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Biography To
defend the Blightborder was no easy task. In the walled city of
Fal Dara, every hand held ready to grasp a blade and the funeral
pyres burnt high every morning. The Blightborder held, but the
city itself had an uncertain future. Even within the halls of the
sacrosanct Women's Quarters, Lady and maid alike, as well as
children, sat, huddled and weeping, waiting for the day when they,
too, should raise standard and join the battle for Shienaran soil.
It had been done before, and, Light willing, they would survive it
as so many had not. There
was only one group, in all of Fal Dara that would not pick up
blade or shoulder axe. In the midst of the chaos, just inside the
city's walls, was a caravan of bright wooden wagons, painted in
what appeared to be garish combinations of vivid hues. Music
wafted from the wagons from time to time, and life went on as
usual, even when the bonfire at the center of the camp had a body
to consign to its fate. Normally, Shienaran dead were buried, but
with the atrocities that waited to feast on even the dead outside
the walls, the Mother's embrace was fiery. Nothing, Trolloc raid
nor brutal death, could convince the inhabitants to leave their
wagons and take shelter in Fal Dara Keep, for they were Tuatha'an,
and followed the Way of the Leaf. Oenone
did not like to be within the city walls. Cities were dirty, and
they drowned out the sounds of nature. For a young woman training
to follow the wagon's herbalist, and be a healer, nature was
essential. In this city, even her lessons were stalled. Nothing
was as it had been in Stedding Shangtai. They had left before the
Singing, and Oenone missed it, missed the familiar Ogier and their
peace-filled stedding. Oin, the Seeker of their band, still had
not said why they must leave. It was unusual for them to travel so
close to the Blight, and even more unusual for them to miss the
Singing. They'd seen it all the thirteen other years of Oenone's
existence. She
had no idea what could have drawn them to Fal Dara. Darkfriends,
and some said, Dreadlords, had breached the walls with Trolloc
hordes, for the past three nights running. Oenone had been
terrified the first night, but the men of Shienar were fiercely
protective of the caravan. Each night, when the walls had fallen
and the horns sounded alarm, Shienaran men, topknots bobbing, had
come. The Old Ones complained that they were blockading the Way,
but Oenone was grateful for their sacrifices. They might not
follow the Way, but they were decent men for all of that. Every
night, when the hordes had been pushed back, there was dancing in
the camp. Oenone would have joined in, but with the multitude of
stitches she had to make and the poultices for swelling and
infection, there was no time. Even then, her work did not always
get completed before she fell from exhaustion, and she wept bitter
tears for every man she had to consign to the fires. On
this night, the Trollocs had surrounded the gates, then besieged
the walls. As their raid weakened a place, they entered there, and
ran through the streets, making bloodbaths within the Keep. They
were pushed out every night, but tonight, there were many more
than usual. The horns sounded, marking a breach in the defenses,
and, swords raised, the men gathered around the wagons. Tonight,
their protective ring thinned and grew gaps. Oenone watched Oin
die, from atop a wagon. It was the only safe place, and she
huddled there with the Old Ones, her mind attempting any escape
from the scenes of carnage. A beefy hand reached up, grabbing her
by her hair, inflicting the first true pain Oenone had felt in her
life, and threw her down. She closed her eyes, waiting for the
black blade to cleave her in two, but the Trolloc grunted, scented
the air, and turned away. From
then on, people speaking to Oenone would claim that sometimes, she
disappeared. She would be in the midst of the camp, and people
would ignore her. She would watch lovers kiss as though no one
else were present, the married fight as if in private, and the
tears of the bereaved, without anyone's notice. As the days
progressed, she was frequently ill, and always seemed to have a
fever and chills. Her once plump frame became thin and wizened as
she suffered. The
caravan herbalist despaired of finding a cure. Three other girls
had died of the same disease over the autumn, and the caravan
still mourned them. Oenone was included with the dead, by most,
and she had heard funeral dirges for herself as she lay screaming. The
Tower came at last, and there was rejoicing in the streets of the
Keep. Aes Sedai to hold the walls and Gaidin to slaughter the
abominations were blessings from the Creator, in any
Borderlander's eyes, and it was a proud house indeed that included
one in its bloodlines. Gaidin to be came from the Borderlands'
best warriors, and were more than respected, but held in awe. The
city's celebrations were noisy, but Oenone knew nothing of them.
She could only hear her own, tortured heartbeat and the sound of
her screams. There
seemed no choice for Oenone than that the Aes Sedai look at her.
The herbalist had gone in the faint light of dawn to bring back
several, and they had come, tired and dirty from the sieges, to
see the disease that was described to them. Oenone did not even
feel their presence, until the Power swept through her. A feeling
as though a large knot had been untied inside her mind ensued,
and, grateful, thinking it over, Oenone wept. The caravan
clustered in awe around the young woman whom the Aes Sedai had
saved from the dead, and prevented them from taking her aside, as
they clearly wanted to. When
an irritated-looking Arafellin sister finally managed to secure
Oenone from the throng, she led her back into Fal Dara keep.
There, in a sitting room decorated to look like a palatial
chamber, she was told that she could channel, and that not
learning more could result in an even more terrible sickness than
she'd just had. With no other choice, Oenone said her goodbyes to
the wagons, and came to the White Tower.
Oenone in Chapters: 1: A Fortress Around Your Heart 2: Universe
Highlights: Oenone's Three Arches Oenone in the Columns of Rhuidean Oenone's Final Arches
The Jumping Board, where Oenone and Akuma still make wild acrobatic love every three posts or so. May it last forever.
Set design and original drawings copyright 1999 Rainbow Row Graphics |
