The Wheel Weaves; and life goes on.

[Shalon Casbin]

The wetlands; an awful place. Soft people, with soft ways. She frowned openly at the near by 'stream'. A stream they called it! It was a river! They were away from the wetlanders, a good thing for the Aiel. No use being near such weakness, laziness was catchy. She still wore her traditional garb, though she bundled against the still chill air. Darkness would be upon the camp soon, and a storm was rolling in, she watched the sky above as light danced among the clouds. It rained often here, but storms like this...well they were something one had to get used to.

 

Hurrying from the tent of a friend, she made her way calmly and quickly toward her own tent, the thunder ominously announcing an oncoming downpour. She’d just made it inside with a satisfied smile, as the rain broke, and then sewed her tent flaps up. The camp was on the high ground, water didn’t pool beneath the tent usually.

 

The rain was coming in quickly, and hard. She could hear the fat drops threatening the water seal of wax on her canvas tent, and prayed it held. Great, it was a downpour, a true storm. Her nerves were on edge, but she was Aiel, and in control.

 

She looked at the ground, and saw a small puddle of water begin forming. Silently she cursed to herself. Normally she'd have readied her tent for an on-coming storm, putting things up by hand, giving her body a good workout and clearing her mind. It was important to build character through work, and getting one's self right with their own mind was important as well.

 

Time however, was no longer her friend. She could let it ruin the rugs and have more made; but the waste of materials was not needed, not even in such a fat land. With speed she embraced saidar and rolled her rugs up with weaves of air. Here in the tent, where using her power couldn’t be seen as flaunting it, she didn't feel as guilty for doing it in such a lazy manner, but still She hated the Wetlands. She rejoiced in the feel of the Power; better than any emotion she’d known, and she’d known quite a few.

 

Candles sprang to life as she sparked each on with a thread of Fire. Her bed was placed on rocks, above the ground; thus being the only safe place in the tent to sit, though she much preferred the ground. She paced the rolled rugs on her bed, and joined her things, making a small seat among them. One of them needed cleaning, badly.

 

How had life become this? She thought back, and soon lost in reverie, forgot herself.

 

She’d been a Maiden once, a foolish girl thinking to gain much ji in battle. She could remember being summoned, lost to her sisters. On her first arrival from Rhuidean, Nephuria was met with warm smiles and hugs form the Wise Ones, but her lost Spear Sisters were prevalent in her mind, she was lost to them forever. Some how that no longer hurt, not after all she knew now.

 

 

Nephuria Sul’ron Raiden, Apprentice and not considered a fool despite her hot temper. She had been young then, full of zest and passion, impatient and determined. Her motives were always good, but her drive was so forceful. Nephuria could remember this, and smiled. She’d been an Apprentice for a solid decade before finally demanding her place. They’d laughed at her as she was welcomed, although she stood slightly confused. Half mad, half exuberant.

 

The following day she made her second trip to the city of fog. in it's mists she went, and emerged with knowledge known only then to the leaders of the Aiel, the ones worthy or capable of holding the knowledge, for those who weren't worthy, never emerged. She drank water in the Wise One's tent that night, as a participant rather than observer. it was one o the proudest moments of her life.

 

Her mind traveled remembering her mentors as she grew, her friends and women who taught her patients. She’d become stronger because of opposition, it was the way things should be. Her quick tongue and hot temper were quieted slowly through the years, allowing a much more pleasant woman to emerge. Although still a woman who stuck to her battles.

 

Nephuria smiled: yes, she would like to think she’d made the most of the this Dream, of life, this place of now. She’d had lovers and share of romance, but none did she wed, that path was not her own, roof mistress would never be her title.

 

Would there be Holds anymore though? They had brought the spears over the wall, the weight of the Dragon. What next? She did not dwell.

 

 

Those days…the days some called the last of the Aiel, for surely it was, for the way it had been. That toh was paid, they now had to serve. Some would not accept this thought though, they saw it as a betrayal. They said the Car’a’carn could be no wetlander, no man could break the Aiel; and others still could not handle it at all, they simply…gave up.

 

Giving up was never an option for her, not in this or the next life. She took it in stride, leaving Sept and Hold. The night had been cold, very cold. It always was in the waste. She had packed previsions and stored them secretly for some days, they now were bundled in a sack tied to her back. She carried no weapon, for the times were not as they are now with the Shadio, and she ventured across the Dragonwall, to follow those who went with Him.

 

Nothing in her mind was rational, she couldn’t have told you why she had to go more than she could have told you eat. It was something she had to do. She ventured through the waste, meeting any number of individuals, blacksmiths, women with children, warriors too. Maidens, Stone Dogs, she spotted many, all headed toward the Wetlands. The message had been heard, and people listened.

 

The wind howled outside, and thunder peeled, breaking her dream. She sat up, and looked around, the candles had burned low. She put them out, and made herself comfortable, but her mind kept thinking. She was unloading, processing everything she’d dealt with until now.

 

She’d been in the Dream, walking with two Wise One’s from other Clans when Asmylir appeared. She was calm, far too calm. Her image was firm, an did not move naturally as it should without attention. She was off, very off.

 

“What is it Asmylir?” Neada asked, a woman who could not channel but was wise beyond her years.

 

Asmylir seemed about to faint, or perhaps burst. Nephuria wanted to seize the woman, instead she imagined her calm. The other woman felt the impression of Nephuria’s will, and looked at her in angry. Good, she was back.

 

“The Car’a’carn has come, his arms bear both of the Dragons. He is the real thing, and he is a wetlander. He held a meeting, all of the clans are to assemble. “ The woman faltered, she was the youngest among them. “Neada, he can channel, and he is a Wetlander. The dispute was settled. He is the Car’a’carn.”

 

The woman was more composed, resolute in her decision. “We follow him, and we hope you can convince your clans to as well.” The woman exited the Dream.

 

Oh what a ride that young woman had sent them on. It wasn’t fair for Nephuria to blame her, but somewhere deep down, she associated a lot of what had happened with that woman, the one who told her that this world would soon end. It did no good to hold grudges though especially unwarranted ones, and by now she was old enough to know that.

 

She opened her eyes, looking around the tent she stood in, looking at the ground as a small rivulet of water began to run across the tent floor. She'd had enough of this. No one would notice, and it was not flaunting her power. She just picked a good campsite. Weaving a bubble of air within her tent, stopping it about two feet up in a circle without a top. She set the weave and left it, without having to feed it.

 

She unrolled her rugs by hand after drying the ground, work was good for you, and placed her pillows and rug where they belonged. She stretched out on a gray pillow of good material and nice stuffing. She didn't know, but at some point, she fell asleep to the sounds of the rain pelting her tent.

Edited April 10, 2011 by Amore