Stepping Up
Novice Theon Mavidante, Written by Bronson
Posted on Mon, Sep 6, 2010 01:57 am
Theon knew from the start that this wasn’t going to be fun. He knew as soon as they took him out into the practice yards, and his stomach clenched as he was divided into two separate teams. His heart raced inside of his chest, galloping against his breastbone with the force of a dulcimer, and even though the sun did not hang overly high, nor was the heat overly unbearable, he began to mop his forehead.
The Asha’man showed him the weaves, stretching the first of them out like a spiderweb that he could hold between two hands. How in the name of the Stone was he supposed to play a game that required both hands! He’d be defeated in a heartbeat, perhaps less. Without his cane, he could only hobble; walking at any great speed was nearly impossible. If his stump slipped out of his peg, it might bend or twist into an abnormal position! Light knew what he would do, then.
Theon took in a deep breath, thinking about how quickly he would be disqualified, standing helplessly in the same position. The ensuing shame filled the void, and in turn enabled him to seize saidin. Using the same old mind trick, he found that he could hold the power almost indefinitely. This was a good thing, because inside, he knew that the pattern did not have a conscious mind; it couldn’t be violated, no more than a stone could be violated.
But it was also a terrible thing, because it made him largely unable to convince his mind of his own irrationality. He had chosen to believe a thing, and in so doing, he had made that thing into a nightmarish reality. As the mornings passed, he found that he had more and more trouble looking at his own face in the small mirror by the washstand. He was beginning to despise himself, and slowly but surely, the Tower was taking its toll on him.
He decided against tucking his cane under his arm and limped in to huddle with the other boys and girls; there was little bickering as to who should do what, or in what order, and less in the way of organization. Mostly, people were volunteering ideas. Currently the argument was over who to strike first.
“I think we should try and feint as much as possible.” Said Theon. “Strike at the weak ones first, or anyone who looks like they’re struggling. I recall that Emilia didn’t seem to have too much trouble, and Medea is crafty; she’d be a threat even if it was her weakest element.”
“What do you mean?” Asked one of the girls. Lilith, that was her name.
“When you shoot at one of the students, make a point of making eye contact with another target. Preferably a weaker target. When you strike, try and strike quickly. That way you give the stronger student less time to react, and you put pressure on the person you’ve challenged.”
“Does anyone recall who was the strongest?” Asked one of the boys.
Some names were rattled off. Theon nodded or shook his head, rarely offering a shrug. He had a powerful mind; perfect, some said. Near perfect, even when distracted by the Power.
“What about on this team?” Asked Lilith. “Are you strong with water..?”
“Yes, but I have a bad leg.” Said Theon. “Teli was fairly strong, I think.”
“I’ll ask.” Said one of the boys.
He looked to a young, but pretty novice and almost lost his tongue. He scarcely noticed as several of the other novices broke off to practice.
“She says she’s ready to act as bait.” Said the boy. “You should back her.”
Theon tried not to say anything about what he thought of that notion.
“What about a spotter?” Theon offered, looking to the others, who returned quizzical expressions.
“Someone to watch for the Aes Sedai and the Asha’man, and maybe catch the balls.”
“Nero.” Said Lilith. “Keep your eye open for the ball.”
“I don’t think he heard you.” Said Theon, knowing the look of a scholar who was lost in contemplation.
“Time!”
Chaos erupted into the field.
Theon took to Teli’s side, figuring that the girls wouldn’t be able to see his weaves, but his cane was becoming a hindrance. He couldn’t hold the net with both hands and keep the cane in his grasp; it had to be one or the other.
Unless…
He channeled, easily spinning a spiderweb of water with a hitch around the loop of his cane. It stretched the web near to capacity, and he tried to channel earth, to make it more flexible. That was his first mistake.
The ball came hurtling toward him, and Teli smacked it out of the way with what might have been a fumbling hand. The look on her face belied her confidence, but only a little. Nero turned out to be one of their strongest players, and Theon released his attempts to channel earth, focusing instead on adding a little air. His net was stretched, but the fractional amount of air that he braided with it made it strong. He smiled.
Next time, the ball came hurtling toward Teli and he caught it, tossing it up in the air; Teli hesitantly smacked the ball, and he cast a fierce glance at Medea.
One of the other novices shrieked as the ball exploded. Nero caught the next ball, and the tides quickly turned in their favor. As the game progressed Theon found that he became quite surprised at the havoc he could wreak, fixed in one position behind a pretty girl. He tried to forget that she was pretty, but she was wearing breaches.
The ball came careening back at him, Medea returning his feint with a pair of cold eyes. His challenge was accepted, then. Nothing to do about it but make good on his word.
But Medea was no easy meat, and the ball didn’t always find its way into her hands. As the game progressed, Theon discovered that his eyes were blurred with sweat and it was difficult just to stand. He was slouching, and it was easy to spot. No matter. He crouched in front of Teli, dropping to one knee and tossing the ball back into the crowd with as much force as he could muster. His eyes continued to challenge the Mayener girl, and continually she deflected it; once, she very nearly caught him when the ball curved into his ribs. Or she would have, if Teli hadn’t deflected it.
Theon sprung up awkwardly and returned the favor, but two balls were on the field and one had very nearly caught Medea off-guard. His timing was perfect. Just as she returned fire, arms extended, his projectile caught her full-on, and he went wobbling back into a near-crouch.
He tried to smile at her as she graciously accepted defeat, but the game continued all the same.
On and on, the waterballs bouncing backward and forward, forcing students into defensive and aggressive positions alike. Before he knew it, Nero, Teli and he were among the only ones on the field. He kept his spot on the ground, defending Teli with as much gallantry as he could muster, fixed on one knee.
Suddenly, one of the waterballs came lurching just above his head, and he lurched upward in an attempt to catch it. Teli couldn’t react in time — she was busy with another projectile — and as he lurched upward his weave stretched too thin. He realized this a little too late as the ball burst, drenching him with water and forcing him to topple over. But when he released saidin and clumsily made his way back to his feet, or…well, his foot, some of the other novices were looking at him with mixed emotions.
Mostly, they were impressed.
In reply to Child's Play[show]/[hide]
Cerawyn felt a certain amount of excitement that she was moving on to the second part of the Water lesson. She smiled at she read Yasmene Sedai's notice. The first part of the lesson had been a surprising and yet gratifying success. She may even have been envied by a few of her fellow novices. That was something she'd never experienced before. Adasine was always the one who was envied, Cerawyn always stayed in the shadows, doing as a proper woman and eventual wife should. When Balin first arrived at the White Tower, Cerawyn was the subject of countless stories and scandals and rumours that made her ears hot just to think about, but this envy, this wishing to be Cerawyn and have her success was a strange new thing. And there was a part of Cerawyn that hoped it would not last. She felt so much more comfortable out of the spotlight.
But whatever happy excitement Cerawyn felt about the next lesson to come was pushed aside every time she looked down at her own attire. Breeches and a shirt, Light what could she possibly need to do that such clothes were required for? She felt foolish, and the feeling of the breeches rubbing against her legs was strange to her. Yes, she'd worn stocking from the day she arrived in Tar Valon, but this was different. It felt like walking the corridors in stockings meant for someone twice her size. As though she was constantly needing to adjust them, pull them up, keep them from twisting, in truth it was very distracting. She'd had to borrow a belt to keep them up, another strange and new experience for Cerawyn. She grimaced, thinking what Valda would think of her dressed like a man, as though she intended to roll about in the fields and slop the animals as a man would. True she had slopped pigs before, but never while dressed in such ridiculous clothes for a proper woman. A brief thought crossed Cerawyn's mind that she could skip the final lesson. She was embarrassed enough to make that possible without much though, but she knew that wasn't fair to herself, or Balin or what they were trying to accomplish together. Her only consolation was that the other novices would look every bit as foolish as she felt. Safety in numbers in an odd sort of way, so she squared her shoulders and started the walk to the lesson's location as per the Aes Sedai's note.
Cerawyn found her way to the Training yards and though she had been there before on a few occasions, mostly to watch Balin train, she never attended a lesson in the Yards herself. Novices were not permitted to train with weapons, which for Cerawyn was a small blessing and likely kept her in possession of all her fingers and toes. She asked Balin if her presence was a distraction and though he said it was not, she could not help nearly jumping every time he fell over, every time he was struck with, well, anything. His sessions were often difficult to watch and as guilty as it made Cerawyn feel, at times she avoided the yards and watching him train for the sake of her own sanity. She couldn't help him. But the fact that her lesson was located in the training yards made her uneasy, even suspicious as to what the Aes Sedai had planned.
At the mention of practice, Cerawyn nodded, though her practice had been scarce at best. Yet another thing to feel guilty about, and yet she pushed the guilt aside to concentrate on the Aes Sedai's words. She would need to befriend some of the Accepted if she was to ever have properly supervised time to practice her weaves. Perhaps another hour less of sleep would not hurt so much, she thought to herself as she watched the nervous shuffling of the two groups of novices. At least she was not the only one who did not practice as much as she should have. As much as she disliked to be in the group of those not doing as they should, she found it comforting. Valda would scoff at such things, she expected more of her daughter. I used to actually sleep a full night in Deven Ride as well.
A child's game Their final lesson was a child's game? Cerawyn could scarcely believe her ears. Was she in the wrong class? It was all well and good to enjoy the lesson and perhaps even have a but of fun with the weave, but a child's game? She would never express her disbelief to either Yasmene Sedai or Asha'man Daine but this bordered on ridiculous. Though the fact that many of the other novices looked delighted at the idea was somewhat dismaying. Cerawyn had played dodgeball as a child, only once or twice as she was often needed for other things around the farm, and to say she was terrible at the game was a very polite understatement. This is going to be far from pleasant I'm afraid, she thought to herself, but I will have to make the best of it. I can make the balls, throwing them.... might be a nice challenge. Oh Light, but I'm going to be soaked.
Then as if Cerawyn's dismay wasn't already having a life of its own, Yasmene Sedai showed that the fragile balls of water could not actually be handled. There was a chorus of gasps from a a few of the novices near Cerawyn and a few shocked looks from the group of male novices across the yard. The addition of the weave for handling the water balls was a nice touch, but it did little to make Cerawyn feel any calmer, and she would need to somehow be calm, if she had any intention of succeeding in this lesson. The Gaidin that was always present at their lessons split the groups into two teams, and Cerawyn glanced at the members of her team. She did not offer much in the way of suggestions, happy to simply follow what others thought was best.
Cerawyn watched the ball get tossed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Her weaves were at the ready and the longer the ball stayed away from her, the calmer she felt. But the players on each side were beginning to dwindle and Cerawyn knew that she would not be able to hide for much longer. One girl on the opposite team seemed to be used as bait, drawing the throws of her team time and again with little success. Cerawyn remembered her from class, another one of the novices who found the Water lesson to be of some ease. Still, the number of novice behind this brave or somewhat impressionable girl was slowly going lower and lower, and one of the larger male novices from Cerawyn's team took aim now. With a splash the other team's ruse was undone, though Cerawyn felt bad for the girl, as she was knocked out of the game. One of the Novices on the other team looked quite irritated that his teammate was eliminated and he threw the ball as hard as he could manage at Cerawyn, though how it did not break under the force of the throw Cerawyn could not be sure.
With a yelp she dodged, landing on the ground and rolling to the side before climbing to her feet again. Somehow she was still dry, if only by the grace of the Light alone. But how long it would last was decidedly a thing of luck. And Cerawyn's luck was quickly fading. The large male novice had the ball in his hands again and Cerawyn managed to somehow just barely hold onto it, though she almost slipped over in the wet dirt of the yards. Cerawyn stood again slowly on shaking legs and threw the ball back. Another dodge from the opposing team and now the ball was headed in Cerawyn's direction again. This time there was no stopping, no hanging on, the force of the ball hit Cerawyn squarely in the chest, knocking her backward onto the ground with a thud, taking her breath away for a moment. With a grimace, she got to her feet and brushed off her breeches though there was little point in that. She coughed a few times and join the rest of the eliminated players to the side of the Yard. Light, how she hated dodgeball, and breeches.
