Origins Of Legends

Posted August 30, 200717 yr

Hi all! Extreme-oldbie Shoar here, returning from a long hiatus to join in on the RP fun.

I have seen Ryell's name being put down in the Origins of the White Tower thread and figured that if she'd held in such high reverence I might put up a post or two of her work... *l* For those of you who don't know I was her Warder.

Here is Ry's arches post. I'm only including the original post, but I have the RP that followed.

ARCHES: FINALLY GAINING OFFICIAL ACCEPTANCE

OOC: Excruciatingly long, NINE whole pages in Word. Prepare to be bored senseless! Here we go…

Ryell was lying on her bed. Her muscles still smarted from the hard work she’d done at the farm, but at least she finally had her “outdoors” look back again. Suddenly, the door was thrown open. Soraya came in.

“Come with me girl, and don’t ask any questions.” The Mistress of the Novices looked so stern that Ryell kept her mouth shut and just followed her. What under the Light had she done now? Surely she couldn’t be in trouble yet again. Soraya was now leading her into the lowest regions of the Tower. Soon the corridors became dusty, clearly no one had been here in years. There were no windows to let in any light. When Ryell thought they must surely have reached the lowest level, Soraya stopped in front of a heavy oaken door. When they entered, Ry could barely stifle a gasp. In the centre of the room were three silver arches, set on a wide ring. The arches glowed softly. Three sisters sat at the base of them, surrounded by the light of Saidar. The only other thing in the room was a table. On it were three cups. Behind the table was the only friendly face she knew: Lanfir Sedai, her mentor and a friend. She didn’t look friendly now. She looked like the Head of the Green Ajah. And so, this must be Ryell’s test for Acceptance. Fear suddenly gripped her stomach like an icy fist. She stilled the feeling at once. There was no shame in knowing fear, only in giving in to it.

Soraya turned to face Ryell. "Novices are given three chances at this," Soraya intoned. "You may refuse twice to enter, but at the third refusal, you will be sent away from the Tower forever." Ry nodded. She knew she had to go through with this. No one can stay the same forever. "Good," Soraya said, nodding once. "Now I will tell you two things no woman hears until she stands where you do. First. Once you begin, you must go on until the end. Refuse at any point, and you will be put out of the Tower just as if you had refused to begin for the third time. Second. To seek, to strive, is to know danger." The Mistress of the Novices look steely. Had the test been hard for her? "Some women have entered, and never come out. When the ter'angreal was allowed to grow quiet, they--were--not--there." No shame in knowing fear, Ry told herself. I WILL come back. I have a lot to come back to. "They were never seen again. If you will survive, you must be steadfast. Falter, fail, and..." Soraya trailed off, sympathy in her eyes. "This is your last chance. If you refuse now, it counts as only the first refusal. You may still try twice more. If you accept now, there is no turning back. It is no shame to refuse. Choose."

“I have to go on. I’ll take the test.” Soraya told her to strip down and led her to the table.

“Whom do you bring with you Sister?" Lanfir intoned.

"One who comes as a candidate for Acceptance, Sister." Soraya replied.

"Is she ready?"

"She is ready to leave behind what she was, and, passing through her fears, gain Acceptance."

"Does she know her fears?"

"She has never faced them but now is willing."

"Then let her face what she fears."

“The first time is for what was. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

Ryell steeled herself and walked into the first, glowing Arch. The light burned her world away.

It was late spring. The sun was just rising and the courtyard was filled with the sound of soldiers mounting up for a patrol. For a moment, it seemed as if she was floating, the world swimming around her. Then she found herself staring at a horse’s saddle, and her hands were tightening the straps. She’d been here before. The year before coming to the Tower, she’d been here. Part of her, a part that was separate from the rest of her, knew that in its bones. It was as if there were two of her in this head, a younger Ryell preparing herself for a routine patrol, unaware of anyone else in her head, and an older Ryell, chillingly aware of what would happen today. The older half of her wondered briefly how she got here. But there was no point in asking that. She knew why she was here, and when the time came, she would act.

The patrol headed out. The young Ryell took a deep breath. It was a beautiful day but she couldn’t see it. Although she was scanning the surroundings like she should, her mind was on other things. However much she looked, she carefully avoided the man riding at the head of their column. Daniel al’Caar, the scoutmaster and her best friend. And, sadly, her lover. She’d had a crush on him when he first came to their fortress, but she had been only thirteen at the time, and those feelings had passed with time. Later, despite their friendship, they had slept together a few times, mostly for comfort. For Ryell, it had not meant that much. He was her friend first. But for him, it had meant more. Last night, she and he had fought, and she was still angry with him. Feelings swirled inside her, hurt, fear, betrayal and guilt. That separate part of her recognised them. It still hurt her, after all these years.

“I’m leaving. It’s time I moved on,” he’d said. It had not taken much to find out why he was leaving. He loved her, but she didn’t feel the same way and he knew it. O, she loved him and needed him all right, just not in that way. But she did need him, Light, she did. Who else would she turn to; who else was that close to her? He couldn’t go, she told him as much. Couldn’t he get over it? But he couldn’t and now their friendship was going to end like this, in grief. That other part of her suddenly remembered another man’s face, dark and serious, but it was gone almost as soon as she saw it.

The patrol was nearing the site were, the older Ryell knew, they would be ambushed. She still remembered it, and skin that would bear scars in the future twitched. If she’d had control over her muscles they would have tensed up.

For the separate part of her, time now seemed to slow to a crawl. She was facing a Fade. She could see it had lost its sword, and was using a normal one. She almost missed that; the sword was so black with blood. The younger part of her was focused only on the fight, but the older Ryell saw Daniel, fighting a Trolloc nearby. Ryell was retreating, walking backwards carefully. But the ground was uneven, and she stepped into a hole half-hidden by a dead body. She fell, and the sword snaked down. Ry managed to roll out of the way barely in time, but the serpentine creature managed to lash her side, before another soldier beheaded it. It had all happened in a few seconds.

There was still time to save Daniel, if only she could get to him. But as her body rolled to get to its feet, that older part of her saw what the younger Ryell hadn’t. When Daniel saw the Fade’s sword slash her, he had stopped fighting, knowing that a touch of a Myrdraal’s blade meant certain death. When he thought he saw her die, he stopped wanting to live. She could see it in his eyes. The Trolloc was going to kill him, run him through while he stood there. There was a window, only a few seconds but she still had the time to save him. She wanted to, she did, but when she began running, there was a silver arch, beckoning her. A disembodied voice whispered “The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.” Ryell hesitated for a moment, and then she threw herself through the arch. She felt, rather than heard, the sound of a sword passing through mail, boiled leather and flesh. The light burned her to ashes.

Ryell fell to her knees. She was sobbing uncontrollably, crying for herself, for him and for what never was. Someone poured water over her head.

"You are washed clean," Lanfir pronounced, standing over her, "of what sin you may have done, and of those done against you. You are washed clean of what crime you may have committed, and of those committed against you. You come to us clean and pure, in heart and soul."

“Are you ready to proceed?” Soraya asked her.

Ryell was shaking, but there was no choice now. She had to go on. A thought was haunting her: “If you want to rebuild, you first have to tear down.” What was going to happen to her?

“The second arch is for what is. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

She stepped through the arch and this time, the arch burned everything away. The past, the future, until only the present remained.

Ryell Jagad, newly Raised sister of the Green Ajah, was finally coming home. For the first time since leaving for Tar Valon, she would see her home and her father again. This time, she swore to herself, things would be different. She was no longer a child, easily angered and easily cowed. She was a woman now, Raised to the Shawl, and she would face her father. Would he still be the same? She remembered how he sometimes would lift her up by the arm, nearly wrenching it out of the socket, so he could peer into her face. Or the casual backhands, stinging more because of their carelessness than the pain. "Shut up girl." But mostly she remembered the endless rules. There had been rules for everything, from the way she dressed to what food she ate. For lessons, for free time, for her friends and her servants and most of all for her thoughts. It was all part of the obsessive habits, bordering on madness, he had developed since her mother died. Well, he would finally tell her why he had treated her like that. This time, she would not let him tell her off.

The stablehand who took her horse didn’t recognise her. She’d been away for so long. Too long. But she still knew where her father’s study was. When she opened the door, it seemed as if time had stood still. The room was still shrouded in darkness. Books lined the walls. Over the fireplace was the life-sized portrait of her mother he had put up after Darise Jagad’s death. Odd skulls and weapons were spaced across the room. In his favourite armchair was her father. He hadn’t changed either. His tall, muscular body was rigid, still proud and strong and completely inaccessible. Long, deft hands slid an oily rag across the longsword on his lap. His dark beard was shot with a little more grey, as were his bushy eyebrows. There might have been a few more lines in his face. But his eyes were the same, still burning with that same intensity. Her heart clenched with remembered fear. How often had that look scared her before she learned to ignore it? Too often.

“Father.”

“You’re home, then. When did you gain the Shawl?” He didn’t even consider that she had come home before getting Raised.

“Two weeks ago. I came home straight away. I need to talk to you. About…. The past, I’d say.”

“Your mother. You want to talk about your mother. She shouldn’t have died, no, no, she shouldn’t, but the Dark One took her from us. There’s Darkfriends everywhere, daughter. I hope I taught you that much.”

Ryell sighed. It was going to be one of those conversations. If he started drifting like this, it always took so much effort to get him back.

“Why under the Light are you doing this? It’s been more than twenty years! She’s dead, father. She got killed by accident. The Darkfriends weren’t after her. Let it go. Can’t you see what has happened? You stole my childhood. I don’t know what you tried to “teach” me, but it drove me mad. I couldn’t even bear to hear your voice in the end. Even the sound of your footsteps got me so fired up, I couldn’t think straight. All I ever did when I lived with you was see to it no one found out how weird you were really getting. You hit me! You lived my life for me, and for BLOODY WHAT?” She finally noticed she was shouting. Not a child anymore, yet still easily angered. But not cowed. Not yet. If only she could get through to him, tell him what she was feeling. Everything was so jumbled; she couldn’t get it out straight. The careful speech she had rehearsed was gone. Only burning anger and resentment remained. He had dragged her along while he got more and more caught up in himself and his sorrows. How could she express the hate that burned her up? How could she explain the stress and the fear without losing herself in that hate?

He looked at her with those eyes. His gaze would have pinned her to the wall, not too many years ago. Now, she just stared back with every ounce of Aes Sedai cool she could muster.

“You have changed, Ryell. Do you hate me? You’re not the only one, but you’re the first to say it out loud.” He gave her a thin smile. “Why do you think I am mad?”

“You ARE mad, old man, or as near as makes no difference.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I am still your father.” His voice trailed off. Torias stared into the dark. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with your mother. My place is by her side. You never did understand about love, did you? My better half. What am I, without Darise? Nothing, nothing.” He trailed off again.

“Is this going anywhere? I wanted an explanation, I don’t want to you ramble on about your idealised love. Mother was no angel. Just tell me why you treated me so badly, why you never even made an effort to get help or something, so you could move on. I can barely remember the man you were, once, yet I know you weren’t always like this.”

“You don’t understand and you don’t have to. That man died with your mother. The only reason I didn’t follow her into the grave right away was you. Light, but I hated my duty to you. The way you always needed something. You clung to me like a vice. Why couldn’t you just do what you were told? Get settled in, get a life, marry some man so you could stop needing me. Your mother died because she thought she could rally those guards into another attack against the Darkfriends. Folly! She was a woman, it couldn’t be done. And did you learn anything from her? No, of course not. You insisted on playing soldier and that kept me HERE. With you. The whole business shamed you and our House. Now that the Tower has finally taken you off my hands, it’s over. No more. And you’re not getting anything from me. That’s my gift to you for all those years you clung to me. When I’m gone, you’ll never be able to show your face here again.”

Fear gripped her. “What are you talking about? Are you disinheriting me? DON’T YOU DARE! You have no right! I am as much a Jagad as you are. More so!”

“What you think doesn’t matter. I can see I was right. I just told you I’m going to kill myself and all you can think of is your inheritance. My heart is touched, sweet daughter.”

Ryell stared dumbly at him. Kill himself? The thought was so unreal it hadn’t even registered. She had to stop him. Even if she cared nothing for him, he still had a chance to change. He could still be helped. This would solve nothing. If nothing else, it would only show the Blight and its creatures that the Shienarans were becoming unstable.

“This is nonsense, father. You’re just doing this to get attention. Put the sword down and stop being childish.” Ryell snapped, masking her fear with anger and contempt. She was sure she was the only one Torias would listen to. After all, she was the only one who hated him enough to tell him the truth. And the only one who wanted him truly dead. Beside her, an arch shimmered in the air.

“The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.” Her father took up his sword. Ryell turned away and walked into the arch. Father. Behind her, she felt rather than heard the sword slide through boiled leather and flesh. The light seared her bones to ash.

It took longer to gather herself this time. Not until Soraya spoke did she know where she was. The water poured over her head and washed away her tears. Why was she crying for a man she had hated for so long?

"You are washed clean of false pride," Lanfir intoned. "You are washed clean of false ambition. You come to us washed clean, in heart and soul."

Ryell nearly fell when she tried to get up. Why did you love her more than me? Was that all I was to you? A burden? She had to go on.

“The third arch is for what will be. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

This time, Ryell hesitated before stepping into the light. By now, she was afraid, and willing to admit it to herself. She knew what must lie ahead. As the light burned her life away, she held the names of her loved ones in her heart.

It was a truly Shienaran day. Their small party was making good time, as they should. Ryell felt him coming long before he reached her side. One of the perks of the bond. He wasn’t happy about this; she could feel that too. His feelings were mirrored by her other two Warders. They all felt this journey was a mistake. Ry didn’t blame them. Their objections were her own. But her first concerns were the good of the Tower and the good of the world. Their first concern was her safety. A glance to the rider besides her made her stomach flutter nervously. Reile, her sister, was in the last stage of her pregnancy. She might deliver any day now. This was why the Warders, the four they had between them, had objected so strenuously. Reile had wanted to go herself, and she had managed to convince both Ryell and the Amyrlin. Their mission was this: to quell a Shienaran War of Succession before it began. The Warders hadn’t been convinced that Reile and Ryell had had to go. The sisters had needed to order them into it.

He was by her side now. They had been bonded for more than twenty years. And he was still angry about the order. The one eye he still had stared at her without expression. He’d lost the other one while protecting her during a battle. The rest of him bore more scars, but at the heart of him, he was still the same Shoar she’d fallen in love with years ago. She’d bonded twice more since, but her other Warders were like brothers to her. Shoar only nodded at her then fell back to check with Reile’s Sparhawk. Ryell grinned to herself. It was going to take some doing to make things with him right again. Maybe she could start tonight. During one of her travels she had learned to dance the sar’sara, that would certainly mollify him. She could still make him blush, when she told him she never left home without veils.

When it became dark, they reached a village called Dry Springs. The Warders, by unspoken agreement, all stayed near Reile. Because of her pregnancy, she was unable to channel and thus the most vulnerable. Reile smiled at Ry and touched her arm.

“Is Shoar still angry with you? Sparhawk won’t even talk to me. You do agree with me, don’t you? We need to do this together.”

Ryell squeezed back. “I know. We have to go through with this. The Warders will get over it. Just promise me you won’t deliver in the middle of the negotiations. It would make such a mess on the carpets.”

Reile laughed and tugged her sister along, into the inn. She was actually knitting baby socks, although they looked more like small colourful sacks.

Before they were settled in, the town guards sounded the alarm. Ry knew the sound by heart. The village was being raided. Ryell and two of her Warders ran out of the inn, while Sparhawk stayed behind to protect Reile and Ryell’s third Warder guarded the door.

“Stay there Reile, promise me you’ll stay here. You’ll be safe as long as you don’t go outside. My Warders and I can see to this, really.” Ryell shouted at her sister before running outside.

Ry embraced the Source as she ran. She began channelling as soon as the enemy came into sight. The three of them had done this often. Her two Warders were cutting a path for her, right through the lines of Trollocs advancing on the village. Around her, Shadowspawn died by the sword and the Power. The force of the Fire she used brightened the night. They were holding their own, but only barely. The raiding party had not counted on the presence of an Aes Sedai. But they would be sending for reinforcements, yet so were the villagers. There was a garrison nearby. All that mattered was that Ryell and her warders held them off until the garrison arrived. They were fighting an ugly fight, making their way through the streets. People were running from their houses, there was panic everywhere. The Trollocs were on a killing spree, blood splattered walls and ran in the streets. The townspeople were doing their best to get behind Ryell and her Warders.

“The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.” On the far side of street was a silver arch. It burned with a terrible light, and she knew she must answer that call in her head. But how could she leave? Without her…. No. She would be steadfast. She would not abandon those she loved. The village depended on her. Her Warders and her sister depended on her. But the light from the arch seared her, beckoned her, called her. She had to go back. Back….

Ryell was halfway down the street when her youngest Warder died. He’d given her flowers when she bonded him. It felt like her own death. Shoar was running after her, shouting her name, but she paid him no heed. The pain of her second Warder’s death nearly brought her to her knees. He had had a wife. The Trollocs were at the door of the inn now. The village was lost. Shoar and Sparhawk were making their stand at the inn. Through the window, Ry caught a glimpse of Reile, standing near the fireplace. Be steadfast. Her love, her first Warder, died when she stepped up to the arch. She felt, rather than saw, the swords slide through mail, boiled leather and flesh. Lost, lost. Death is lighter than a feather. Only your own death. Reile’s final scream followed her into the burning light, burning her like the fires of damnation.

A nameless woman faced the dead in an endless black void. They stared past her, unwilling to see her. Surely she had once had a name. Surely the faces of these dead had once meant something to her. She could not say. But when they walked through her, it was so cold…so cold…cold…

She saw the Amyrlin standing there before there with a shawled sister from each ajah. They all looked at her with understanding in their eyes. Lanfir had handed the final silver chalice to the Amyrlin and stepped back. The Amyrlin wwas pouring water over her head. The words swam up to her like fish.

"You are washed clean of Ryell Jagad from Fal Dara in Shienar. You are washed clean of all ties that bind you to the world. You come to us washed clean, in heart and soul. You are Ryell Jagad Accepted of the White Tower. You are sealed to us, now." Ry looked up and the Amyrlin placed the Great Serpent ring on the third finger of her left hand. Gravely, the Amyrlin helped her to her feet. "Welcome, Daughter," she said, kissing her cheek. The Amyrlin kissed the other cheek. "Welcome." Ry didn’t feel any joy. It was so hard to feel anything. The price for her Acceptance had been the lives of her family and friends and it was too high. It was too much to ask for her advancement. It didn’t matter if it was real or not. She had made her choices and Light… O Light…What she wanted was forgiveness, but what would that mean if she couldn’t forgive herself.

Lanfir took her arm and lead her to her quarters. The Accepted’s dress they had given her felt odd. She wanted to rip it off. Most of all, she wanted to go home. To lose herself in the familiar routine of her old life. She wanted to sit on the battlements and look at the sun setting over the Blight. She wanted the simple concerns that had burdened her, when she still thought she had honour. Home. Light, if you love me, take me home.

Lanfir left her in her room. Ryell was shaking. Well Shoar, she thought, I finally found something you can’t protect me from. Myself. What have I become? Her thoughts were scrabbling inside her head like mice in a cage. Maybe I’m like my father after all. We’re hard but we’re not strong. Would I make the same choices if I knew it was for real? But the Arches ARE real. They show you your worst fears. I want to go home…. Stop it! Stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop whining. But they’re dead…. She was stuck. Couldn’t go forward and couldn’t go back. Stuck. Lost.

Someone knocked on her door. Moments later the knock was followed by Arianya. When she saw Ryell’s dress, she hurried over to her friend’s side and hugged her. Ari had gained Acceptance before Ry did. She knew how hard the test was. Ryell leaned against her rigidly, unable to speak or cry. Then her eyes fell on what Ari was carrying. Letters. One of them bore her father’s seal. Her heart turned to ice. Please Light, let it be good news. He’s calling me home. He wants to make things right. Please. Ry reached for the letter. Ari said:

“These came for you while you were in Mayene. Just forget about it for now. You’re upset, and I know how your father gets. Why don’t you read it tomorrow? I’m sure it can wait.”

“No. You don’t understand. I need to read it now.” Ry tore the letter out of Ari’s hands. The events from the second Arch played through her mind mixed with her longing for home. She needed to know, now.

“…will no longer have any claim to the Name, titles, lands and incomes thereof belonging to House Jagad….” He disinherited her. She could never go home again. She could not even show her face in Shienar again. The shame would be unbearable. She would be shunned, an outcast. Her father was a respected man; no one knew what he was really like. No one would believe he just got rid of her. Why doesn’t he love me? Anger descended on her like a black cloud, anger she hadn’t been able to express in the second arch. Anger she’d felt her entire life. Ryell embraced Saidar and snatched a weave together. Her desk exploded into fragments.

“How dare he! I’m as much a Jagad as he is! More so! I’LL KILL HIM!” Her anger washed away reason and pain. She lost herself in it. The windowglass shattered into tiny pieces. Suddenly, she felt something push at her link with the Source. Ari was surrounded by the light of Saidar, calmly weaving a shield. Ry fought her with strength born of anger and desperation.

“GET. OUT. Before I lose control,” Ryell shouted.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Stop fighting me, or I might sever you. Please. You need to go the infirmary. You’re very upset, you might hurt yourself or others.” Ari’s voice sounded relaxed and reasonable. But Ry wasn’t reasonable. Her knives lifted from their stand and nailed the letter to the wall. Ari turned on her heel and strode out. Ry dismissed her before she even left. Never underestimate the enemy. Never underestimate your friends, her conscience whispered.

Ryell lost herself in her anger. She didn’t know how long it took, but when she came around, the room was a wreck. Nothing was intact. Her throat was hoarse from shouting. Anger had burned itself out. Now only emptiness remained. Her legs buckled. Her thoughts were wild and without reason. Despair, hurt, loneliness, fear, self-hate all followed each other with chilling speed. She couldn’t focus on anything. Light moved across the floor. Ry noticed she was clutching her sword. The pain in her hands gave her something to cling to. Focus on the pain. Blood dripped to the floor.

One memory stayed in her head.

Yuri was holding her by her shoulders. The cold stone walls of the courtyard cared nothing for her father’s anguished screams. The cart bearing her mother’s body was still where it had been left hours ago. Yuri’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Surely this is our season of sorrows” he murmured.

Surely this must be her season of sorrows. The shadows lengthened.

Ryell Jagad

Screwed up Accepted.

Bloodsister to Reile Tarkene

Mentored by Lanfir Sedai

Promised to Shoar Daemor

Annnnd there you have it. Incredibly long, I know, but she was a damn good writer. *g*

I have a ton of other old posts like this from various RP's if people are interested, I just thought I'd bring some Nostalgia for our older members and an interesting read for the newer ones! :)