The Dreamer; Chronicles of Valadin [Fanfic]

[Sean]

Valadin Manelle[/u]

Val laid with the darkness of night closing in around him. Even being shirtless and having the cooling breeze of the evening outside slip into his room his skin was dotted witj a cold sweat. For a time he and sleep tussled, wrestling with one another until finally sleep won. Sinking into the layers beneath wakefulness Val inhaled deeply as he drifted and his eyes grew heavy before eventually closing.

All he heard was the drumbeat of his heart, slow and powerful, thumping away in the background as the blankness of unconsciousness filled his mind. Although he felt at ease there was a sense of alertness that he was also aware of that was gradually becoming familiar to him in more recent nights. At first Val tried to tell himself that it was only impression—the result of an overactive imagination that plagued him sporadically on nights when he was especially tired. Even that lie felt hollow to him as bit by bit the emptiness gave away and an image snapped into lucidity. Before him a world of bright lights glowed like a thousand tiny suns and for a moment he basked in the glory of its magnificence until he became aware that he had no arms or legs. Panic should have spread through him in an instant, yet before this instinct could take root the lights before him faded away and he found himself standing amidst the chaotic crowd of the Four Kings.

“How can I be here?” he thought, but the moment the idea crossed his mind it seemed silly. He’d never left the Four Kings. More likely it was the past months that were a dream—no, a nightmare—where he stood among those that helped the Dragon break the world so many years ago. Looking down he saw the spindly legs and flabby stomach he hadn’t donned since childhood. He’d always hated that the other children teased him about his weight, but now the sign of those peaceful times was welcoming. He could hear the hawkers crying in a cacophonous chorus which to many sounded like gibberish, but him was a gleeman’s best tune.

A hard shove from behind threw Val to the ground. “Lookit ‘im standin’ there all dazed and whatnot? Ya think he’s soft in the head, Vor?”

Without looking up from the ground Val knew the voice of his bully to be Leston Lanor, the fletcher’s son. Leston was two his junior, but the boy was lean and fit from days of an honest day’s labor alongside his father. Of all the boys in the Four Kings Leston was the best dressed and often had the girls swooning over him before a fit of clucking amongst themselves who would one day be promised to him. Groaning and rubbing where his cheek had struck the ground Val blinked into the sunlight before a shadow stood menacingly over him. Everyone knew Voraul Teliaya. Like Val he was an orphan child whose parents no one knew, but unlike Val the boy was as tall as most grown men and was twice as ornery as an unbroken stallion. Voraul was never from Leston’s side and the two dominated the younger children with a mixture of cruelty and violence; usually Val found himself at the mercy of the boys’ harassment.

“Stop it, Les,” Val whined meekly when colors suddenly exploded across his face and he jolted…upright in his bed in the Grey Tower.

As he sighed in equal parts relief and disappointment a pain stung at the side of his cheek. Touching a finger there, Val felt a bruise starting to rise in the exact spot where he’d fallen in his nightmare. Unnerved by the experience he spent the remainder of the night fiddling with Cin’s Stones board with the concern of what had just taken place holding a firm spot in his mind.

The next day continued droned on with duties consuming Val’s thoughts. He’d only briefly touched Saidin and as much as he hated to admit it the raw power that surged within him when he held it was intoxicating. Under the guidance of his instructors he continued to utilize the One Power to their guidance sometimes to improve his strength in the Power while other lessons were devoted to developing greater control of his weaves. As curfew drew near Val felt heavy with exhaustion as he skipped supper to head straight to his room. Only bothering to kicks his boots off from his feet he dropped into bed and was asleep the moment his eyelids shut.

This time the numbness that spread over him didn’t feel quite so alien. Perhaps it was because he was growing used to the strangeness of his dreams or it might have had something to do with how tired he had been before falling asleep. All Val knew was that the glowing lights didn’t appear before him as it had before and he was aware when…something happened.

There were no events he could recall that took him from his slumber in the Tower to the stables at the back of the Dancing Cartman. One happening simply transferred into another. This time Val was aware it was a dream and despite examining his arms to find his childhood feebleness once again he was more alarmed at the sallow look of his skin. He seemed translucent as the light of the sun shone upon him.

Except there was no sun.

There was no light source of any kind that he could tell. Everything had an ambient glow that made visibility possible far into the distance. Realizing that he stood in one of the stalls, Val inched out and headed towards the main road where merchant wagons would be rolling in by the dozens. No sooner had he taken a step had he felt a shift. Examining himself once more he found that he was garbed in Tower attire, the black Asha’man’s coat fitting his large frame as forebodingly as it ever had. “C’mon Val, old Samhl ain’t gonna pay us for standin’ about,” a voice said from behind him.

Expecting to see Arlen, one of the stable boys he used to work with, Val readied an explanation for his appearance as he turned, but instead found a brown gelding prancing in an impatient circle.

“Arlen!” Val called panic making his voice shriller than he’d wanted it to be. In this place where light with no origin brightened everything his words carried on into the distance and hung in the air as if there was nothing else in the world to hear except his voice. “ARLEN!” he shouted again and this time the horse shook its head at the noise.

“I’m right here, ya blasted fool! Whatcha shouting fer?!” the horse snorted angrily. It was Arlen’s voice that came from its snout.

Suddenly it all became clear to Val. This was the work of the Shadow; if he was going to survive, he would have to fight his way to safety. Without thinking, Val reached at his waist, his body easily preparing to draw a sword as he had practiced so many times before when he realized that he didn’t have a weapon…

Or at least he hadn’t had one when last time he checked. Looking down in bewilderment Val stared at the double-edged short sword that he’d acquired from nowhere. Its edge looked dull and years seemed to have eaten away at the leather grip. The horse brayed loudly and Val’s attention shifted. Fear snaked down his spine as he watched the creature’s bone and flesh begin to shift and its cries became less of Arlen’s voice.

Within seconds a giant the size of a small house roared at him with razor sharp teeth lining a snout that had barely resembled anything horse like. The majestic mane now writhed with a host serpent like tongues which sprouted from countless mouths housed on either side of the nightmarish creature’s head. Bone-like wings burst through blackened, oily flesh as the monstrosity strode forward on human looking hands and feet rather than hooves.

All around him Val felt the eerie sensation that eyes were watching him and he called out for help, hoping that someone would answer his cry. Only silence met him as he faced the creature, his impressive size mattering for nothing before the towering behemoth. As its maw opened the fetid stink of rotten meat filled the air and Val looked to his feet to find himself stark naked. “No…” he whimpered,

“No…no…NO….NO!!!” he bellowed, his fright lending strength to the panic and frustration at his situation.

As the raw emotion was released into the world around him he watched in disbelief as everything rippled as if in fear of his shout. The creature’s figure shuddered one time before dispersing into a thousand tiny spheres which danced away on an unfelt breeze that carried the remains into a far off distance. Again the world was silent, leaving Val alone with a strange feeling of empowerment that he didn’t understand.

At the urging of…a feeling he flexed his arms and found that they were strong—stronger than he had ever been. The panic-bidden strength began to ebb away as Val began to calm down, but he didn’t want it to leave; in fact he wanted to be clothed again. In response his black coat, pants, and even a well-made tunic of midnight black appeared over his skin. With a laugh he raised the battered weapon in his hand and imagined it like the great bastard swords from the stories about legendary warriors. Again reality altered itself though this time there was resistance in the remaking of it. As if the world had a sentience of its own and it did not agree with Val’s suggestions. Only through the force of will did the two-handed claymore he’d imagined come into fruition and even then the gold gilding that he’d imagined on the hilt was chipped while the blade slumped over before running down his sleeve in grayish ooze.

Hurling the blade away, Val watched it dissipate upon hitting the ground. Gazing out into the endless horizon he wondered how far this world extended and if it even had an ending. Dull green land continued on until it met with the pale sky into the distance. “I’ve got to leave this place,” he told himself.

Again, his imagination complied and with a start he woke to the real world, the sun streaming in through the window of his room.

[Sean]

In time Valadin grew comfortable with this world of dreams as he had found it to be. At first he’d had difficulty entering at will, but soon he began to understand the nature of emersion, the state of mind that was required before falling asleep to journey into the endless realm where anything and everything could exist. As he rarely found the company of others comforting his days spent amongst other teachers and recruits grew short as his nights became longer in favor of expanding his knowledge. In time entering and exiting his dreams became second nature. Like nowhere else he felt to be a master, a place where his will was law and the creations spawned by his imaginations became more fantastic with each visit. Even the discomforting feeling of being watched that had made his skin crawl in the first few times of visiting faded to the back of his consciousness as he delved deeper into the unique experience. As far as he knew no one else possessed this talent as he’d seen no one else from the Tower in his world though many a night his forays into the dream world would be preceded by the familiar scene of a starlit scape stretched out before him. He never dared to reach out in his amorphous shape choosing always to venture upon the path he was familiar with.

One night he as hung over the precipice of the mysterious scene his curiosity got the better of him. Rather than quickly diving into the light that represented the world of dreams he’d come to know he allowed the eyes that were not his own to settle onto a shard of light that pulsated with recognition when he looked at it.

“So beautiful” his mind said and the star seemed to grow bright, its light nearly swallowing him with its intensity.

As if entranced Val didn’t notice how close he’d been pulled until it was too late and everything flashed a brilliant white. When the light dimmed and he regained his senses he stood amidst a scene of chaos. It was the Grey Tower though everything was steeped in fire as grotesque creatures that were half-man and half-beast stormed the Training grounds with wicked curved swords. Each monster was at least twice Val’s size and they struck without hesitation as Gaidin fought with lethal gracefulness against the horde, but to no avail. One particular man, shouted his defiance as an abomination with a goat’s head and a squat torso flanked by bulging human arms charged madly at him.

Val examined the man, quickly marking him for a Warder by the way he moved. It was like watching a wolf glide across an open plain as it hunted down its prey. The man seemed to flow around the attacks of the goat-creature and tore many gashes into its flesh while expertly avoiding the black chainmail that protected its vital points. Black blood oozed onto the dream world’s grass and Val stumbled backward in horror as another creature crept up behind the Warder,

“Look out!” he cried, his fear making the clothing he wore flicker a moment before returning to focus.

The Gaidin, a barrel chested man wielding twin axes, spun just in time to see another monster strike him at with a grunt. Again the man evaded though this time there was an obvious strain in his face as sparks lit the small battlefield of two monsters and one man. It would only be seconds until the man met his end and finally one of the creatures managed to wrench a single axe away from him while the other knocked him to the ground with a powerful backhanded blow. Unable to move Val watched the warrior’s final moments. He took in the naked fear that was so unfamiliar upon the face of Warders who bounded themselves to Aes Sedai willingly and were frightened by nothing; not even death. In that fragile instance the Gaidin appeared so human that Val was moved to come to his aid when…

He was gone.

As the beasts struck their weapons finding nothing Val realized that the man had been dreaming and entered the world that he had believed only he knew. There was no time to think any further upon his discovery for seconds after the Gaidin had left the sky above the Tower blackened and the world tilted as if to turn everything from a table onto the floor. Stones tumbled from nearby structures killing hundreds as the monsters still murdered and feasted on their victories in spite of the bedlam around them. The odor of smoke and burning flesh overwhelmed Val as he tried to pull himself free of the nightmare as he had become accustomed to doing, but unlike usual the dream world held him fast. He could feel the restraints of the nightmare around him threatening to drown him in its madness. Where he had been a faded specter before, his form now solidified and the monsters which roamed unoccupied suddenly took notice of him. Again he tried to flee from the dream, but his form was held in place as the dream latched onto him, making him a part of itself.

Gritting his teeth, he imagined a pike spear forming in his hand as he rose to his feet to meet several adversaries at once. The weapon appeared at his command and he quickly imagined himself strong enough to cut anyone of these creatures with ease, but once again he was thwarted as the scene around him filled him with mind-numbing horror. For a precious second he believed everything he was seeing was real.

It was only when the image of Cin flashed through his mind that he recalled a world where a dear friend had died; a world where nightmares could come true and there was no escaping it.

Somehow this realization allowed him to reclaim control of himself and with every strand of his being he pulled away from the dream, the sound of his exit like a thunderclap in his ears as suddenly he floated shapelessly over an eerily lit collection of lights once more.

All of the emotion he had just experience was immediately forgotten as his mind was quickly taken by another star that glowed invitingly. Again the pull of it drew him though this time his formless self was wary of drawing close. Instead he managed to stop himself before drawing too near and to his surprise felt as though he knew the person whose dream he was staring at.

“Cara”

The answer came to him unbidden. A knowledge that he had always possessed, yet needed to remember. Now conscious of his movement he flowed into the Accepted’s dream wondering what sort of domain awaited him.

As the white light cleared and his feet touched the ground he stared in wonder at the setting he found himself in. A castle rose up in the distance, its silhouette giving a grand appearance even from afar. Not more than several strides in front of him a family of noble status enjoyed a stroll through a lush garden. Flowers of all shapes and colors bloomed beautifully with each step the wife and her husband took. Cackling around them the children played heartily with each other as a small dog barked its happiness while in pursuit of the smallest girl.

Val was careful not to allow himself to enter the dream too strongly as he’d mistaken done before. He’d expected it to be difficult, but now that he knew the dangerous pull of dreams whether nightmare or not his mind quickly made the adjustment though not without difficulty. Exerting as much as his concentration as he could muster he stepped lightly through the garden careful not to expose himself to the relaxing family and it was then that he noticed the small girl, a blue ribbon in hair streaming behind her was in fact a younger version of Cara. Although she was a bit smaller and plumper there was a unmistakable glint of mischief that sparkled in that little face allowing Val to quickly discern who it was.

Unlike the Cara he knew, the girl before him was playful and caring as the dog pounced on her making her squeal in delight. Despite his best efforts that allure of the dream was so much that he stepped out from the cover of fronds where he’d remained hidden and strode towards Cara. Knowing that it was a foolish idea didn’t perturb him as the only occupation he had was to join in on the merriment, however he knew he’d made a mistake when the girl’s eyes widened at the sight of him. It was then that Val knew that he’d been recognized. He’d come in his actual appearance and donning his Asha’man black; of course she’d know who he was!

Cursing himself for a fool Val willed himself free of the dream, this time finding it much easier—as if the fantasy he’d just witnessed wanted him gone as much as he’d wished to leave it. Looming in the space between time and reality he became aware of a sense of fatigue settling over him. Rather than experimenting any further he drifted towards the oblivion that represented true sleep.

The solace of genuine sleep was far too short as it seemed moments after he’d shut his eyes a Dedicated came banging on his door and tossing him out of bed to begin the day’s chores. Eyes red and chin darkened by the need for a shave, Val cursed at a wasted night before rising to his feet.

[Sean]

The forays into the Dream World became a routine ritual. Often Val found himself setting time aside for extra rest on those days which he knew he would venture towards the realm where his imaginations were possible. He’d come to know the dreams of others, learning that there were certain Dreams that he couldn’t enter no matter how hard he willed it, but usually he simply enjoyed exploring places he knew in the real world. Already his nostalgia for the Four Kings had waned as he’d visited often in his early travels, at times meeting familiar faces as they flickered in and out of the Dream state. Much of the village hadn’t changed and Val could see the old Samhl’s inn still standing despite the coming of the Last Battle. Those early visits had warmed his heart though he knew after a time that the Four Kings was his past and with the ability to always visit it in his Dreams he no longer pined to return to the home that was never truly his. In many ways Valadin began to realize that the Tower had become his true home.

By day he walked the halls of the Grey Tower and saw the well-made masonry work augmented with fine steel, but never saw anything that captured his interest. In his dreams, however he could see things that were hidden from his eyes in the physical world. Objects popped in and out of existence where their transient positions constantly shifted while the people though more frequent in their appearance were sometimes surprised to see him though he had yet to come across anyone that found him to be anything more than a product of their own dreams. The Dream World was lonely despite the constant prickle of a pair of unseen eyes watching his every move. For a time he’d sought the source of this unease, but no matter how he changed his surroundings to reveal the stalker no one was found.

It was during an especially hard month when his duties were increased due to the recognition of his maturity that Val felt his forgetfulness becoming a cause for many of his problems. As Lady Alshamz became more trusting of Valadin’s competence she often sent him on many errands where he delivered messages all over the Tower. At first the prospect had excited him, but with the Master Arcuraim informing him that he’d been scheduled for Guard duty three hours after Low and the Ji’alantin beginning to request demonstrations of his skill with the sword more frequently, Val was finding that details were missed. Often enough items were misplaced that many of the Asha’man and Aes Sedai had begun asking what he’d forgotten upon arrival to perform his duties; almost always they were correct in their assumptions. Soon his dreams were the only solace that he looked forward to as the days drew to a close…

The Tower was so quiet in his dreams. Even though his feet fell lightly on the polished stone floors, their echo resounded through the halls. In some ways the noise was a kindness as each reverberation helped stave off the oppressive emptiness of the Dream World. Every now and then a form blinked into appearance taking the shape of a Tower inhabitant who had strayed beyond their Dreams for an instant before vanishing without warning. As he strolled through the Warder Yards a comely Accepted materialized near the edge of a Sparring Ring. With a flicker of thought Valadin shifted his Asha’man blacks to something more regal and dashing. By the time he’d appeared at the girl’s side he was outfitted in a forest green doublet trimmed with gold leaves that traced down his center before sprawling out around his waist. The knee breeches he wore were plain, yet was made of visibly fine material.

“A problem, Accepted?” he said, his voice coming out honeyed and smooth as dictated by his will. The effect was more than he’d hoped as a pair of saucer-shaped pools of blue stared back at him with a mixture of relief and…curiosity.

“My pin…I…I can’t find it anywhere! I—“

No sooner had the Accepted’s explanation begun she was gone, her presence in the Dream flitting away like seedlings on a wind-stroked blossom. Sighing at his luck, Val allowed his clothing to shift back; the desire for fine clothes never suited him since he’d never been able to afford them as a child. His thoughts turned to the Accepted and the pleading in her eyes as she spoke of the lost item. Helping her would’ve been the right thing to do even if it was only a Dream. Even before the thought had completed itself in his mind’s eye the Yard rippled and twisted around him. Val remained calm as he watched the swirl of colors and the distortion about him begin to coalesce into another place. The open expanse of the Yards gave way to a small cramped room with a single cot fastened to the wall and a desk that sat not far from it. It would’ve have been his quarters except for the neat arrangement of items that infrequently ghosted upon the desk. A stack of parchments appeared and Val reached out with his hands while his mind held the item in place by willing its realness into substance. The effort was futile as words danced across the page many of them making little sense as if none were related to the others. Giving up he set the papers back in their place and looked over the room once more, this time noticing a white dress with a band of colors lining the bottom. “One for every Ajah of the Tower…” he realized.

It was the Accepted’s room, but why had he been brought here?

As his mind wrestled with the question, his will shifted his attention a calendar perched on a nearby wall that hadn’t been there previously. No dates stood out, but Val felt a strong impression that something was important about the First Day of the Week. His finger pressed against the day and noted the month eluded him as the letters shifted about disconcertingly. Again his focus was guided by an unseen force and he found paper lanterns resting on the desk. Their shapes and colors were festive reminding him of the Murandian Festival of Lanterns, where windows in every home and inn. Memories of Mindea and his escape attempt fought to break through the surface, but his trance was strong, forcibly drawing his thoughts elsewhere.

“Choren is months away though, what is this?” he wondered.

It occurred to Val that he had no idea what traditions were allowed to be observed in the Tower and as he turned to consider the thought he saw the cot had shifted. Where it had once been pressed against the wall it now stood moved by the window. On the floor, a metallic pin worked in the shape of a Bull lay forgotten. When Val reached to examine the pin a flame lit, unbidden, warping the metal as the immolation consumed the room in a bright light. With his mind, Val tried to quell the flames, but this Dream was not the same as the others. It felt as if he was viewing something that was not yet real. As the last of the pin was liquefied he stared at the puddle wondering what the meaning behind the vision was. Finally the pull he’d felt guiding him released him and his actions were his own once more.

Shaken by the experience, Val fled the Dream World.

For many nights Val thought about what he’d seen believing it to be nothing more than a twisted mirror of ill-placed memories from his days as a slave. He’d almost convinced himself of his reasoning when a familiar looking Accepted crossed the hallway towards him. Their eyes met once a spark of recognition in eyes said she knew him, yet the girl strode by purposefully her white gown swaying with each step. Impossible, he told himself, but then found himself immediately reconsidering. If the Dream World can show me things that are real now, then maybe it could also show things that might be real in the future? The thought was staggering, but he set aside his disbelief and hurried after the Accepted. He followed her into the mess hall and was about to call out her name when she whirled on him, her eyes flashing like brilliant blue augers; this was nothing like the dream at all.

“Have you so little work that you've nothing better to do than stumble after me?” she demanded in a curt voice, expressing no anger in spite of the deep set frown of her brows.

“No, Accepted. That’s…well…” he stammered suddenly aware of how foolish his explanation would sound to someone else.

“Indeed. I’ll see that the Master of Soldiers straightens out that tongue of yours…and your priorities.”

“No—wait! I…” he started to say, but stopped when splotches of red began burn on either cheek. Light burn me for a fool, Val cursed inwardly. “Accepted, this might sound foolish, but have you been looking for a pin, recently?”

Surprise lightened the girl’s expression momentarily, her youthfulness returning for a moment before clouds of anger followed by a practiced Aes Sedai coolness settled her features. “No,” she sneered, “I have not been looking for a pin, but I will thank you for your concern. I’ll overlook your behavior this time, but you’d better be about your business now before I change my mind.”

“Yes, Accepted.”

Feeling more embarrassed than he’d ever been, Val went about his day just as any other. His visits to the Dream were sporadically marked by similar oddities as the one he’d experienced about the Accepted in her pin, but he kept silent about each not wanting to risk the trouble of becoming involved where he shouldn’t have. Even so events that he’d dreamed began to take place in the real world. Cooking accidents, thefts, and once he’d foreseen the discovery of secret tryst between a Novice and Soldier. Still, he decided that it was mere coincidence until two months later on the month of Choren the Accepted he’d avoided since their last encounter was seen hysterically seeking aid in finding her pin. Shortly after an explosion in the Novice quarters saw three Accepted and several maids injured.