Post by Temanin on Jun 7, 2005 13:22:24 GMT -5
In the past, Tarac had transported prisoners, mainly darkfriends, between different military prisons. There was little to it, as far as he could ever see: you chain them up and march them to where they need to be. Now that Tarac was on the receiving end of such treatment, he wished the standards were a little more…comfortable. Vard and Tarac were chained to each other with little room between them. They were then chained, each, to a Warder, who had the chain run over their thigh before securing it to their saddle. This was clever on their part, as any slight motion in the chain would be felt. Tarac, on the other hand, didn’t like it so much.
The first day of their journey, Tarac noticed that one of the Warders was wearing his sword. “Hey. Warder-boy. Don’t think you can keep that. And what did you do about our horses? I paid top coin for those steeds. I expect compensation from the White Tower.” The entire time everyone in the troupe completely ignored him. “You all are just rays of sunshine, aren’t you?” It was at this point that Vard advised him to be quit. Tarac decided this was a good idea, as well.
It wasn’t until the third day that Tarac realized Xolani was in the traveling group. Again Tarac’s suspicions rose. He was going to try to talk to her somehow, but over the course of a few days, he got the impression that the Aes Sedai didn’t know they knew each other. So they are holding her for some other reason. Very strange… Because of this, talking to her would only put her in danger.
Little else of note happened of the journey, as Tarac and Vard were kept in close guard. He had time to ponder many things, such as how he would escape, if he would ever be able to return to the Borderlands, and why there were Warders here when he presumed that everyone was of the Red Ajah. The only thing he could settle on was that some of the Aes Sedai here were not Reds. Other than that, they weren’t exactly allowed to sight-see as they passed through Lugard, nor was he allowed to buy souvenirs at Caemlyn. It was only once they were through Caemlyn, in fact, that Tarac and Vard began to cheer up.
Roughly four days out of the city, the group found themselves deep within the Braem Wood. The road they traveled led directly to Tar Valon, so on a normal day it held moderate traffic. On this day, however, the skies had darkened and rain fell in torrents, and the group was at least a half-day away from the nearest settlement. Instead of plow ahead, the Sedai decided to find a place and set up camp. Two soldiers and one Warder were sent ahead to scout for a clearing, while the rest plodded on. Everyone’s cloaks, as far as Tarac could tell, were warded against the rain. Tarac and Vard, on the other hand, didn’t even have cloaks, and they definitely were not being protected from the water. They were utterly miserable, drenched from head to foot. If looks could kill, there would have at this time been a few less Aes Sedai in the world.
Over an hour past and the Warder and soldiers hadn’t returned. The Aes Sedai were just starting to get concerned when an Aes Sedai near the front of the group yelled, then fell unconscious to the muddy road. The party came to a quick halt, and a few Sisters jumped down to see to their compatriot. Though Tarac could never know, every Aes Sedai in their party was holding as much saidar as they could. Little over ten minutes later, through the rain the vague silhouette of a man appeared. It was one of the soldiers, running as fast as he could back to the camp. He suddenly stopped, and then fell onto his face. Another Warder and his Aes Sedai rode out to the fallen man. Only a few moments later, they returned.
“What’s going on,” one of the head Aes Sedai demanded. Though she appeared to be the archetype of collected calm, Tarac guessed she was anything but.
“The soldier was killed; killed by this. I used Spirit to try to find who had done this, but by the time I realized what had happened, the shooter was long gone.” She held up something, and it took Tarac a bit to see what it was through the rain. But then he knew. In her hand she held a crossbow bolt. Tarac knew from memory that bolt would be black from tip to notch, with three red rings near the fletching. There was only one place to get such a bolt: the Black Tower. Tarac and Vard to heart at this news, for they knew Calsin was following along. Never one for subtlety, he had obviously decided to exact some revenge on the group. When the unconscious Aes Sedai finally awoke, she told them her Warder was dead. His body, as well as the body of the other missing soldier, was later found, both with a bolt bristling from their back. This was the only appearance Calsin made the entire trip, and the group soon found themselves marching across a bridge into the grand city of Tar Valon.
“Sir, I believe I’m done with these shackles now, you can take them off.” The guard on the other side of the door, whom Tarac could just barely see through the barred window, didn’t seem to move. “And you could definitely spruce this place up a bit. A pot of flowers would be nice. And a skylight and bookcase, perhaps.” He laughed at the guard then walked back to the opposite walk were the small bench, and Vard, resided.
“They are going to kill you, you know? And not because you’re a channeler, oh no. They’re going to kill you because you are so bloody annoying.”
“Just trying to make Rosebud – did you know that’s the guard’s name? Surprisingly every single guard we have is named that. Anyway, I’m just trying to make Rosebud’s job a little more pleasant. People don’t seem to realize that prisons can be fun, too.” Vard just shook his head. “Besides,” Tarac said in a hushed voice so as not to be overheard,” I think we’ll be getting out of here soon. They’ve delayed our stilling because of this False Dragon they’re bringing in. They want to take care of the big fish first, I guess. That gives us four days to decide how to get out of here.” When Vard asked how he knew the False Dragon’s arrival had postponed their stilling, Tarac simply smiled. “After a while, you can get Rosebud to say a thing or two.”
The first day of their journey, Tarac noticed that one of the Warders was wearing his sword. “Hey. Warder-boy. Don’t think you can keep that. And what did you do about our horses? I paid top coin for those steeds. I expect compensation from the White Tower.” The entire time everyone in the troupe completely ignored him. “You all are just rays of sunshine, aren’t you?” It was at this point that Vard advised him to be quit. Tarac decided this was a good idea, as well.
It wasn’t until the third day that Tarac realized Xolani was in the traveling group. Again Tarac’s suspicions rose. He was going to try to talk to her somehow, but over the course of a few days, he got the impression that the Aes Sedai didn’t know they knew each other. So they are holding her for some other reason. Very strange… Because of this, talking to her would only put her in danger.
Little else of note happened of the journey, as Tarac and Vard were kept in close guard. He had time to ponder many things, such as how he would escape, if he would ever be able to return to the Borderlands, and why there were Warders here when he presumed that everyone was of the Red Ajah. The only thing he could settle on was that some of the Aes Sedai here were not Reds. Other than that, they weren’t exactly allowed to sight-see as they passed through Lugard, nor was he allowed to buy souvenirs at Caemlyn. It was only once they were through Caemlyn, in fact, that Tarac and Vard began to cheer up.
Roughly four days out of the city, the group found themselves deep within the Braem Wood. The road they traveled led directly to Tar Valon, so on a normal day it held moderate traffic. On this day, however, the skies had darkened and rain fell in torrents, and the group was at least a half-day away from the nearest settlement. Instead of plow ahead, the Sedai decided to find a place and set up camp. Two soldiers and one Warder were sent ahead to scout for a clearing, while the rest plodded on. Everyone’s cloaks, as far as Tarac could tell, were warded against the rain. Tarac and Vard, on the other hand, didn’t even have cloaks, and they definitely were not being protected from the water. They were utterly miserable, drenched from head to foot. If looks could kill, there would have at this time been a few less Aes Sedai in the world.
Over an hour past and the Warder and soldiers hadn’t returned. The Aes Sedai were just starting to get concerned when an Aes Sedai near the front of the group yelled, then fell unconscious to the muddy road. The party came to a quick halt, and a few Sisters jumped down to see to their compatriot. Though Tarac could never know, every Aes Sedai in their party was holding as much saidar as they could. Little over ten minutes later, through the rain the vague silhouette of a man appeared. It was one of the soldiers, running as fast as he could back to the camp. He suddenly stopped, and then fell onto his face. Another Warder and his Aes Sedai rode out to the fallen man. Only a few moments later, they returned.
“What’s going on,” one of the head Aes Sedai demanded. Though she appeared to be the archetype of collected calm, Tarac guessed she was anything but.
“The soldier was killed; killed by this. I used Spirit to try to find who had done this, but by the time I realized what had happened, the shooter was long gone.” She held up something, and it took Tarac a bit to see what it was through the rain. But then he knew. In her hand she held a crossbow bolt. Tarac knew from memory that bolt would be black from tip to notch, with three red rings near the fletching. There was only one place to get such a bolt: the Black Tower. Tarac and Vard to heart at this news, for they knew Calsin was following along. Never one for subtlety, he had obviously decided to exact some revenge on the group. When the unconscious Aes Sedai finally awoke, she told them her Warder was dead. His body, as well as the body of the other missing soldier, was later found, both with a bolt bristling from their back. This was the only appearance Calsin made the entire trip, and the group soon found themselves marching across a bridge into the grand city of Tar Valon.
* * *
“Sir, I believe I’m done with these shackles now, you can take them off.” The guard on the other side of the door, whom Tarac could just barely see through the barred window, didn’t seem to move. “And you could definitely spruce this place up a bit. A pot of flowers would be nice. And a skylight and bookcase, perhaps.” He laughed at the guard then walked back to the opposite walk were the small bench, and Vard, resided.
“They are going to kill you, you know? And not because you’re a channeler, oh no. They’re going to kill you because you are so bloody annoying.”
“Just trying to make Rosebud – did you know that’s the guard’s name? Surprisingly every single guard we have is named that. Anyway, I’m just trying to make Rosebud’s job a little more pleasant. People don’t seem to realize that prisons can be fun, too.” Vard just shook his head. “Besides,” Tarac said in a hushed voice so as not to be overheard,” I think we’ll be getting out of here soon. They’ve delayed our stilling because of this False Dragon they’re bringing in. They want to take care of the big fish first, I guess. That gives us four days to decide how to get out of here.” When Vard asked how he knew the False Dragon’s arrival had postponed their stilling, Tarac simply smiled. “After a while, you can get Rosebud to say a thing or two.”
