“Marath’damane”, Part 3

Wherein in the aftermath of their encounter, a Warder and his charge assess their situation…

The two horses galloped and skidded in the increasing mire. Unseasonable heat, now broken by squalling rain, winnowed down the formerly lush landscape until it became starkly passable. This far south, wilting trees horribly yellowed spoke of the drought so recently passed.

Bedevir kept a close eye on their path in addition to his ward. Egraine never proved her mettle as an athlete and frequently made spectacular falls from the back of her horse. The last such ride, she managed to spill herself before a fist of hungry Trollocs at full sprint. Not the most auspicious fumble for an Aes Sedai to make. She had spent the first few hours of this flight trying to properly lodge her skinny feet in the stirrups, even as she bounced around so violently that she would probably be limping for days. Bedevir had already caught her twice before she bucked free of the saddle when Darkmane leapt across a swollen river. The rain prevented clear conversation and he doubted Egraine could manage it even if she heard him. Of all the Aes Sedai he had met and served in his considerable career, none had needed warding as much as this tiny woman.

The girl they saved from the rabble of soldiers and strange channeling women clung to his saddle in a muddy lump. She had not spoken a word but for when they first started out, and only then to ask, “Is that an Aes Sedai?”

The Warder flicked his reins and heeled Farstrider, then answered, “She wears the ring, yes.”

She made no further comment, though Bedevir thought more than once that she might be crying.

Their other companion made even less of herself than the child. She lay across Darkmane’s saddle ahead of Egraine like a sack of flour, not stirring in the slightest. While they rode, Bedevir brought Farstrider close beside the pony to check, thinking she might be dead. He found her eyes open and unblinking instead. He wondered what could possibly have happened to sap her will for struggle. He wished he knew what she said when she fell. After seeing the women in gray, he had his suspicions about the leash, though he could not be certain. So many questions to ask in so little time.

He did not like it at all. The fewer conflicts which Bedevir ended up embroiled in, the better for everyone involved. Cadaela Sedai had made his duty perfectly clear. One day, they would need to return to the Tower, to be sure. If only that choice were his to make and not Egraine’s. The two would continue along her meandering path until that sometime day finally came. As long as Bedevir could protect her, he would be there for her.

With the torrential downpour, at least he did not have to worry much about leaving tracks. Rainwater deepened in gulleys in the face of the worsening flood. The horses labored in the mire, leaving behind no signs that might telegraph a heading. Bedevir wondered if the High God were not drowning the world in an effort to start anew.

Eventually he found a shallow recess in a hillside that looked relatively dry and drew rein. He dared not risk his charge crashing through a thick branch in the dark, or some other painful mistake he knew she might commit. In his experience, a Warder’s greatest enemy was benign carelessness.

He helped the child to the ground, then began to set up camp. Soon after, he had Egraine settled by a small fire and set about hobbling the horses. The woman in blue lay in a fetal position in the deepest part of the hollow, shivering. He briefly considered asking Egraine to set wards or weave a cloak of light, then thought better of it.

Egraine caught him as he dropped down to sit by the fire. Her dark brown eyes could not quite meet his, though her youthful lips worked as if she wanted to ask a question. She drew his color-shifting cloak aside and pressed her palm into a gap in his tunic. He tensed his thick jaw in response, but counted the wound nothing; he had seen worse getting her through whilst fighting Aire. Her touch met fresh blood. No surprise that she had noticed.

”It is not logical,” she muttered, “not logical.” Her quaking fingers probed the wound as she tilted her head to one side and blinked.

The Warder gasped aloud as an icy shock ripped through his body, reaching from his toes all the way to his skull. “The wound is not–,” he breathed out as she released him. He swore to himself not to regret the hunger he knew would come later.

Egraine vaguely nodded and shivered, never once looking him directly in the eye. Her head turned from side to side in a darting motion, lips moving momentarily, though no words came out. She drew her legs in until she sat with her chin resting on her knees. He sensed her fear ease somewhat, though her tongue might remain planted yet for hours.

Bedevir patted her on the shoulder and said, “Please get some sleep, and try not to think about what happened. We will get through this.”

She stared into the fire and nodded wordlessly.

(to be continued)

Prologue, Part 1 and Part 2.