An Overdue Arrival

((OOC: Sorry for being gone so long. I got a new job not long after I joined, and that took up all my time for a while. I had nearly forgotten how much fun it is to write here. :) This picks up where my previous thread left off, which can be found way near the bottom of the White Tower (from before there were other boards :-o), if you’re curious. There will definitely be opportunity for people to jump into this one!))

***

Three months!

Eleria Merelei, Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah and Queen of Andor—well, Zerese certainly thought she could be Queen of Andor, with all her grace and regal composure—could not have been more wrong in her estimations. She could not really be blamed for it, though. Trying to move through the Black Hills, nearly separating Saldaea from the rest of the Borderlands and from Tar Valon, was like wading through a bog, and with only one leg working besides. She had estimated a week or two at best, but as each day passed and a new dead end was found, that estimate kept creeping upwards. Or perhaps it was more precise to say that the estimate remained exactly the same, while time crept ever forward. Near the end of the weeks spent in those mountains and hills, Zerese began to dream of running up a flight of stairs, desperately knowing that she would die of hunger or thirst if she did not reach the top, and yet no matter how high she climbed, she could never reach the top.

It was fortunate that the three of them had come so well prepared. It was nearly two months before they found their way out of the Black Hills; though the mountains did not cover a large area, they were a winding labyrinth of confusion, and each attempt to pass through to the east and rejoin the main road to Tar Valon only put them further west, and sometimes even further north besides. There were days when Zerese was certain they had made absolutely no progress at all, and others when she could have sworn they had moved closer to Maradon than Tar Valon! No, Zerese would not blame Eleria Sedai. She could not possibly know the Black Hills better than anyone else, and it would not do for a Novice of the White Tower to go around casting needless blame. Think of the bright side, she had told herself. At least we have long since lost those Trollocs.

What was unfortunate was that Eleria had all but given over their lessons. She claimed that it was because there was only so much Zerese could be properly taught out in the wilds like this; Zerese was convinced it was a measure of the Aes Sedai’s frustration, however. They continued to run through the most basic of lessons most nights, enough to ensure that Zerese could embrace the Source without harming herself, but Eleria would not go beyond that.

Eventually they did find a path out of the hills, but on entirely the wrong side, west and just between the forks of the River Ivo. Oh, that had put a burr in Eleria’s saddle, and even Liam seemed agitated to know it, though they certainly controlled it well. Better than Zerese had, anyway. Eleria had upbraided her no fewer than twice for complaining that after nearly two months they had only covered as much ground as a good rider could have in days. And then Zerese had reminded herself that it was neither Eleria’s fault nor Liam’s. Not that she had really blamed them to start, of course, but her temper did have a way of seeming to lash out when not properly controlled.

The following month saw them take an extended route around the Black Hills, at first in order to find the nearest town in which to resupply, a sleepy hamlet at the fork of the river called Ivo’s Hollow. It was well that they were in Andor now—well, they were almost in Andor, anyway—because Eleria knew the countryside well, and their travel progressed much more smoothly. A resupply was necessary because their own stock of rations had been stretched to its absolute limit; the three of them were down to a stringy meal per day, usually just bread and some roots found in the hillside, and even that would not last them more than another couple of weeks.

Well, despite her irritation, Zerese certainly found that a warm bath and a good night’s sleep in an actual bed did wonders for her, and in the middle of a long soak, she could almost forget why she had been irritated in the first place. That was just the one day, though; Eleria and Liam took no time for rest, furiously working to rebuild their supplies, and before the sun had even thought to peek over the horizon the next morning, they were on their way.

The trip was still far from over, however Zerese wished otherwise. They had to charter a ferry across the River Ivo, and then one across the River Haevin, and that was all before circling the many miles remaining around the Black Hills and Dragonmount. That had put a touch of awe and fear in her; the thing was like a black dagger cutting open the sky, and very nearly succeeding. Even miles from its slopes as they were, Zerese had to crane her neck just to see its jagged peak. And was that smoke rising there? No, it couldn’t be; what sort of mountain would make smoke?

It was less than a day from there before an even more impressive sight crowned the horizon. It should not have been, perhaps, compared to Dragonmount, dwarfed by it, and yet somehow the black spire had faded from view when Zerese saw it. The White Tower. It was said the Wheel of Time turns around Tar Valon, and Tar Valon turns around the White Tower; looking at it even from this distance, how could that not be so?

The rest of the journey was pleasant enough that Zerese actually wished it had not been so brief. Eleria and Liam lightened visibly as soon as the White Tower appeared on the horizon and they found their way to the road between Caemlyn and Tar Valon. It was a welcome change, though Eleria would still teach her nothing more of the Power. There wasn’t really time, anyway. And with the shining walls of that white city drawing ever closer, Zerese could not be brought to care.

She had found her way home.

***

“Eleria! You’re back!” a little woman sang in the high accents of Cairhien as they came within thirty paces of entering the White Tower. She was a dark-headed woman with the agelessness about her, bright blue eyes almost jarring in that pale face. Eleria climbed—flowed, really—off her mare and nodded her head in acknowledgement of the other woman.

“We were forced to detour through the Black Hills, Aislin,” Eleria responded, which seemed nearly enough to satisfy Aislin, except that she opened her mouth as if to ask something else and was cut off swiftly as Eleria said, “We will speak more on it later, Aislin, when we have had time to recuperate.” Zerese wondered why Eleria was avoiding mention of the Trollocs, but supposed it just wasn’t proper conversation for public spaces. Aislin looked to be of the Blue Ajah as well—she wore no shawl, but her fine silk dress lent itself heavily to hues of blue, despite being slashed with violet—so Zerese suspected they would discuss it in their Ajah’s quarters later on.

“Then this is the Novice you were sent for?” Aislin said, rounding on Zerese before she had even dismounted her horse. From her tone, their three-month delay might never have happened; Eleria could just as easily have come back from an easy ride. Under those bright eyes, entirely too intimidating for a woman reaching no higher than her shoulders, Zerese felt like her soul was being read. Perhaps it was, in a way. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

“Candance Sedai will be waiting for you, child,” Eleria said over her shoulder. She was already climbing the steps to the Tower itself, hiking up her rather dirty riding skirts and yet looking every inch fit for an Aes Sedai, or a queen. “You remember what I taught you about running, yes?”

Zerese bobbed a curtsey that would have done the most seasoned Novice proud. “How quickly, Eleria Sedai?”

The chestnut-haired woman nodded quickly and turned her attention back to the stairs. “Just keep up with me, child. The Mistress of Novices does not tolerate dawdling.”