Stars And Lions [Attn: Keillan Lomore]

[Sean]

“Courage is just another game we play in a world where heroes are legends and honor is a myth.”

Val tolerated the minor tirade in cool silence. It was after all likely the first time that the Soldier’s life had been remotely in peril whilst under the roof of the Grey Tower. Inwardly he decided Elonid’s assessment of the Grey Tower’s crippling asthenia towards training channelers held merit.

“Soldier Lomore,” Valadin said once Kiellan’s temper had cooled, “Yer gonna learn that the Tower ent the place fer back-talk. Next time you lose hold o’ yer tongue, ya’ll spend the better part of the evenin’ an’ most o’ the morrow knee deep in horse droppings with Master Ranen makin’ bloody certain ya savor e’er drop o’ it. That understood?”

Kiellan glowered, but was wise enough to hold his tongue. Good. Seems he’s got more sense’n I had in his shoes. The first lesson any Soldier learned upon admittance into the Tower ranks was one of absolute obedience. Many earned much harder instruction than the one the young man was receiving—punishments were doled out daily to Soldiers and Dedicated alike; even Sisters and Asha’man were on occasion handed to the Master of Soldiers or Mistress of Novices for punishment. Skirting the law was one thing…outright insubordination was not tolerated.

Much time had passed. Now the moon hung high in the evening sky, a great silver mark in the starlit blanket of rich darkness. With each breath a cloud of cooled air wreathed both men momentarily in white. Keeping the grimace from his face as he thought of the pardon he’d need to spend much of the night writing on Kiellan’s behalf, Val began the day’s final lesson.

Working his shoulders to ease the stiffness from the Saidin stirred his senses to life once more, the cold and discomfort giving way to the exultant empowerment of the One Power. “We spoke o’ this earlier…more’n likely ya’ll face Sheildin’ in battle. Specially if yer enemy thinks he’s got ya cornered.”

This time Val Wove a thread of pure Spirit. Unlike the Shield, this Weave was more compact in its design. Any man who could perceive it would liken it to a battering ram as opposed to the wall that Shields were often comprehended as. “There’ll be tiems when ain’t enough chance to Cut a Shield down ‘fore it slides into place. In any fight ya must never get Shielded,” Val warned. “Once yer Shielded things get…desperate.”

Val had experienced numerous duels with other Dedicated and Asha’man. Most were instructional in nature, much like Kiellan’s training. In these there was a distinct lack of any formidable danger, but one such practice stood out in his mind. That duel had shown him more about true battle with the One Power than all other lessons put together. Mastering himself through the Void, Val continued, pointedly ignoring the warm sweat on his upper lip.

“Such times mean ya’ll use the Weave I jus’ showed ya to push the Shield back. Take heed…this’ll be a pure contest o’ strength. Best to avoid it altogether, but knowin’ this little trick might save yer life—or mine—one day.”

Silence hung between them as the song of crickets reached them from some far corner of the Tower grounds. Nothing sung in the Channeling Yards. The One Power’s destruction was complete, leaving no sign of life among the ruined rows of earth. Not for the first time, Valadin wondered if the Creator had truly blessed mankind with such potent power. “Now then try to Shield me like I showed ya earlier. Once ya see how to push a Shield back, we’ll give ya a go at it an’ I can have food brought to our quarters by the time we’ve both had a warm bath.”

[Teddy]

Kiellan scowled at Valadin's words. He wanted to lash out at his teacher, scream at him that it was not okay to do stuff like that, but something in him made him repress that. It wouldn't help anyone, and it would only get him in more trouble. In fact, he knew that Valadin had been kind to him just now. Most teachers would have sent him straight to the Master of Soldier's office for severe punishment, but Val had never been as strict as most others. Kiellan knew he would be thanking Valadin later, but for now, the other man felt like a personification of the system that seemed to do everything to oppress him, to oppress who he was. In an uncharacteristic moment of restrain, he managed to hold his tongue, however.

He tried to push the issue to the back of his mind, only partially succeeding. Suddenly feeling how much colder the air had gotten, Kiellan shivered. He wished he could've worn sohmething warmer than the Soldier's black coat, but even his clothing was regulated by the Aes Sedai and Asha'man here. Not that he had any warmer clothes, anyhow. He didn't have much clothes of any kind, but the hot weather in Altara made sure he had never needed the warmer kind.

Despite the cold, Kiellan forced himself to focus on Valadin's lesson. He was still angry, more at the system than at the man, but he managed to focus on Val's words instead of his own anger. He saw the thread of Spirit that his teacher wove. It wasn't the Shielding weave that both of them had used earlier, and Kiellan didn't think he had ever seen it before. It was blunt, but seemed to be packed with force. He snorted at his teacher's words. Desperate hardly described how he had felt earlier, cut off from the One Power. It felt like he had been cut off from the source of his own life force, and that hadn't even been in a true battle. He could only imagine how panicked he would be if someone who actually wanted to harm him managed to Shield him.

The prospect of a warm bath and a hot meal made him smile. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and despite the cold, he could feel the sweat running down his body. Working with the One Power could be every bit as heavy as manual labor, although in an entirely different way. At Valadin's instructions, he rid himself of his emotions, and felt the serenity of the Void wash over him, as always accompanied by the addicting violence of saidin. Kiellan welcomed the struggle for control. It distracted him from the cold, his hunger and the fact that Valadin had basically almost killed him earlier. It wasn't easy to grasp the thread of Spirit, but he managed to do it pretty fast. He wove it like he had done earlier, like he had seen Valadin do, until it was a rough, hard wall. With a glance at his teacher, he forced the wall in place, disconnecting Valadin from the One Power. He still didn't think he was strong with Shields, but it would do for now.

"As you can feel, the Shield is in place."

[Sean]

Lesson Three: Pushing away Shields

Channeling Saidin was ever a struggle. Within the eternal seconds that ticked away, Val sensed the intrepid Soldier’s Shield settling over him like a chill in the winter. Only the Void kept the wailing terror at bay making a pellucid assessment of the situation possible.

Poised as nascent strands of the Power answered his calling, he quickly Wove Spirit into bludgeon. It seemed a crude way to use such a refined element of nature, but as the world sharpened with Saidin-induced detail crudeness seemed to suit the mood in the air just fine. Like a caged beast coming from Val snarled, shoving the Shield that dared to threaten his connection to the One Power. Kiellan was strong.

Val was stronger.

What began as an even-footed match quickly went the Dedicated’s way, his intimate connection with the Source and comfort in the Void gave him leave to wield the hammering Spirit until nothing remained of the Soldier’s Shield. A trembling moment hung between them where Saidin sought vengeance, the torrents of fire and ice sluicing through his veins, making him shiver in a cold, detached fury. The menace of Saidin still emanated from the young man, his features contorted in a mixture of excitement and savagery. Puffy clouds of white enshrined their heads as the night’s coldness set in, but Saidin and adrenaline held off nature’s hold on them; they were beyond the natural.

A chance at a true duel called to the warrior spirits…then Val let go of Saidin. After the deluge of life flooding his every pore, the Power’s absence left him disorientated in the less colorful banality of the world. “As I said…” he began striding towards Kiellan, “…takin’ on another channeler like that is a last resort. Fool’s errand if he’s stronger than ya or more experienced. Better off tryin’ to beat ‘im bloody with yer fists if ya can get close ‘nough.”

No one remained in the Channeling yard nor any part of the Tower grounds. Surely Gaidin roamed about, tending to this affair or the next and the Mountain Guard would begin their patrol, but the causeway leading to the main gate remained devoid of travels. Grunting at the hour as cold set in without Saidin in his blood, Val signaled Kiellan to follow.

The walk back was mostly in silence. Whether because the vestiges of battle fire still lingered in their bones or the freezing in mountain headwinds simply didn’t foster camaraderie it wasn’t until they’d made the kitchen that they shared their first words. Of course of the Mistress was working the scullery maids hard even in these late hours of the day. Little time was spent before she spotted them lounging nearby, but for a time they were ignored while other tasks were attended to.

“Better ya never see a duel, Soldier. Gettin’ caught with fury in ya like that…” Val shook his head. “Ent a way a man who wants to live long should be.”

A warm mug of some bitter tea was pressed into the hands of both he and Kiellan by a lithe, young man wearing Grey Tower colors over a worn muslin tunic. The servant’s features were smooth as he made his delivery and bowed respectfully. Before he was upright once more the Mistress of the Kitchen’s voice cracked like a whip and the fellow was gone. “Most duels with channelers are gonna be fought with Spirit an’ Fire if ya can manage. Killin’ can be done with any Weave if ya’ve a mind fer it. Cuttin’ Weaves an’ Shieldin’ folks be the way an experienced channeler dispenses with dreadlords an’ the like.”

By the time he’d gotten to the bottom of the mug, the taste of the tea had sweetened a bit—or his palette was simply numb from some unknown herb. Licking his lips he reached for Kiellan’s finished mug as well.

“Said it ‘fore. Yer strong…too strong fer yer own good to be truthful. Anythin’ ya wanna ask ‘bout? I’m thinkin’ a patrol of the mountains might make good practice fer ya pretty soon.”

OOC: The reason I stopped the thread there was because it’s more than likely Kiellan’s probably spent. We did a lot of channeling in one day so keep that in mind because it’s part of your lesson too. Also wanted to give a chance for Kiellan to learn some actual dueling tactics here so ask your question; it’ll be valuable either way.

[Teddy]

Kiellan tried holding on to the shield that kept Val from touching the One Power, but he felt the flows of Spirit woven by the other man into a blunt weapon. Even as the force of Val's flows smashed into his shield, Kiellan managed to keep the shield up for a second, but eventually, inevitably, the shield shattered. The same backlash that he had felt earlier slammed into him again, and he stumbled backwards a bit, barely managing to keep his balance. His vision was a little blurred, but his senses told him that Val had released the One Power, the feeling of menace slowly ebbing away.

With his vision now fully returned, he saw the Dedicated approach him. Kiellan nodded, taking in his teacher's words of warning. Val was probably right. He didn't know a lot about dueling with the One Power, but he could imagine that the dizziness that he had felt after Val had broken his shield could give his opponent the edge they needed to win. Kiellan didn't mind. He had always been better on the offensive anyway.

At his teacher's command, he followed the other man back to the Tower. As he released saidin, he suddenly felt the exhaustion crashing down on him, and had to wait for a couple of second until he could make his legs move again. The endless struggle for control and the heightened senses that saidin brought with it always made him feel more alive, like his life without the One Power was just a shimmering reflection, and it had provided him with enough adrenaline to get through the day. Now that that was gone, though, he felt the repercussions of having channeled for so long. Using saidin was exhausting, but Kiellan hadn't even noticed how exhausting until now. He also suddenly noticed how hungry he was, and how cold he it was getting.

It wasn't until he heard the first sounds of life that he realized they were already near the kitchens. As usual, the Mistress of the Kitchens was yelling at some poor maid who had made a mistake. Kiellan shivered as he felt the heat coming from the kitchen, slowly penetrating the cold that seemed to surround him until it warmed his bones. For a moment, he simply stood there and enjoyed the warmth and the smells coming out of the kitchen. It smelled of food that he could have never dreamed of back in the Rahad.

He wasn't surprised that Val's first words since leaving the yards were so grim. Although the Dedicated usually seemed like a nice man, he sometimes had moments of darkness. It was probably the teacher in him that felt like he had to keep warning Kiellan of the danger he was in as a channeler. He simply nodded, not trying to think too much about it, although he knew Val was right. He had been in plenty of duels in his life, fistfights in the Rahad, and even once or twice with the curved Altaran daggers, but this had been something else entirely, and he hadn't even been in any real danger today.

The dark thoughts were driven out of his head by the strong smell and the bitter taste of the tea that was suddenly given to him, as well as the warmth that defrosted his hands. It didn't taste good, but the satisfaction that the drink brought with it, of a warm drink after a long, hard, cold day of work, was immense. He utter a fast "thank you" to the servant who had given him the cup, but the fellow was already gone, caught back by his boss. Taking in everything Val said, he finished his tea, savoring every sip of it.

The prospect of a mountain patrol excited him. Finally, a chance to get away from this place for once. He hadn't been out of the Tower grounds since his arrival, which was some time ago now. He pushed those thoughts aside, and pondered on Val's question. He knew the very rudimentary basics of dueling, at least how it was done in Ebou Dar, but he didn't think that would help him in a fight. "I do, actually. Is there a way to circumvent the cutting of your weave? Or are there weaves that are, well, uncuttable? Because the backlash I felt when you cut my weave would probably be deadly in a duel. And does it work the same on women? Because we are stronger, aren't we? Or should I just shield them, than?" His cheeks reddened slightly at the barrage of questions, but he tried to look dignified as he looked at his teacher in anticipation.

[Sean]

The draught’s warmness had already spread to the soles of Valadin’s feet when plates of food were put into the hands of each man. By that time Kiellan’s questions hung in the air, echoing against the stone walls with guilty curiosity throughout the vacant hallways.

“Ah, Soldier…let’s…” Valadin grunted as he turned from the scene of bustling Novices and servants, scrubbing the floor vigorously. Appreciation gurgled up from deep within at the memory of the Mistress’ tyranny.

Moving away from the kitchens proved to be wisdom. Corpulent as the Mistress was her gift for striking unsuspecting loungers had its place in Tower legend. Steam rose from the dinner of strips of beef smothered in a pepper sauce that Valadin guessed must have come from the Southlands or somewhere similarly exotic. Andor wasn’t known for its spices—at least from what could be learned from years of observing the Four Kings trading goods. For a time only the sound of two hungry souls attacking their meal with gusto filled the emptiness that haunted the night. Moonlight spilled in through a window adding to the gentle illumination of the torches. Within the Tower walls the penetrating cold from the Yards held no purchase.

Plate cleaned, Valadin waited for Kiellan to do the same before speaking. Despite the gloom of the shadows and the stifling quiet the food had restored Val’s good humor. He found himself grinning without any apparent cause. Perhaps I’ve finally gone mad, eh?

Most days such a thought would send a shiver down his spine, but sharing the evening with Kiellan, his pupil…and in some ways his friend removed the menacing edged that the threat of madness often held. “Best time o’ day this. The clutter o’ e’eryone runnin’ about dies down leavin’ behind the naked night sky an’ the stars above—jus’ the way the Creator intended it I’d reckon.”

Soon they came to the terminus of the long corridors that formed a maze-like network for inhabitants to get to their duties and classes with effortless efficiency. During the day the throngs ploughing through them in a quivering mass made it difficult to see the practical brilliance behind the great building’s design. Had his mind for craftsmanship been honed at an earlier age, he might even have appreciated the subject in general. Alas, time was wasting and reverence would not slake the young Soldier’s thirst for knowledge; there was too much to be learned to dally.

“Flows o’ Earth an’ Fire’re usually the toughest to Cut. Course it ent impossible, but most just step out o’ the way of the Weaves rather than tryin’ anythin’ stupid; in battle there’s no substitute fer good sense, remember that. Dunt be worryin’ ‘bout the backlash either. After a bit ya learn to…become accustom to it. Like pain in a good fight; still there, but ya ent fallin’ over yerself after each nick.”

Valadin’s voice boomed in the stillness. A nearby torch flickered as a gust of wind rushed through the empty halls. The guttering flame hinted at the hour of the night and Valadin decided that keeping Kiellan any longer from his bed would be unwise. Dedicated would be patrolling bedrooms issuing swift sentence for any caught skirting curfew. It had been his experience that excuse or no, Soldiers were likely to get their ears boxed by his betters.

“As fer the rest,” Valadin continued. “It’s fer another time. Off ta bed with ya now. As it were I’ve got a fair bit of explainin’ to do as to why a Soldier’s missin’ so many o’ his classes in his first year. I shan’t be takin’ grief fer ya sleepin’ through class tomorrow as well.”

With a gentle nudge, the young man was sent towards the dimly lit dormitory. Kiellan’s brow seemed to arch sardonically at the dismissal, but the dying torchlight may have been playing tricks on the eye. Not that ya don’t deserve it. If it were you, Garyas wouldn’t ‘ve been able t’move ya with the power o’ the Creator hisself.

Unwashed plate in hand Valadin retired to his quarters. Immediately the cloying aroma of sweat and the brew used to scrub floors greeted him, but it had been home for more than two years now. Little had changed since the graduation from Soldier to Dedicated. From what was understood about the young man, Kiellan would find that the ceremony behind the entire endeavor to be wholly unnecessary and theatrical. The pomp and celebration meant little once duties needed to be taken. The Grey Tower was stalwart in its intent to churn out warriors for the coming fight against the Shadow; luxury was not an indulgence to be found in excess. Though his bed called to him Valadin sat down at the small three-legged writing desk to begin penning down justification for the unplanned absence of a Soldier’s from his duties.

The Final Battle was fought with the pen as much as it was the sword it seemed.

OOC: Sorry it took a while mate with all the hubbub with the site and RL injuries. With your final post you’ll actually be ready for Raising if you want to go that route, but first and foremost you can use this thread to get you some points in Battle Weaves.

[Teddy]

Kiellan nodded, trying desperately to take in as much of Val's answer as possible, but he could feel the fatigue of a long day full of work weighing down on him. He struggled to keep the words locked in his memories, but a significant part of it was lost to him already. The adrenaline, combined with the heightened senses that came with the Power, had made sure he hadn't collapsed in the Yards, but it had also made him unable to feel his own body's exhaustion. He yearned for his bed, and knowing that he would have to wake up very early tomorrow didn't help that. He wasn't sure how long ago it had been that he had had a good night of sleep, but that certainly was a rare occurrence here in the Tower.

He threw Valadin an indignant look. He knew the Dedicated was right, but that didn't make Kiellan any more happy about the dismissal. He still wasn't keen on the absolute obedience that was expected of him, but he also knew how pointless it would be to argue. The only thing that would get him was yet another penance; even Val would have to punish him for direct disobedience. Still, he was happy to go to bed, even if he had been commanded to. As Val said, he didn't want to risk falling asleep during class tomorrow, which would earn him an even bigger punishment, and nobody would care whether he had been kept up too late.

With a hasty "Good night, Dedicated", he went off to bed. He would cherish the few hours left, before the Dedicated would wake him to continue his education. As tiresome as it was, he still always felt a pang of excitement thinking about it. Only a year ago, when he had still lived in Ebou Dar, he could never have hoped that he would even have any kind of education, and now, here he was. Those moments, like this afternoon, where he genuinely felt like he was learning things, made all of it, even the continued harassment by those who considered themselves his betters, worth it. This night, he knew he wouldn't dream of the annoying Aes Sedai and Asha'man. He would dream of the lessons they enabled him to learn, and despite his dislike, he would be eternally grateful for that.