Potential
Spoilers Below
I was looking at the trailer
again and every time I do it seems to me that Arya is fighting with an ashandarei like Mat from
the Wheel of Time. In the old tongue it
meant “sword spear.” Mat had exceptional
skill with the quarterstaff and when he received the ashandarei he was even
more dangerous. In the trailer it is
blurry but there seems to be a blade of some type at one end. I loved this part of the books as it showed Mat
as someone to be reckoned with. Below
shows his fighting skill in a wager he made while sick and still recovering
against 2 experienced swordsmen.
Mat |
“Swords aren’t the be-all and end-all, you know. I could do fairly well
against either of you, I think, if you had a sword and I had my quarterstaff.”
Gawyn’s cough was
obviously meant to swallow a laugh. Much too politely, he said, “You must be
very good.” Galad’s face was frankly disbelieving.
Perhaps it was that they both clearly thought he was making a wild
boast. Perhaps it was because he had mishandled questioning the guardsman.
Perhaps it was because Else, who had such an eye for the
boys, wanted nothing to do with him, and all those women were staring at Galad
like cats watching a jug of cream. Aes Sedai and Accepted or
not, they were still women. All these explanations ran through Mat’s head, but
he rejected them angrily, especially the last. He was going to do it because it
would be fun. And it might earn some coin. His luck would not even have to be
back.
“I will wager,” he said, “two silver marks to two from each of you that
I can beat both of you at once, just the way I said. You can’t have fairer odds
than that. There are two of you, and one of me, so two to one are fair odds.”
He almost laughed aloud at the consternation on their faces.
“Mat,” Gawyn said, “there’s no need to make wagers. You have been sick.
Perhaps we will try this some time when you are stronger.”
“It would be far from a fair wager,” Galad said. “I’ll not take your
wager, now or later. You are from the same village as Egwene,
are you not? I . . . I would not have her angry with me.”
“What does she have to do with it? Thump me once with one of your
swords, and I will hand over a silver mark to each of you. If I thump you till
you quit, you give me two each. Don’t you think you can do it?”
“This is ridiculous,” Galad said. “You would have no chance against one
trained swordsman, let alone two. I’ll not take such advantage.”
“Do you think that?” asked a gravel voice. The blocky Warder joined them, thick black eyebrows pulled down in a
scowl. “You think you two are good enough with your swords to take a boy with a
stick?”
“He has been sick,” Gawyn added. “There is no need for this.”
“To the yard,” Hammar grated with a jerk of his head back over his
shoulder. Galad and Gawyn gave Mat regretful looks, then obeyed. The Warder
eyed Mat up and down doubtfully. “Are you sure you’re up to this, lad? Now I take a close
look at you, you ought to be in a sickbed.”
“I am already out of one,” Mat said, “and I’m up to it. I have to be. I
don’t want to lose my two marks.”
Hammar’s heavy brows rose in surprise. “You mean to hold to that wager,
lad?”
“I need the money.” Mat laughed.
His laughter cut off abruptly as he turned toward the nearest stand
that held quarterstaffs and his knees almost buckled. He stiffened them so
quickly he thought anyone who noticed would think he had just stumbled. At the stand
he took his time choosing out a staff, nearly two inches thick and almost a
foot taller than he was. I have to win
this. I opened my fool mouth, and now I have to win. I can’t afford to lose
those two marks. Without those to build on, it will take forever to win the
money I need.
When he turned back, the quarterstaff in both hands before him, Gawyn
and Galad were already waiting out where they had been practicing. I have to win. “Luck,” he muttered.
“Time to toss the dice.”
Hammar gave him an odd look. “You speak the Old
Tongue, lad?”
Mat stared back at him for a moment, not speaking. He felt cold to the
bone. With an effort, he made his feet start out onto the practice yard. “Remember
the wager,” he said loudly. “Two silver marks from each of you against two from
me.”
A buzz rose from the Accepted as they realized what was happening. The
Aes Sedai watched in silence. Disapproving silence.
Gawyn and Galad split apart, one to either side of him, keeping their
distance, neither with his sword more than half-raised.
“No wager,” Gawyn said. “There’s no wager.”
At the same time, Galad said, “I’ll not take your money like this.”
“I mean to take yours,” Mat said.
“Done!” Hammar roared. “If they have not the nerve to cover your wager,
lad, I’ll pay the score myself.”
“Very well,” Gawyn said. “If you insist on it—done!”
Galad hesitated a moment more before growling, “Done, then. Let us put
an end to this farce.”
The moment’s warning was all Mat needed. As Galad rushed at him, he
slid his hands along the quarterstaff and pivoted. The end of the staff thudded
into the tall man’s ribs, bringing a grunt and a stumble. Mat let the staff
bounce off Galad and spun, carrying it on around just as Gawyn came within
range. The staff dipped, darted under Gawyn’s practice sword, and clipped his
ankle out from under him. As Gawyn fell, Mat completed the spin in time to
catch Galad across his upraised wrist, sending his practice sword flying. As if
his wrist did not pain him at all, Galad threw himself into a smooth, rolling
dive and came up with his sword in both hands.
Ignoring him for the moment, Mat half turned, twisting his wrists to
whip the length of the staff back beside him. Gawyn, just starting to rise,
took the blow on the side of his head with a loud thump only partly softened by
the padding of hair. He went down in a heap.
Mat was only vaguely aware of an Aes Sedai rushing out to tend Elayne’s fallen brother. I hope he’s all right. He should be. I’ve hit myself harder than that
falling off a fence. He still had Galad to deal with, and from the way
Galad was poised on the balls of his feet, sword raised precisely, he had begun
to take Mat seriously.
Mat’s legs chose that moment to tremble. Light, I can’t weaken now. But he could feel it creeping back
in, the wobbly feeling, the hunger as if he had not eaten for days. If I wait for him to come to me, I’ll fall
on my face. It was hard to keep his knees straight as he started
forward. Luck, stay with me.
From the first blow, he knew that luck, or skill, or whatever had
brought him this far, was still there. Galad managed to turn that one with a
sharp clack, and the next, and the next, and the next, but strain stiffened his
face. That smooth swordsman, almost as good as the Warders, fought with every
ounce of his skill to keep Mat’s staff from him. He did not attack; it was all
he could do to defend. He moved continually to the side, trying not to be
forced back, and Mat pressed him, staff a blur. And Galad stepped back, stepped
back again, wooden blade a thin shield against the quarterstaff.
Hunger gnawed at Mat as if he had swallowed weasels. Sweat rolled down
into his eyes, and his strength began to fade as if it leached out with the
sweat. Not yet. I can’t fall yet. I
have to win. Now. With a roar, he threw all his reserves into one last
surge.
The quarterstaff flickered past Galad’s sword and in quick succession
struck knee, wrist, and ribs and finally thrust into Galad’s stomach like a
spear. With a groan, Galad folded over, fighting not to fall. The staff
quivered in Mat’s hands, on the point of a final crushing thrust to the throat.
Galad sank to the ground.
Mat almost dropped the quarterstaff when he realized what he had been
about to do. Win, not kill. Light,
what was I thinking? Reflexively he grounded the butt of the staff, and
as soon he did, he had to clutch at it to hold himself erect. Hunger hollowed
him like a knife reaming marrow from a bone. Suddenly he realized that not only
the Aes Sedai and Accepted were watching. All practice, all learning, had
stopped. Warders and students alike stood watching him.
Hammar moved to stand beside Galad, still groaning on the ground and
trying to push himself up. The Warder raised his voice to shout, “Who was the
greatest blademaster of all time?”
From the throats of dozens of students came a massed bellow. “Jearom,
Gaidin!”
“Yes!” Hammar shouted, turning to make sure all heard. “During his
lifetime, Jearom fought over ten thousand times, in battle and single combat.
He was defeated once. By a farmer with a quarterstaff! Remember that. Remember
what you just saw.” He lowered his eyes to Galad, and lowered his
voice as well. “If you cannot get up by now, lad, it is finished.” He raised a
hand, and the Aes Sedai and Accepted rushed to surround Galad.
Comments encouraged. Love to hear the idea’s of
others. Most believe that since I present my idea’s as “fact like” I’m
not open to change my viewpoints which is far from the truth. I simply
look at the information presented and go from there. If you can shine a
light on another way of thinking that opens the door to debate.
Mat's weapon had the following written on it:
ReplyDelete"Thus is our treaty written; thus is agreement made.
Thought is the arrow of time; memory never fades.
What was asked is given. The price is paid."
Will Arya's weapon have something as mysterious written on it also?
Great article thanks for sharing. But i am here for arya stark needle sword which is my favorite one.
ReplyDelete