Kamarile is my character on DM, or Dragonmount. She is an Accepted at the White Tower, aspiring Blue Ajah. She has deep emerald eyes, and long dark brown hair.
Kamarile Amanathiere al'Chera was born in Ghealdan, in a village just outside of Jehannah. Her mother, Caledra, was a village healer who went out to see the world before settling down with a husband. During her travels she fell in love with a Gheldaner merchant, and resumed her place as wisdom. As a child, Kamarile was entertained by her mother's traveling stories, especially the ones about the one power: Caledra had gone there while she was wandering, and she had seen the Aes Sedai heal, immediately and without herbs. Her father, Tys, was gone most of her early life, traveling into different countries to sell his dye. She never felt deserted by her father, but their relationship was simply a name, nothing like the bond she held with her mother. He was absent for months at a time, and usually only came back to see them for a few weeks out of the year. Hence the furnishings of their house were not based on her father's income, but her mother's, which was meager. Kamarile was used to sparse woolens, and
she tended a garden and animals as well as being a healing apprentice. The only riches in the house were in her mother's chest, which held beautiful clothing and jewelry from her adventures.
When Kamarile was sixteen, her father revealed the true nature of his traveling. On her way to market, an Aes Sedai had felt her and seen that she held the spark to channel. Kamarile was extremely excited, and her mother was proud that her daughter might one day be the kind of healer she had seen in Tar Valon. In a heated argument, her father announced that they would not be going and that was that. Her mother, cool and composed, had said that if he really cared he would be around more often, and she left the room without another word. Kamarile, peeking nervously through the window, dropped her bushel of turnips. They would leave the next morning, her mother had said, so Kamarile packed the rest of the day and went to bed early.
* * *
The clock chimed Last.
The night was unpleasantly warm, not nearly as scorching as the midday sun, but still humid. Kamarile's shift clung to her. She rolled out of bed for a glass of water. Tiptoeing so as not to wake her parents, she crept out of her room, and into the kitchen. Her breath caught. Outside, shrouded in the darkness, her father stood talking with a forboding shape. Voices drifted through the window . . .
" . . . shame it came to this . . ."
"Don't tell me you actually love her, Tys." "Of course not. My bond is held by none but the Great Lord. Still, one does become . . . fond . . . after eighteen years." The other man snorted.
"Eighteen years spent mostly in Tar Valon, Tys. You call that a marriage? No matter. You will do what must be done."
"I will." Her father hesitated, then: "The Great Lord we serve, and he commands us the proceed." It was a chant. "We will clear the path of the Great Lord's coming. We are tools only, to do the Great Lord's bidding in the hope of his favor. We proceed." The other man nodded curtly, and Tys crept stealthily into the house.
Kamarile bit back a scream. Her father! A Darkfriend! She ducked behind a shelf, breathing heavily. Tys and the other man walked slowly through the house, a blade in her father's hand gleaming bright silver. Not my father, she thought fiercely. Never again my father! She had to reach her mother; she would know what to do. She had to! With a cry, she flung herself past the Darkfriends and ran, shrieking, into her mother's room. "Mother! Mother! Wake up!" Kamarile threw opent the door and ran to the bed. Why wouldn't she wake up? Why wouldn't she . . . Her hand touched blood. A dagger, jagged and darkened with blood, lay on the bed. She picked it up slowly. "I figured you'd forget to reckon with the girl," said a voice. Tys and the other man crowded the doorway. "Araelis!" the Darkfriends shouted. "How?" "No need to show your stupidity anymore, Tys, Saanae. By the Great Lord, it's already proven ten times over! If I hadn't had forethought, Tys," Araelis said, "You would either be hanging from a tree, or swimming in the Pit of Doom! Blood and ashes, Tys, did you forget you have a daughter?"
Araelis stepped forward, resting a hand on Kamarile's shoulder. She jerked away, and he smiled. "I suppose I'd better do this, since you are having problems tonight, Tys." Kamarile shoved past them, screaming. Her mother! Light, they took her mother! The thought flooded her mind, her soul, drowning out any thought of fear with the indescribable sorrow. Araelis crept slowly toward her, Tys's knife in his hand. Heart beating fast, she watched as he took her neck in his hand. No fear. She was beyond fear; she watched him cut her neck behind a veil of tears. Saanae laughed. "What a little mouse," he said. "Pathetic." Kamarile's eyes blazed with anger, and hatred. They killed her mother, and they made games of her sorrow! She would teach them! Clenching her fingers around the dagger, she plunged it in to Araelis's heart. He gasped once, then fell to the floor, dead.
Saanae and Tys stared at her, surprised; then they began to advance again. She plucked the knife from Araelis's stiffening fingers; she wrenched the dagger from Araelis's already cold body and flung it with all her might. Like a bolt of lightning, it struck Saanae in his chest. "Yes," she said, glancing coldly at Tys. "I am not as easy as you would think." Tys swallowed; he stood weaponless, the knife he had held before in her own hand. He fled, tearing past her. Kamarile ran into her room, picking up her packed bag in a hurry. She had to get away. Tar Valon. It was a distant thought, but her mother had wanted her to go there, and she would. She fled the village, darting past the people who had come awake at her screams.
The moon was full, and her long legs carried her up the hill and on the road quickly. She looked down on the village. Tys was out there, somewhere. Still alive. She would go to Tar Valon, and she would be Aes Sedai, but she would come back. Blood trickled down her neck, coming together in a bead where her firedrop pendant hung. Suitable. But next time, it would be his blood. She would have her justice.
