OOC: This is a multi-part fic of Cassie Majere's travel from the Caralain to the Grey Tower to become a Novice, under escort from her uncle Sojin Majere Gaidar and a small host of House Walker armsmen and allied Seanchan soldiers. Enjoy, but be warned, it is a long read.
Act One: Dreams and desires
Cassie Majere
She watched as her brother pounded steel. Her amethyst eyes glowed in the forge fire, looking at the much taller man with silver hair as he crafted what looked like an arrowhead.
It was precision work, a skill his brother took great pride in. And then he was working on something else, a delicate chain of silver. He worked it with a small hammer, into detailed links.
And then a collar. And then the woman dressed in blue and red lightning approached, collar in hand, toward him …
Her bow was in hand …. but she hesitated.
And the woman clasped the collar around her brother … her arrow flew … toward his heat.
She screamed
Cassie shot up straight in a sweat, her amethyst eyes scanning the area dimly lit by the dying brazier. Her hand clawed for a long knife that was not there, and her eyes scanned an area empty of anything other than another form sleeping in a cot across the tent.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as her heart slowed its heartbeats, and she became aware of her surroundings.
The air was warm in the tent, but slowly cooling. She nearly pulled the covers up more tightly over her body, but knew better. She was still heated from the dream, her mind still racing.
Cassie's tent mate was still fast asleep, undisturbed by her dreams. Apparently, she didn't talk in her sleep this night, as had been the case over the last week.
A week. Out of two weeks on the road. That was how long it had been since they had left for Hama Valon and the Grey Tower from Walker Manor.
Cassie remembered everything, from the time she awoke in a bedroom at that flaming manor to the time she was ripped away from her brother Coren. Her uncle insisted on separate routes, separate plans.
Her twin was likely a world away and she could nothing about it, all because the Lord of House Walker adhered to his uncle's advice. Sojin Majere was escorting his niece to the Grey Tower while he felt the need to have someone else escort his nephew on a different route.
Since the White Cloaks had nearly apprehended them near Walker Manor two weeks ago, the Gaidin had been protective of his kin. And Cassie was sick of it.
Her father, the Lord Solin Majere, was still a prisoner of another House, and she was riding west. By all rights, her uncle should be riding east toward that flaming minor noble who offended a House of Tar Valon, and with the 50 armsmen escorting them.
Instead, she was here. On her way to Hama Valon, and a life in Novice White.
A figure slipped into the tent, a long knife half drawn. At first, Cassie was ready to attack said person before she realised she lacked a weapon other than her fists. Her eyes adjusted and she identified the figure as Sebrina Calin Gaidar, the Warder who was accompanying she and her uncle to the Grey Tower.
Cassie shook her head and the small red-haired Gaidar sheathed her long knife. The older woman drew near and muttered, “Dreaming again, aren't ya, m'Lady?”
Cassie's amethyst eyes glittered as she cocked her head, studying the small Gaidar as if she were a Tinker puzzle. The woman was a stranger, much like all the rest of the small retinue traveling to the Grey Tower. Well, except perhaps Uncle Sojin, but even then she hadn't seen him in years, and he had remained distant during their time on the road.
She still didn't see the need to be split from her brother Coren. He was likely on an alternate route to the Grey Tower, or so she had been told. Which made her dreams all the more meaningful.
Cassie inclined her head after a moment, and the small Warder sat on the edge of her cot. “Same flaming dream, same flaming scene over and over,” she murmured, eyeing her sleeping tent mate on the other side. “And it gets clearer every time.”
Sebrina's green eyes followed, noting that the other young woman didn't move a stitch. It had been proven the young Seanchan woman who shared Cassie's tent was either a very sound sleeper or very good at feigning it.
And she was the reason why there was such a heavy guard riding with them. The young Lady Elessya, the youngest sister of the High Seat's wife, and a member of the Seanchan High Blood, was travelling to the Grey Tower to sign the Novice Book. It was a show of good faith to prove the Seanchan who married into House Walker were true to their word of not leashing anyone.
In Cassie's eyes, the young beauty was a flaming spoiled brat. Elessya would have been the victim of a prank or two if they were back in Tar Valon, like so many others.
But here, now, she had to be careful. Her uncle kept a close eye on his willful niece, and so did Sebrina, albeit with different intents.
The small Gaidar was perhaps a fast friend, despite nearly 10 years apart in age. And truth be told, the woman was gorgeous, down to the sun-kissed red hair and lithe frame.
“How long before we get to the Tower?” Cassie asked mirthfully. “And how long before I have to put on those flaming gowns those Novices have to wear?”
“Four days at most,” the Gaidar said quietly, trying to hide a small smile. “Five if Sojin Gaidin decides to slow the pace or thinks it necessary to change the route to throw off any pursuit.”
“So four days of freedom, five at the most,” Cassie murmured, failing to suppress a yawn. “That much time to do something fun.”
The Gaidar again nearly smiled and but shook her head disapprovingly. “Be careful not to mix 'fun' with 'foolhardy' or 'rash,' young Lady,” she said. “Your uncle might be lenient, but he'll brook no such behaviour if it derails this trip.”
Cassie cocked her head again, noting the tone in the Gaidar's voice. It was … filled with respect and familiarity that came with either a sense of friendship … or something more.
Before she could inquire, the Gaidar started to rise. Cassie's arm shot out fast, grasped the Gaidar's shirt and yanked her close. The Gaidar didn't look surprised but offered little resistance as the younger woman kissed her deeply. It lasted but a few seconds before Cassie pulled away and murmured, “At least something to look forward to on this trip,” she said coyly before kissing her a second time.
The other woman leaned into the kiss, returning with eager interest. Her mouth crushed Cassie's, her tongue pushing past the young Majere's lips. Heat welled up in Cassie, flooding her body with an intensity she rarely felt.
And then the Gaidar pulled back with a small, cruel smile and murmured. “Some things are worth waiting for, young Lady,” she said to Cassie. “And you need to learn patience.”
Cassie's mouth dropped as she watched the Gaidar turn and depart. Light, but it was going to be a long night now.
The journey of Cassie Majere (fic)
The journey of Cassie Majere (fic)
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
Re: The journey of Cassie Majere (fic)
Act Two: Ripples and consequences
Cassie Majere
Cassie’s mind wandered briefly as she rode her sorrel mare at the center of the column of soldiers that wound its way along the road that carved its way through the mountainous plains. She dwelled on things that occurred last night, on the dream that she had been having and ultimately on her final destination.
The column made an impressive sight, snaking in formation of two horses abreast. Two horsemen up front bore standards, one of a rampant silver fox on a field of green and other the showing a golden hawk on a field of white and fringed by blue. The former was the sigil of House Walker of Andor, while the latter was that of the Seanchan Empire.
Cassie smiled briefly, thinking that at least one historian would be perplexed at seeing the two side by side. House Walker was well known for its enmity toward the Seanchan, and yet the high seat of the ancient Andoran house had married a member of the High Blood.
Now soldiers from both escorted them, most heavily armed. Only the most foolhardy or overly brazen brigands would dare attack them.
And yet Cassie’s mind was still on what was to come.
It was an accepted fact in her family that she would eventually be tested for the ability to channel if she did not show the signs naturally in the next year. Her father and mother were insistent about it, noting that if she did not, marriage or a role in Tar Valon society would always be a second option.
It was a point that her older brother Jalen and her twin Coren always teased her about it, albeit to the feeling of a sharp kick to the shins. She did not want that life, one where she would be forced into an ill-fitting white gown and spend endless years toiling, only to be told she would never be allowed to marry or love without first thinking of the White Tower’s goals first.
Cassie fingered the bow attached to her saddle, now reminded that she might not be able to enjoy a hunt for the foreseeable future. When the sun sets in the flaming east and Ogiers sprout wings and burn their steddings to the ground, she thought to herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the inane prattling of her tentmate. The young Seanchan noblewoman was pretty, and one who apparently took quite well to local fashion. She wore an altered divided skirt and a blouse of Andoran style, with a lower cut of the collar than might be seen in Caemlyn’s court. It was well-made wool, blue in color, with white accents. Her light ebony skin glistened in the sun, and her hair was drawn down into lengthy braid. Unlike the Lady of House Walker, who still embraced the Seanchan style, her younger sister didn’t shave the sides of her head or lacquer her nails. She rode a horse quite well, at least for a noble who seemed to droll on more about customs and such than anything else. Her heart-shaped face seemed innocent enough, but those luscious brown eyes betrayed a calculating intelligence quite apart from the stuff that escaped her mouth.
If not for that one thing — the talking, or rather the subject matter — Cassie might have gotten along with the young Seanchan noble more. But as she was prone to make fun of such people, everything went in one ear and out the other.
Something about boys and watching Warders caught her ear, and she smiled slightly. Her eyes drifted up further up the column to Sebrina Calin, the small Gaidar riding a Tairen charger and armed with a wicked looking staff. The woman’s face was distant, her green eyes keeping everything in perspective as she did her duty as part of the escort. In a sea of a small army of fifty armsmen, she might have been worth twenty easily. Cassie’s mind of course flooded back to the previous night, when she had kissed the Gaidar on a whim, the sensation of those lips.
She smiled at the memory and the reciprocating affection shown, followed by the Gaidar’s quick retreat. They hadn’t spoken since, and Cassie’s early morning attempts to corner her had been dashed as the Warder was sent to scout ahead by her uncle Sojin.
Cassie’s amethyst eyes flickered just up the line to her uncle. Sojin Majere was an intermittent person in the lives of his twin brother’s children. It had been perhaps seven years since either Coren or she had seen him, longer than that for Jalen. She doubted that any of their younger siblings knew who their uncle was other than from the stories the three older ones told.
The man looked so much like her father. Tall, broad-shouldered and lean, a well chiseled, handsome face, his sapphire eyes ever scanning the area for a threat that might hide beneath a clod of dirt. However, the similarities there seemed to end.
Sojin Majere’s eyes still held a hint of mischief and independence, as if he would speak his mind and toss someone on their head if they spoke nonsense or counter to common sense. Solin Majere, her father, was more even-tempered, less prone to act until he assessed every angle: the typical strategist and military adviser.
Both men were veteran warriors, but Cassie couldn’t help but study her uncle. He rode much as he walked, with a lethal grace. The slender sword at his side, the one with the fox pommel, seemed a part of him, and those eyes had seen so much more conflict than perhaps his father a dozen times over.
What little she knew of her uncle was from the stories he told during his last, brief, time with his niece and nephew, and from what little their father told him, or from an Aes Sedai who knew both of them. Sojin Majere was a sore subject with Solin Majere, and one best avoided. Her uncle had been a calvaryman in the Band of the Red Hand, and then a Warder, one who was apparently bonded to the current Amyrlin Seat of the Grey Tower.
She looked sideways at the young noblewoman beside her and murmured, “Excuse me, love, I need to speak with my uncle.” Before the other woman could get a word in edgewise, Cassie nudged her horse into a quicker pace and soon fell in with Sojin Majere.
Her uncle looked at her sideways from underneath a wide-brimmed hat and he frowned slightly, as if to chide Cassie on her decision to place her in a less safe position.
“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t go back to Tar Valon ...” Cassie said after a moment. She’d attempted the argument several times, noting it was her home, not some remote city in the middle of bloody Mountains of Mist.
Sojin shook his head very faintly, as if it was a nonverbal sigh. “We’ve been over this, Cassandrya,” the Gaidin said, using her full name to drive home the point of not backing down. “House Walker keeps counsel with the Grey Tower, not Tar Valon. Jalissa Sedai is a Blue Aes Sedai of that Tower and there is still bad blood between the two places.”
Cassie frowned. He spoke in riddles and non-answers, much as an Aes Sedai would. Much as a noble would. But there was a hidden meaning under his demeanor, one just as troubling.
“What is it, uncle?” she asked after a time. “Why are you so insistent on not sending me home?”
Sojin was quiet, as if pondering the proper response. “Uncle,” she prodded.
“If you were to return, you would be the acting lady of House Majere,” Sojin murmured. “A rider came in the night a few days past, just after we departed Springmore Keep, with a message from Walker Manor. The company of men escorting Coren back to Tar Valon were intercepted by Whitecloaks outside Camden Liene and they were forced to retreat back to the manor. Coren is safe, but the Lord Walker will not risk sending his kin out again so soon.”
Cassie’s nose flared and she threw an icy look Sojin’s way. How could he not tell her then? And what was with this ‘acting lady’ bit?
“Jalen will be furious ...” she said, knowing her older brother would be expecting at least one sibling to return home. All the while their father — Sojin’s own brother! — was rotting in some cell in a ponce of nobleman’s keep.
“Jalen was recaptured after he attempted to mount a rescue of your father,” Sojin said. “House Tyeon has both the High Seat of House Majere and its heir. His second heir is being blocked from returning home, and if we send you there by gateway or other means, you find yourself at the mercy of so many forces that want to tug you in five different directions.”
Cassie let out an indignant snort. “I would allow no such thing! I’d send men there to rescue my father and brother - “
She was cut off with a look from Sojin. His eyes were hard. “And you would be a fool, just like Jalen. I love your brother as any uncle would, but he’s not your father. He attacked with twenty men. Half of them are dead, and other half are prisoners awaiting the gallows for attacking one of Andor’s Houses.” He paused. “And you, my dear niece, would be stuffed into Novice White so fast and directed to do as the White Tower says instead of your own intent.”
He raised a finger before she could counter. “And no, The Grey Tower wouldn’t do that. There is no gain, it would be too cumbersome an effort and it would further disrupt relations with Tar Valon.”
“Then you should return home, or least back to House Walker, and lead a force against House Tyeon!” Cassie demanded, a little louder than she had intended. “He’s your brother, and those bloody jackdaws kidnapped an officer of the Tower Guard and one of its nobles! It should be war.”
Sojin shook his head. “What are our words, the twin sayings House Majere has kept for a thousand years since it came to Tar Valon and was raised high?” he asked.
Cassie blinked in confusion. “Faith and foresight forever,” she murmured. “Always faithful, forever vigilant. But what has that got to with anything. You could lead fifty men against House Tyeon ...”
“Aye, my sweet summer child,” he replied evenly. “House Walker could calls its banners, rally all of the smaller Houses of the Caralain who swear fealty to Walker Manor and easily raise a levy of five thousand men, on top of two thousand trained Seanchan soldiers and march against House Tyeon. But what then?”
She shook her head, her brow knitted in confusion.
“It would not be foresightful or vigilant, at least on my part or House Walker’s part,” Sojin said. “One Andoran house marching against another would draw the notice and wrath of the Lion Throne and it would force Tar Valon into an compromising decision by derailing its attempts to negotiate for the release of its officer and one of its nobles. Say your father and brother are released without incident, or worse, House Tyeon is pulled down and its lords taken as permanent guests. The Queen will not take kindly to one of her nation’s largest Houses marching unsanctioned against another, no matter how stupid its actions are. It might even need to bend to pressure from Tar Valon to take military measures because of the new presence of Seanchan forces aligned with House Walker, no matter how benign and removed from the practices of their cousins to the south. After all, what is to keep the throne from thinking House Walker and the noble to it would secede and still the northern part of Andor? And worse, it would force the Grey Tower into a compromising position because a man who is a known Warder of its Yards was leading that army. It could deny knowledge all it wants, but Tar Valon holds the queen’s ear, not Hama Valon.”
Cassie blinked, her head already spinning. She knew from the few sparse words of praise her father gave his brother that Sojin Majere was a sound soldier with solid leadership skills, but he had often remarked he had little inkling of strategy or politics. Obviously it was either incorrect or the years had changed him.
“But surely that would be nonsense ... secession and everything,” she said, still confused. “House Walker keeps the Caralain and the northern border safe ...”
“Aye, for a thousand years, since Lady Ioyna Walker bent the knee to the second Queen of Andor,” Sojin said without hesitation. “But what were we before that? The memories of the Caralain people are long and it remembers when it was, for nearly 500 years, a nation of its own. House Walker and House Majere share a common lineage of being raised high by the first kings of that nation; the former is descended from that nation’s royalty. And the nobles of Andor are smart; they’ll recognize that the people of that far-flung province will support a House who has protected and lived among them rather than some queen a hundred or a thousand leagues away. What do you think will happen when that thought enters the heads of other major houses?”
Cassie was growing frustrated now, not only with the history lesson but from the divergence from the subject of her imprisoned father and brother, and the refusal to return home.
“The Queen’s Army marches, along with the armies of Houses Trakand, Taravin, Mantear, Gilyard and all the rest of the major families and their retainers, with more soldiers combined to crush anything House Walker or its vassals can muster,” Cassie muttered. “But I don’t see what that has to do with my father ...”
Sojin shook his head. “Every stone cast causes ripples. Throw in too large a stone or too many, you cause a splash, and those splashes become tidal waves,” he said. “The consequences begin to consume what benefits might have otherwise been obtained at the beginning.”
Cassie cocked her head, unsure still about why she was receiving this lesson instead of turning about for home.
“Jalen didn’t understand that, and now ten of your family’s men are dead, he has been recaptured along with your father, and House Majere and Tar Valon are in an even bigger pickle,” Sojin said, his sapphire eyes on the road ahead. “Your father, as much as he seems to disagree with me, would agree that marching even with a hundred men isn’t worth risking a greater conflict down the road.”
“So we sit and wait and do nothing while they could be murdered?” she asked incredulously.
Sojin frowned. “Cassandrya, you’re an intelligent woman, but you’ve got a ways to go. Lord Tyeon stands nothing to gain from killing your father and brother except ruin. The Whitecloaks aren’t interested in them, otherwise they would use them to bait you and Coren. Tar Valon will apply political and monetary pressure on Tyeon, and perhaps even offer a small “reward” for their safe return. And even then, Tar Valon remembers. It settles all debts.”
Cassie opened her mouth to ask why this impacted the reason not to return home, but Sojin stopped her. “Whitecloaks intercepted your twin brother because they knew where he was heading,” he said. “They may think you are heading down a different road toward the same place, and will have men there. And if they learn differently, I would rather be ahead of them rather than ride through them. Whatever their motivations, all Whitecloaks are skilled soldiers with more than a thousand years of history singing that army’s successes in battle.”
Without another word, he nudged his horse into a quicker pace, leaving Cassie riding alone in the formation of troops. She watched, slack-jawed and bewildered, as her uncle took up stride next to Sebrina. The small Warder looked back, her green eyes locking with Cassie’s amethyst gaze, and she shook her head.
The column made an impressive sight, snaking in formation of two horses abreast. Two horsemen up front bore standards, one of a rampant silver fox on a field of green and other the showing a golden hawk on a field of white and fringed by blue. The former was the sigil of House Walker of Andor, while the latter was that of the Seanchan Empire.
Cassie smiled briefly, thinking that at least one historian would be perplexed at seeing the two side by side. House Walker was well known for its enmity toward the Seanchan, and yet the high seat of the ancient Andoran house had married a member of the High Blood.
Now soldiers from both escorted them, most heavily armed. Only the most foolhardy or overly brazen brigands would dare attack them.
And yet Cassie’s mind was still on what was to come.
It was an accepted fact in her family that she would eventually be tested for the ability to channel if she did not show the signs naturally in the next year. Her father and mother were insistent about it, noting that if she did not, marriage or a role in Tar Valon society would always be a second option.
It was a point that her older brother Jalen and her twin Coren always teased her about it, albeit to the feeling of a sharp kick to the shins. She did not want that life, one where she would be forced into an ill-fitting white gown and spend endless years toiling, only to be told she would never be allowed to marry or love without first thinking of the White Tower’s goals first.
Cassie fingered the bow attached to her saddle, now reminded that she might not be able to enjoy a hunt for the foreseeable future. When the sun sets in the flaming east and Ogiers sprout wings and burn their steddings to the ground, she thought to herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the inane prattling of her tentmate. The young Seanchan noblewoman was pretty, and one who apparently took quite well to local fashion. She wore an altered divided skirt and a blouse of Andoran style, with a lower cut of the collar than might be seen in Caemlyn’s court. It was well-made wool, blue in color, with white accents. Her light ebony skin glistened in the sun, and her hair was drawn down into lengthy braid. Unlike the Lady of House Walker, who still embraced the Seanchan style, her younger sister didn’t shave the sides of her head or lacquer her nails. She rode a horse quite well, at least for a noble who seemed to droll on more about customs and such than anything else. Her heart-shaped face seemed innocent enough, but those luscious brown eyes betrayed a calculating intelligence quite apart from the stuff that escaped her mouth.
If not for that one thing — the talking, or rather the subject matter — Cassie might have gotten along with the young Seanchan noble more. But as she was prone to make fun of such people, everything went in one ear and out the other.
Something about boys and watching Warders caught her ear, and she smiled slightly. Her eyes drifted up further up the column to Sebrina Calin, the small Gaidar riding a Tairen charger and armed with a wicked looking staff. The woman’s face was distant, her green eyes keeping everything in perspective as she did her duty as part of the escort. In a sea of a small army of fifty armsmen, she might have been worth twenty easily. Cassie’s mind of course flooded back to the previous night, when she had kissed the Gaidar on a whim, the sensation of those lips.
She smiled at the memory and the reciprocating affection shown, followed by the Gaidar’s quick retreat. They hadn’t spoken since, and Cassie’s early morning attempts to corner her had been dashed as the Warder was sent to scout ahead by her uncle Sojin.
Cassie’s amethyst eyes flickered just up the line to her uncle. Sojin Majere was an intermittent person in the lives of his twin brother’s children. It had been perhaps seven years since either Coren or she had seen him, longer than that for Jalen. She doubted that any of their younger siblings knew who their uncle was other than from the stories the three older ones told.
The man looked so much like her father. Tall, broad-shouldered and lean, a well chiseled, handsome face, his sapphire eyes ever scanning the area for a threat that might hide beneath a clod of dirt. However, the similarities there seemed to end.
Sojin Majere’s eyes still held a hint of mischief and independence, as if he would speak his mind and toss someone on their head if they spoke nonsense or counter to common sense. Solin Majere, her father, was more even-tempered, less prone to act until he assessed every angle: the typical strategist and military adviser.
Both men were veteran warriors, but Cassie couldn’t help but study her uncle. He rode much as he walked, with a lethal grace. The slender sword at his side, the one with the fox pommel, seemed a part of him, and those eyes had seen so much more conflict than perhaps his father a dozen times over.
What little she knew of her uncle was from the stories he told during his last, brief, time with his niece and nephew, and from what little their father told him, or from an Aes Sedai who knew both of them. Sojin Majere was a sore subject with Solin Majere, and one best avoided. Her uncle had been a calvaryman in the Band of the Red Hand, and then a Warder, one who was apparently bonded to the current Amyrlin Seat of the Grey Tower.
She looked sideways at the young noblewoman beside her and murmured, “Excuse me, love, I need to speak with my uncle.” Before the other woman could get a word in edgewise, Cassie nudged her horse into a quicker pace and soon fell in with Sojin Majere.
Her uncle looked at her sideways from underneath a wide-brimmed hat and he frowned slightly, as if to chide Cassie on her decision to place her in a less safe position.
“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t go back to Tar Valon ...” Cassie said after a moment. She’d attempted the argument several times, noting it was her home, not some remote city in the middle of bloody Mountains of Mist.
Sojin shook his head very faintly, as if it was a nonverbal sigh. “We’ve been over this, Cassandrya,” the Gaidin said, using her full name to drive home the point of not backing down. “House Walker keeps counsel with the Grey Tower, not Tar Valon. Jalissa Sedai is a Blue Aes Sedai of that Tower and there is still bad blood between the two places.”
Cassie frowned. He spoke in riddles and non-answers, much as an Aes Sedai would. Much as a noble would. But there was a hidden meaning under his demeanor, one just as troubling.
“What is it, uncle?” she asked after a time. “Why are you so insistent on not sending me home?”
Sojin was quiet, as if pondering the proper response. “Uncle,” she prodded.
“If you were to return, you would be the acting lady of House Majere,” Sojin murmured. “A rider came in the night a few days past, just after we departed Springmore Keep, with a message from Walker Manor. The company of men escorting Coren back to Tar Valon were intercepted by Whitecloaks outside Camden Liene and they were forced to retreat back to the manor. Coren is safe, but the Lord Walker will not risk sending his kin out again so soon.”
Cassie’s nose flared and she threw an icy look Sojin’s way. How could he not tell her then? And what was with this ‘acting lady’ bit?
“Jalen will be furious ...” she said, knowing her older brother would be expecting at least one sibling to return home. All the while their father — Sojin’s own brother! — was rotting in some cell in a ponce of nobleman’s keep.
“Jalen was recaptured after he attempted to mount a rescue of your father,” Sojin said. “House Tyeon has both the High Seat of House Majere and its heir. His second heir is being blocked from returning home, and if we send you there by gateway or other means, you find yourself at the mercy of so many forces that want to tug you in five different directions.”
Cassie let out an indignant snort. “I would allow no such thing! I’d send men there to rescue my father and brother - “
She was cut off with a look from Sojin. His eyes were hard. “And you would be a fool, just like Jalen. I love your brother as any uncle would, but he’s not your father. He attacked with twenty men. Half of them are dead, and other half are prisoners awaiting the gallows for attacking one of Andor’s Houses.” He paused. “And you, my dear niece, would be stuffed into Novice White so fast and directed to do as the White Tower says instead of your own intent.”
He raised a finger before she could counter. “And no, The Grey Tower wouldn’t do that. There is no gain, it would be too cumbersome an effort and it would further disrupt relations with Tar Valon.”
“Then you should return home, or least back to House Walker, and lead a force against House Tyeon!” Cassie demanded, a little louder than she had intended. “He’s your brother, and those bloody jackdaws kidnapped an officer of the Tower Guard and one of its nobles! It should be war.”
Sojin shook his head. “What are our words, the twin sayings House Majere has kept for a thousand years since it came to Tar Valon and was raised high?” he asked.
Cassie blinked in confusion. “Faith and foresight forever,” she murmured. “Always faithful, forever vigilant. But what has that got to with anything. You could lead fifty men against House Tyeon ...”
“Aye, my sweet summer child,” he replied evenly. “House Walker could calls its banners, rally all of the smaller Houses of the Caralain who swear fealty to Walker Manor and easily raise a levy of five thousand men, on top of two thousand trained Seanchan soldiers and march against House Tyeon. But what then?”
She shook her head, her brow knitted in confusion.
“It would not be foresightful or vigilant, at least on my part or House Walker’s part,” Sojin said. “One Andoran house marching against another would draw the notice and wrath of the Lion Throne and it would force Tar Valon into an compromising decision by derailing its attempts to negotiate for the release of its officer and one of its nobles. Say your father and brother are released without incident, or worse, House Tyeon is pulled down and its lords taken as permanent guests. The Queen will not take kindly to one of her nation’s largest Houses marching unsanctioned against another, no matter how stupid its actions are. It might even need to bend to pressure from Tar Valon to take military measures because of the new presence of Seanchan forces aligned with House Walker, no matter how benign and removed from the practices of their cousins to the south. After all, what is to keep the throne from thinking House Walker and the noble to it would secede and still the northern part of Andor? And worse, it would force the Grey Tower into a compromising position because a man who is a known Warder of its Yards was leading that army. It could deny knowledge all it wants, but Tar Valon holds the queen’s ear, not Hama Valon.”
Cassie blinked, her head already spinning. She knew from the few sparse words of praise her father gave his brother that Sojin Majere was a sound soldier with solid leadership skills, but he had often remarked he had little inkling of strategy or politics. Obviously it was either incorrect or the years had changed him.
“But surely that would be nonsense ... secession and everything,” she said, still confused. “House Walker keeps the Caralain and the northern border safe ...”
“Aye, for a thousand years, since Lady Ioyna Walker bent the knee to the second Queen of Andor,” Sojin said without hesitation. “But what were we before that? The memories of the Caralain people are long and it remembers when it was, for nearly 500 years, a nation of its own. House Walker and House Majere share a common lineage of being raised high by the first kings of that nation; the former is descended from that nation’s royalty. And the nobles of Andor are smart; they’ll recognize that the people of that far-flung province will support a House who has protected and lived among them rather than some queen a hundred or a thousand leagues away. What do you think will happen when that thought enters the heads of other major houses?”
Cassie was growing frustrated now, not only with the history lesson but from the divergence from the subject of her imprisoned father and brother, and the refusal to return home.
“The Queen’s Army marches, along with the armies of Houses Trakand, Taravin, Mantear, Gilyard and all the rest of the major families and their retainers, with more soldiers combined to crush anything House Walker or its vassals can muster,” Cassie muttered. “But I don’t see what that has to do with my father ...”
Sojin shook his head. “Every stone cast causes ripples. Throw in too large a stone or too many, you cause a splash, and those splashes become tidal waves,” he said. “The consequences begin to consume what benefits might have otherwise been obtained at the beginning.”
Cassie cocked her head, unsure still about why she was receiving this lesson instead of turning about for home.
“Jalen didn’t understand that, and now ten of your family’s men are dead, he has been recaptured along with your father, and House Majere and Tar Valon are in an even bigger pickle,” Sojin said, his sapphire eyes on the road ahead. “Your father, as much as he seems to disagree with me, would agree that marching even with a hundred men isn’t worth risking a greater conflict down the road.”
“So we sit and wait and do nothing while they could be murdered?” she asked incredulously.
Sojin frowned. “Cassandrya, you’re an intelligent woman, but you’ve got a ways to go. Lord Tyeon stands nothing to gain from killing your father and brother except ruin. The Whitecloaks aren’t interested in them, otherwise they would use them to bait you and Coren. Tar Valon will apply political and monetary pressure on Tyeon, and perhaps even offer a small “reward” for their safe return. And even then, Tar Valon remembers. It settles all debts.”
Cassie opened her mouth to ask why this impacted the reason not to return home, but Sojin stopped her. “Whitecloaks intercepted your twin brother because they knew where he was heading,” he said. “They may think you are heading down a different road toward the same place, and will have men there. And if they learn differently, I would rather be ahead of them rather than ride through them. Whatever their motivations, all Whitecloaks are skilled soldiers with more than a thousand years of history singing that army’s successes in battle.”
Without another word, he nudged his horse into a quicker pace, leaving Cassie riding alone in the formation of troops. She watched, slack-jawed and bewildered, as her uncle took up stride next to Sebrina. The small Warder looked back, her green eyes locking with Cassie’s amethyst gaze, and she shook her head.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
Re: The journey of Cassie Majere (fic)
Act Three: The First Shadows
Cassie Majere
The sun was falling low, indicating the end of the day was near. The small army had stopped for the evening in a small wooden glen which housed a small, long abandoned homestead. Once the buildings were scouted and deemed safe, tents were pitched, fires started and sentries posted.
For Cassie’s part, she helped set up her tent, promptly grabbed her bow and quiver and marched off into an empty area of the smallwood. It had been two days since her uncle had pretty much upended her argument to return home or to rescue her brother and father.
Two days in which she tried to apologize, or enact an apology for being embarrassed. Not once did he speak to her other than to indicate they were stopping, starting or to inquire about her wellbeing. Any attempt to break from the center of the column failed, as a House Walker bannerman or Seanchan soldier politely blocked her path. So she was stuck with the inane prattling of her Seanchan tentmate, who talked nothing but boys, court and the history of her house.
Even Sebrina seemed standoffish and that was even more frustrating. It was something that ran through her mind as the first arrow sank into the soft wood of a nearby pine tree with a satisfying thunk.
What is with these people and their flaming idea of common sense, she thought as she plucked a second arrow from her quiver. Standing straight, her bow grip firm but fair, feet pointed directly at the tree, she drew the arrow and released. The arrow sunk into its target about half an inch higher than the first one.
Shooting and hunting helped with her nerves and frustration, nearly as much as kicking the problem square in the pants.
A third arrow was nocked and ready to loose when she more felt than heard the presence of another person. With an easy exhale, the missile planted itself into the tree.
“Ya shouldn’t be off by yer own, ma’m,” came a familiar voice. “What with all that’s after ya and yer own, yer set to have yer uncle keep ya confined to yer tent until we reach Hama Valon.”
Cassie turned to see Sebrina Calin sitting casually on a old bench, that wicked looking staff of hers leaning against her shoulder. Her green eyes glittered in the filtered sunlight like faded jewels that had a glow all their own. Her red hair was bound up in ringlets and her pretty face had a sly smile, a departure from her normal stoic look.
Underneath all that, however, lay a warrior never truly at rest and apparently ready to smack someone effortlessly with the business end of that spiked staff.
Cassie harrumphed as she released a fourth arrow, this one flying between the first two with another satisfying sound. “He can flaming well try,” she muttered.
She watched as Sebrina admired the grouping. “Nice aim and footwork for one so young.”
Cassie drew her fifth arrow, aiming for the tree when she replied, “I just imagine my uncle’s arse as the target.”
“Aye, he does have a nice bum, but why would ya be staring at your uncle’s rear,” the Gaidar asked. Cassie jerked just as she loosed, and the arrow sailed wide of its target, snapping against large stump.
Cursing, she drew another arrow, attempted to calm herself and pulled back when Sebrina spoke again. “I mean, light, he is handsome and a lion in the bed, but ya should set yer sights on other people, as he’s already spoken for, and ya know, being yer uncle and all.”
The arrow flew wide again, and high as Cassie blinked in shock, knocking a pine cone loose in the process. The cone fell earthward, landing on an unsuspecting and soon knocked-out squirrel.
“Not really a lover of squirrel, but I’ll try anything once,” Sebrina remarked. Cassie turned to look at the Gaidar and saw that smirk on her mouth.
“You slept with him,” Cassie asked in surprise. How could that be? Sebrina was ... well, she had indicated interest ... No, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to wrap her mind around it.
The Gaidar was more relaxed about the subject, it seemed. “He was acting High Seat of House Walker once upon a time, and I his guard captain, before I joined the Yards,” Sebrina remarked. “We shared battle, bread and bed and parted as friends. Most former lovers can’t say the same.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s right about all he said, or the way he said it,” Cassie growled as she set down her bow and moved to collect the arrows lodged in the tree. “He has no sense of ...”
A hand came crashing against the back of her head. And then the Gaidar was standing to her side.
“Yes, he is right, in this instance,” the Gaidar said simply. She studied her hand, as if the slap was a common act for her. “And yer uncle has more sense about him that he normally demonstrates. As to the way he says things, well, he’s that way. He’s blunt because it’s the best way to get things across and it’s simple. He was leading men into battle when he was barely older than ya are now, and ruling a powerful House when he was barely into his late thirties. Being blunt throws off soldiers and nobles alike. And it’s ruffled more than a few feathers, including his boneheaded decision to alienate the current Mistress of Arms.”
The first of the arrows came out relatively easy as Cassie muttered, “He’s not the same man I remember.”
“The memory you have of him is through the eyes of a girl of eight or nine, of a man who was kind to his niece, and provided treats,” the Gaidar said, her green eyes dancing. “That is just one side of the dice that is Sojin Majere. The side ya see now is a veteran soldier and Warder who knows the risks, fought Trollocs, Seanchan and Whitecloaks, and is very concerned for the wellbeing of his niece, nephews and brother. That is why he is going to such lengths to protect ya despite being separated from his Aes Sedai for so long.”
Cassie tilted her head briefly, now curious, but not about her uncle. “And you ...,” she asked as she plucked another arrow from the tree. “Do you have your Aes Sedai or Asha’man waiting?”
Sebrina snorted. “I’ve yet to find a channeler who stands up to my measure, except perhaps one, and he’s already bonded to a woman who could put arrows through ya faster than ya could breath,” she said. “And that’s one foot I’ll not step on.”
She drew closer to Cassie then, her smile turning into a sly grin. “Besides, there’s still so much of the world to do before one gets bogged down with a bond ... so many experiences ...”
Cassie’s heartbeat picked up and her blood felt on fire as she suddenly grabbed the Gaidar’s shirt and pulled her into a deep kiss. On instinct, she dropped the arrows in her other hand and pulled the Gaidar back until she felt her back against the tree. The Gaidar reciprocated savagely.
The world dropped and all Cassie could feel was her heart, the heat of the other woman’s body, the feeling of her mouth devouring hers ...
... and then the Gaidar broke away, her eyes alert. Cassie was left panting for air and looking expectantly at her to continue.
Dead brush rustled and the small Gaidar silently nodded her head in the direction of the camp. Cassie wasn’t going to argue and made for her bow.
Before she could take two steps, the dark-clothed figure was in front of the Gaidar, a sword hilt smashing across her jaw with enough force to level a bull. The small Gaidar fell to the forest floor.
Cassie shouted and leapt back in surprise, her first instinct to reach for the dagger at her side. The man was impossibly quick, lashing out with a swift kick that connected with her midsection. She stumbled back and onto her knees, the wind knocked out of her lungs. Before she could recover, the man knelt. He reeked of onions and weeks of no bathing, and looked like a squirrel with beady black eyes. A calloused hand covered her mouth and she could feel cold steel pressed against her throat.
“Speak and I will cut out your tongue,” he said in an indistinguishable accent. Cassie, however, saw the gold sunburst on a dingy white coat beneath the man’s dark cloak. She nodded wordlessly and as the sword fell, she caught the sigil of a bird engraved in the sword.
Instinct took over and as the man removed his hand, Cassie’s head collided with his nose in a fierce headbutt. And then promptly regretted it as her ears began to ring.
The smelly man didn’t flinch, only delivered a backhanded slap so fierce that she was sent reeling. He wiped the blood that flowed from his broken nose, gripped his broadsword in one hand and pulled Cassie up by her hair with another.
She tried to protest but she couldn’t her tongue. Her senses came to just as they passed Sebrina, who lay unmoving on the ground. Her beautiful face was bruised by the blow she had been dealt, her green eyes closed.
Anger welled up in Cassie and she reached for her knife. The man must have been aware of the movement just about the same time a groan came from the Gaidar. The Whitecloak savagely yanked Cassie’s braid, pulling her forward and about to face him. Another savage blow landed in her midsection, sending her stumbling backward and onto her knees for a second time.
She watched through blurred vision as the man coldly considered both women and murmured, “I said silence. My orders are for you, witch, in one piece, alive, but not this one.”
Cassie watched as the heron-marked sword rose and darted down and she screamed ...
... just as a second sword intercepted the downward blow. Steel clashed on steel as Cassie saw her silver-haired uncle step into sight. The cloak he wore rippled around him, distorting the background in a disturbing way.
“Walk away,” was the only thing her uncle said before the man moved his sword into a downward arc aimed toward Sojin’s neck.
Cassie knew very little of sword play beyond watching her brother Jalen spar with the master of arms and with the trainees sent from the Yards on occasion to learn strategy from their father. But what she saw know was that both men were far superior to either her father, the Majere master of arms or Jalen.
She also knew the heron mark was a death sentence for lesser men.
Sojin’s sword parried at the shoulder without hesitation and the Gaidin maneuvered away from the Whitecloak. Away from Sebrina.
Again, the man pressed the attack aggressively and with ease. “The uncle who bonded a witch that rules a ruined city, defending a niece who belongs to the Shadow,” the man teased as he sparred against Sojin. “Best I take her now and end any threat.”
Cassie blinked in confusion, both from the spinning world and from the smelly Whitecloak’s words. Belong to the Shadow?
She saw the enemy blade flash perilously close to her uncle’s abdomen only for the latter to move out of its path. She could smell blood and noticed a graze on her uncle’s left side.
“Not even after my last breath has left my body,” she heard her uncle say.
“Accept fate, Warder, you will be dead, your head a gift for my commanders,” the other man said as he launched into another series of attacks. Sojin appeared only barely fending off the attacks and Cassie found her vision more blurred by the second.
Soon the two men began only dancing silhouettes, and in a vague direction of the tree she had been shooting at only moments ago.
She saw one savage upward slash, heard steel on steel, another bold move and then suddenly a sharp scream before one blur slumped to his knees, only to find himself beheaded.
Then the world went dark.
Cassie was aware of only flashes, of herself being carried firmly, gently but hurriedly. Her eyes opened and she saw a dream-like vision of her uncle’s face, that faded scar over his left eye, a freshly bleeding cut on his cheek. She felt weightless, was aware of other voices in the air, saw her uncle’s mouth moving as if giving orders.
“Sebrina ... “ she croaked, trying to form a thought.
She saw her uncle speak, but the words didn’t reach her ears. But she saw him nod as well and a flood of relief flowed through her and she fell back into a dreamless slumber.
For Cassie’s part, she helped set up her tent, promptly grabbed her bow and quiver and marched off into an empty area of the smallwood. It had been two days since her uncle had pretty much upended her argument to return home or to rescue her brother and father.
Two days in which she tried to apologize, or enact an apology for being embarrassed. Not once did he speak to her other than to indicate they were stopping, starting or to inquire about her wellbeing. Any attempt to break from the center of the column failed, as a House Walker bannerman or Seanchan soldier politely blocked her path. So she was stuck with the inane prattling of her Seanchan tentmate, who talked nothing but boys, court and the history of her house.
Even Sebrina seemed standoffish and that was even more frustrating. It was something that ran through her mind as the first arrow sank into the soft wood of a nearby pine tree with a satisfying thunk.
What is with these people and their flaming idea of common sense, she thought as she plucked a second arrow from her quiver. Standing straight, her bow grip firm but fair, feet pointed directly at the tree, she drew the arrow and released. The arrow sunk into its target about half an inch higher than the first one.
Shooting and hunting helped with her nerves and frustration, nearly as much as kicking the problem square in the pants.
A third arrow was nocked and ready to loose when she more felt than heard the presence of another person. With an easy exhale, the missile planted itself into the tree.
“Ya shouldn’t be off by yer own, ma’m,” came a familiar voice. “What with all that’s after ya and yer own, yer set to have yer uncle keep ya confined to yer tent until we reach Hama Valon.”
Cassie turned to see Sebrina Calin sitting casually on a old bench, that wicked looking staff of hers leaning against her shoulder. Her green eyes glittered in the filtered sunlight like faded jewels that had a glow all their own. Her red hair was bound up in ringlets and her pretty face had a sly smile, a departure from her normal stoic look.
Underneath all that, however, lay a warrior never truly at rest and apparently ready to smack someone effortlessly with the business end of that spiked staff.
Cassie harrumphed as she released a fourth arrow, this one flying between the first two with another satisfying sound. “He can flaming well try,” she muttered.
She watched as Sebrina admired the grouping. “Nice aim and footwork for one so young.”
Cassie drew her fifth arrow, aiming for the tree when she replied, “I just imagine my uncle’s arse as the target.”
“Aye, he does have a nice bum, but why would ya be staring at your uncle’s rear,” the Gaidar asked. Cassie jerked just as she loosed, and the arrow sailed wide of its target, snapping against large stump.
Cursing, she drew another arrow, attempted to calm herself and pulled back when Sebrina spoke again. “I mean, light, he is handsome and a lion in the bed, but ya should set yer sights on other people, as he’s already spoken for, and ya know, being yer uncle and all.”
The arrow flew wide again, and high as Cassie blinked in shock, knocking a pine cone loose in the process. The cone fell earthward, landing on an unsuspecting and soon knocked-out squirrel.
“Not really a lover of squirrel, but I’ll try anything once,” Sebrina remarked. Cassie turned to look at the Gaidar and saw that smirk on her mouth.
“You slept with him,” Cassie asked in surprise. How could that be? Sebrina was ... well, she had indicated interest ... No, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to wrap her mind around it.
The Gaidar was more relaxed about the subject, it seemed. “He was acting High Seat of House Walker once upon a time, and I his guard captain, before I joined the Yards,” Sebrina remarked. “We shared battle, bread and bed and parted as friends. Most former lovers can’t say the same.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s right about all he said, or the way he said it,” Cassie growled as she set down her bow and moved to collect the arrows lodged in the tree. “He has no sense of ...”
A hand came crashing against the back of her head. And then the Gaidar was standing to her side.
“Yes, he is right, in this instance,” the Gaidar said simply. She studied her hand, as if the slap was a common act for her. “And yer uncle has more sense about him that he normally demonstrates. As to the way he says things, well, he’s that way. He’s blunt because it’s the best way to get things across and it’s simple. He was leading men into battle when he was barely older than ya are now, and ruling a powerful House when he was barely into his late thirties. Being blunt throws off soldiers and nobles alike. And it’s ruffled more than a few feathers, including his boneheaded decision to alienate the current Mistress of Arms.”
The first of the arrows came out relatively easy as Cassie muttered, “He’s not the same man I remember.”
“The memory you have of him is through the eyes of a girl of eight or nine, of a man who was kind to his niece, and provided treats,” the Gaidar said, her green eyes dancing. “That is just one side of the dice that is Sojin Majere. The side ya see now is a veteran soldier and Warder who knows the risks, fought Trollocs, Seanchan and Whitecloaks, and is very concerned for the wellbeing of his niece, nephews and brother. That is why he is going to such lengths to protect ya despite being separated from his Aes Sedai for so long.”
Cassie tilted her head briefly, now curious, but not about her uncle. “And you ...,” she asked as she plucked another arrow from the tree. “Do you have your Aes Sedai or Asha’man waiting?”
Sebrina snorted. “I’ve yet to find a channeler who stands up to my measure, except perhaps one, and he’s already bonded to a woman who could put arrows through ya faster than ya could breath,” she said. “And that’s one foot I’ll not step on.”
She drew closer to Cassie then, her smile turning into a sly grin. “Besides, there’s still so much of the world to do before one gets bogged down with a bond ... so many experiences ...”
Cassie’s heartbeat picked up and her blood felt on fire as she suddenly grabbed the Gaidar’s shirt and pulled her into a deep kiss. On instinct, she dropped the arrows in her other hand and pulled the Gaidar back until she felt her back against the tree. The Gaidar reciprocated savagely.
The world dropped and all Cassie could feel was her heart, the heat of the other woman’s body, the feeling of her mouth devouring hers ...
... and then the Gaidar broke away, her eyes alert. Cassie was left panting for air and looking expectantly at her to continue.
Dead brush rustled and the small Gaidar silently nodded her head in the direction of the camp. Cassie wasn’t going to argue and made for her bow.
Before she could take two steps, the dark-clothed figure was in front of the Gaidar, a sword hilt smashing across her jaw with enough force to level a bull. The small Gaidar fell to the forest floor.
Cassie shouted and leapt back in surprise, her first instinct to reach for the dagger at her side. The man was impossibly quick, lashing out with a swift kick that connected with her midsection. She stumbled back and onto her knees, the wind knocked out of her lungs. Before she could recover, the man knelt. He reeked of onions and weeks of no bathing, and looked like a squirrel with beady black eyes. A calloused hand covered her mouth and she could feel cold steel pressed against her throat.
“Speak and I will cut out your tongue,” he said in an indistinguishable accent. Cassie, however, saw the gold sunburst on a dingy white coat beneath the man’s dark cloak. She nodded wordlessly and as the sword fell, she caught the sigil of a bird engraved in the sword.
Instinct took over and as the man removed his hand, Cassie’s head collided with his nose in a fierce headbutt. And then promptly regretted it as her ears began to ring.
The smelly man didn’t flinch, only delivered a backhanded slap so fierce that she was sent reeling. He wiped the blood that flowed from his broken nose, gripped his broadsword in one hand and pulled Cassie up by her hair with another.
She tried to protest but she couldn’t her tongue. Her senses came to just as they passed Sebrina, who lay unmoving on the ground. Her beautiful face was bruised by the blow she had been dealt, her green eyes closed.
Anger welled up in Cassie and she reached for her knife. The man must have been aware of the movement just about the same time a groan came from the Gaidar. The Whitecloak savagely yanked Cassie’s braid, pulling her forward and about to face him. Another savage blow landed in her midsection, sending her stumbling backward and onto her knees for a second time.
She watched through blurred vision as the man coldly considered both women and murmured, “I said silence. My orders are for you, witch, in one piece, alive, but not this one.”
Cassie watched as the heron-marked sword rose and darted down and she screamed ...
... just as a second sword intercepted the downward blow. Steel clashed on steel as Cassie saw her silver-haired uncle step into sight. The cloak he wore rippled around him, distorting the background in a disturbing way.
“Walk away,” was the only thing her uncle said before the man moved his sword into a downward arc aimed toward Sojin’s neck.
Cassie knew very little of sword play beyond watching her brother Jalen spar with the master of arms and with the trainees sent from the Yards on occasion to learn strategy from their father. But what she saw know was that both men were far superior to either her father, the Majere master of arms or Jalen.
She also knew the heron mark was a death sentence for lesser men.
Sojin’s sword parried at the shoulder without hesitation and the Gaidin maneuvered away from the Whitecloak. Away from Sebrina.
Again, the man pressed the attack aggressively and with ease. “The uncle who bonded a witch that rules a ruined city, defending a niece who belongs to the Shadow,” the man teased as he sparred against Sojin. “Best I take her now and end any threat.”
Cassie blinked in confusion, both from the spinning world and from the smelly Whitecloak’s words. Belong to the Shadow?
She saw the enemy blade flash perilously close to her uncle’s abdomen only for the latter to move out of its path. She could smell blood and noticed a graze on her uncle’s left side.
“Not even after my last breath has left my body,” she heard her uncle say.
“Accept fate, Warder, you will be dead, your head a gift for my commanders,” the other man said as he launched into another series of attacks. Sojin appeared only barely fending off the attacks and Cassie found her vision more blurred by the second.
Soon the two men began only dancing silhouettes, and in a vague direction of the tree she had been shooting at only moments ago.
She saw one savage upward slash, heard steel on steel, another bold move and then suddenly a sharp scream before one blur slumped to his knees, only to find himself beheaded.
Then the world went dark.
Cassie was aware of only flashes, of herself being carried firmly, gently but hurriedly. Her eyes opened and she saw a dream-like vision of her uncle’s face, that faded scar over his left eye, a freshly bleeding cut on his cheek. She felt weightless, was aware of other voices in the air, saw her uncle’s mouth moving as if giving orders.
“Sebrina ... “ she croaked, trying to form a thought.
She saw her uncle speak, but the words didn’t reach her ears. But she saw him nod as well and a flood of relief flowed through her and she fell back into a dreamless slumber.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
Re: The journey of Cassie Majere (fic)
Act Four: Before the storm
Cassie Majere
“How many,” Cassie heard her uncle say as she did up the saddle of her horse. The pain endured two days ago at the hands of the Whitecloak was only beginning to fade. The injury to her pride was much deeper, but she had barely any time to dwell on it.
The small group was on the move almost constantly now, camping late at night, with low fires, and leaving leaving before dawn.
She watched as Sojin spoke with one of House Walker’s scouts, a small, wiry man armed with only knives.
“Seventy at last count, sir, all mounted, and perhaps another twenty behind them by an hour,” the scout said. “If we’re lucky, we can reach Hama Valon before they overtake us, but only if we leave in the next hour.”
Cassie saw her uncle frown and ask the odds. “Minimal, sir. They’ll overtake us halfway between the plain and the gates.”
Sojin removed a ring from a pocket, the shape of three foxes, and handed it to the scout. “Take this, gather two men you trust and take the fastest horses we have. Ride hard.”
The scout nodded, motioned two small men and quickly departed for where the horses were tethered.
Cassie watched as her uncle started shouting orders, telling soldiers to pack up and gather what they could carry, nothing more.
Elessya, the Seanchan lady, looked up as well and closed the small distance between her and Cassie. “Why are we being ordered to leave our belongings? Half my clothes are still in the tent ...”
“Whitecloaks, it seems, more of them than us,” Cassie murmured as she tightened the final strap on her saddle. “They’re on our trail and if we don’t ride now, they catch up with us.”
Elessya frowned and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I will not allow some pathetic low-life thugs to chase me away from my belongings. We will tell your uncle that we will stand and watch as our soldiers ...”
Cassie turned slightly, and smiled very politely and murmured, “Look around and listen. Watch the horses, watch the men, and please come back from whatever blissful delusions you might have.” The young Majere might lack her brother’s gift of intuition, but she knew enough to realize the men were on edge. Her amethyst eyes watched as Seanchan and Andoran soldiers alike quickly packed the bare essentials - weapons, food and water, and other supplies.
For her part, Elessya, scanned the area briefly and frowned, as if unconcerned. Before she could speak, Cassie raised a finger to the other woman’s full lips.
“Whitecloaks aren’t rabble, my sweet, daft girl,” she said, much to Ellesya’s sudden anger for being talked to in such a fashion. “Amador fell to the Seanchan Empire only because it had the advantage of damane and raken and everything else in between, as well as a massive army. A massive army by itself, however, would have met with more of a challenge from the Children of the Light.”
Cassie knew her history. The Whitecloaks were one of the few standing forces in the Westlands that possessed the military might to be considered a threat. And unlike nations south of the Borderlands, or the Seanchan or Tower Guard of Tar Valon, Whitecloaks were drawn from every nation and trained in the art of war. They weren’t peasants who were armed with just pitchfork, staff or hunting spear; they were disciplined, and more so, they had faith, a zeal that their cause was the right one.
“Those Whitecloaks will catch up to us, overwhelm us, and most likely cut every man down before they capture us, torture us and kill us for being Darkfriend witches,” Cassie said as she withdrew her finger and finished attending her horse. “Hopefully they will proceed in that order and not think of anything more ... carnal in nature.”
She heard the Seanchan beauty gulp. “Why are they after us in the first place, and why attack you two days ago?”
Cassie shook her head. “I have no flaming clue, my sweet,” she murmured. It was the partial truth. She knew that the Whitecloaks chasing them wanted her for some reason, or her brother Coren, but couldn’t fathom why. “Get your cute rear moving before I smack it.”
Elessya cocked her head and muttered, “Stop flirting,” before moving off.
Cassie turned only to find herself startled when she saw her uncle standing in front of her, hand on sword. The cut on his cheek from where the Whitecloak had wounded still hadn’t healed completely, presenting a more intimidating sight of the veteran Warder.
“You shouldn’t test that one, Cassandrya, because she might just come back and bite you when you least expect it,” Sojin said. “Are you finished and ready?”
Cassie suppressed the instinct to roll her eyes at her uncle’s warning and nodded. Something else weighed on her mind more so than the Whitecloaks themselves.
She looked at her uncle, remembering the dream she had last night. It was the silver fox who on a stones board, with a small flock of ravens and normal foxes behind him. The mass of sunbursts collided against the army. And then she had seen him, standing across from her, a broken arrow in his chest, and a weeping figure dressed in green standing over a grave marker bearing his name.
“Uncle, I had a dream last night, about you and sunbursts ...” Cassie began. She was immediately cut off with a solemn glance.
“Dreams, my dear niece, are open to interpretation, and are of things that may or may not come to pass,” Sojin said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “If I lived my life around whatever Dreamers saw or prophesied, I would be jumping at my own shadow. That’s no way for a Warder or a soldier to live his life.”
Cassie blinked. So much like her father and yet so flaming different. Before she could say a word, the silver haired Gaidin nodded to Ellesya, who was finally getting what things she could packed into her saddlebags and preparing to mount. “Should it come to it, you and Ellessya are to ride hard and fast for Hama Valon should I instruct you with Sebrina Gaidar.”
Her eyes flickered toward the small Gaidar, who was now coming into view, her horse prepared to go, her wicked looking staff in hand. The Gaidar met her gaze and she nodded somberly before riding to the front of a quickly assembled column.
“Uncle, why would I ...” Again she was quieted.
“Because you are family and because you are promised to the Grey Tower,” her uncle said. “I have a sworn duty of care for any channeler as if they were my own Aes Sedai, whether they have yet to sign the Novice book or the M’Hael himself. And you remind me very much of myself when I was your age. And because long ago, I made a decision on whether to stay and protect family or follow orders. I regret that decision every day, because it was the wrong one.”
Cassie blinked. Was there a tinge of regret in his steely uncle’s voice? What did he mean by staying? “One day I will tell you,” was all he said before he turned.
“Uncle!” Her voice cut through the noise of the decampment procedures. Sojin looked back as Cassie led her horse up to him. One question still burned in her mind. “How did you defeat the Whitecloak. He had a heron on his sword. Why don’t you?”
Sojin smiled faintly, a sad smile. “He thought he was better than I, and he was right,” Sojin murmured. “But a heron mark doesn’t guarantee a victory. As to why I don’t, only the Mistress of Arms will know and only after I deliver the Whitecloak’s blade.”
And then he was back to shouting orders. Cassie wanted to kick him. Why was it that this man was so flaming endearing and yet so bloody aggravating at the same time?
As Cassie mounted her stallion, her hand went to the amethyst pendant around her neck. A gift from her father, not too long ago. And then it fell to her long knife, the antler hilt capped with the same stone, a gift from her brother. Family.
As she turned her horse about, the young Majere chose to apply that one word to her uncle and his bewildering attitude.
The small group was on the move almost constantly now, camping late at night, with low fires, and leaving leaving before dawn.
She watched as Sojin spoke with one of House Walker’s scouts, a small, wiry man armed with only knives.
“Seventy at last count, sir, all mounted, and perhaps another twenty behind them by an hour,” the scout said. “If we’re lucky, we can reach Hama Valon before they overtake us, but only if we leave in the next hour.”
Cassie saw her uncle frown and ask the odds. “Minimal, sir. They’ll overtake us halfway between the plain and the gates.”
Sojin removed a ring from a pocket, the shape of three foxes, and handed it to the scout. “Take this, gather two men you trust and take the fastest horses we have. Ride hard.”
The scout nodded, motioned two small men and quickly departed for where the horses were tethered.
Cassie watched as her uncle started shouting orders, telling soldiers to pack up and gather what they could carry, nothing more.
Elessya, the Seanchan lady, looked up as well and closed the small distance between her and Cassie. “Why are we being ordered to leave our belongings? Half my clothes are still in the tent ...”
“Whitecloaks, it seems, more of them than us,” Cassie murmured as she tightened the final strap on her saddle. “They’re on our trail and if we don’t ride now, they catch up with us.”
Elessya frowned and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I will not allow some pathetic low-life thugs to chase me away from my belongings. We will tell your uncle that we will stand and watch as our soldiers ...”
Cassie turned slightly, and smiled very politely and murmured, “Look around and listen. Watch the horses, watch the men, and please come back from whatever blissful delusions you might have.” The young Majere might lack her brother’s gift of intuition, but she knew enough to realize the men were on edge. Her amethyst eyes watched as Seanchan and Andoran soldiers alike quickly packed the bare essentials - weapons, food and water, and other supplies.
For her part, Elessya, scanned the area briefly and frowned, as if unconcerned. Before she could speak, Cassie raised a finger to the other woman’s full lips.
“Whitecloaks aren’t rabble, my sweet, daft girl,” she said, much to Ellesya’s sudden anger for being talked to in such a fashion. “Amador fell to the Seanchan Empire only because it had the advantage of damane and raken and everything else in between, as well as a massive army. A massive army by itself, however, would have met with more of a challenge from the Children of the Light.”
Cassie knew her history. The Whitecloaks were one of the few standing forces in the Westlands that possessed the military might to be considered a threat. And unlike nations south of the Borderlands, or the Seanchan or Tower Guard of Tar Valon, Whitecloaks were drawn from every nation and trained in the art of war. They weren’t peasants who were armed with just pitchfork, staff or hunting spear; they were disciplined, and more so, they had faith, a zeal that their cause was the right one.
“Those Whitecloaks will catch up to us, overwhelm us, and most likely cut every man down before they capture us, torture us and kill us for being Darkfriend witches,” Cassie said as she withdrew her finger and finished attending her horse. “Hopefully they will proceed in that order and not think of anything more ... carnal in nature.”
She heard the Seanchan beauty gulp. “Why are they after us in the first place, and why attack you two days ago?”
Cassie shook her head. “I have no flaming clue, my sweet,” she murmured. It was the partial truth. She knew that the Whitecloaks chasing them wanted her for some reason, or her brother Coren, but couldn’t fathom why. “Get your cute rear moving before I smack it.”
Elessya cocked her head and muttered, “Stop flirting,” before moving off.
Cassie turned only to find herself startled when she saw her uncle standing in front of her, hand on sword. The cut on his cheek from where the Whitecloak had wounded still hadn’t healed completely, presenting a more intimidating sight of the veteran Warder.
“You shouldn’t test that one, Cassandrya, because she might just come back and bite you when you least expect it,” Sojin said. “Are you finished and ready?”
Cassie suppressed the instinct to roll her eyes at her uncle’s warning and nodded. Something else weighed on her mind more so than the Whitecloaks themselves.
She looked at her uncle, remembering the dream she had last night. It was the silver fox who on a stones board, with a small flock of ravens and normal foxes behind him. The mass of sunbursts collided against the army. And then she had seen him, standing across from her, a broken arrow in his chest, and a weeping figure dressed in green standing over a grave marker bearing his name.
“Uncle, I had a dream last night, about you and sunbursts ...” Cassie began. She was immediately cut off with a solemn glance.
“Dreams, my dear niece, are open to interpretation, and are of things that may or may not come to pass,” Sojin said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “If I lived my life around whatever Dreamers saw or prophesied, I would be jumping at my own shadow. That’s no way for a Warder or a soldier to live his life.”
Cassie blinked. So much like her father and yet so flaming different. Before she could say a word, the silver haired Gaidin nodded to Ellesya, who was finally getting what things she could packed into her saddlebags and preparing to mount. “Should it come to it, you and Ellessya are to ride hard and fast for Hama Valon should I instruct you with Sebrina Gaidar.”
Her eyes flickered toward the small Gaidar, who was now coming into view, her horse prepared to go, her wicked looking staff in hand. The Gaidar met her gaze and she nodded somberly before riding to the front of a quickly assembled column.
“Uncle, why would I ...” Again she was quieted.
“Because you are family and because you are promised to the Grey Tower,” her uncle said. “I have a sworn duty of care for any channeler as if they were my own Aes Sedai, whether they have yet to sign the Novice book or the M’Hael himself. And you remind me very much of myself when I was your age. And because long ago, I made a decision on whether to stay and protect family or follow orders. I regret that decision every day, because it was the wrong one.”
Cassie blinked. Was there a tinge of regret in his steely uncle’s voice? What did he mean by staying? “One day I will tell you,” was all he said before he turned.
“Uncle!” Her voice cut through the noise of the decampment procedures. Sojin looked back as Cassie led her horse up to him. One question still burned in her mind. “How did you defeat the Whitecloak. He had a heron on his sword. Why don’t you?”
Sojin smiled faintly, a sad smile. “He thought he was better than I, and he was right,” Sojin murmured. “But a heron mark doesn’t guarantee a victory. As to why I don’t, only the Mistress of Arms will know and only after I deliver the Whitecloak’s blade.”
And then he was back to shouting orders. Cassie wanted to kick him. Why was it that this man was so flaming endearing and yet so bloody aggravating at the same time?
As Cassie mounted her stallion, her hand went to the amethyst pendant around her neck. A gift from her father, not too long ago. And then it fell to her long knife, the antler hilt capped with the same stone, a gift from her brother. Family.
As she turned her horse about, the young Majere chose to apply that one word to her uncle and his bewildering attitude.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
Re: The journey of Cassie Majere (fic)
Act Five: Flight and fight
Cassie Majere
The Whitecloaks were in sight hours, and true to the scout’s words, the small company from Walker Manor was caught on open ground, with the Grey Tower just beyond the horizon. And just beyond their reach. Even a hard ride wouldn’t be able to save them before the Whitecloaks overtook them.
The sound of hooves against ground was the only thing that Cassie could hear at first, as her stallion galloped over heavy ground. Her hand went her bow clipped to her saddle, but she knew it would be ineffective. She was a fair shot against animals, but firing from a horse would likely end in embarrassment and the chance she might skewer one of their own party.
The Whitecloaks were much more proficient with that sort of thing, and they proved it as the first arrows cut down four men at the rear of the company. More arrows just barely missed them, sinking into the earth as they rode out of range.
She saw her uncle begin to turn when one of the Seanchan officers shook his head, pointed toward the Tower and then peeled off perhaps a dozen men, all armed with bows. She heard the orders to return fire but she dared not look back. All she heard were screams and shouts, and orders to keep firing before she was out of hearing range.
Her amethyst eyes landed first on her uncle and on Sebrina Calin, the two Warders’ expression blank and hard as stone. Then she looked at Elessya, the Seanchan noble clinging to her horse with dear life, her brown eyes wide with terror.
The world both slowed down and sped up for Cassie, as each breath began to feel precious and every sound and motion hurled ahead at a thousand feet per second. The Tower was growing closer, but it was still just a sight on the horizon.
And then she heard the command to stop.
It came from her uncle. He, Sebrina and one of the Walker bannermen were watching the horizon immediately to their left. It was a small white mass moving toward them at breakneck speed. Cassie was no military strategist, not even by half, but she suspected from all she learned and overheard from her older brother and House Majere’s armsmaster that the Whitecloaks were attempting to flank them from one side.
She saw her uncle and Sebrina arguing fiercely while pointing at her and Ellessya. “They are your family, sir, and have a better chance of surviving.”
Her uncle looked at Cassie and after a heartbeat nodded hard in capitulation. The Gaidar spun her horse about, and with fifteen men, many of them House Walker retainers, galloped in the direction of the flanking enemy.
Cassie’s heart was in her throat, but she had no time to think about as her uncle’s voice thundered into her head. “Cassandrya Majere, ride for the Tower! Now!”
Before she realized it, she and Ellessya were surrounded by the remaining soldiers and she had no choice but to obey. Her uncle took up the rear, now obscured from sight by the mass of men.
She did look back however, and in the gaps that formed briefly, she saw the original pursuing party closing. The Whitecloaks were fewer in number, perhaps cut down by the archers who had bought the Tower-bound group precious time, but it looked like superior numbers.
Arrows once more rained down around them, by a wide margin this time. They were trying to corral and constrain their movements, or so Cassie thought in the barrage of thoughts that assailed her mind.
That’s when she overheard another set of orders from her uncle. This set left her wordless.
“You five see them safely to the city, and don’t stop until you’re at the gates, or your horses give in,” he ordered to the Seanchan soldiers surrounding her and Ellessya.
The sight she saw next was her uncle, sword drawn and wheeling back toward the pursuing Whitecloaks. “House Walker, to me!” The bulk of the remaining armsmen followed suit after her uncle, swords bared or spears tilted.
But she was moving fast, her horse now wheezing under her. Cassie closed her eyes, refusing to give into fear. Desperation instead set in, a flight or fight response that evoked strong desire to do the latter.
A sweet bliss set in then, a river of unimaginable euphoria that made the taste of the small Gaidar’s lips pale in comparison. She embraced it on instinct as she patted her stallion. The horse jolted and as if possessed of renewed vigor, started moving faster.
She turned her head, glimpsing her uncle and the men who followed him — now only a handful — as they clashed with the Whitecloaks. He was on foot now, his sword flashing in the sunlight ... when the Whitecloaks enveloped him.
Cassie screamed. And then her horse screamed, along with that of Ellessya’s as the arrows took them down.
Having been a hunter for as long as she could remember, and a lot of it involving the riding of a horse, Cassie knew how to brace for the fall. As her horse went down, she pushed herself from her stirrups, let go of the reins and as the earth came rushing to meet her, brought her legs and arms into a ball around her. The euphoria that Cassie felt just moments before slipped from her.
The wind was knocked out of her lungs as she hit the ground. She grit her teeth as the pain attempted to overcome her, but she pushed through it. She looked around, her amethyst eyes picking up the body of one dead Seanchan soldier under a crushed horse. The remaining four turned, prepared to attack and act as a screen. Cassie’s eyes fell on Ellessya, who was on the ground, cradling what looked like a broken arm.
Shouts from behind them caused both women to look up, only to see their last line of defense cut down. Two Whitecloaks bore down and were quick to dismount ... only to be cut down by a bloodied sword.
Her uncle, riding an unfamiliar horse, came as if from thin air, and dismounted as the second Whitecloak attempted to skewer him. A stroke of the silver-haired Gaidin’s blade sent the enemy’s head to the ground.
“Go! Fly now, the both of you!” was all he said as he whirled around, sword ready as the sound of hooves thundered on the plains.
Cassie was operating on instinct now as she hauled a injured Seanchan beauty off her arse and, ignoring the cries of pain, started running.
She turned her head just as an arrow flew past her. The arrow grazed her cheek as her eyes connected with her uncle, who had just brought down a lone horseman who had made it to him before the others.
And then she screamed a second time as she saw the arrow pierce her uncle’s side. He stumbled slightly, but then she saw him brace himself, cutting down a second Whitecloak. A second arrow pierced his chest just as the sword found a third victim. Sojin Majere was soon buried under a dead Whitecloak and did not appear to move.
Cassie breathed, squared her shoulders, pushed Ellessya behind her and drew her long knife. And prayed as two dozen Whitecloaks rode toward them without apparent mercy.
And she prayed.
That was when the first bolt of lightning crashed into the cavalry from a clear sky and the first arrows downed man and horse alike.
The sound of hooves against ground was the only thing that Cassie could hear at first, as her stallion galloped over heavy ground. Her hand went her bow clipped to her saddle, but she knew it would be ineffective. She was a fair shot against animals, but firing from a horse would likely end in embarrassment and the chance she might skewer one of their own party.
The Whitecloaks were much more proficient with that sort of thing, and they proved it as the first arrows cut down four men at the rear of the company. More arrows just barely missed them, sinking into the earth as they rode out of range.
She saw her uncle begin to turn when one of the Seanchan officers shook his head, pointed toward the Tower and then peeled off perhaps a dozen men, all armed with bows. She heard the orders to return fire but she dared not look back. All she heard were screams and shouts, and orders to keep firing before she was out of hearing range.
Her amethyst eyes landed first on her uncle and on Sebrina Calin, the two Warders’ expression blank and hard as stone. Then she looked at Elessya, the Seanchan noble clinging to her horse with dear life, her brown eyes wide with terror.
The world both slowed down and sped up for Cassie, as each breath began to feel precious and every sound and motion hurled ahead at a thousand feet per second. The Tower was growing closer, but it was still just a sight on the horizon.
And then she heard the command to stop.
It came from her uncle. He, Sebrina and one of the Walker bannermen were watching the horizon immediately to their left. It was a small white mass moving toward them at breakneck speed. Cassie was no military strategist, not even by half, but she suspected from all she learned and overheard from her older brother and House Majere’s armsmaster that the Whitecloaks were attempting to flank them from one side.
She saw her uncle and Sebrina arguing fiercely while pointing at her and Ellessya. “They are your family, sir, and have a better chance of surviving.”
Her uncle looked at Cassie and after a heartbeat nodded hard in capitulation. The Gaidar spun her horse about, and with fifteen men, many of them House Walker retainers, galloped in the direction of the flanking enemy.
Cassie’s heart was in her throat, but she had no time to think about as her uncle’s voice thundered into her head. “Cassandrya Majere, ride for the Tower! Now!”
Before she realized it, she and Ellessya were surrounded by the remaining soldiers and she had no choice but to obey. Her uncle took up the rear, now obscured from sight by the mass of men.
She did look back however, and in the gaps that formed briefly, she saw the original pursuing party closing. The Whitecloaks were fewer in number, perhaps cut down by the archers who had bought the Tower-bound group precious time, but it looked like superior numbers.
Arrows once more rained down around them, by a wide margin this time. They were trying to corral and constrain their movements, or so Cassie thought in the barrage of thoughts that assailed her mind.
That’s when she overheard another set of orders from her uncle. This set left her wordless.
“You five see them safely to the city, and don’t stop until you’re at the gates, or your horses give in,” he ordered to the Seanchan soldiers surrounding her and Ellessya.
The sight she saw next was her uncle, sword drawn and wheeling back toward the pursuing Whitecloaks. “House Walker, to me!” The bulk of the remaining armsmen followed suit after her uncle, swords bared or spears tilted.
But she was moving fast, her horse now wheezing under her. Cassie closed her eyes, refusing to give into fear. Desperation instead set in, a flight or fight response that evoked strong desire to do the latter.
A sweet bliss set in then, a river of unimaginable euphoria that made the taste of the small Gaidar’s lips pale in comparison. She embraced it on instinct as she patted her stallion. The horse jolted and as if possessed of renewed vigor, started moving faster.
She turned her head, glimpsing her uncle and the men who followed him — now only a handful — as they clashed with the Whitecloaks. He was on foot now, his sword flashing in the sunlight ... when the Whitecloaks enveloped him.
Cassie screamed. And then her horse screamed, along with that of Ellessya’s as the arrows took them down.
Having been a hunter for as long as she could remember, and a lot of it involving the riding of a horse, Cassie knew how to brace for the fall. As her horse went down, she pushed herself from her stirrups, let go of the reins and as the earth came rushing to meet her, brought her legs and arms into a ball around her. The euphoria that Cassie felt just moments before slipped from her.
The wind was knocked out of her lungs as she hit the ground. She grit her teeth as the pain attempted to overcome her, but she pushed through it. She looked around, her amethyst eyes picking up the body of one dead Seanchan soldier under a crushed horse. The remaining four turned, prepared to attack and act as a screen. Cassie’s eyes fell on Ellessya, who was on the ground, cradling what looked like a broken arm.
Shouts from behind them caused both women to look up, only to see their last line of defense cut down. Two Whitecloaks bore down and were quick to dismount ... only to be cut down by a bloodied sword.
Her uncle, riding an unfamiliar horse, came as if from thin air, and dismounted as the second Whitecloak attempted to skewer him. A stroke of the silver-haired Gaidin’s blade sent the enemy’s head to the ground.
“Go! Fly now, the both of you!” was all he said as he whirled around, sword ready as the sound of hooves thundered on the plains.
Cassie was operating on instinct now as she hauled a injured Seanchan beauty off her arse and, ignoring the cries of pain, started running.
She turned her head just as an arrow flew past her. The arrow grazed her cheek as her eyes connected with her uncle, who had just brought down a lone horseman who had made it to him before the others.
And then she screamed a second time as she saw the arrow pierce her uncle’s side. He stumbled slightly, but then she saw him brace himself, cutting down a second Whitecloak. A second arrow pierced his chest just as the sword found a third victim. Sojin Majere was soon buried under a dead Whitecloak and did not appear to move.
Cassie breathed, squared her shoulders, pushed Ellessya behind her and drew her long knife. And prayed as two dozen Whitecloaks rode toward them without apparent mercy.
And she prayed.
That was when the first bolt of lightning crashed into the cavalry from a clear sky and the first arrows downed man and horse alike.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
meble kuchenne na wymiar cennik
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