Wheel of Time (CH1)

AN: I've been messing around with this for a while. After finishing my perscribed writing for ROTLG, though. What can I say, I just really like fantasy, and I've kinda always wanted to try a WoT fanfic. It's nice to have an original story so I can flex my creative muscles, but plain-ol' fanfics are nice too, being just easier to write.

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“We should check on Cassian.” Tam said, glancing over his shoulder at Rand. “Haven’t seen the lad around town in days. Probably cooped up in that hut of his. If there’s been any odd sightings around here, he’s bound to know about it.”

Rand gave a nod, slowly being drawn from his thoughts. Returning from their hunt, they were on their way back to Emond’s field. The ‘odd sightings’ referred to an unknown black rider he’d spotted a while ago. If the man hadn’t made such a vivid impression, Rand himself might’ve though it was only his imagination.

Cassian. Rand didn’t much like the other boy. Well, being seventeen this year, he was less a boy and more a man, though that was besides the point. He’d known him for years, ever since old man Finn kicked the bucket. The grumpy fellow been a hunter, like Tam, so they’d been fairly well acquainted. Everyone in Emond’s field was well acquainted, really. The place was too small for them not to be.

They’d wondered what would become of Cassian when his grandfather passed—Finn hadn’t been in good health even then. Plenty would’ve been willing to take him, if he himself allowed that. He hadn’t.

It was no surprise, really. Cass had taken after his grandfather, being just as unsociable and disagreeable. He did what he wanted, village be damned, and he hadn’t wanted to leave his childhood home. People advised, people pleaded. Some well-meaning fellows even dragged him away against his will, but Cass always managed to sneak back out into the woods.

Eventually, everyone gave up and let him be, even though he was barely eleven years old at the time. What else could they do? They were too busy to spend their days keeping an eye on the tyke. So there he stayed and grew up, their own resident wild-man.

That said, people’s sympathies weren’t so easily extinguished and Tam, being who he was, wasn’t content to let Cass become a recluse. When he had the opportunity, he made sure the fellow hadn’t quietly met his end somewhere in the forest. The two of them often went to visit him, against Rand’s will, and he suspected, against Cass’ as well. It was hard to come up with a reason as to why, but they just never really got along.

“Everything looks fine.” Tam said a while later, guiding his horse down a hidden path, almost like an animal trial. Someone who didn’t know it was there was unlikely to find it.

Rand grunted, trying and failing to keep the dense branches from striking his face. Would it kill the guy to make the place a little more welcoming to visitors?

For a while, they plodded along in silence, crossing hidden streams and down rocky valleys. It took perhaps half an hour for them to reach Cass’ hut, sequestered in an alcove of trees. They smelled his cooking fire before they rounded the bend.

Rand didn’t miss how Tam’s shoulders relaxed when the home came in to view—well-constructed, if extremely simple.

“Seems like we’re just in time for dinner.” Tam said, a smile in his voice. He was loud enough for Cass to hear.

“Botched the hunt, then, uncle Tam?” Came the reply from somewhere in the back. Cass’ voice was relaxed.

Tam laughed. Rand didn’t. Cass’ jibes always felt too much like genuine insults to him.

After they had drawn up and tied down the horses, they traced the location of the voice. Shirtless, his solid, scarred physique on display, Cass was seated on a stump, stirring the coals with a carved branch that likely doubled as a walking stick. His black hair was wet, coming down to his shoulders, his equally dark eyes peering at them through curled bangs. “You’re not fooling me. Bela’s footsteps are heavier than usual. If you want to eat, you best compensate me with some venison.”

Tam made a helpless gesture, finding an empty spot nearby. “Guess it wouldn’t be right of me to take advantage of a snot-nosed kid. You’ll have to wait till the butchering’s done.”

Cass ignored Tam’s insult. It was pretty much impossible to get a rise out of him.

“How’ve you been, son?” Tam asked after a while, eyeing the skewered meat slowly rotating over the fire. The scent, and the obvious marbling, suggested wild boar. Not a bad catch, given the buggers were bound to vanish into the undergrowth if they didn’t gore you to death first.

“No complaints.” Cass said simply, putting no efforts into keeping the conversation going.

Rand’s eyebrows furrowed. It bothered him that his father’s efforts at reaching out were so obviously brushed aside, but saying anything was pointless. Tam was too good-hearted to take offense. “Seen anything odd around here lately?” He asked, getting straight to the point. The rider’s image was stuck at the forefront of his mind.

“Like what?” Cass asked casually, lifting a skewer off the fire. He turned it this way and that before taking a pouch of salt from next to him, sprinkling a little. He blew on it and took a bite.

Rand’s stomach growled. Hunting was hungry work, and they hadn’t eaten much besides some sparse rations. “You didn’t, then.” He said. If Cass had seen the rider, there’s no way he wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.

“Rand saw a stranger on the road.” Tam said, giving him a look. ‘Be nice’. It said.

“A stranger?” Cass asked slowly. He took another bite, taking his time to chew. He swallowed. “What did this ‘stranger’ look like?”

‘This is a waste of time.’ Rand thought, returning Tam’s look. But he spoke anyways. Maybe he was full of it, maybe he wasn’t. But despite their disagreements, he wouldn’t want anything to happen to Cass. There was nothing to lose by just being careful. “Black horse. Black cloak. Hooded. Didn’t see much more than that.”

“I see.” Cass said. He stopped eating, his skewer hovering in the air. He stared off into the distance.

“You saw something, then.” It was Tam.

Cass made to reply, but it was like he couldn’t find the words. It was an odd look, one that Rand recognized. Undoubtedly, he himself had been very similar when he’d spotted the rider.

They were all quiet for a moment. The only sound that could be heard was the fire’s crackling.

“A horse that doesn’t leave any tracks.” Tam said after a while. He sounded like he was talking to himself. “That’s odd indeed.”

Cass’ leg started bouncing up and down, like he was trying to work out some nervous energy. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Weird, isn’t it?” He asked rhetorically, his tone carefully measured.

Rand was surprised to find him sympathizing with the other boy. He’d been scared nearly witless, and he was with Tam at the time. If Cass had run into them alone, it was no surprise he was unsettled.

“Any idea who it could be?” Tam asked.

Cass shook his head. “Nobody I know, that’s for sure.”

“Whoever it is, I get the feeling they’re up to no good.” Rand added.

“I’ll talk to the mayor when we get back.” Tam said. “Nothing more that can be done right now.”

Silence stretched again. Then Cass gestured toward the fire. “Since you’re paying me, help yourselves. Pigs are out in force lately. Fattening up before winter hits for real. Won’t be too difficult to shoot another one.”

Tam gave a thankful nod, taking a skewer for himself. Rand did the same. For a while, they chatted while eating, talking about nothing in particular. It was almost like there was an unspoken agreement between them not to bring up anything more serious than the weather.

Eventually, Tam wiped his mouth with a rag he’d gotten from somewhere. He gave Cass a hesitant look. Then he sighed. “Listen, lad. I don’t usually mind your hardheadedness, but now isn’t the time for it. I promised old man Finn I’d keep an eye on you.” He paused briefly before continuing. “If there’s suspicious people prowling around, you best come back with us. You’re handy with a bow, and I know Finn left you his blade, but still.”

Rand raised his head, surprised. He didn’t think Tam was talking about a knife.

Contrary to expectations, Cass nodded immediately. He didn’t even really think about it. “Give me a second.” He said, disappearing into the hut.

When he returned, he was fully clothed, a leather knapsack slung over one shoulder. He carried a longbow and a quiver over the other. Around his hip, a sheathed blade hung. Judging roughly, it would’ve stretched from the elbow to the index finger. It was certainly no knife.

Rand’s eyes widened. He sent Tam a questioning look, but was ignored.

“You can ride with Rand.” Tam said.

Cass shook his head. He and Rand didn’t make eye-contact. “I’ll walk. It’s not that far.”

“Well, if that’s your luggage, then we best get going.” Tam finished. “I’m sure you won’t have to stay long. Not longer than you want to.”

Cass gave a nod. “Thanks for having me, uncle Tam. Let’s pack the rest of the boar, then we can be on our way.”

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Later that day, when the sun was drawing low in the sky, Rand, Tam and Cass returned to the farmstead. They’d stopped in town for two hours or so, and what an eventful two hours it was. Running into Mat and Perin, Nynaeve and Egwene, the gleeman, the Lady Moiraine and sir Lan… The village was full of strangers this Bel Tine.

Rand almost hadn’t noticed when Cass disappeared halfway through, when he started drawing more looks than he was comfortable with. He was relieved, if he were being honest. He didn’t like the looks Egwene had started sending the other boy lately. Her and many of the town’s girls.

It didn’t make any sense to him. Cass wasn’t that handsome, was he?

Regardless, he had reappeared as if out of thin air when their business in town was done, and the time had come to return to the farm. There was much to be done—the work never ended, it seemed—but Cass hadn’t been asked to help, and hadn’t offered either.

Rand was stabling the horses and checking the animal pens to see if they were secure when he looked around and found Cass gone, just as before. He couldn’t help his face scrunching into a frown. What in the world was he up to? Surely, he wasn’t that averse to lending a hand? But he was technically a guest, and Tam didn’t say anything, so he could only remain quiet about it.

After uprooting the last vegetables from their little garden—the soil had already cooled too much for further growth—he busied himself chopping firewood. They’d be having stew tonight. At least Cass was generous enough to donate the remains of his pig to add some meat. With much to think about, he grew so absorbed in his task that he didn’t even notice when the sky turned gray. Tam had appeared from inside their cottage at some point, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s wash up before supper. I’ve readied the hot water. We can each take a bath before we turn in for the night.”

Rand gave a nod. “A hot bath would be incredible right now. After everything, I feel tired enough to sleep through the festival.”

Tam chuckled. There was no chance of that happening. Everyone looked forward far too much to Bel Tine, hard as entertainment was to come by in these parts.

They made their way inside, sitting around the fire to warm themselves as Tam added the ingredients into the pot. Rand looked around, having half-expected to find Cass lounging on a piece of furniture, but he wasn’t in the house either.

“The lad said he’d be in just before dark.” Tam said, an odd note to his tone.

“Why?”

“Who knows?”

Rand didn’t really know how to respond to that. “Why does he have a sword?” He asked instead.

“Finn used to be a mercenary before he settled down and took up hunting.”

‘A mercenary?’ Rand wondered. He couldn’t remember much about the old man, but he did remember one of his eyes being white, a nasty scar spanning the length of his face. He’d always assumed the injury to be caused by an animal.

Still, the answer didn’t sit entirely right with him. He’d seen a few mercenaries come into town, hired to protect the peddlers. They usually didn’t carry swords, since they were among the more expensive weapons. Spears, maces and daggers, yes. “Does he even know how to use it?” Rand asked somewhat grumpily.

“I reckon so.”

‘How can that be?’ He wanted to ask. Cass’ grandfather couldn’t have trained him, since he’d only been eleven when the old-timer passed. If he’d received training before that, it surely wouldn’t have been worth much.

They sat in silence for a while. When the stew was nearly done, only needing to boil a bit longer, Tam got up. He headed upstairs, his footsteps thumping against the wooden floor. Rand could hear him entering his room, followed by a heavy scraping sound. It had to be the chest under his bed.

He watched, stunned, when his father returned, carrying what was clearly a sword of his own.

“Best to be safe.” Tam said, giving Rand a single glance. “Maybe the weather’s getting me down, or maybe I’m being too superstitious, but-…” He shook his head, bouncing a key on his palm. “I’ll start locking the doors and windows.”

Rand just sat there, trying to process what he’d just seen. Questions bubbled endlessly, but he had no clue where to even start. “Where did you get that?” He asked eventually, when Tam returned to the living room.

Tam shrugged. “Got it a long time ago. Needless to say, your mother wasn’t happy. I was younger and more foolish, then. She wanted me to get rid of it, though I never did.”

Rand watched as the blade was drawn, its patterned edge reflecting the firelight. “Get rid of it? Why?” He asked dumbly, gaze fixed on it. He’d always wanted a sword. Learning that Cass had one only further inflamed his jealousy, though he’d never admit it to himself.

“Doesn’t do a farmer much good, does it?” Tam asked, his voice somewhat far away. Then he shook his head. “Well, in the next few days, we might be glad I left it at the bottom of that old chest instead.” He set it on the table, unsheathed. “Stew should be ready. I’ll serve it. You pour the tea.”

Rand did as he was told, but he wasn’t nearly satisfied. Why would Tam have gotten a sword? And where? His father had always given him an impression of being well-travelled, and his mother had been a foreigner, but this was beyond his expectations.

While they were in the middle of their dinner preparations, there was a knock at the door. “One of the neighbors-…?” Rand started, but before he could even get the sentence out, Tam had plucked up his sword, putting himself between Rand and the door.

“That’s one too many knock.” He said.

And then the door burst open, broken clean off its hinges. A massive monstrosity stood in the frame, a crude, curved weapon clutched in one brutish paw.

Before Rand could process what he’d seen, or even let out a yell of fear, Tam took a step, his sword flashing.

The monster crashed to the ground, discolored blood surging from its jugular. However, they weren’t nearly out of the clear, since two more, equally as ugly, and equally as bloodthirsty, quickly took its place.

“Run, Rand! Go, go!” Tam yelled, moving to engage them, manoeuvring the sword expertly in his hands.

To Rand’s shame, he didn’t hesitate, his feet moving faster than his thoughts could follow. Before he knew it, he had yanked open a window at the back of the house, leaving the locked door as-is. He was out and into the darkness in seconds.

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Cass moved around the edge of the cottage, eyes narrowed. His sword had been unsheated, though he held it close to his side, not wanting the reflection to give him away.

“Father, I’m out! Run!” It was Rand’s voice, sounding somewhere to his right.

His footsteps hastened in that direction, moving silently as a shadow. Years’ woodcraft had long since trained him to tread without making a sound. He’d had more than enough motivation to learn, living on his own. Scaring his prey meant going hungry—a feeling he was well familiar with, at first.

Then, he spotted them, the enormous Trollocs milling about the door at the rear. They were struggling with the lock and barricade, but it wouldn’t be long before they lost their patience and smashed the window to get in.

He breathed out slowly, setting his sword down and taking his longbow. An arrow fell into the palm of his hand. He felt the notching against his fingers, testing the balance. The darkness would make aiming difficult, but at this point, he could go by feel alone.

He breathed in, then out. Adjusted his stance. Notched the arrow, then fired, all in one smooth motion. He’d done the same ten thousand times before.

The arrow flew straight and true, its shadow flitting over the cleared soil. It’s tip shone briefly in the moonlight before it disappeared again, embedded in a Trolloc’s neck. He’d gone for the back of the head, but it’d pulled downward slightly.

The thing made a sound of surprise. Seemingly confused, it waved its weapon around, its arm scrabbing ineffectually at its throat.

Another subdued ‘twack’ followed, accompanied by a near-inaudible whistling. The next arrow found purchase in the second Trolloc’s chest.

At this point, the creatures had realized they were under attack, though they were struggling to pinpoint the direction. They were still trying to get their bearings when the wall behind them practically exploded, Tam leaping through the gap with sword in hand. Bestial growls and bellows followed him on his way out.

Cass suppressed a curse. There were far more than he’d been expecting. Near two-dozen, if he guessed right. He was confident in his skills, but if he got surrounded by a couple of those things, he’d be done for.