What Might Have Been

This is a story of what might have been. It is from a plotline that we were developing at Glimmers of the Wheel before the site collapsed. It would have led to a lot of changes, and to the use of concepts that I haven’t seen before on any other WoT sites. I invite comments and suggestions so that this tale can be made better. Please read and enjoy.

Elaine peered out from her hiding place in the thick woods, her hand over her horse’s muzzle to keep it from calling out to the other horses. She could see the Whitecloaks not fifty yards from her, casting about from the road trying to find her.

She had been on the run for over a month. She had set out from Tar Valon’s embassy in Murandy and gone south, making contact with her network of informants, trying to confirm the rumors that had reached Robert Laurel about strange, powerful new weapons that had been developed there.

At first all had gone well. She had obtained several of the new weapons, and, even more important, had managed to secure possession of the information on how to make them. She had sent that on to a safe house in Murandy, and from there a safe house in Andor, but had stayed in Illian, seeing that there was even more information that needed to be gathered. By sitting quietly in corners, not drawing any attention to herself, she had found out what she needed to. And it had both shocked and frightened her.

Following the rumors, she had come upon a new road leading into a remote area, far from any habitation. At the end, she had found a town, a new town, a new town bustling with industry. Elaine had backed off and contacted other members of her spy network. They had disguised themselves and gotten jobs as tavern wenches, cleaning maids, stablemen, and the like. Nobody paid any attention to servants, the highborn especially. It was amazing how people talked freely in front of the help, and how much you could learn just by listening.

Her and hers listened, snooped, poked, and occasionally pilfered. Between them they got the information they needed and sent it on to the safe house. While on an errand outside the town, Elaine had seen troops drilling in the new weapons and heard the crack and rattle of the new devices, which were called muskets. She had seen musket balls go through heavy armor. Another time she had seen the new cannon at drill. They were not at all like the huge guns that protected the harbors at Tar Valon. Those were immobile, made of iron bars welded together, and the great powderhogs took forever to reload with the huge stone balls that they fired.

These were altogether different. They were mobile, pulled by teams of horses, drilled out of cast iron or bronze, and fired eight pound shot. They also fired something called cannister for close-in work, thin tin containers filled with musket balls that would devastate attacking troops.

Those weapons they hadn’t been able to get any samples of, but they had plenty of drawings, and copies of the methods used to make them. Hopefully that would be enough for Robert and the Dragon Academy in Tar Valon to replicate.

She had been just about ready to leave when, in the middle of the night, came pounding on the door of the cheap room she had been staying. She normally slept in her clothes on jobs like this, and thus was able to get out the window just as the guards were breaking their way in.

Followed by the angry shouts of her pursuers, she had leaped across the narrow alleyway onto the roof of the neighboring building, and then made her way across the rooftops, over what was usually known in any urban setting as the Thieves’ Highway, to where she kept a string of horses hidden. As she ran, she looked down into the main square, and saw what was left of her network here standing in chains. Knowing that she couldn’t save them, she cursed to herself and galloped off into the night.

Elaine had found herself closely pursued. Both the safe house and Tar Valon embassy in Murandy were closely watched. Same with those in Andor. She didn’t dare try to make contact with the authorities, not knowing who she could trust.

She had been nearly caught twice. Once was in northern Murandy, where she had just avoided capture by a troop of light cavalry. She had veered off the highway and fled through some of the worst terrain she had ever ridden over, nearly braining herself in process. The other time had been north of Andor, when she had gotten away from a group of Whitecloaks only by the speed of her horses.

She was down to her last horse now, the others had been either ridden to death or abandoned when they foundered. She had been sleeping in the woods, in haystacks, in farmers fields; anywhere that would give her concealment. She had been also been on short rations, sneaking into towns and villages at night to pilfer what she could. At least her survival skills were enough so that she could take the occasional rabbit or catch the occasional fish to supplement her supplies.

Elaine peered out from behind the foliage, taking care to remain in concealment. It was obvious that the Whitecloaks were giving up. From the overheard conversations, she gathered that they were heading back towards the nearest village and the food and warm beds waiting for them there. It would give her time to make up the road a little more, and then to a forester’s hut she knew of that was far out of the way, but would give her a chance to rest both her and her horse.

She was within reach of safety. Only about a day’s ride from where she lurked was the border, with the fortress that Robert had had built to watch over trade and commerce and guard against invasion. Not that Andor was likely to be the foe. The old alliance between Caemlyn and Tar Valon was as solid as ever; it was the threat of raids across the Caralain Grass, or a major attack that might get past Andor and threaten the City itself that was his concern.

Heh, I remember Glimmers. My first site.

I like it. The idea of the introduction of the beginnings of black-powder weaponry is always the makings of good environments. It threatens the age where any man can match a channeler, and making the dominance of channelers upon the world all the more tenuous for the innovations.

After a cold camp, a hasty meal and too few hours of sleep, Elaine set back out. She risked the main road between Caemlyn and Tar Valon, hoping that she had slipped her pursuers, and that she could make good time over the well-maintained road to get to her goal.

She had been on the road for most of the day when she heard a shout. Looking back, she could see the gleaming armor of Children of the Light behind her. Legally they couldn’t seize her, as this was not their territory, but the Whitecloaks had never set store by legalities. Ahead of her, on the road, she could see the sun flashing off metal. She hoped that it was a patrol from the fortress. She spurred her horse to greater effort. Normally her lighter and faster mount, especially with her wearing no armor, would have no trouble evading her enemies. But with her mount so spent, the Whitecloaks would eventually catch up to her. She resolved to sell her life dearly. She couldn’t afford to be captured; as Robert’s Eyes ad Ears, and for all intents and purposes the Eyes and Ears for the entire Tower Guard and the Gaidin, she knew too much.

Elaine risked a quick glance behind her. Her pursuers were gaining. She turned back. The troops above were closer, she could see that they were a troop of dragoons, about eighty men, armed with lance and bow and mace and sabre. She waved, trying to attract their attention. “A Laurel! A Laurel! Tar Valon!” she shouted. They sped up, having seen or heard her.

Her horse stumbled in weariness and then collapsed. She hit the ground rolling and scrambled to her feet facing the enemy, holding her sabre in guard position before her. The lead Whitecloak headed toward her, his longsword raised to strike. Just before he reached her, an arrow sprouted from his chest.

Elaine looked up. The entire front line of Whitecloaks was down, dead or wounded, or their horses were, from the Guard’s bowfire. Riding around her, the impact of Guard dragoons on Whitecloak heavy cavalry sent the Whitecloaks reeling. It was sabre and mace work now, and the outnumbered Whitecloaks were quickly being beaten down. A bugle sounded, and the dragoons pulled back into line, and their commander, a young captain, came forward. “Take your dead and wounded and leave. And don’t come back, or it will very much be the worse for you.” The lone Whitecloak officer left alive, very young, was sputtering in rage, but the older sergeant placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke to him quietly in one ear, probably pointing out that dying heroically, and uselessly, would not be a good thing. The hatred between Tar Valon and the Children of the Light was long and bitter, and Tower Guard and the Gaidin took every chance they could to wreak damage upon their most hated foe. The Whitecloaks gathered their dead and wounded and left, snarling their hatred for those who would willingly consort with witches.

Elaine sank to her knees, shaking from the reaction. Hearing the sound of booted feet, she looked up, and saw the dragoon captain, who had dismounted and was now walking towards her. “I’m Captain Daneel Frankos. Who might you be?” he asked. “Not that it is a good thing to deprive the Whitecloak bastards of their prey, but I would like to know who are you and why you were running so desperately from them.” In reply, she reached into her blouse and pulled out the small pouch that rested between her breasts. From it, she pulled a signet ring and showed it to him. There were only three of them in the world. One was held by Robert, another by his sister, Erin, and the third by Elaine herself. It identified the other two as speaking for Robert, and that any orders they gave were to be obeyed without question. On seeing it Frankos snapped to attention and saluted. “Mistress Elaine? Any orders, ma’am?”

Elaine hated being called ma’am. It made her feel old. “No orders, Captain. I need a bath, hot food and a nice, comfortable bed, in that order.” “We can do that, Mistress,” came the reply. “We’re only an hour out.” She retrieved her saddle bags with her very precious cargo and was helped onto a spare horse and set out.

When they arrived at Westfort, Elaine was shown to what she assumed were guest quarters for high-ranking visitors. She set her saddle bags down and was then shown to the bathhouse. There, a solicitous Yellow asked if she desired healing. “Not right now, thank you,” she replied. “Just before I go to bed.” She soaked in the hot water, reveling in the sensation. She washed her black hair several times and scrubbed herself thoroughly, finally getting the grime of a month on the run off of her. When she returned to her room she found a Guard uniform, without insignia of any kind, on the bed. Elaine had three-star rank in the Guard, but that was for pay purposes, really. She didn’t have the training or the experience to command a unit in the field. She put it on, and when leaving her room again, looking for the Officer’s Mess, found a lieutenant waiting to escort her to dinner with Westfort’s commandant and the General-Officer-Commanding of Western Forces, who made his headquarters here.

The fortress commandant was a full colonel, and the GOC Western Forces was a lieutenant general, like herself. They waited patiently while she ate the wonderful meal that was set before her. She declined wine, saying that she would fall asleep if she had any alcohol. She sat back in repletion after having two full helpings, as well as dessert. “Now, sir and lady, this is what I can tell you, as you definitely have a need to know. Someone in Illian has developed some very nasty new weapons using a better form of gunpowder. New, mobile, horse-drawn cannons that can knock down the walls here within only a few days. Weapons that easily be used by individuals. The entire Tower Guard is obsolete.” When they demurred, she shook her head. “I was there, and I saw. They are training an army, and Tar Valon is their target, and they will come through here. The only saving grace is that they’re not ready, and they won’t be ready for about another two or three years.” She continued. “I need an escort in the morning, and I need a message sent to Tar Valon tonight, to let Master Robert know I am coming.” The Tower Guard had developed a system of signal towers connecting virtually every part of the country. Messages could be sent in a matters of hours both day and night.

When she reached her quarters, there was a Yellow waiting for her. The woman scanned her quickly, and Healed her of all the aches and pains that she had accumulated over the past few weeks. “That feels wonderful,” she murmured, as she sank into sleep.

Robert Laurel listened to the giggling of his wife as he attempted to feed his two-year-old daughter. They were making the transition to solid food, and it got quite messy, and Lyondra was currently wearing her food rather than eating it. On the other side of the table, his wife had finished with Lyondra’s twin brother, Ewan, and had already cleaned up the mess. “Here, let me, husband,” she said, taking mercy upon him. The servants finished clearing the table. One of the things that they tried to do whenever possible was spend breakfast and dinner together as a family. Robert’s sister Erin was due up momentarily to take the twins down to the nursery where they spent time with other children in the Towers. His wife was adamant that they would try to give the twins as normal an upbringing as possible. Or normal as could be, considering the high offices they both held. Robert held the rank of Marshal, and he was Commander-in-Chief of the Tower Guard, and therefore all the armed forces of Tar Valon. He also held the titles of Constable of the White Tower and Military Governor of Tar Valon.

His wife was Lanaya do’Teran. The Watcher of the Seals. The Flame of Tar Valon. The Amyrlin Seat.

It had been quite a scandal when they married. They had been bonded first, which was not unexpected, and had produced few objections. After all, why shouldn’t the Amyrlin Seat bond with her long time friend and head of the Tower Guard? But actually marry him? The traditionalists were outraged. No Amyrlin Seat has ever been married! Well that wasn’t quite true. A search through the archives had revealed that there had been several. Well, it just isn’t done now. It’s tradition! We can’t have the Amyrlin Seat taking second place to any man! And so and so on...

Lanaya had taken all of their objections and taken them apart one by one. And in the end she had fixed the most vocal with her steely glare and told them that she was going to do this, and if they had any objections, they could just leave the City for awhile. A long while. The objections ceased immediately. They liked their comforts after all, and didn’t want to give them up. There had been a lot of grumbling, but Robert and Lanaya could live with that. It was when they stopped grumbling that they would worry. The grumbling ceased, eventually, except for a few curmudgeons here and there. They continued as they had been, running the Towers and Tar Valon in conjunction with the M’hael. The birth of the twins had capped it all. They were simply adorable (at least Robert thought so), and had brought forth a new groundswell of support for the Amyrlin.

Erin came and left with the twins, and Robert and Lanaya got down to the business of the day. They looked over the morning papers, and passed them back and forth, pointing out interesting articles for each other. Robert was making ready to go down to his office and Lanaya to hers when one of Robert’s aides came in and saluted. “Sir, a message from Mistress Elaine. I thought you would want to see it immediately.”

She made it back! Robert thought to himself as he reached for the piece of paper. She had been gone for about five months, and he had begun to worry. He thanked the aide and dismissed him. He scanned the message. “She made it back,” he said, “and she says that she has some very important news for the two of us as soon as she gets in.” He read further. “She says she was pursued by Whitecloaks all through Murandy and Andor, and had to be rescued just outside Westfort.” His frown was matched by that of his wife. Neither of them liked having Children of the Light this close to the border. “She’s on her way here with an escort. I’ll have a troop sent out to escort her in.” There had been some strange rumors coming out of Murandy and Illian, and he would be glad to get some answers.

:boing-boing: I really like this!
Want to read more!!

Elaine woke the next morning to a soft rap on the door at dawn. She dressed quickly and hurried to the Officer’s Mess, where she has a fast breakfast of hot porridge. Once nice thing about Robert. He insists on having decent food for the troops. She glanced around. Officers were just beginning to straggle in. She got up, leaving her tray for the servants, and went outside. A couple of squads of troopers were assembling on the parade ground, led by an awfully young looking lieutenant. A sergeant came over, leading a horse and saluting. “Anytime you’re ready, Mistress.” She thanked him and mounted. It was a two day ride to the City, or about four days for the infantry, and they would be stopping about halfway for the night. She looked around. It was a beautiful morning. Not all like the horrible weather she had experienced on her trip north.

They set off, making their way along the excellent roads. When he had taken over as C-in-C, Robert had begun a massive program of road building. It would serve not only to move troops more quickly, but it would improve trade and commerce, bringing in more money to the City. The smallest hamlet was now accessible, and no longer out of touch with the world. He had also instituted a program of building schools in every town and village, and providing them with qualified teachers. He also had built clinics, staffed by qualified Healers, and with a Yellow stopping by once a week to assist with anything the Healers couldn’t handle. And finally, he had tried to bring clean water and sanitation to as many as he could. All this resulted in more prosperous, better fed, healthier and better educated citizens.

They made good progress, and stopped for the night at an inn about halfway to Tar Valon. She sat apart from her escort and ate in silence. She had been uncommunicative on the way here, and the lieutenant had caught her mood and respected her apparent wishes. She was very tired. One night’s sleep was not going to be enough to cure her weariness. When she got home she wanted to take about a week off and do nothing but rest. She finished her meal quickly and went up to her room and fell asleep immediately, not waking until the soft knock on her door in the morning.

They made good progress on the second day. The road was bordered by open fields, replaced occasionally by the occasional patch of woods. As the day wore on into the afternoon, they were almost within sight of the Towers and the road traffic had gotten heavier. As they passed some woods, she heard shouts, and some mounted men charged out of the woods straight at them. To Elaine’s horror she recognized them as Whitecloaks. Here? How? No Whitecloak was allowed over the border! The Whitecloaks, being more heavily armored, just rode over their lightly protected foes.

Elaine spurred her horse forward, hoping to get to a signal station and send a message for help. She heard another shout, and saw a couple of Whitecloaks trying to cut her off. She tried to break free and almost made it. Her horse stumbled and she was catapulted over its head. Oh Light, this is going to hurt, she thought as she tried to relax her body for impact. She hit the ground hard, and there was a flash of light and then blackness.

Captain Danos was leading his troop from the City. Two hours ago he had been going through very boring but necessary paperwork, and had been very happy to see his squadron commander walk in to break the monotony. “Danos, get your troop together. There’s a very important person coming in, and they need an escort into the City.” Danos raised his eyebrows in inquiry. The major took pity on him. “It’s Mistress Elaine. She’s been down south doing who-knows-what, and Master Robert wants to make sure she gets here. She has a small escort from Westfort, but apparently he thinks that isn’t enough.”

Danos acknowledged the order and shouted for his orderly. Within two minutes the troop bugler was sounding Boots and Saddles and then To Horse! and his dragoons was ready to go. They crossed the bridge over the Erinin in a column of twos in order not to disrupt the traffic moving in and out of the City, and continued on in that fashion down the road, Danos deep in thought as he road just behind the honor guard bearing the troop guidon and the banner of Tar Valon. Elaine had not been seen around the Garrison for a number of months. There had been rumors of strange doings down in Illian. The more knowledgeable and observant members of the Garrison had taken note and kept their mouths shut.

After an hour the scouts he had sent out ahead came galloping back over a hill. It was standard operating procedure, even in friendly country, to send out scouts to the front and flanks. Their leader, a corporal, shouted as he rode up. “Sir, there’s a group of Whitecloaks attacking a patrol!” Danos started with surprise. Whitecloaks? Here? Light, this is almost within sight of the City walls! He turned to the youngest of his officers, a junior lieutenant by the name of Lissa, still in her early teens. “Ride to the nearest signal station. Send this message in plaintext: Whitecloak raid. This is no drill.” The subaltern gulped and galloped off. Danos gathered his other officers around him. “Form into line. No bugles. Charge on my signal. Try to take prisoners.” The troop shook itself out from column into line in a half-minute. Danos drew his saber and rested it on his shoulder. “At the trot.” The line started forward and crested the hill. “Charge!”

Lissa pulled up at the signal station, her horse all lathered. She dashed up the stair to the signal platform, where a wide assortment of equipment was ready to send messages day or night. “Flash priority message to the Marshal,” she blurted out, out of breath. “Whitecloak raid. This is no drill. Send it in plaintext.” The signal corps sergeant gaped at her, then shouted to his crew as they began to work the huge mirrors that would send the message. This close to the City, it would be there in fifteen minutes, and reinforcements could be up within an hour.

Most of Elaine’s escort was down. A Whitecloak was kneeling by her motionless form, searching for papers. The charge caught them completely by surprise, in seconds they were dead or wounded. Danos surveyed the field. Troopers were securing the few prisoners, seeing to their wounds. A shout and a wave from his senior lieutenant got his attention. He rode over and dismounted. There were two bodies in the grass. One was a Whitecloak officer, cut down in the charge. The other was a woman in a plain, unadorned Guard uniform. Danos blanched when he recognized her. Mistress Elaine! “How is she?” he asked. “Not good,” came the reply from the troop Healer. “We’ll lose her if we don’t get her to the Infirmary quick.” Danos scanned the area quickly. The locals, mostly well-to-do farmers, had wisely disappeared at the first hint of fighting. He saw an empty coach-and-six about a hundred yards down the road. “Get that,” he said, pointing. “Load her into it and get her to the Infirmary as fast as you can.” He turned. “Signal to the Marshal. Raid suppressed. Prisoners taken. Inform Infirmary dead and wounded coming in. Mistress Elaine seriously injured.”

Robert was working quietly in his office when he heard the sound of bugles calling the alert. That wasn’t all uncommon, it happened two or three times a week. His head came up sharply when he heard drums beating the Long Roll, calling the entire garrison to arms. He stood, moving easily in the three-quarters armor. “Find out what that is,” he told one of the clerks in his outer office. Just then a messenger came, all breathless. “Sir, a flash priority for you from Captain Danos in the clear. Whitecloak raid. This is no drill.” Robert’s mouth dropped open in shock. Elaine’s out there! He recovered from his surprise quickly. “Secure the City. Somebody notify the Amyrlin. Tell the regimental commander to hold up until I get there. I want to see this for myself.” He had reached the parade ground and was mounting his horse when a second messenger came up and saluted. “Signal from Captain Danos. The raid is suppressed. He has prisoners, and there are dead and wounded coming in. Plus Mistress Elaine is seriously injured.” He nodded to regimental commander beside him. “Let’s go, colonel.” The regiment of cuirassiers thundered through the gate and through the City, crossing the bridge at full gallop.

It was wearing on dusk when he arrived at the scene. Danos’s men had secured the area, and sent the dead and wounded on their way. “Good work, Captain,” Robert commended the younger man. His staff had galloped out after him, and were now gathered around him. He turned to his chief of staff. “Erica, draw up orders for the 2nd and 3rd Infantry Brigades, with cavalry attached. I want the 2nd to go into Andor, and the 3rd to go into Cairhien and take out the Whitecloaks commanderies there.” In the years since the Last Battle, the Whitecloaks had abandoned their semi-nomadic existence and by treaty had established strongholds, known as commanderies, around the Westlands. They were formidable, but could not stand up to a determined assault. “I want it done as soon as possible.”

Remember folks, this is not happening on Fusions, but is a story line taken from the old Glimmers that I always wanted to see played out...