother such lowly folk as ourselves, who have little more than basic food and dress?” Out of the corner of his eye he connected with Herlic and the man nodded his head slightly.
“Basic food and dress is exactly what we need, good sir. If you do not provide us with what we demand, we shall have to take it from you.” He then drew the blade from its sheath, a slight hum rising as he did. A wicked smile grew upon his face and Tarac and the others knew immediately that he planned to see human blood upon the ground that day.
“So be it. Here, take what you will.” Tarac lowered himself from the back of the horse and made his way to the first packhorse. Unbeknownst to the highwaymen, Tarac had strapped his blade to the side of the beast, underneath the saddlebags. He slowly walked the horse over to the man. As he was handing it over to him, Tarac slid his hand underneath the saddlebags. He quickly drew the blade out and held it before him.
“They are armed! Raise your bows, men, and…” His words were cut short as Tarac’s blade slid across his throat. At the same moment, all the bows held by the men shattered in their hands, sending splinters into the men. A terrible wail went up as they clawed the wood from their flesh.
Then men without bows advanced on Tarac. He held is blade ready and, after a second’s contention, he fell the first. Just as he was ready to bring his blade home on the second, the man burst into flames before him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Herlic’s outstretched hand. He smiled, then followed suit. He incinerated the next two men, their burned bodies falling to the ground in a heap. He then looked to the others. The three men from the Legion of the Dragon had retrieved their crossbows and were downing the men that attempted to flee. Likewise, the two Dedicated were lashing out with the One Power, doing as much as they could. Tarac eyed three men running at a distance and the Legion men were having trouble hitting them. Tarac embraced the Source once more and reached to them with flows of air. He grabbed them and held them a few feet from the ground, stationary as targets. He simply held them there until the Legion men put bolts into their backs.
He then looked about at the death. “This is a shame. We could have used them in the Legion.” That was all he had to say.
That had been many days ago, and it was completely out of his mind, now. As dusk approached, they found a simple place and made camp. One of the Dedicated settled into guard position, raised a simple warning ward, and the rest slept.
The following morning they awoke early, ready to get into the city at last. After traveling for half the day, they at last saw it, the city of Far Madding. Tarac and the others rode in, the ter’angreal cutting them from the One Power.
Oh, and my next post will be in Far Madding, if it wasn't obvious. Cheers.))