White Tower Saga

A/N: Greetings all... I\'m back with a fic I\'ve been working on for some time. Be warned, there is pairings of every kind here. Sorry if that isn\'t your thing.

The first chapter is undoubtedly the worst. I\'ve rewritten it twice but I just can\'t seem to get it to sound good. So bare with me... it just gets better from here.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1 -

I was dreaming of rose petals. The was no story to the dream, like most of those I can remember… no beginning or end… no continuity… only a wonderful sensation of happiness and the imagery of rose petals. I was content. Looking back upon it now, I wonder if there was some sort of connection between the warmth of the dream I was enraptured in and the horror which would take me soon… a sort of karmic pre-compensation. I was startled out of my slumber to the crash of thunder outside my windowpane. More streaks of lightning flashed before my eyes, stabbing to the ground to points unseen faster than I could count. I had never been frightened of lightning before, but the fury of the storm had me stark with fear. There was no pattering of rain on the rooftop, no moistness to the air. The whole storm had an insidious aura. I heard the gong ringing, and terror flooded through me. Everyone who lived the Borderlands knew what that gong meant: a Trolloc raid. I saw my father stumbling out of the doorway from his room, grabbing his sword as he ran. He called for me then, but his words were drowned out by the crashes of a thunderbolt so near that our windows shattered inwards. As I was peppered with small bits of glass, I shrieked and tried to hide my head under the covers. The door broke open, and a bestial figure ducked under the frame. It was the first time I had ever seen one of these monsters alive. It had a wicked beak, with deeply recessed eyes and a barbed tail. The covers were clutched tight in my white knuckled grip, drawn up to cover my face up to my eyes. I am not sure why; at sixteen, nearly seventeen, I should have known that covers were no protection from a Trolloc... however blind panic has a way of making your mind devoid of reason. I heard Father roar, and the running feet of my mother. A second beast entered, this one with a pig snout and tusks. It grabbed at me, but only got the white sheets to my bed as I spun out and away from it. Running to my father for protection, I saw him stumble and fall, clutching at his red chest. I cried out for him, and yet I knew the truth. I caught his body, holding him as he crumpled, my hands slicked with blood. I turned around to see the two Trollocs moving towards me slowly. They obviously had no intent to kill, their swords by their sides. I knew the horrible truth then: that I was about to be taken captive by the monsters, a fate much worse than death. I cast my hands forward, feeling my terror flow out of me in red waves. The world twisted before me, impossible twines of light twisting out from me and binding the two Trollocs. They screamed an inhumanly pitched whine of agony and blackened, then exploded into flames. As their death cries rang out and seemed to echo through the house, the horrid smell of burning flesh struck my nostrils, and the world faded into blackness as I collapsed.

Sleep claimed me then, though not restful slumber such that we have between the days. It was sleep wracked with fever dreams of fire, blood and death. I had little perception of time, other than I knew that days were passing me by as my body refused to wake.

I finally awoke with my blond hair tangled in my eyes. My head was pounding terribly, and the bright sun did not help any. My body was deeply feverish, but a cool zephyr blew about me as it breezed down our path. I felt a slight bumping, and I realized that I was in a makeshift gurney, being carried down a forested path, carried by two muscular men. Both wore dark green tunics over chain mail shirts and had keen swords in their belts. They had swirling cloaks on that never seemed to be the same color, playing tricks on my eyes. I noticed I was still in my linen nightgown, though a dark blue blanket was draped over me. I went to bed bare under my garb, so I adjusted it to make it a bit more decent. I shielded my eyes from the sun as I tried to look at the man’s face at the feet of the gurney\'s face. He smiled. I heard feminine voices from up ahead of me.

“Really now, Rena, I had always thought that five was kind of excessive, but they are useful now. Combined them with Nicholas here and we have enough to carry the girls all the way to Tar Valon even after you lost our horses.” The voice was melodious and tender. Another voice, presumably Rena, responded with a laugh that was so beautiful it made my heart skip a beat.

“They are very useful, Trista, for so many different things.” I looked around, trying to figure out what under the Light they were talking about. By craning my neck, I could see beside me were four more men, each carrying similar gurneys.. The voices had talked about six somethings, and I guessed they were talking about the men. The women had talked about the men like they owned them… five for one and one for the other.

In the gurneys were girls that I knew: Amanda and Lisandre. Amanda was a friend of a friend; quite tall for a girl, forceful, almost to the point of being a bully. She thought she could talk you into doing what she wanted. She was wearing a blue skirt split for riding and a white blouse top, and it showed ample skin that was white as snow. She had a fair number of boys chasing her back home, despite how commanding she could be. Lisandre was covered up to her chin with a blanket like me. Her skin was darkly tanned. The man carrying the gurney closest to my head called out. “Rena, this one is awake.”

The men stopped, and I could hear the girls next to me starting to stir. A woman clad in green walked over to me. I barely stifled a gasp at her clothing, if it could be called that. A girl wearing something like that at home would be whipped for indecency. She wore a skirt cut off at her mid thigh, so that it was barely a half span long. Her shirt barely went to the bottom of her breasts, and lying down as I was on the gurney, I could see up the cut and to her bosom. I could not put an age to her, probably her mid twenties, but by the Light she was beautiful. Her hazel hair hung to her waist, unbound and yet retaining the shape of a waterfall pouring down her back even as she walked. She came over to me and put her hand on my forehead, her eyes closed. I glanced sideways, and saw the other women doing similar things to the other girls. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. She smiled in a loving manner, and started to talk.

“Do you know who you are?” she asked.

“My name is Jessara, my father is Reginald, and my mother...\"

She cut me off quickly. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“I remember… oh Light! My family! Are they alive?”

“Well, I cannot be entirely sure...\" There was deceit in her eyes, and she made little effort to conceal it. I clung to the hope that she was wrong... that I was wrong... and that they yet lived. “I promise you that I will see what I can find out. The important thing is that you are safe now. You have been through quite a lot.” She paused and watched my expression. “You are what is referred to as a Wilder. Do you know what that means?” I shook my head no. “It means that you will begin to touch the One Power whether you wish to or not.”

“The One Power? Like the women of the Tower?”

She nodded, pleased. “So will your friends here. We are taking you to Tar Valon, to be trained as Aes Sedai.” I knew my mouth must have been hanging open, but I didn’t care. Tar Valon? Aes Sedai? I had heard of them, of course, but they were legends... enigmas. “Well, you had best get your rest now, dear.” Ignoring my protests and half started questioning, she touched my forehead, and the world spiraled into darkness again. The next week past easily, with me sleeping nearly the whole day, the little time I woke filled with repeated questionings by one of the three women: what my name was, where I lived, my memories and experiences of my brief touch with the Power. They made me consider that what I had done… that the impossible memories I had of the twines of light… held very real possibilities of damaging me beyond repair. They seemed amazed at my nonchalant responses, but each was equally silent as to my fate or the fate of my family. The final two days were better, and I was awake for hours at a stretch. They purchased three carriages, one for each Aes Sedai. I now spent my time resting on a sterile cot and was mostly alone except for Rena and some of the Warders who seemed to be guarding me. I spent my time talking with Rena about what was happening to me. My legs were still weak, and they told me to stay on the cot to let my body rest. I wore a strange but beautiful blue-dyed silk robe instead of my own soiled nightgown, of a make and cut I couldn’t identify despite having trained as a tailor for three years. I liked the feel of the silk on my skin, but it was rather lacking as far as modesty went. Rena explained about a lot of things, including what happened at the village. Darkfreinds had betrayed us and killed the guards at the gates, allowing the Trollocs in. I started crying all over again when she explained this. It seemed so unfair that Father had to die because some people didn’t believe our struggle could be won and gave into despair. I finally came to accept that he was dead… probably along with the rest of my family. In time, Rena also explained who she was. She was an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah. The Ajah are like sections of Aes Sedai, each with a job to do. The Greens are the Battle Ajah, and she was the most helpful in saving my town. Trista was a Yellow, who\'s goal in life was to heal and help people. Her skills had saved lives during the fight, though not the ones which really truly mattered to me. And the third was Grenthal, a Red. Reds hated men, and their only purpose in life was to hunt down male Wilders and kill them. She explained to that men who could touch the One Power went insane and eventually began to kill people, so they needed to be taken and have the Power stripped from them. Rena also explained that the men walking with her were her Warders. They were talented swordsmen who swore their life to protecting the Aes Sedai. Most Ajah were bound by tradition to only have one Warder, but Greens could have as many as they wanted, and Reds refused to have any.

We traveled far south by carriage while I continued to mostly sleep, until we hit a river where we bartered for passage on a Cairhienian military schooner to Tar Valon. The three Aes Sedai had taken individual cabins of the main officers, and had given us girls Captain’s quarters. I thought it was to forestall arguing over who should get it between the three of them, honestly... there was obviously a lot of ego between the three women. We had been under sail for nearly a day, and Amanda and I had simply stayed in our cabin and rested in the bed for the most part. Lisandre had spent the time from our embarking to mid afternoon sleeping on the floor in our room. Amanda and I were able to move around, but we didn’t want to push it, so we had spent much of the time talking. We lay a short distance from each other in the only bed in the room. For the first time, Amanda and I talked casually. We had known of each other of course, since we worked for competing seamstresses, but until now neither of us had truly considered the other a friend. We each told our tale about what happened that horrible, fateful night. I tactfully omitted the part when the Trollocs exploded into flame, instead saying that Father had killed them. Amanda seemed to hesitate towards the end of her story, where she was running away from several Trollocs. She said that they stopped chasing her, but I knew that she was lying. Trollocs never stopped chasing anything that was edible to them, especially not women. On a whim, I came clean and explained how the ones after me immolated, and Amanda reluctantly said that hers seemed to explode. She seemed lost in herself as she needlessly explained how they were torn limb from limb by an unseen force, and that there was little left of them to bury if she had even wanted too. Grenthal entered and called for Lisandre, who woke swiftly and then left. When I asked where she was going, I got a grunt in reply. After they were gone, Amanda speculated it was to Grenthal’s room for training in the Power. It made sense, but then… why weren’t we being trained yet?

I was thirsty, and yet there wasn’t much provided for us. A few slices of bread and a single haunch of chicken lay untouched on a wooden plate by the Captain’s desk. “Are you thirsty?” I asked her casually.

“Very.” Amanda stood on wobbly legs and started looking through the drawers of his desk.

I looked over at her quizzically. “Um… are you sure you should be rifling through his stuff?”

She shrugged. “There’s gotta be some skins of water in here or something.”

“Amanda, this is a bad idea. The captain would probably rip your throat out if he knew you were…”

“Ah hah! Jackpot!” she exclaimed as she pulled a thin necked bottle from the final drawer. “No cups… we’ll just have to share the bottle.” She plopped back into the bed.

I watched her with a mixture of amusement and repressed horror as she enjoyed the spoils of her callous theft. “Um… he’s going to be upset when he finds that you took his whatever-that-is.”

She struggled with the cork at the top, her face contorting in effort. “He won’t miss it… hopefully.” The cork finally gave way with a loud popping noise, and foam erupted from the top of the bottle, spilling over the sheets and leaving a big purple stain along the middle.

“Light burn me...” She sucked in her breath, covering the bubbling top with her thumb. “Maybe… he won’t notice?”

The absurdity of her statement made me giggle, and a moment later she joined in. I looked at the bottle she held. I knew my letters, but the words on the bottle were unfamiliar to me. “Just a word that looks like a place name and numbers that are probably a date.”

Amanda smelled the spout and wrinkled her nose, then took an experimental sip. Her eyes bulged out. “Ugh. It tastes like purple dress dye.”

“You drink that?” I smirked.

She stuck her tongue out. “You know as well as I do that you can’t help it when you hold the thread in your teeth.”

I took it from her, determined to be the brave one, and drank. It was pretty bad, true, but it not as bad as she made it out to be. It had an aftertaste like fruit, and I felt a warm glow in me. She took it back from me and drank again, resuming the story I had cut off a while back about the ugly boy that had been chasing her back home. It was funny, though I realized quickly I was laughing harder than the story warranted. My laughter only compounded her giggling during her telling, and before long we were in hysterics over nothing at all. There was definitely something funny about the drink we were sharing, because I started feeling very warm inside. I had never drank much ale, because it had a vile taste worse than the fruity drink we were guzzling together now. Still, I could had a feeling I was rapidly becoming intoxicated.

After her story, she reached for the bottle which I had set on the nightstand on my side of the bed and collapsed perpendicular to me on my stomach. She rolled over onto her back, still lying on me and now a mere span from my face. “You have really pretty eyes.” I said lazily.

She looked at me with a confused smile. “What?”

I looked away, embarrassed, and covered my blush by reaching for the bottle myself and taking a sip. What did I mean by that comment? I really didn’t know where it came from… I choked a little on the wine as it went down, spitting some out onto the sheets and some dribbling down my chin.

She growled playfully at me. “Stop spitting it out, you’re wasting it!” She pried it from my fingers and took a long drink off before finishing with a content sign. “All gone.”

I pouted. “What? That’s no fair. Why did you get the last bit?”

“Because…” she said with an increasing slur, “I don’t miss my mouth as much as you do.” She crawled up my body, her expression giddy and intense. I froze up as she moved her face very close to mine, and licked the wet line of dribbled wine from my mouth to chin.

My heart was pounding, and I looked down at her with a mock glare. “What… what was that?”

She giggled and rolled off my body the wrong way, slipping half off the bed. She tilted her neck to look up at me lazily, beaming. “I fell off.” she stated with a confused expression. “Help me back up?”

My vision swam for second. “Which one? There’s two of you?”

She laughed as I dragged her up onto the bed, and consequently onto myself. Her skin was somehow even warmer than the drink fueled burning sensations inside me, as she lay on me. “You’re soft.” she mumbled, her mouth muffled by the curls of my hair.

I squirmed to get myself comfortable, still giggling. “Same goes to you.” My hand traced absently over her abdomen. She slipped off me again, this time to her side of the bed rather than the floor. We lay for a while, watching each other\'s faces with our hair entangled and our alcohol laden breath falling on each other’s cheek. “Are you warm?” I asked.

She nodded. “It’s like an oven in here.” She pulled her top off clumsily, getting it stuck over her face and still on one shoulder and struggling with it.

“I didn’t mean…” My protest trailed off as her predicament’s entertainment value slowly overruled my initial mortification. After all… I did feel like I was a wet clay statue being baked… she probably felt the same. Laying in only her skirt with her chest down to the covers, she smiled at me. I swallowed nervously, and returned her gaze.

“You have really pretty eyes too.”

“Thank… thank you.” I managed.

She squirmed over to me, and gently kissed my cheek before resting her head on my chest. I lay rigid for a while, terrified, not sure how to react. “Amanda… I don’t think we should… I mean…” I stuttered for a while. “Do you really think it’s okay for girls to…” She didn’t respond. I breathed deeply, feeling something inside me give way. A denial I had chained up deep in my heart. “Well… I guess.. if you…” More silence. “Amanda?” Soft snores were my only reply. I felt very foolish then, and yet very relived. “You’re kinda heavy…” I intoned in the darkness, knowing full well she couldn’t hear. I wrapped one arm around her bare back and the other clutched the empty bottle. I felt sleep come to claim me, and submitted.

I opened my eyes to the unyielding sun, but I shielded my eyes and looked up. Rena’s face was there, in all its perfection. She smiled at me. “You are going to be a great one when we get to Tar Valon. I can tell.” We bounced along the road… the landscape totally different than my lands in Arafel. I must have been close to Tar Valon. That was as far as I got with my thoughts before a crushing headache overtook me. “You need your rest though.” Rena continued. “Most girls, after their first use of the One Power, take as long as two weeks of near constant sleep to recover. Don’t worry, its almost over, and it only gets better. Now that you’re awake more often, the learning can begin. Perhaps it already has.” What had happened last night? I couldn’t really remember, for it was mostly a blur. I remember Amanda’s bare skin and the taste of grapes… but… I couldn’t get much farther because of the pounding in my head. The vision of Rena’s face faded as I felt sleep overtaking me again. The last thing I saw was her hungry eyes looking at me. I felt… content.