Riahana
“Double check her bindings. Once you know she is secure, take the hood off,” came a seemingly distant voice. Ria opened her eyes to darkness, though it didn’t last long as something was pulled from her head. She had to close her eyes for the light that blinded her when the hood came off. She tried to move and realized her arms were spread out and tied above her head in such a manner that her toes only just touched the floor.
Part of her tried to put together what happened. She remembered Whitecloaks attacking their camp. She remembered Gareth opening a Gateway. Gareth! The sense of relief she felt at feeling the familiar bundle in the back of her mind was massive. He was alive, but. . .but what? Sleeping? Unconscious? He was near by.
What of the others? She knew most of the learning ranks managed to make it back. The Gaidin and Gareth covered their retreat through the Gateway. And then what? For the life of her, Ria couldn’t recall.
It was only natural for Ria to test her restraints. Leather and rope creaked, but there was little to no give. “By all means, struggle. You will find you will not be able to get out of those bindings,” a man’s voice said behind her. It was a deep, gravely voice, but whereas Gareth’s was kind and soothing, this one was hard and disquieting.
Looking around, Ria realized they were in some kind of structure. From what she could see, it looked like a barn, but one that had fallen into disrepair. She listened to footsteps behind her, and knew someone was nearly right behind her. She tried to turn her head to make eye contact, but the man moved so he wasn’t in line of site.
“Who are you?” the Gaidin asked.
“You know who we are, just as I know who you are, Riahana Ferria Gaidin. Former Mistress of Arms to the Grey Tower and Blademaster,” the man replied as he slowly circled her. As he finished, he came to stand in front of her. He held such hatred in his eyes, but then it was to be expected. Whitecloaks thought Aes Sedai, Asha’man and any who consorted with them were Darkfriends.
Ria pulled the Void around her as she met his heated gaze with a cool level look of her own. He knew she was no longer Mistress of Arms, but didn’t know she’d taken Gareth’s last name. It meant he had an eyes and ears close to the Tower to hear some things, but not so close to stay current. None of this information helped Ria in her current predicament, nor did it help her understand why they thought to capture her and Gareth instead of kill them outright.
“So tell me. . .who are we?”
Ria arched a brow in her characteristic manner, “You are Children of Light. You say you fight for light, yet you wage your war against those who fight the Shadow each and every day, though you are too blind to see it. None of this, though, gets us to why you have me strung up in this abandoned barn. None of it tells me why you attacked us while we were simply out on a training exercise, nor does it tell me why you are so far from your homeland.
“If you are not careful, your actions could be read as an act of aggression by the Whitecloaks against the Grey Tower,” Ria finished in a manner of fact manner thanks in part to the Void.
The slap he delivered was quick and sharp, “You will not use that term in front of me. You will call us Children or Children of the Light.” He tilted his head, his hazel eyes narrowing as he regarded her, “As for why you are here, well I seek answers. From what I’ve learned thus far, you are the one person who can give me those answers.”
“Then there is no need to keep me restrained. Release me, and we can sit down and discuss your questions. I am less than inclined to answer any questions while tied up,” Ria simply said. Given the disdain Whitecloaks had for those of any of the Towers, she knew he’d not even consider the option she put before him. In his mind, it was not realistic to think he would fall for it. A woman had to try, though, right?
The man scoffed, “If anything, I would kill you before I let you go. I know you are not so naive as to think otherwise.” He turned and moved to a dark corner of the barn before coming back to stand in front of her. In the palm of his hands, he held up her sword, sheathed in its scabbard. “The craftsmanship on the blade is exquisite. The balance is precise, and the detailed work on the hilt and engraving are remarkable.” As he spoke, he pulled the blade from its sheath, the sound of metal scraping on the mouth of the scabbard rang through the barn.
Tossing the scabbard behind him, he placed the end of the blade in the palm of his left hand as he examined the engraving on one side. He held it such that Ria could see it as well. “Fear is courage when it has said its prayers. Interesting, and not unlike what I teach my soldiers,” he said, not taking his eyes off the blade as he flipped it over. “And of course the blade bears the Herons of a blademaster.
“Tell me. How did you come to earn right to bare the Herons,” the Commander started conversationally, but his last five words had an edge to them. When he looked up, his eyes were cold and hard, and Ria started to wonder if this man’s mission was personal rather than official.
With the Void wrapped around her, the Gaidin kept her look and voice impassive, “You know how anyone gains the right to bare the Herons on their weapons. I was attacked by a Blademaster, yet beat him, thus proving my worth.”
The commander pressed the blade to Ria’s neck, “Not good enough, Riahana Ferria, Blademaster. Tell me the details. Who did you face, how did he die?”
Ria’s icy gaze bore into the man before her, though she didn't flinch. She answered without emotion, “After escorting nobles to a city down south, I and a party of Tower Guard were attacked without provocation and without cause by a small group of whitecloaks. Their leader was a blademaster. He and I dueled. . .I won, he died.”
The man pressed the blade to Ria's neck a bit harder, and she tilted her head slightly (and casually). “Careful,” she warned. “The blade is deadly sharp. Apply much more pressure and your interrogation will end prematurely.”
A vein started to bulge on the man’s forehead, but he withdrew the blade, “Are you not afraid to die?”
Ria allowed a mirthless smile, “I signed the roster to the Warder Yards over two decades ago. In that moment, I knew my purpose was to serve the Tower, and if I was lucky, my bond mate. I also knew that one day I might be called on to give my life to protect my bond mate or the Tower.
“Each morning for the last twenty odd years, I've woken up knowing Death walks with me. Any time I face a foe who threatens me, my bond mate, my family or my home, Death is at my side. I know Death will leave, either taking my foe back to the pattern or me.
“No, I do not fear Death. I walk with Death each and every day I walk this land,” Ria answered calmly as she locked her eyes on him. She was all too aware of the blade at her neck, and knew how deadly sharp it was given she was the one who kept it sharp.
He would either kill her in that moment or prolong the game. Whitecloaks were known for torturing those they questioned, and Ria was not so naive as to think she’d get off so easily.
The man snarled as he moved behind her and a moment later, she felt searing pain tear into her right shoulder as he used the tip of her blade to leave a shallow cut across her shoulder blade. She winced with the pain, but didn’t cry out.
“You may not fear death, but few can endure our methods of finding answers. Now then. . .tell me about that day. What happened? Who did you face and how did he die?”