Arafellin Silver (Asha'man fanfic, Vol. 2)

[FortyFiveAuto 1]

The days were growing hotter. It was as though the Dark One himself moved the world closer and closer to a great flame, with all its creatures just playthings for his amusement, trifles to be burned and laughed at. Not a woman who had come here could even remember a nice, breezy afternoon, but it had been that way for a while. Chaos had razed the lands they had come from, withering their crops and dwindling what little they had in their purses. Most of the families this farm now housed never needed much in the way of coin. Food on the table was easy to come by if your husband and sons were effective in the fields, and the Light had blessed them with ample rains and sun to keep the harvests bountiful and the grain bins full. That is, before the drought came.

 

One good thing about the heat was that it kept the wash water from becoming too tepid too quickly. Sometimes it helped to see the silver lining on the dark clouds, and it was all Sora Grady could do to keep the women in as much of a good humor as she could manage. She loved her husband, and she never doubted his judgment. Well, almost never. When he blamed the failure of their modest farm on the weather, she knew he had already done everything he could to make the barley and wheat grow, but it was not enough, and she accepted that. When Jur told her they were leaving the farm and taking the family to Caemlyn, she became frightened. What business did simple country folk have in such a grand city? What would they do to survive? Jur had a pensive frown when she put him to the question, but he couldn

[Marie 73]

Oooh even better than part one.

[FortyFiveAuto 1]

Part 2:

 

The frozen Jahar pivoted neatly on the foot touching the ground, facing the man approaching through the crowd parted on the other side. Despite losing the upper hand, Jahar’s eyes did not widen and he did not appear to struggle. He stared calmly ahead, meeting the older man’s eyes. Sora admired his bravery, even though he might not know what danger lay in front of him. According to her husband, Dashiva was incredibly strong in the One Power, and said perhaps he would be even as strong as the M’Hael. This meant little to Sora, but Jur and his friends stepped lightly around him.

 

“Perhaps you are new to the farm, boy, but you must know the rules,” Corlan’s words came out in a tone that reflected his bored mood. “I will not have fighting among the ranks, and those who disobey will be punished.” He cocked his head as he addressed Jahar, making him appear most bird-like and studious of him, which contrasted with his usual, distracted demeanor.

 

Jahar maintained his composure as he listened Corlan’s flat voice. The two of them stood staring at one another for a long moment, and Sora wondered if one or more of them were using the Power. Clearly Corlan had used it to restrain the younger man, but she became confused from the long awkward silence that followed his chiding. It was broken by astonished murmurs from the crowd. The women surrounding Sora whispered and tried to get a better look, to see what was happening, but none of them could tell exactly what had the men’s attention. One of them said something like, “Impossible! He’s too new,” but she could not be sure.

 

A new look at Jahar revealed a determined set to his eyes, and a vein beginning to appear on his forehead. Corlan’s own eyes widened with surprise for a moment, then quickly reverted to back to normal. “You are strong, boy, but no one breaks my shields. You will make a useful little pawn, I think, but there will be none of that.” And just as quickly, he landed the back of his hand hard against the side of Jahar’s face. A small grunt came from Jahar, blinking away the tears welling up from the impact. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

 

“Enough!” bellowed the M’Hael as he came into view. Jahar finally put his other foot down and worked his jaw, his eyes fiery with humiliation but challenging still. The rest of the men in black coats snapped to attention as the tall Saldaean approached and made his way through the crowd to where Jahar, Corlan, and the now recovered Mishraile were. He stood taller than all of them, a most imposing and commanding person, but only Jahar met his eyes. Corlan resumed his typical habit of staring off into nothingness, and Mishraile had lost the anger in his face and left only embarrassment. “Dashiva, Mishraile, and the rest of you, disappear. You, Arafellin, will stay.”

 

They were wise enough to do what they were told. Jahar initiated, saying, “I apologize, M’Hael, but Mishraile started it. He thought he could manhandle me with the Power, so I stopped him.”

 

Mazrim Taim chuckled heartily. “You needn’t worry about him. Dashiva is right, though, you are new, so I will grant you your first private lesson from me,” Taim squared himself to him and put his hand on Jahar’s shoulder. He was very practiced at looking down; Sora assumed he must have been born noble. “Unless you have the express permission of me or someone I assign to supervise you, if I ever catch you trying to embrace the Source in my presence again, I’ll have your head on a plaque on my wall. Do I make myself clear, Narishma?” The younger man stared incredulously, but he never once dropped his eyes. After a moment, Taim simply added, “Carry on, then,” and walked away.

 

He stood there staring at the ground for a few moments and then started away again, noticing Sora and her women still gathered at the laundry entrance, watching him. His grin was still as sheepish as before, if only slightly touched by regret that they had to witness him being dressed down. A couple of the women made suggestive comments and asked others if they knew where Jahar’s bunk was kept.

 

“All right, let us get back to work,” Sora finally said, ending the chatter temporarily. Much work lay ahead of her, and she was glad no one had gotten more than his pride hurt in those few minutes. This truly was a drab, somber place, but you had to do what you could to keep on going. Suddenly, she remembered what happened to people like Jahar Narishma, Eben Hopwil, and her own Jur. She felt a welling of sadness rise up in her, but quickly suppressed it. She didn’t need to remind herself that every man in this place would die an untimely death. She needed to be strong, now. The silver lining was often all you had, and for her fellow maids, thoughts of the young recruit from Arafel would help them keep their spirits away from the storm clouds. They would, for as long as possible. She hoped.

[jan 14]

aha, volume 2. *sits back to read*

[Cerendrallion 32]

So I've read them all!

 

I liked very much. *nods* Not often you find an Asha'man fic...

[Olivia 26]

Very interesting story! Cerendrallion is right, it's not often you find an Asha'man fic. I also liked that it was from Sora's point of view. Great read!

[Callybear 0]

I'm printing them out. Where's part one?