The Grey Tower

As had become his custom, Terric trained in just his grey britches. He knew he should train in the Wetlander boots more because he was likely to be wearing them when danger arose, but truthfully, he just didn’t like them. Not wearing the boots while he tumbled around on the sands, meant he didn’t have to work as hard to keep them clean for inspection. Currently, he stood balanced on one leg wrapped in the Void. He wanted to push himself, see how long he could maintain his balance in the Void. He had stood motionless, one leg planted and the other bent and resting against the side of his leg, arms raised in a defensive position since he had arrived at the Yards this morning. His shoulders ached and his thigh screamed, but the pain was outside of the Void. Inside there was only balance.

He caught sight of an older Soldier walking towards him carrying a cane. The man was tall, dark and weathered. He gave off a gnarled strength like an old spear haft that had seen many battles. Men rarely lived to his age in the Three-fold Land, and those who did were among the hardest men Terric had ever met. They had a strength beyond that of strong arms. As the man approached, Terric brought his other leg down, feet shoulder width apart, and let his arms hang casually by his sides.

“I see you friend. I am Oro Dalm and I am without sept or clan like most wetlanders, may you find shade this day,” the older man said, stopping in front of Terric.

Terric’s face showed the slightest hints of a smile. “I see you, Oro Dalm, I am Terric of the Salt Flats sept of the Nakai Aiel, may you also find water and shade,” he felt it was only right that Oro Dalm’s formality be matched. “How may I help you?”

The old man’s next words surprised Terric, “If it pleases the light I have come here to fight, or dance the spears as you would say. I don’t suppose you would be willing to teach me some of the basics so that I might fight with my hands and feet as your people do.”

Terric looked the man up and down considering. He was already training Avyra, a young Novice too small to even come up to his chest, and now a man his great-mother’s age wanted to train with him. Maybe he could make a reputation for himself training unlikely warriors. This man looked as if he had seen a bit more of life than most. Would that mean that he would be hard headed and hard to teach or would it mean that he was wise enough to know what he did not know. Why not, he’d try to train this old man. If he was untrainable for whatever reason, he’d send him on his way. Deep down however, Terric was an optimist. He hoped this man, Oro Dalm, could learn, even if it was just enough to know how to scare off some toughs who thought he was easy meat.

“Ok, Oro Dalm, I will teach you what I can. Meet back here during the evening free period and we will begin.” Ah well, who needs free time.