Attending summons

OOC: Apologies to daria for playing her character a little... been awhile since i RP'ed... I plead forgetfulness and beg forgiveness :P

Icy winds blew around his still body, caressing gently as they flowed across exposed flesh. A slight chill travelled down his spine, causing the Gaidin to shiver momentarily. Talaban breathed gently, feeling the relaxing play across his scarred, wiry body. It was cold up here in the Mountains of Mist, colder then the Blight during deepest night. Yet, here, the frost was natural and the air fresh. Here, it was possible to forget about all cares in the larger world.

An icy blob touched his nose momentarily, melting away into a drop of water as soon as it touched the warmth of human skin. A slight sound caught the Gaidin's attention. Dragging himself out of meditation, Talaban spun around, leather boots dragging a furrow in the snow, both blades materializing in a guard stance.

Curved iron drove at him, the naginata cutting precisely as it lanced forward, its wielder expertly manipulating her polearm as she advanced. He focused. Each movement of the shimmering blade preceded the next, the burnished steel playing in the wan light of dawn, every reflected rainbow a beautiful yet deadly vision.

Steel met steel, the unique clash of weapon on weapon ringing forth as Talaban focused. His blades flashed out, sometimes jerking, sometimes swift, always impacting. Each stroke designed for a specific purpose. The fighters danced, sparring.

The Gaidin breathed easily, feeling the rapidly chilling sweat on his clothing. He trekked up the snowy slopes effortlessly, moving with the ease of someone totally at home in his surroundings. Behind him, her measured breaths followed closely. Talaban touched the bond gently, feeling Elin in his mind. There was no sign of fatigue there.

Physically, though she might have more years than him, the Power did strange things to one's body. Physiologically, she had the body of someone half his age. Elin smiled as she felt her Warder's concern. Though their bond was just one of the many twists in her life so far, it was perhaps the one she treasured the most.

“I'm fine, old man,” she muttered. The answering grunt came from in front. Feeling cheeky, Elin could not resist poking further, “You ought to watch your aging muscles though.” Indignation came clear and sharp through the bond. Elin giggled, drawing the waving strands of hair away from her face. The wind was getting stronger. There might be a snowstorm later.

They climbed upward in companionable silence, the cabin ahead beckoned, its warm interior calling shelter from the wind. Twelve years. Twelve years he had spent in this desolate no-mans land. Yet, these twelve years contained some of the happiest moments in his life. If this was the Tower's idea of a punishment, Talaban certainly appreciated the irony.

Here, within the highest reaches of the world, the Gaidin had found much needed rest and solitude. His broken body had healed to an extent he never thought would have been possible, the scars and torn muscle tissue knitting themselves back together. Physically and mentally, he was at a point which far surpassed anything he had ever been, even at the peak of his service within the walls of Tar Valon. And here, he had made the final transition from Gaidin to Warder. Life was good.

Talaban waited patiently. He could hear the footsteps outside, the heavy breathing as someone ascended the crag. The noise told him as surely as the bond did. He felt anxiety from her. Tar Valon. Whoever was making their way up knew the cabin was here and was making no secret of the fact that they approached. She held up a single finger. One. Mayhap it was a routine visit. An inspection perhaps.

Three sharp knocks issued on the heavy oaken door. Talaban looked at his Elin and shrugged. He left his warm chair for the door. Drifting snow greeted him as he pulled it open. Outside, in the gusting wind, a man stood. Auburn locks flapped in the wind as steady grey eyes met jade green.

"Talaban Moranae Gaidin, my name is Quirin a'Rian Gaidin, I am here by order of the Amyrlin Seat, might I come in please?" Mist wafted from his mouth, the heat of his body meeting the chilly cold.

Talaban stood aside, gesturing the other man in. Quirin wasted little time, knocking his boots against the frame before stepping out of the wind into the warmth of the cabin. Behind him, an Aes Sedai scurried in. Yellow from her shawl, though Talaban was sure she had it on to stave off the cold rather than to announce her Ajah.

Elin stepped up to play host, offering warm coats to the visitors, serving tea and hustling the Aes Sedai, Grendel, she had introduced herself as, off to the small table they used for dining. Quirin sat in one of the heavy, fur lined chairs beside the fireplace, staring into the flames, obviously waiting for Talaban to join him.

The Gaidin moved to the back of the cabin, reaching for two tankards. Quirin. Though they were both of an age, Talaban knew little about the other man. During their time in the Tower, their paths had crossed seldom, even as trainees. Each man had run in different circles. Save for hearsay, there was precious little Talaban knew of the other man. In fact, the only thing he actually remembered of Quirin was the fact that he had featured regularly among the final bouts for quarter staves during festival competitions.

Returning to the fireplace, Talaban handed one tankard to the other man as he settled into his own chair. Quirin smacked his lips as he swallowed a mouthful of the dark, bitter ale.

The dark liquid rushed down his throat, settling deep within his belly with a pleasant warmth. Quirin resisted the temptation to sigh. The ale felt good, and the warmth from the fireplace was certainly welcome after the beastly weather outside. He knew little of the other Gaidin, certainly not enough to make intelligent conversation about days gone by. In truth, he had not seen the other man in more then ten years. Who would have known he had been exiled to this light-forsaken corner of the world? Reaching to his side, Quirin unbuckled a leather tube from his belt, handing it over to Talaban before leaning back into the furs on the chair. He did not know what the message inside contained but Quirin was certainly going to enjoy the warmth while he could.

Talaban took the leather tube Quirin offered. The other Warder settled into the furs on his chair, closing his eyes. Clearly, he had little more to tell. Talaban held the tube up. The wax seal was grey and unbroken. He swallowed. A simple twist sent wax flaking to the floor. Fingers trembled slightly as he drew out the plain note. Slowly, the Gaidin unrolled the dry paper, the rough texture sticking slightly to his fingers as he unrolled the missive.

The paper was blank. Well, almost. Sitting squarely central, in simple, cursive writing from a firm hand, was a single line of words. “Return. Both of you.” Below, the signature read simply, “Renee Duvale, Amyrlin Seat”. No “Flame of Tar Valon” or “Watcher of the Seals” or any other fancy title, yet, just as powerful as if every single honorific had been written. Talaban felt his mouth go dry.

The Warder strode along the cobbled stone path, making quick time through the fields of the training grounds. Though it had been twelve long years since he had last set foot on a single one of those cobbles, memory served well. His feet knew the way well enough. The fancloth flapped in the wind behind him, the cloak was something Talaban hardly even donned but he had felt the need on this trip back. Glances stirred the hairs on the nape of his neck, each one adding to the anxiety he felt in his heart. Till now, he had no idea why the Amyrlin wanted them back.

He passed through checkpoints as he ascended the Tower proper, arms-men and Gaidin making to challenge him, men he had never ever seen before. Some things had changed. Each time, the Sisters at the points bade him pass, their glassy faces never revealing anything save that he was expected. The bond pulsed encouragement. Talaban smiled. He could feel Elin somewhere below, cloistered within the quarters of the Green Ajah.

Ascending the final flight or circular stairs, Talaban found himself in the outer antechamber of the Amyrlin's offices. The large outer office was spartan and empty, save for the few Novices who stood ready to do the bidding of the Keeper. She looked up, peering slightly before recognition lit her eyes. “Talaban Gaidin?” The tone was more statement then question but Talaban nodded anyway.

“Wonderful,” the Keeper muttered. “The Amyrlin's been expecting you. Do wait a moment while I announce you,” the Aes Sedai told him before knocking and sticking her head into the inner office. Turning around, she motioned for him to enter.

• Posts in this string:
  • MRP: Passing of an era posted by Alisse Sedai  on 02/08/2007 @ 15:22:55
    • Searching for the New posted by Quirin Wallis do Mattei a'Rian Gaidin on 02/09/2007 @ 21:12:45
      • Attending summons posted by Talaban Morenae Gaidin on 04/09/2007 @ 09:39:43
        • RE: Attending summons posted by Talaban Morenae Gaidin on 26/02/2008 @ 12:35:34

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