The Wheel Weaves What The Wheel Wills (Ryees & darkangel76)

[Ryees]

For the most part, Aermun followed her lead. He was a pace ahead of her, using the wooden scabbard that once held his sword to shove aside the branches and bushes that blocked their path, but her path was what he followed. Right now, he needed to; plotting his own path would have proven difficult with his mind moving as fast as it was.

Saidin. The tainted half of the One Power that had driven men to fear, madness, and beyond. And nearly the sole reason for the existence of the Red Ajah, on top of the impending insanity he knew would beset him in the coming months... if the process even took months. How long did it take to succumb to the call of the power? He could feel it pulling even now, clearly able to hear that siren's call as it whispered lovingly in his ears. He could not help but recall his accidental channeling that night in the clearing. That rush of power had been unexpected and terrifying, wrought of panic and fear of losing his Aes Sedai, but more than that it had been excruciatingly wonderful. There was not a sword form he had learned in all his years that invoked as much power in his chest, and he had trained with a half dozen Blademasters.

His thoughts were cut short by the breaking of light ahead of them. Aermun was grateful they had gotten through the forest unmolested, but a bit sour he had not been able to retrieve his blade. If something happened to them on the road, he would have to either use his belt knife, a wood axe, or... No, he would not use that. Not again. Never again.

The light materialized into a sight the closer they got to it. The flank of the town was soon revealed to them thorough the thin foliage, so Aermun stepped aside, letting Caitrin take the lead. He had been silent up until now, and intended to stay that way for now. His words would likely only incite conversation, and right now, he needed to avoid that at all costs. And yet he still found himself wondering...

 

[darkangel76]

Whitewater. There weren't many towns in the tiny region nestled near the mountains that actually welcomed Aes Sedai and their Warders, however the small bustling town of Whitewater was one of them. Caitrin was grateful to be in a place where she and Aermun could rest easier, though she hoped trouble wouldn't follow them in their wake. As it was, they'd had a time of it in the wood. Something was out there and it was clearly in watch. But they needed to watch in return, to stay ever mindful that no matter where they went and what they did, they were hardly alone. However, being in a place that was warm and welcoming helped ease some of that tension. It was needed and very much desired.

Caitrin couldn't help but smile as they neared the town, her pace quickening as her dress dragged along the spiky grass. She pulled Aermun's cloak tighter about her body, drinking in the scent that was him and reminding herself that soon he'd receive proper aid once they reached the Black Tower.

The Black Tower. The people of Whitewater couldn't know that was their true destination. These people admired the Aes Sedai, the sisters and all they represented. They knew nothing of their counterpart, their mad brothers trying their best to seize control over that which Shai'Tan tried to destroy, yet still tarnished with his touch, his taint.

"Nearly there," Caitrin whispered, her hand reaching for Aermun's. She wasn't sure why, but she needed his touch, that contact that let her know he was there beside her. Her blue eyes drifted as she glanced his way, noting the loss of his steel. Through the bond, she could sense the loss he felt, that heavy sorrow. And it pained her...perhaps more deeply than it should have. She had more than enough coin in her purse and she decided right then it was to be his. Of course, it wasn't much, but it was the least she could do after all the sacrifices he'd made.

And still would.

"The inn isn't too far from the Smithy," Caitrin whispered to Aermun as they reached the outskirts of town. Her cheeks heated, her heart beginning to race. "After we settle, I'd much like it if you ran an errand for me there." Her face grew hotter, her mouth starting to go dry. She licked at her lips and continued. "Have him forge you a sword and..." her voice trailed and she stopped in her tracks. "Before you protest, due note that I am in need of a Warder who is amply armed." She smiled coyly, though shyly. "The specifications of this sword are yours to make. I've the coin in my purse for payment."

Meanwhile, Leithia's eyes grew wide as Damarys led her into the bustling town. The young girl had never ventured outside her tiny village. Damarys couldn't help but smile wickedly and then pet the girl's wild, red curls.

"You like this place?" Damarys asked.

Leithia turned and looked up at Damarys, a grin playing on her lips. "Oh my yes!" she all but squealed. "I never knew places could be so big!"

Damarys just laughed. "Oh my dear. This is but a town. Wait until you see places such as Caemlyn! Wait until I bring you to the Tower."

Leithia gasped delightedly and smiled. "I knew I was meant for better. I always knew..."

 

[Ryees]

Caitrin seemed more eager than ever to take his hand in hers, and for the moment Aermun had no objection. With events unfolding as they were, it was a comfort to feel that companionship in a physical touch rather than bond they were privy to. That bond conveyed a great many feelings, but right now he was grateful for her presence.

Whitewater opened up around them and Caitrin led him through it, and Aermun's eyes flitted across the town and took it in. The once friendly air the little town had possessed was gone; what used to be a welcoming openness was now tainted just as the Power he held, warped by the knowledge that the people here would as soon chase him down with a torch as help him should they find out what he was. What little comfort he had was all on Caitrin's shoulders now, and the little Aes Sedai seemed happy enough to cart him along—until she stopped suddenly, her voice fading.

A smithy in a town like this? His steel would hardly be like that of the Andoran smiths he was used to, but occasionally the sword makers in the backwater towns like Whitewater possessed a sort of idiot-savantism, developing their own unique methods and tools and creating some truly fantastic works. The coin in Caitrin's pocket would almost assuredly make the smith's eyes bug out—most of these little towns weren't used to bandying about Tar Valon gold marks en masse—so the cost of the blade was not his concern. But her insistence on a blade rose another matter.

"Forging a blade is a lengthy process for these small town smiths," he explained, hands gesturing unconsciously along with his speech as they tended to. "A little smith like this could take days just to craft the blade steel, much less sharpen it and set it to a hilt and guard. I've little doubt he could make something functional, but it would cause us to linger. We would need to room up in the inn, spend some days here. Normally I wouldn't take issue with that, but..." He spread his hands, defeated, still not quite able to bring himself to admit to his condition.