A Journey to the Border

[Ishara Trakand]

Wood, hemp, tar and pitch. The distinct smell of river, all it’s flora and fauna within and along it, a dozen other smells swirled on the breeze that tugged at hemline and copper colored curls.

The breeze was already significantly cooler than it had been back in Tar Valon. Spring came later to the Borderlands they said. Fingers rubbed absent-mindedly at the cuff of the deep green wool, thankful for the added warmth.

Sailors trudged up and down the deck, bare feet pounding a rhythm in time with the creaking of rigging and snapping of sails. Their voices rose in shanties or shouts or various curses.

Eyes only half-focused watched the river banks sliding by. The pebbles along the river’s edge blurring as the ship passed, too fast to pick out any individual feature. The great trees of pine and leatherleaf marching on in a dignified procession.

Lips murmured against one another, reciting from memory.

“Erinin to the Mora, Malkier’s Seven Towers, by land to Fal Dara and Fal Moran, trade route through Shol Arbela to Chachin, west across the Plain of Lances, to Maradon...Erinin to the Mora…”

Erinin, which meets the River Mora at the Fields of-

“Merrillor.”

Ishara stood from where she had been leaning against the rail of the Silver Hawk. She could just see something crystalline shining above the treeline. The monument forged by sacrifice was a humbling reminder of what it took to fight the Shadow, to truly be Green. She felt more than saw Elaira to her right.

“They called her the ‘Child Amyrlin,’ but she saved first the Tower and then helped turn the tide of battle to the forces of the Light with her Flame at an age when we were still running through Caemlyn on my latest ill-planned adventure.”

A grin caused dimples amongst the freckles on her cheeks, remembering. Gareth and Elaira both by her side, as they had always been. And now they had finally admitted to one another what she had known since they were children. Her fingernails on the wooden rail became fascinating as she continued to speak.

“I have always thought Gareth would be my first Warder. He is the First Prince of the Sword, my dear brother, and a loyal friend… but I have another, dear, dear friend.” Eyes darted to Elaira and back down. “And it occurs to me that perhaps the two that I love most might benefit from me not being a permanent fixture amongst them.”

Ishara looked up at Elaira, smirking, an impish light flashing in her eyes.

“After all, there’s a wide world of people who know their way around a sword out there. Why should I choose the one I know for certain will always see me as a sister, an Aes Sedai, someday a Queen, but never a woman?!”

On the other side of the deck, a horse chose that exact moment to snort and stamp. Her gaze swung over and landed on Taivin, who was rarely to be found far from his Kiserai. Pink roses bloomed in her cheeks. Not because his eyes were dark and deep, no, not that at all! It was only that it was hardly Aes Sedai-like to be talking about canoodling with one’s Warders! She cleared her throat, willing the blush to fade, and gestured to the monument that had grown larger on the horizon.

“Do you ever wonder about the heroes in the stories? What were they like in life? Did my great grandmother Elayne ever have childish adventures like we did? Did the Amrylin ever doubt she was doing the right thing? Or were they just born heroes? The stories always make them seem beyond belief. I wonder if they were ever just-” she gestured with a hand, eyes squinting, searching, “human!”

[Taivin Rashai]

Taivin stood at the rail of the Silver Hawk opposite the two Aes Sedai, staring unseeing toward the river’s banks as the vessel swept past them. The mild chill in the air likewise went unnoticed, even with his cloak stowed away in his saddlebags. He may have lived in the much warmer climate of Tar Valon for the past ten years, but he was still a Saldaean at heart. He found the wind, carrying with it a hint and promise of spring’s new growth, refreshing.

And he knew he wasn’t alone. The stallion he stood next to had picked up on the change in the air long before Tai’s human senses had. Kiserai knew it meant they were headed home. Evidently that prospect had galvanized the animal, enough to even divert his attention away from the mares, the mounts of the Aes Sedai, he was in the presence of. It had taken some time to get the horse to settle, much to the swordsman’s chagrin, and the irritation of the ship’s crew.

But that had been some time ago, when they’d first boarded. They had disembarked at first light, leaving Tar Valon far behind before the sun had the chance to dispel the shadows of the night. The horses were calm now though, and had been since their initial excitement had passed, which meant there had been little to distract Tai from his thoughts. Or regrets.

He was here because he had been ordered to. The command to accompany the two women had come from the head of the Green Ajah, a woman who technically did not have authority over him. He could have refused. But Taivin had made a promise of his own to his closest, and perhaps only, friend. A friend he couldn’t help but feel like he had abandoned. Gareth had trouble ahead of him, though the details had been hidden even from Taivin’s Talented gaze.

Rationally, Tai knew he couldn’t have just followed Gareth around indefinitely, hoping he could prevent whatever was in store for him. He also knew, all too well, that doing so wouldn’t deter the Pattern’s weave. Gareth’s life and path were his own. Knowing all that didn’t make it any easier to accept, of course. It hadn’t the last time someone he cared for had been in such dire straits...and it wouldn’t now.

The only thing he could do for Gareth was to keep his promise. At that, Taivin briefly glanced over at the two women, conversing across from him. He hadn’t been in their company long, and trainees almost never interacted with Aes Sedai unless they were being courted as Gaidin. In short, he didn't quite know what to make of them, especially Ishara. She possessed a spirit as fiery as the long curls that framed her delicate features.

He didn’t doubt her capability; the Tower’s leadership did not suffer fools and they wouldn’t have raised a sister that had not truly earned the shawl, even if she was also the Daughter Heir of Andor. But there was also an aspect to her that struck him as...inexperienced. She was eager for this mission, almost desperate for the chance to prove her worth as an Aes Sedai. It was a demeanor Taivin was very familiar with, as it was rampant in the Borderlands’ armies, particularly amongst their new recruits.

And that worried him. He had seen far too often how such an attitude could lead to mistakes, some of them lethal. Veteran warriors knew to moderate for their less practiced comrades, to cover for their shortcomings until they came into their own. And that was the role he should fill, for these two. But Taivin, for all his training and skill, hadn’t seen true combat since his arrival at the White Tower. Yet even as he hoped that he was up to the challenge, he was just as determined to ensure their safety, if only for Gareth's sake.

As his gaze reverted back out to shore, he realized the topography had begun to change. He strode across the deck to the Captain, to confirm his deduction, then moved to join the women. He stopped a few paces away, far enough that it would be clear his intention wasn’t to eavesdrop, and cleared his throat to get their attention before speaking. “Pardon my intrusion, Ishara Sedai, Elaira Sedai, but we’re set to arrive soon. I would appreciate a rundown of the next phase of our journey, if you wouldn’t mind.”

[Elaira Taravin]

The sounds and smells of a ship in motion were familiar to Elaira Taravin, as was the sharp scent of the chill breeze. While much of her youth had been spent in Caemlyn, Aringill was her family's seat and it sat on the same River Erinin on which the Silver Hawk currently flew. She'd also spent six months with the Atha'an Miere learning just how little she actually knew of sailing. It had been a humbling experience but Elaira still found something about the rocking of a ship on the Erinin to be soothing and nostalgic. Elaira stood at the ship's rail, drinking in the familiar rhythms and sounds, Ishara to her left. She wore a heavy traveling cloak lined with fur, red to Ishara's green of course, along with dark gray wool riding skirts. She'd been to the Borderlands once before, she knew how to dress, this time. It was almost perfect, but the missing piece was unfortunately a large one.

She was on her way back to Saldaea, this time at the behest of the Green Ajah and with her best friend at her side. It felt like yesterday that she'd been in Alirycas, meeting and learning from Eshara Aravell and the Kin there. The process was more involved this time, because rather than Travel their group had set out by ship, with a more involved itinerary on the way. That was, to Elaira's mind, a positive change. Traveling was convenient, but actually traveling was something that Elaira had, surprisingly, found exciting and interesting. She had a full notebook in her bags, filled cover to cover with sketches, musings, and observations of her time in Saldaea, and they would see much more on their way to the Borderlands by boat instead. With Ishara at her side, Elaira expected the trip to be a touch more frantic, but that had never dimmed the luster of her best friend's company. They were missing someone, though, which left Elaira troubled. Gareth Trakand had other responsibilities, but he had been a permanent fixture of their misadventures as youths, and besides, she'd finally confessed....

"They called her the ‘Child Amyrlin,’ but she saved first the Tower and then helped turn the tide of battle to the forces of the Light with her Flame at an age when we were still running through Caemlyn on my latest ill-planned adventure."

Elaira grinned at that, pulled out of that particularly useless line of thought by Ishara's musing. True, at the time their discovery of Cirus had seemed fraught, but it had been exciting, and it had been the right thing to do, too. The young man seemed well when she'd finally met him again in Alirycas. He was a far cry from the scared child they'd rescued in Caemlyn. He might be her closet ally in the Black Tower, and he was one of the few who knew the dangerous secret that she now carried.

"I have always thought Gareth would be my first Warder. He is the First Prince of the Sword, my dear brother, and a loyal friend… but I have another, dear, dear friend. And it occurs to me that perhaps the two that I love most might benefit from me not being a permanent fixture amongst them."

Elaira froze and, slowly, a blush crept onto her cheeks and down her neck, a shade of red even brighter than her red-gold hair. Light. Ishara had seen, after all, woolheaded Gareth had hardly been circumspect at the Tower, after all. Elaira and Ishara had danced around this topic before, but rarely in terms so blunt. Elaira was not an expert in keeping her emotions under wraps, particularly from her friends, Ishara had likely known of Elaira's feelings before Elaira herself. But still, it sounded like Ishara was suggesting something that was a radical departure from her own expectations.

"After all, there’s a wide world of people who know their way around a sword out there. Why should I choose the one I know for certain will always see me as a sister, an Aes Sedai, someday a Queen, but never a woman?!

Ishara was surrendering her chance to bond Gareth. For Elaira. Elaira's blush faded as a smile grew, Ishara's contagious grin finding a new host on Elaira. And Elaira's grin only widened as it was Ishara's turn to blush after she laid eyes on Taivin Rashai, their unofficial warder for the expedition. The moment lingered and Elaira glanced back and forth between the two for a moment. They would be a good match if Ishara could get past her stubborn refusal to consider the man. Then Ishara was talking again, drawing Elaira's attention to the glittering crystal monument in the distance. It marked Fields of Merrilor, one site of the Last Battle, a monument to Egwene al'Vere, and a neutral site for meetings of the Dragon Compact. Elaira fetched a new notebook from a bag to sketch the sight as it appeared over the horizon to greet them as Ishara spoke.

"Do you ever wonder about the heroes in the stories? What were they like in life? Did my great grandmother Elayne ever have childish adventures like we did? Did the Amrylin ever doubt she was doing the right thing? Or were they just born heroes? The stories always make them seem beyond belief. I wonder if they were ever just..."human!”"

Elaira paused, considering. Elaira had rarely lingered on thoughts of heroes past; she'd found so many women to admire and idolize in life, heroes made flesh. But it was an interesting question. What would it be like to live in a historical moment, to shape it and be shaped by it? What would be left? Elaira answered, voice dreamy and thoughtful, eyes turning back to the monument and her notebook.

"I suppose they must have been, Ishara. Everyone is at some point, right? I mean...your mother certainly seems larger than life, but even she's had her human moments."

Elaira left out the memory of one of them, when the Queen had deadpan suggested that Elaira bond Ishara as punishment for their last childhood indiscretion.

"They were people. Great people, who pulled the turning of the Wheel into a pattern they envisioned, but still, just people. Though...I suppose the Dragon Reborn might not have been. A ta'veren that strong must almost be more event made flesh than human."

A throat cleared nearby, and Elaira was brought out of her dreamlike reverie by Taivin Rashai who had left his horse's side to approach. She shot a sidelong glance at Ishara as he spoke, trying to gauge her reaction, but the man's question was mundane enough that there was little chance she'd get to needle her friend later.

"Pardon my intrusion, Ishara Sedai, Elaira Sedai, but we’re set to arrive soon. I would appreciate a rundown of the next phase of our journey, if you wouldn’t mind."

Elaira nodded. Many Aes Sedai seemed to delight in keeping everyone in the dark, particularly men, but that had never been Elaira's way. She concealed a wince, realizing just how little information the warder had received thus far.

"I believe we'll be stopping in Merrilor, briefly."

Ishara and Elaira were both interested in paying their respects and visiting the site of the monument, and it would do them good to see where the Compact's representatives met each year.

"We'll find another ship to continue north up into Malkier."

[Ishara Trakand]

A blushing smile spread across Elaira’s face when Ishara made her informal declaration of the decision to reject Gareth as a Warder. It unhitched a tightness in her chest she hadn’t realized was there. A small shock ran through her as she realized that she did not want to Bond her brother, perhaps she never truly had. It had simply been the implied expectation, the logical choice. That train of thought smacked of her grandmother.

Ishara’s lips pressed together for a moment in morose thought. Moranna, as cold and as disinterested as she seemed in her grandchildren and the goings on of the throne she abdicated, had reason to advocate for a Bond between siblings. If she and Great Uncle Gawain had had one, perhaps his fate would have been different?

"I suppose they must have been, Ishara. Everyone is at some point, right? I mean...your mother certainly seems larger than life, but even she's had her human moments. They were people. Great people, who pulled the turning of the Wheel into a pattern they envisioned, but still, just people. Though...I suppose the Dragon Reborn might not have been. A ta'veren that strong must almost be more event made flesh than human."

Elaira’s words wound their way into Ishara’s train of thought. Heroes had to be human didn’t they? Otherwise the things they accomplished and sacrificed would have meant so much less. Still, the Trakand women before her cast some very, very long shadows. Would she find her own patch of sun to grow and flourish? Was that the true reason behind her impulsiveness, her desire to be Green and seek glory in battle?

The self-reflection made her uncomfortable, but she had gained enough wisdom during her training to at least know that meant that it was likely accurate. A tree did not simply appear in the forest. It pushed its way out of the pressing dark of the earth, simultaneously embracing foundation in the soil, absorbing all the strength it has to offer, and reaching to the light and air above. First a tendril, then a shivering leaf, and with aching slowness it ascends taller and taller, enduring all that the harsh environment unleashes to strip it back down. Those tiny saplings that are able to stand through the storms will one day be the mighty giants of the forest, casting their protection over the next generation, but also casting their own shadows to be contended with.

Ishara sighed and rubbed hands over her face, banishing the introspection that had grasped her so firmly.

“Be the tree.” she murmured.

She turned to look full at Taivin at his throat clearing. Properly distanced, interrupting in the politest way possible. Yes. He was certainly a lord on his manners.

“Pardon my intrusion, Ishara Sedai, Elaira Sedai, but we’re set to arrive soon. I would appreciate a rundown of the next phase of our journey, if you wouldn’t mind.”

She tried desperately not to label him “boring” along with the “proper.” He really was much, much too pretty to be boring.

Elaira saved her from needing to respond.

"I believe we'll be stopping in Merrilor, briefly. We'll find another ship to continue north up into Malkier."

Ishara nodded primly, gesturing at Elaira, reaffirming her friend and companion’s explanation.

“The ship will take us up the River Mora to Malkier’s Seven Towers. We will then take the necessary supplies by wagon train to outposts in Shienar and make our way through the others along the border. Elaira Sedai is correct that we will be stopping in Merrilor, though it’s not a necessary supply drop. We wish to pay respect, as I’m sure you do, to those lost.”

Her face was set in full Aes Sedai mode, but a lightning flash in her green eyes dared him to challenge the stop for time or practicality purposes. Something deep in the pit of her almost wanted him to argue with her. A nagging thought on the outskirts of her consciousness suggesting that fighting with him would be anything but boring.

Before her curiosity could nudge further at that idea, a flurry of action erupted on deck. The Silver Hawk was coming in to dock. Bare feet of the rivermen slapped against the planks and course shouts flew back and forth. The ship’s captain, a broad shouldered Andoran, strode over and bowed deeply to Ishara and Elaira.

“My ladies Aes Sedai, as you can see, we have arrived at Merrilor as requested.”

Despite his obvious reverence for them as both Aes Sedai and Andoran Ladies, his eyes kept sliding to the unnatural crystal collecting and refracting the sunlight.

“My men will disembark your cargo and see that it is safely stowed on the ship you take north. May the Light ever shine on the White Tower and Houses Trakand and Taravin.”

Ishara’s lips puckered to one side of her mouth in thought. He, and much of the crew truth be told, seemed almost afraid of the Flame. Superstition was an odd thing.

Returning her gaze to Taivin, she motioned toward the yet restrained horses.

“Shall we?”

[Taivin Rashai]

Merrilor.

Tai's chest tightened at the name, though he knew it was purely psychological. The last time he had been here, after all, his family had been whole. He ruthlessly squashed that train of thought. Now wasn't the time, or place, for him to flounder in his grief, however diminished the years had made it.

He was here for a reason and that reason required he remain alert.

“The ship will take us up the River Mora to Malkier’s Seven Towers. We will then take the necessary supplies by wagon train to outposts in Shienar and make our way through the others along the border. Elaira Sedai is correct that we will be stopping in Merrilor, though it’s not a necessary supply drop. We wish to pay respect, as I’m sure you do, to those lost.”

Taivin blinked at the subtle, but very present challenge that Ishara presented with the statement. He couldn't say it was surprising, given what he knew about her. He paused a moment to rein in his own sudden, and unexpected, urge to take her up on the offer.

"It is rather customary to stop, if time permits. If we need to wait until a northbound ship is ready to depart anyways, we might as well use the time to do so."

Distracted by his reaction to Ishara, Taivin only half-listened to the Hawk's captain, although he did offer the man a nod as he passed by, headed to the horses. While the ladies were dealing with the final social niceties, he prepared the animals for disembarkment.