A Bond of Faith (attn. Calia Sedai)

[Cass]

The beard. The bushy brows and bright, merry eyes. The sand-coloured hair peeking out from under his hat.

 

Joem, Cal reminded herself, forcefully, even as her heart jumped at the sight of him and her breath caught in her throat - again. 

 

She'd calculated the logic then and there, at the market in Caemlyn: seeing that distinctive cart with ale barrels on the back just so - wall to wall and rim to rim, lashed together and tied around the rails the exact way her father had always insisted. The wisps of sand-coloured hair peeking out from under the bottom of a well-worn hat. The man's face as he turned his head to check the large, stately black carriage thundering his way. 

 

And she'd replayed the glimpse of that face over and over in her mind many times since the market, knowing it was not the face she'd almost thought she'd seen, despite the shock of his distinctive features.

 

And yet, even prepared - knowing it was not her Da, she was still a little shocked - the resemblance was ... uncanny. At least, this time, the pang of loss and yearning that followed the shock was a little less.

 

"Joem," she smiled brightly at him as he took in the sight of herself and her Warder at the door.

 

His eyebrows rose in quick recognition.

 

"Great-Grand-Aunt Calia-Sedai?" he said the words with the same awe-struck arrangement of syllables he'd applied to her when he was barely five years old, making Cal smile even wider. His voice was a rumble of deep bass now, as her father's and her brothers' voices had been. Had it really been that close to thirty years since she'd seen him last? Since her littlest sister Thayet had passed?

 

The sound of footsteps passing in the corridor behind Joem stopped abruptly at his words. In the same instant, a look of - concern? - washed over his face. 

 

* * *

 

The footsteps rushed in their direction, a dramatic drumming on the wooden floor. Cal took a step back even as Elessar stepped forward, bringing the two of them into a balanced line.

 

A woman appeared at Joem's side, clutching his arm as if for support even as she attempted a curtsy with skirts that were not yet settled. Her blue eyes scanned past the Warder and Sedai, and then her gaze returned, full of trepidation, to meet Calia's own, before glancing back at Joem.

 

"Thayett?" she asked him earnestly.

 

"No, love." Joem patted her hand and looked back to Calia. The woman took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Joem did the same.

 

"Please, Aunt Calia-Sedai," Joem opened the door all the way, "Come in - and be welcome. You're just in time for a pre-service munch." He extended a hand towards Elessar. 

 

"And you too, Warder - Welcome and happy Sun-day Eve!"

 

* * *

 

Sun-day! She'd always loved that celebration. And the night before, even if the shortest night of the year had always been one of the busiest at the inn. Or perhaps because it had always been busy at the inn!

 

Alone in her room after their early supper, Calia smiled and swept her hair back into a no-fuss bun and wrapped it with a scarf. Memories of her childhood Sun-days and the easy afternoon with Joem and his wife Amelie snuck amongst the angst of her and Elessar's mission and the possibility of betrayal within the Tower, and reminded her of the Light in the world.

 

She'd learned much that afternoon about the goings-on in Four Kings since her last visit. And the cause of Joem and Amelie's concern at her arrival - which had turned out to be the biggest surprise yet - she had a great-great-grandniece who could channel! And the girl - Thayetta - the couple's only child - had been sent to the Tower for training just this year.

 

Calia shook her head again in wonder. She'd been shown a portrait of Thayetta - who indeed looked a lot like she imagined Thayet would have at the age of fourteen...

 

Cal couldn't say how close the resemblance actually was with much certainty though - much knowledge of her sister's lives had been lost to her, swapped for years and years of learning just what it meant to be, and how to become, a 'servant of all' in the Tower. 

 

As she'd told Elessar quietly after they'd retreated to their rooms, in her memories, Thay's actual image jumped straight from a sobbing ten-year old on the day she had left for Tar Valon to a competent young assistant inn-keeper surprised by the arrival of her long-lost siblings on the eve of her twentieth name day. And Calia's time in training had been relatively short! But as much as she loved and had missed her little sisters terribly, especially on name-days and when their giggles and chattering, or light snores were absent in quiet moments before sleep, by the year Thayet had been turning fourteen, almost-Accepted Calia had already suffered enough switching, chores and shame to last an entire Aes Sedai lifetime. And she knew very well that there was never an acceptable excuse or lack of punishment for a Novice caught leaving (or even caught talking about leaving) the Tower grounds. Not even for a quick trip to the City itself. Not even to celebrate sibling name days with them, as dictated by tradition... 

 

"Even that was enough for a lesson very well learnt!" she'd recounted. "Certainly enough that any thoughts of visiting home before being raised were completely and utterly whipped right out of existence from there on in!"

 

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as her hands recalled the repetitive sting of soapy scrubbing-water in split knuckles and her buttocks recalled the white-hot pain of swift switchings across unhealed welts. 

 

"But still," her voice became a quietly mischievous murmur, and disappeared into the lingering smile. 

 

She had been of a mind to leave the stories and explanations there for the time being, but catching Elessar's expression at her unexpected smile had made the beginning of her grin an even wider mixture of defiance and sheepishness.

 

A similar grin crept over her face again as she continued getting ready, enjoying the newest link to that old, cherished memory. She didn't know if Elessar would ever question such a mix of her feelings aloud, but she'd been happy to elaborate in any case - clearly Elessar was getting under her thick Aes Sedai skin if she was willing to simply let him in on one of her most tight-lipped secrets!

 

"So, I may have learned better than to try and ever visit my family or sisters here before being properly raised," she'd said.

 

"And Light, I'd never, ever tell the Mistress of Novices this, but I might never have completely regretted the reason I knew that so well - regardless of the punishments she piled on me! I swear, sneaking into the city to find an inn with Kaylan and the twins on our first free day after their arrival will be worth it until the day I die!"

 

Even now, standing alone in her old bedroom, thinking of the many moments lost and the many years that had passed, she cherished those borrowed-with-interest hours of freedom that had been stolen and spent so joyously as a wayward Novice in the heart of the old White Flame.  

 

And now there was a new Novice in the family. A fire had kindled in Calia's heart at the sight of the portrait and the stories Joem and Amelie had told them of Thayetta. Despite her habit of maintaining appropriate Aes Sedai distance from kin and emotions for the last three decades, and despite not knowing the girl, nor exactly how similar the features of her younger great-great-grandmother were to the face in the picture.

 

"Here," Calia had thought, was yet another reason why Elessar and herself had to succeed on their mission, and another reason why another vileness could not be allowed...

 

Tonight though, she'd decided to serve the Light a little differently and to focus on another job whilst Elessar hopefully relaxed and enjoyed the night's entertainment - simply because she could. 

 

She would serve, as always.

 

But for at least some of the night, she'd be helping out more as a serving-woman again than an Aes Sedai and servant-of-all. Amelie had been half bemused-half horrified at the idea, but Calia had refused all alternative suggestions. Truth be told, she was looking forward to the distraction of the long-ago-familiar change. She grinned again, checking her reflection quickly in the looking glass she passed out into the hall to wait for her bonded.

 

She looked appreciatively at the tidy hall as she quietly closed her door and set her wards. The family had done well with the inn and the stipends she sent them via select eyes and ears since Thayet's death. And in turn, Joem and Amelie had done the same, it seemed. With quietly-bubbling happiness, Calia had noted that of all the establishments in the town, this one still remained the cleanest both inside and out.

 

To boot, the orchard-garden was still bearing a good amount of fruit, and there was even an entirely separate alehouse off to the side of the yard. And despite the lack of patronage at the hour Calia and Elessar had arrived, sounds of chatter now buzzed up the stairs from the common room and cheers and clinking tankards seemed determined to crowd their way through the shuttered window. She knew just by the cadence and volume of voices that the Queen would stand full tonight. Obviously, even despite the twist of Shadows stirring in the world at present, patrons were still eager to celebrate the longest day of the year. It was enough to keep anyone hopeful, and any family member proud. 

 

And, Cal found, she she was hopeful, and proud, despite the time that had passed and the distance that existed between her old life and the one she had chosen to lead. And she was glad to be sharing these new-old experiences with Elessar, linked as they were. She hoped he would enjoy himself during their stay. And in the same instant, she realised that, as stoic and as used to Aes Sedai life as she had become with age, and as much as she had never thought she would bring another Warder into this house, or her heart, it was ... a welcome comfort... to still find oneself connected in the spaces where connections belonged, but had become stretched thin, and thinner still, by time. 

 

She hadn't been in the hall for but a second before her gaidin exited the room adjacent to hers. She smiled warmly at him.

 

"Nice of you to join me, Warder-mine!" her grin was teasing as she turned with him towards the stairs.

 

They walked as one though, the sincerity of her words flooding through the bond with feelings of gratitude and the hope for Life!

Edited June 8 by Cass

[Elessar]

  .. In Honour of Maragaine ..

►▼◄

 

Lightning flashed across the heavens

 

and thunder crashed

 

shaking the world in its inner folds, as powerful, valiant horses, bred for battle, bore Oceans of Green Ajah Sisters to War!

 

Their green cloaks streamed behind them like raised banners, and a hundred Warders or more rode at their side - t h u n d e r i n g - across the barren lands of the Blight!

 

Before them awaited a Battlefield of Death, but they rode on proudly, strongly, unyieldingly, with Passion, Life, Strength and Hope, the vanguard of the main White Tower Forces; their Battle Ajah banners held high, ready to fight for the Light and vanquish the Shadow in this long prophesized Last Battle!

 

!Tarmon Gai'don!

 

●

 

Opposing forces of Dreadlords, Darkhounds, Myrddraal, Trollocs and Darkfriend soldiers in uncountable numbers met them head on, like an avalanche of Darkness; and the Power unleashed as swords clashed with swords, axes struck axes, and lightning fires of the One Power crashed in the skies above as the thunder kept roaring made the earth tremble in its heart.

 

This was what they had trained for.. what they had lived for.. what the Battle Ajah, of all the various Ajahs of the White Tower, had always stood in readiness for.. and for Calia Aes Sedai and Elessar Gaidin, storming forwards in the endless Sea of Green, this was the moment they had been waiting for!

 

Elessar’s blade was raised high as he screamed proud and fierce battle cries of Kandor, his nation of origin, and Calia’s eyes sparkled like sapphires as never before, her whole face elated and so filled with determination and steely purpose that it almost shone!

 

 

They rode to Destiny.

 

Finally, the time had come!

 

Finally!!

 

 

●

 

Galloping into the Horde of the Shadow, the Kandori Warder’s sword sliced into a Trolloc as he passed and almost removed its arm. His black warhorse Stormbreaker, trained for battle, stormed into the melee and trampled a Darkfriend in the passing as Elessar’s blade struck out at more foes, left and right. Balls of fire streamed across the skies, Dreadlords hurling them at the Aes Sedai who deflected them using various combat weaves, and who retaliated with deadly lightning bolts that struck down amid the Forces of the Shadow.

 

Several Trollocs exploded before him, blood and guts and body parts raining down on him as he rushed by, his sword moving in another arc to behead a brute of a Darkfriend who tried to thrust his sword into his horses’ side. The evil minion managed to duck just in time, the Warder’s sword cutting the air above him, but then he was destroyed by a Green Sister’s deadly combat weave of Saidar.

 

A little further ahead a Trolloc with its animal snout suddenly stepped into the horses’ path and swung its huge battle-axe in an arc and smashed in the face of an oncoming Warder, but was then engulfed in flames from a furious, screaming Aes Sedai who threw lightning bolts at the Trolloc until it was utterly destroyed. The Aes Sedai, a tall, regal woman with flowing hair the colour of flame, threw herself into a cluster of nearby Shadowspawn, leaving Death in her wake.

 

Across the Battlefield there was Death and Screams

 

Flames ablaze!

 

Also Sisters of the White Tower and Warders were slain, mostly by Dreadlord attacks but also by Myrddraal and Trollocs, sometimes also by Darkhounds, when they were simply overwhelmed by numbers.

 

 

Blood filled the barren slopes of the Blight.

 

A Sea of Blood.

 

An Ocean of Death.

 

 

●

 

 

Calia, in the middle of the Chaos, hurled Flames of Saidar at an oncoming Myrddraal and it’s black flowing cloak came afire with deadly shrieks. She deflected weaves hurled at her by Dreadlords some way off, shielding herself and her Warder, and used all her learned combat weaves to fight the Shadow.

 

Another Green Sister, a blonde-haired Andoran woman with piercing eyes and a short temper, threw a fireball towards a cluster of Trollocs and Myrddraal and saw to her great satisfaction that they screamed and howled in death though it would take long for the Fade to die completely. Her three Borderlander Warders, tall and strong men, raised their fists high in the air, crying out in elation and celebration of their Aes Sedai’s successful strike, then swung their swords at the attacking Trollocs.

 

Elessar hacked off the head of an oncoming Darkfriend soldier, gave a fierce eagle-snouted Trolloc a mortal wound, and battled a mounted Myrddraal hard, finally defeating the Halfman. The stink of blood and death filled his nostrils but he remained as calm as possible within the Flame and the Void as he battled his enemies. Only his wide eyes showed the thrill of battle that he felt. Calia fought hard and strongly by his side, her valiant mare keeping up with his warhorse, throwing fireballs and other deadly combat weaves at the Shadowspawn and obstacles in their path.

 

With several scores of forceful Green Aes Sedai, they stormed into the heart of the enemy forces!

 

●

 

Elessar, his side now bloodied but not lethally, fought the Shadowspawn from atop his warhorse as time lost meaning, his sword rising and falling endlessly with deadly precision.

 

But the path of Death swerved away from his bondholder then and..

 

 

Suddenly

 

 

.. out of the corner of his eye, Elessar saw - almost as if in slow motion, time slowing down - Calia scream and fall out of her saddle some way off to his side!

 

It happened so quickly that he barely had time to react - was it a lethal blow or weave aimed at her? - as he shouted in her direction and then turned Stormbreaker sharply toward her. A few moments later - but it felt like an eternity - he was beside her, dismounting hurriedly and throwing himself to the ground beside her.

 

The battle crashed on around them, the skies filled with fire and lightning, the battlefield filled with screams and horror, but for Elessar it was as if the whole world was gone.

 

All that was left was Calia. She was all that mattered to him right then.

 

●

 

Shouting worriedly to her if she was all right, looking for any signs of injury though she lay on her side and it was difficult for him to tell, feeling her pain through the bond, he took her in his arms and cradled her to his chest. She looked paralyzed, her body limp, her pulse slowing.. and she only stared up into his dark eyes, a solitary tear running down her cheek..

 

..then another tear.. her eyes sad.. oh so sad..

 

Oh Calia! Elessar thought, his soul dying.

 

His heart bled tears.

 

He held her close, only now seeing the hole in her chest, as the light of life left his dear Aes Sedai.

 

The bond snapped.

 

In the Storm of Death around him, her Warder was alone, drifting like a leaf.

 

●

 

Touching his dead bondholder’s cheeks caringly, he kissed her forehead and closed her unseeing eyes.

 

Forgive me, my bonded.

 

Forgive me, Calia.

 

 

Then

 

 

.. the Blood rage took him.

 

His dark eyes going black,

 

Elessar of Kandor was Death! incarnate as he stormed into the Shadowspawn like a ferocious Whirlwind, no care left in the world for his own safety

 

only intending to take as many of them as possible - I will kill them all!! - with him into the Beyond!..

 

●

 

The blonde-haired, green-eyed woman looked down at the corpse and a small smile came upon her lips.

 

“Lady Carahna”, she whispered deviously as a cold northern wind made the banners on top of the castle walls ripple, “I guess you should not have taken my advice, after all.”

 

The Noble Lady’s face was twisted in death, one eye missing and her jaw crushed by a Trolloc’s hammer. Her long dark hair was cluttered by blood, her dress was torn and her legs bloodied. There was nothing noble about her now. Taking the fight to the Shadow army had been a huge mistake, of course, just as Sirih had planned. The five hundred men the Noble Lady had sent to attack the oncoming force had been slaughtered. Myrddraal, Trollocs and Darkfriends had waited in the night and had ambushed the castle soldiers. The remaining three hundred soldiers protecting the castle and town had had no chance. Lady Carahna had fought valiantly, a warrior woman to the core, but had not been able to dispatch of two Trollocs coming at her from opposing sides. Her death meant the remaining five dozen valiant castle soldiers lost all hope but they fought to the last man, Borderlander-proud as they were.

 

Afterwards, all that remained was blood and death.

 

The Trollocs feasted on the dead bodies, their huge cook pots brimming with spices and liquids and meat and the smell wafted across the castle grounds like an echo of death. Sirih turned away from the Trollocs, disgusted by the eating frenzy, and walked toward the Myrddraal in charge. The Fade was wearing black armour with overlapping scales and a black cloak which did not stir in the wind. It was muscular with lank black hair and waxy-white skin. The eyeless face turned toward the approaching woman and she felt its condescending look. She could not quite rid herself of the fear she always felt when in the presence of these Halfmen, but she kept up the pretence.

 

●

 

“I did as I was ordered”, she said curtly, looking at a space just to the left of the Fade’s face. “I have served the Great Lord well.”

 

The Myrddraal remained silent as it watched her closely. These Darkfriends were useful after a fashion, it thought, but the Great Lord should be careful since these.. humans could not always be trusted or counted upon. This female had performed well, however.

 

“The Great Lord is pleased”, the Fade hissed between jagged teeth before waving her away.

 

She was just as glad to get away from this Halfman Battle Commander and return to her own room in the castle. This part of the building had not been much damaged by the fighting and as she closed the door behind her she shut out the sound of feasting Trollocs and post-battle celebrations. Removing her cloak, she sat down in one of the chairs and poured herself a drink of red wine. The vintage was not the best but it would do.

 

Sipping from her glass, her mind went back to that time five years earlier when she had pledged her soul to the Great Lord of the Dark. She had felt the Shadow spreading in the Borderlands, a power that one would not be able to withstand, and she wanted to be on the winning side for once. Good, Evil - it meant little to her. What mattered was survival. And so she had become the first member of this Kandori Darkfriend-cell.

 

“Here’s to you, Lady Carahna!”, she said loudly, raising her glass in salute. Sirih’s eyes sparkled like glistening emeralds.

 

●

 

Darkness filled the sky above Falme.

 

They had been playing cards all evening and he kept losing. He had lost more than he could afford and he knew his wife would berate him for it. Damn! He had never been a master card player but this evening he had lost much more than usual.

 

He just could not understand it. How could all his luck have run out?

 

His older mate, Feran, had done much better. He had only lost 80% of his money. Sighing heavily, Erath looked at the last coins on the table before him and decided to go all in. The other players, seeing his look, grinned, recognizing it, looking forward to getting the last of his money, but he tried to ignore them.

 

His three queens had to be the winning hand!

 

●

 

Smoke filled the private chamber but he ignored that too. His mate loved his cigars and they were used to the partial haze, or at least so they pretended.

 

Studying his cards closely, he made up his mind. Just as he was about to make his bet..

 

 

Something

 

 

made him stop..

 

A moment of utter silence..

 

 

but then the table in front of them seemed to tremble slightly..

 

 

Gazing at it closely, Erath thought for a moment that it had just been his imagination. But then it happened a second time. And a third! And this time the beer glasses started rattling. Staring at the other men seated around the card table, he saw their eyes widen too in surprise.

 

The glass before him started moving on its own. A few inches, a few more. He stared, spellbound.

 

But when the cards started dancing on the table, following the rhythm of the men’s heartbeats, his jaw dropped to the floor! The Black Queen of Spades danced opposite the Red Queen of Hearts, bouncing on the table for several long moments.

 

And when the Black Queen suddenly changed direction, pointing straight at him, he gasped but could do nothing more as the card flew straight at his throat, severing the common carotid artery or jugular vein, killing him where he sat.

 

His blood flowed onto the black card in streams of red, painting the Black Queen in crimson.                                                                                                                                                                                          

●

 

It was early evening, twilight having come and gone, as Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat leafed through the ancient texts, written by White Tower historians in Ages past, and tried to gain courage.

 

She was a short woman, 5 ft 3 inches tall but what she lacked in height she more than made up in forcefulness. Arad Domani, she had short brown hair, piercing brown eyes and high cheekbones. One hundred twenty years old, she wore her ageless features with pride and had been Amyrlin now for fifteen years. Raised from the Gray Ajah, she had managed to control the Hall of the Tower to such an extent that Sitters had spoken behind her back of an Amyrlin of steel and tact, partly in admiration, partly in frustration. She had long been aware of these whispers but they had only pleased her. If she managed to run the White Tower through strength of character combined with some cunning, then that would do.

 

Some of the Ajahs had been against her becoming Amyrlin from the start though; the Red, not surprising, since they most often only supported their own candidates, the White, more surprising, since they rarely bothered that much with Tower politics, focusing on logic and common sense, besides study, as they usually did. The Yellow and Brown had been neutral on the matter. The greatest support she had gotten from her own Ajah, the Gray, the Green and the Blue. It had been enough to tip the scale and she had prevailed.

 

And so she was the Amyrlin, the supposedly strongest Aes Sedai in character and judgment, strong in the One Power and wise in its usage, she was their Mother and the one everyone looked to for strength, wisdom and guidance.

 

And yet, at the moment she felt like a ship adrift on the ocean, uncertain of herself and of her choices and decisions.

 

●

 

She could not appear weak though; that could be the death knell for her time as Amyrlin. The Hall would act if they felt the Leader of the Aes Sedai was too weak or unsuited to the position. Their scheming would increase and they would move to remove her as Amyrlin. And that would certainly not do. So, she had to give the impression that she was strong, certain and forceful. But deep inside she had doubts and wondered if her latest decisions had been the best.

 

She was alone in her personal chamber, seated in a high-backed chair by her work table which was lit by two candle lights, one on each side of the old parchments. The stole striped with all seven Ajah colours that she wore as a symbol of her station felt heavier than usual. She had been absent-minded all day and had retired to her chamber early, after saying goodnight to her Keeper and friend, Tarah. There were so many things on her mind and she felt inadequate to the task.

 

Were those who criticized me for lack of judgment right? She wondered, running over in her mind the latest proposals she had given to the Hall. Am I overreaching as some of the Sitters believe?

 

Her latest proposal had indeed been bold. But what other choice did they have, in truth?

 

She needed the courage and wisdom of former Amyrlins and other Aes Sedai who in the past had faced great challenges with dignity, strength and power. And so, she had spent the last few evenings delving into old histories, trying to get inspiration, clarity and some wisdom.

 

If I am wrong, she thought sternly, brushing her hand through her hair, it could be the death of us all!

 

●

 

Qariahna stared out the window of her room on the third floor of the Ocean Mistress inn in Mayene. It was one of the largest inns in the city, clean and stylish. It was one of the most expensive too, but cost was not on the Chosen’s mind.

 

It was late afternoon and intermittent clouds littered the sapphire-blue sky above. She ran a hand through her long dark hair and enjoyed its softness. It was always that way after a long, hot bath. She could still smell the herbs that had been in the water, that lovely scent of Solariah, the flower of spring.

 

And that always made her think of home.

 

V’saine.

 

And the magnificent flower gardens of R’hien’kahrt, close to the Collam Daan, the great university of silver and blue domes that no other had ever bested. A huge elaborate garden with beautiful sections of trees and flowers of all colours; from Orange to Purple; from Maroon to Teal; from Yellow to Green. And everything in between.

 

In a myriad of exquisite combinations and scents, placed in elevations and axis in a way which sometimes defied gravity and people’s senses, in a kaleidoscope of colour and breathtaking beauty.

 

People had come from all over the world to experience these famous, stunning flower gardens, enhanced by the One Power.

 

The memory made Qariahna smile, but her smile was as always tinged with regret. For her home that was gone for all time. For the world that had irrevocably changed.

 

Not for the first time she thought this Age was a pale shadow of what had once been.

 

●

 

Brushing those thoughts away, she focused on what she could see in the distance. She glimpsed several ships at anchor at the docks and what looked like a Seafolk Raker, long and sleek, heading into the Sea of Storms. There were a couple fishing boats coming in with their cargo and people running to and fro on the docks.

 

In the nearest streets she saw vendors hawking their wares and people rushing to buy. Carriages drawn by horses disappeared in the distance, probably Noblemen out on errands. And people of all kinds - local or foreign, rich or poor, adults and children - went about their own business. It was a typical late afternoon in this city-state of Mayene.

 

The Chosen stood there thoughtful for a long while, also considering her missions here in Mayene and what she had accomplished, before finally returning to the old wood desk at the other side of the room.

 

Seating herself in the comfortable low-backed chair, she dipped her pen in ink and continued writing the letter she had begun earlier in the day.

 

 

It was addressed to:

 

Ledosian Anarigo, High Lord of Tear

 

It began:

 

Thank you indeed for your invitation, Lord Anarigo. It is most gracious. I am sure we will find something we have in common. These are exciting times..

 

●

 

When she was finished writing some time later, she put the pen away and opened the hidden drawer underneath the table. Removing a small leather pouch, she opened it and stared greedily at the object within. It was a small marble white figure of a woman wearing a sword and a crown. Touching it tenderly, she tried to keep her elation at bay. This was the main reason she had come to Mayene.

 

To acquire the Thalion, this ancient Angreal long thought lost.

 

It was unique in that it could be used by both men and women who can channel. Such objects of power that could be used by both had been rare even back in the Age of Legends. They were almost unheard of in this time and Age.

 

When she had heard whispers from her personal Eyes and Ears in the South that an object sounding very much like it had been discovered, by chance, in a sealed iron box in a hidden, secret vault in a Mayene Nobleman’s private library, she had decided right away that she had to have it in her possession. It was far too valuable to fall into the.. wrong hands. And so necessary steps had been taken.. and the object acquired.

 

And now it is mine. The thought made Qariahna’s pulse rise and her near-black eyes sparkle with glee.

 

●

 

Calia and Elessar were welcomed by a merry-eyed bearded man with bushy eyebrows. Sand-coloured hair was peeking out from under his hat and he looked surprised to see them but not unfriendly. He greeted Calia in a familiar way, giving Elessar the impression that they had met before. His bondholder smiled brightly at the man and it pleased the Gaidin that what could have become a very awkward situation had been avoided.

 

The sudden sound of footsteps passing in the corridor behind the man stopped abruptly at his words. In the same instant, a look that Elessar read as slight worry washed over his face. The footsteps rushed in their direction, a dramatic drumming on the wooden floor. Calia took a step back even as Elessar stepped forward, bringing the two of them into a balanced line.

 

A woman appeared at the man’s side, clutching his arm as if for support even as she attempted a curtsy with skirts that were not yet settled. Her blue eyes scanned past the Warder and Sedai, and then her gaze returned, full of trepidation, to meet Calia's own, before glancing back at the man beside her, at Joem.

 

Words and glances were exchanged, of which Elessar understood little, though he sensed from Calia’s posture that she understood. They were welcomed inside, the man extending a hand towards the Gaidin.

 

"And you too, Warder”, he said, a rumble of deep bass in his voice, “- Welcome and happy Sun-day."

 

●

 

Elessar was pleased that Calia seemed to take it all in her stride.

 

Meeting her relatives who she might not have seen in years. And replacing potential awkwardness with warm smiles. Something had passed between them - a name had been mentioned - but once inside everyone seemed friendly and at ease. He wondered how long it had been since Calia had met these relatives but it was her story to tell. Again, the age perspective between the Aes Sedai of more than a hundred years and these people was.. daunting. Or perhaps it was just so in his mind.

 

They had an early supper, one which Elessar enjoyed a lot - and which he praised, making Amelie smile with barely hidden pride - and afterwards he spent some time alone in the guest room, understanding that Calia would appreciate some time on her own with her relatives. He thought he could feel her gladness through the bond, smiles for being back in the place where she grew up, and that made him smile too. He thought she deserved some smiles and happiness in these dire times. To live! Once again, the thought struck him that it was indeed for such moments they were fighting!

 

They retreated to their rooms but first Calia spoke to him some more about her past and her little sisters. Elessar listened carefully and did not interrupt her as she talked. He appreciated her honesty when she talked of her time as an Accepted and then visiting her sister many years later. Leaving the White Tower without permission before being Raised had serious consequences and there would be serious lessons learned.

 

When he was alone, Elessar thought about what she had said and then spent some time sharpening his sword, an activity which also gave him time to think about their journey this far and what lay ahead. Ebou Dar lay countless miles to the south and there was no certainty that it would be their end destination. They would travel as far as needed to complete their mission.

 

●

 

Later he felt Calia approaching, the bond telling him she was only seconds away, and so he put aside the short story he had been reading (an amusing humorous piece called “Is Lugard really as shifty as people say?”) and exited the room adjacent to hers. She smiled warmly at him and he smiled back at her.

 

"Nice of you to join me, Warder-mine!" her grin was teasing as she turned with him towards the stairs. Inside though, they were one, and the sincerity of her words flooded through the bond with feelings of gratitude and the hope for Life!

 

It made his smile widen - and he felt the Oneness between them.

 

That special connection.

 

A Passion and Gratitude for Life indeed!

 

“I would have it no other way, my bonded Aes Sedai”, he replied with a grin and a wink as they descended the stairs. Their unity flowed through the bond with sincere feelings of Life!

 

●

 

Entertainment at Joem and Amelie’s inn included a gleeman in the Common Room telling stories and playing his flute. Wearing a cloak made of many colourful patches as was tradition in his trade, he was Andoran by his looks, a fair complexion, blue eyes and blond hair, a tall man who smiled a lot and who truly enjoyed entertaining. After some jaunty tunes he started singing and telling stories. The inn’s guests showed their appreciation by banging on tables and cheering the gleeman on. Some of the local patrons who wished for an even more lively atmosphere were in the alehouse next door, a separate building that Calia had told Elessar about, but the Common Room was almost packed too which showed the popularity and sincerity of Joem and Amelie’s hospitality.

 

Several of the gleeman’s stories were appreciated (stories of princes running away with blacksmith’s daughters and being hunted by her angry brothers or one-legged prostitutes having it on with one-armed dwarfs bringing much laughter) but the one that was most special, the one that captivated them all the most, was the one about Maragaine, the legendary Queen of Andor.

 

Elessar smiled inside, knowing how appropriate it was for the gleeman to sing of Maragaine in this place. Here in Four Kings where she had battled hard for Andor.

 

●

 

The Warder knew quite a bit about her from history books. She was said to have been the fifth Queen of Andor, succeeding Queen Termylle in FY 1054. There was some uncertainty as to whether Maragaine was Termylle's daughter, though several historians suspected as much, but she was without doubt a descendant of Queen Ishara Casalain, the founder of the kingdom of Andor.

 

In FY 1063, during the War of the Hundred Years, Andor faced the gravest threat to its survival since its founding when Four rival Kings, envious of the growing power of Andor, united their armies and invaded the kingdom from the west, marching on Caemlyn.

 

The battle that ensued was to be known as “The Battle of Four Kings”. Queen Maragaine bravely led the Andoran army into battle, meeting them some distance west of the River Cary. In a furious battle, in which Queen Maragaine is often depicted personally leading a charge, the Andorans broke the invading force and routed it, securing the future survival of the kingdom. The Andoran town of Four Kings later grew up on the site of the battle, thereof its name.

 

The gleeman’s voice rose in pitch as he sang the name of the Queen, drawing in all the inn’s captivated guests there in the Common Room.

 

 

A name that would not be forgotten in Andor. A name remembered in honour and pride.

 

The Nemesis of Four Kings. The Queen who Conquered for Andor.

 

Maragaine

 

●

 

►▼◄

 

Queen Maragaine: The Battle of Four Kings

 

Four Kings with armies fought

To vanquish the Andoran foe

Numbers would count, they thought

But resistance was strong, even so

 

Envy of Andor’s might

United the armies in steel

Certain of victory bright

Attacking with force and zeal

 

The White Lion banner held High

With screams of Andor! Around

Forward! Our Queen! The Cry

Echoed on the Battleground

 

Sword at the ready, they Charged

Maragaine leading the Way

Bloodied death they Discharged

Strategy giving them Sway

 

Her blonde hair streamed in the Wind

Her passionate face glowing Strong

A storm unleashed and Twinned

By soldiers’ courage, for Long

 

To me! She cried in Force

Fighting for her kingdom with Strength

Behind her the army, on Course

Pride in their eyes, at Length

 

Like a Warrior Queen of Old

Maragaine’s eyes Blazed

Brave as few and Bold

She destroyed the threat they Faced

 

 Forward the White Lion! For Andor!

Were the battle cries of Might

At Four Kings so says the Lore

Maragaine conquered in Light!

 

►▲◄

 

▀▄

[Cass]

"And HURRAH -!" several voices shouted in unison as the gleeman finished his tale of Maragaine's stand.

 

"- HURRAH FOR ANDOR AND FOR THE LIGHT!" thundered back every Andoran in the common room, raising clenched fists to the sky and banging tankards on the table. Calia's voice was just one of the many loud and proud among them.

 

"Here! Careful, lass -!" the man at her elbow leaned away, shooting her a horrified look as she shouted and shifted her full tray of apple-ales into one hand, pumping the other towards the sky along with the rest of the room. 

 

"- You'll be spilling the drinks..." he finished, eyes widening in surprise as she managed to keep a deft grip beneath the tray, balancing it with apparent ease despite the awkward angle and the exuberant action. Calia let her laughter join the chorus of cheers that followed the Andoran chant and then turned her blue eyes to the man in question.

 

"And cheat my good lord of the cost of a full mug?" she grinned mischievously, swinging a drink from the tray and slipping it into place in front of him without spilling a drop, "Not I!" 

 

"Well then!" the merchant looked her up and down, rubbing his beard and noting her hand on her hip with a chuckle. "True enough that there's no such thing as cheatin' on a  Sun-day!" he said, sliding a silver coin in her direction and taking the mug with a smile.

 

Calia's free hand captured the coin and dropped it into the front pocket of her apron as easily as if she really had continued serving at the Queen's Stand all these long years. "Not on my watch, at least!" she quipped, melting back into the throng with an answering smile as soon as he began to grin. 

Amelie and Joem had forewarned that it would be a busy, and likely understaffed night. And they had certainly not been wrong. The buzz of energy filling the common room was everything Calia remembered it to be on nights such as this, right down to the sound of clinking mugs, hearty laughter and the accompanying bright notes of the gleeman's flute - and more. She wove her way through the clusters of customers serving food and drinks in turn, moving from table to table with purposeful steps that seemed almost choreographed into a dance. If she had surprised herself with just how easily she'd slipped back into the role of lively serving girl, she didn't let it show in the slightest on her face.

 

She moved from table to table, her tray full of frothy mugs of ale or steaming plates of food, her steps light and deliberate, avoiding stumbling patrons with ease. And when she passed Elessar, it made her chuckle inside to give him a cheeky wink, like she'd seen so many a serving girl do before her, in every inn they'd frequented thus far. 

 

●

 

As the night wore on and the apple-ale flowed freely, the patrons of the Queen's Stand grew more joyful and boisterous, more prepared to take advantage of the holiday than perhaps they had originally feared with all the world's strangest and stranger goings on.

 

Calia stepped outside towards the alehouse and garden to find the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced apple ale and the sounds of raucous laughter, music, dancing and the clinking of tankards. A trio of minstrels played a lively tune near the bonfire, their melodies coaxing feet to tap and bodies to dance. In the alehouse, as in the Common-Room, the wooden roof-beams were strung with garlands and other greenery, in tribute to the power of the Light and the sun. 

 

The bonfire burned bright and fierce near the center of the yard, flames dancing ever-higher into the night sky as it defied the darkness and kept watch for the Light. Children darted here and there between adults, their laughter ringing out as they played game after game in the firelight, the sounds of mirth mixing with the crackling of the fire and hum of conversations. Townsfolk and travelling merchants mingled on the lawn, sharing stories and toasting the shortest night of the year. Night deepened and yet the bonfire's glow seemed to grow, pulsing with the rhythm of the music, challenging the shadows and casting light into their world.

 

"Oi, Lass!" a burly merchant with a twinkle in his eye and a flush of deep red rose across his cheeks called to Calia as she passed, "Put those trays down! A pretty thing like you should be dancing around the fire and under the stars on a night like this!"

 

"Leaving you lot to pour your own drinks?" Calia quipped with a grin as she set a plate of food in front of him. "I think not - someone has to make sure everyone here gets just what they deserve!" 

 

The other patrons at the table guffawed at the rebuff, one of them taking the opportunity and liberty to reach out and hook his arm around Calia's waist.

 

"What if I deserve a dance?" he slurred.

 

Cal tilted her head mischievously and twirled as if dancing dramatically on stage, the movement unraveling her self and skirts from his reach. "Well, if that was the case, I'd think you'd have to promise not to let my friend Elessar, over there", she followed the sense of the bond, nodding her head in the direction of her watching Warder, "catch you trying to whisk me away!" she grinned as the man blanched at the mere sight of her gaidin, and she sent her merriment and mirth at his expression along the bond for Elessar's enjoyment.

 

●

 

Light began to break across the sky in the East.

 

Calia smiled, feeling tired but strangely fulfilled and invigorated by the full night's service. She wondered what Elessar had made of the evening, and of Sun-day eve in this small town. She caught Joem and Amelie's eye as they poured last drinks for customers and prepared to coordinate the setup of festivities for the day ahead. As dawn crept across the lawns, they smiled at her timidly, thankfully, and returned to their work. Calia smiled back with genuine pleasure. It gave her a certain thrill to see her grand-nephew and his wife begin to carry on the traditions they had expanded in the family yard and home for her favourite holdiay.

 

Truth be told, though Calia had passed many Sun-days, in many countries, over many years, she had never really quite figured out which part of the holiday she she preferred - the all-night reveling that defied the darkness until dawn, the peace and rest that followed as Light brightened and blessed the day with the coming of the Sun, or the way that entire towns simply celebrated the strength and joy in Light and made the most of every moment of the longest day of the year from it's zenith hour until sunset.

 

Bit by bit, daytime slowly took hold of the world and the flames of the bonfire dwindled. Calia found Elessar at her side, and together they took a moment to Thank the Light for everything that existed, as tradition detailed, before the bonfire was extinguished. As Cal turned her face to the breaking dawn and softly-spreading warmth of the Light of the sun along with the rest of those gathered, she breathed in the crisp early morning air and smiled at her Warder and the descendants of her sister. Her heart swelled with gratitude for this place, these people, and what seemed to be the simple, enduring joy of Sunday Eve and the true heart of the Light in her old home town, despite the dusty and dour exterior the place showed to the world.

Now, Cal knew, everyone would rest. And in a few hours, when the Sun climbed to its' highest point, each of them would return to honour the turning of the Wheel, and to bask in the strength of the Light once more.

 

●

Edited July 8 by Cass

[Elessar]

    .. A Question of Light ..

►▼◄

 

The hundred feet wide gateway opened right there in the air before the Fortress of Light in Amador,

 

stunning a company of armed Whitecloaks that was ready to depart on a mission

 

and thirty brown-cloaked, fierce-eyed female channelers of the Ayyad stormed through!, weaving Saidar as they threw fireballs and deadly lightning-nets at the defenders and the fortress, stronghold of the Children of the Light!

 

Fervent spiteful shouts of “Witches!” came from several places in the enfolding chaos before the walls and soldiers wearing the white cloaks and iconic shining helmets of their order drew shiny swords and tried to defend against this powerful surprise attack.

 

●

 

The tall and slim dark-skinned leader of the Ayyad, the Amo’hra, her face tattooed in the tradition of the famed Sharan channelers but with the added unique personal triangle-tattoo upon her forehead signifying her high station, threw thunderbolts at the castle walls while also keeping an eye on how things were proceeding along the long line of female channelers. She smiled inside, as always glorying in the feel of Saidar running through her, and as always regretting that she needed to mask some of her power when among these Ayyad Sisters. Khraa’malia she was thought to be and it suited the Shadow’s purposes that she remain so for the time being. It did not matter. What mattered was to carry out the orders she had been given.

 

Bolts of lightning!

 

struck the fortress several times - again and again!

 

leaving destruction in their wake.

 

Watchtowers toppled, explosions abounded and screams and shouts were heard everywhere amidst the dust and the blood.

 

The Amo’hra  erected a protective shield around herself using the One Power and arrows that flew at her hit the invisible shield and dropped aimlessly to the ground.

 

One of the Captains of the Whitecloaks, a tall caped man swinging a shining sword, changed tactics at one point and directed a counter-attack at her, understanding that she was the person commanding the invading force, pointing at her - the tall, slim dark-skinned woman dressed in brown who led the attack - but the mounted Whitecloaks fell before her, their horses dying from deadly weaves and lethal nets cutting their legs from under them.

 

The Children that remained standing cursed the witches, regrouped, made a few weak attempts at attack that went nowhere, and then commands were shouted all along their diminishing line to retreat. They did so in small groups into the fortress. Shields and helmets and white cloaks were turned blood red and dirty, pale smudged faces filled with anger and reluctant defeat stared hard at the hated witches at they shut the main gate behind them.

 

Holding up her arms with finality, her voice of command boosted by the One Power and carrying to all the women along the line, the Amo’hra stopped their advance and the women channelers from Shara came to a halt where they stood, many panting from the exertion, but still holding onto Saidar.

 

There was a deathly silence before the main gate of the fortress.

 

The Chosen Silvahria, in the guise of the Amo’hra, leader of the Sharan Ayyad, grinned broadly, her white teeth shining.

 

The Fortress of Light, stronghold of the Children of the Light, was theirs for the taking.

 

●

 

The Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, Lord Enthar Mehrin, stared hatefully at the woman before him. The Tar Valon witch! She was a tall and slim woman dressed in brown, of very dark complexion with short curly hair and fierce brown eyes. For a second he wondered where she was from, she had a very exotic foreign look, but he did not really care.

 

He was bound to a chair in his personal chamber by invisible bonds and gagged the same way, unable to move a muscle. He despised the fact that the Fortress of Light had been overrun so easily by these evil Aes Sedai, for they could not be anything else! He had always said to anyone who would listen that one day the evil witches would attack them here in Amador. That they had apparently popped out of thin air right before their gates spoke of powerful witchcraft and now they were going to kill him, he felt sure of it. Their so-called three oaths were meaningless, pure lies of deception, just as he had always known. His only regret was that he would be unable to take some of them down with him.

 

The Amo’hra stared with some amusement at this captured commander of these Children of the Light as they called themselves. His white cloak was full of blood from the..sessions she had had with him.. and his conical helmet lay discarded in a corner of the room. His grey hair was bloodied, his face was swollen and blood also ran into his grey-black beard. There were cuts on his cheeks and on his forehead. He gave her a baleful stare.

 

She lifted the gag of Air from him for a moment to let him speak, but kept all the other invisible bonds in place. He spat at her and cursed her for a witch.

 

“The Council of the Anointed will have you whipped for your evil deeds!” He sneered.

 

She chuckled in response which only seemed to make him angrier.

 

“Do your best, witch - you vile Aes Sedai!”, he said scornfully as his eyes took on the fanatic light and inner fire of his kind. “The White Tower will learn nothing more from me!”

 

“I am no Aes Sedai!” the Chosen in the guise of the Amo’hra spat back, her mouth twisted sourly. “You are a fool if you think so.”

 

●

 

Turning away from the Lord Commander, she picked up a knife from the Whitecloak’s writing table and tested its sharpness. It drew a little blood which made her smile. Sharp indeed. Turning back to face the bound prisoner, she went over in her mind how she had deceived her Ayyad Sisters that this attack was necessary for their cause. She had planted a seed in their minds some weeks before that outlanders had dangerous plans to make war on Shara and they, the Ayyad, needed to quench those plans at the root. The invading army, she had told them, would be a military force called the Children of the Light, fanatics that believed so strongly in their Cause that they would be willing to do anything to accomplish their goals. They hated Darkfriends, followers of the Shadow, and had been indoctrinated to believe that Shara was filled with Darkfriends and forces that would bow to the Dark One. They were a threat that needed to be removed before they moved against Shara.

 

Even in her own mind it sounded a bit far-fetched, but she had gradually convinced several of the more gullible of the Ayyad women of this threat, they had then worked on some of the rest, and finally they had all agreed that action had to be taken. And so here they were, the fortress in their possession, the Whitecloak leader their prisoner. It had taken longer than she had thought to take over the fortress, the soldiers within had fought vehemently and had been in larger numbers than expected, but finally they had given up and the remaining several dozen Children had been taken prisoner, seven of the Ayyad Sisters dead. The remaining twenty-three channelers were proud though of what they had achieved, and the dark-skinned women walking around the fortress smiled to one another, pleased at this victory.

 

But it was just a victory, the battle had not been won. There were several more companies of Whitecloaks out in the land, so the Lord Commander had finally admitted under pain, and the Amo’hra knew it would be difficult to hold this fortress over time. Allies of the Whitecloaks may come to their rescue, not the least military forces of Amadicia but perhaps also other.. mightier friends. The main thing though, for Silvahria and the Shadow, was to lessen the threat of this force of Lightfools in the coming Last Battle, to weaken the forces of Light, and so this mission had served its purpose. They had killed many, many soldiers and several of the leaders of the Children and now it remained to be seen what she was going to do about its Lord Commander. She was tempted to slit his throat and be done with it, or she could of course give him a much more torturous death, but something told her that he would let slip more secrets if she were a little more patient.

 

Walking up to him she stared deep into his eyes, the knife in her hand pointing at his face. “Now then, my dear stubborn Lord Commander”, Silvahria whispered, her voice filled with resentment, as her knife cut into his chin. “Will you answer my second question, or shall I remove your.. say.. left eye..”, her face became sadistic, “and then make you.. eat it?”

 

●

 

“Hey, handsome.”

 

The woman had long blonde hair, an oval face that would have been beautiful if not for some freckles and a not straight nose. It was still pretty and her blue eyes were filled with mischief. There was rose-bloom in her cheeks and she eyed Elessar up and down, clearly liking what she saw.

 

“Wanna fool around a little?” she added, her voice sensuous and inviting.

 

The Warder studied the woman in some detail, noting her tight blue dress (a little too tight and a little too short) and her ample attributes barely hidden by her blouse. His grin was disarming as he said, “Well, in that case, you must not let that serving girl over there”, he nodded his head in the direction of Calia who at that moment was between customers, watching him, “catch you trying to whisk me away.” His grin broadened. “She has been eying me all night and given me suggestive looks.” The woman stared at Calia, weighed her in her mind, and decided to go after an easier - if not better - catch. Elessar chuckled inside and wondered with some amusement if Calia had caught anything of the conversation. He was sure she would have been amused.

 

Earlier there had been a moment when he had seen a somewhat drunk customer grab Calia around the waist. He had watched carefully, ready to intervene, if necessary, but had seen his bondholder twist elegantly out of his reach. She had exchanged some words with the man and had then nodded toward Elessar. The man had looked at the Warder and had blanched, at least that was what it looked like to the Gaidin, and the accompanying feelings of merriment and mirth that came through the bond from Calia made him guess she had said something that was amusing but perhaps not so amusing to the man. He grinned inside, enjoying the playful side to his Aes Sedai.

 

As for Calia’s serving girl role this evening.. it was something he had never expected to experience. Not with any bondholder really. Serving at tables, especially with somewhat drunk and sometimes grabby, rowdy and impolite customers, was as far from something he could imagine a Sister of the White Tower doing. Kings and Queens bowed to Aes Sedai. And here Calia was running around serving drinks and meals as if she had never done anything else. His first thought was that it was scandalous (which it, of course, was if one knew her station in life) and very unfitting.. his second thought was that he had to put a stop to this nonsense.. his third thought was, she will do this over my dead body.. He would simply not let his Aes Sedai demean herself in this way. Seeing her eagerness though when she told him what she intended to do, the glint of playfulness in her sparkling blue eyes, her smile and glow in her face and pleasure at being ‘home’ and among these people, added to a certain Green Sister stubbornness to her jaw, he put aside all his concerns and nodded with a smile. He would not be the one to spoil her evening.

 

He had enjoyed the poem about Maragaine and the joyous applause from the inn’s customers had made him smile widely. He had joined in, understanding the pride these people felt for their homeland and the heroic Queen of the past. He had watched Calia’s skill with trays and glasses with impressed eyes. She had told him some of her past but it must have been many decades since she last performed such duties. Clearly, she had forgotten nothing as she almost danced around the room, swiftly and deftly in every way. Through the evening he kept an eye on her and on the other customers present. She had told him that Four Kings was known for being a place where behaviour, especially toward women, was often very rude though Joem and Amelie, according to Calia, had done much to enforce and grow a reputation for a more ‘well-mannered’ location and establishment. Looking around the Warder saw what she had meant. On the whole, this place was decently orderly. And the place was buzzing with energy, right down to the sound of clinking mugs, hearty laughter and the accompanying bright notes of the gleeman's flute - and more. 

 

●

 

Mid-way through the evening, as he was enjoying the local apple-ale by the bar desk, Calia suddenly swung by his side and gave him a cheeky wink in the passing, like so many serving girls had given him before, and Elessar almost choked on his ale.

 

It pleased the Gaidin to see people enjoying themselves, living a little even in these strange times. Most were unaware of the coming storm and the Shadow Rising around the world and in a way the Warder was glad to let them lead their lives without that added burden. Soon everyone everywhere would have to pitch in if the Darkness was to be stopped, but for now these locals and families in Four Kings could enjoy nights such as this.

 

Outside in the garden,

 

the bonfire burned bright and fierce near the centre of the yard, flames dancing ever-higher into the night sky as it defied the Darkness and kept watch for the Light. Children darted here and there between adults, their laughter ringing out as they played game after game in the firelight, the sounds of mirth mixing with the crackling of the fire and hum of conversations. Townsfolk and travelling merchants mingled on the lawn, sharing stories and toasting the shortest night of the year. Night deepened and yet the bonfire's glow seemed to grow, pulsing with the rhythm of the music, challenging the Shadows and casting Light into their world.

 

This was a celebration of the Longest Day of the year and Elessar knew it was celebrated in many places around the world, especially in smaller towns and villages. It had seldom been celebrated in his home in Kandor, initially for fear of not being vigilant if Shadowspawn decided to raid the place, later it had become tradition to keep any celebrations to a minimum. Life was harsh in the Borderlands and priorities were different.

 

People need some joy in their lives though, Elessar thought as he watched these people enjoying the night. This is what we are fighting for.

 

As dawn broke, Elessar joined Calia by the dying bonfire. They stood together and took a moment to Thank the Light for all life and everything that existed, as tradition detailed, before the bonfire died out. All gathered turned their faces to the breaking dawn, the sun beginning its rise in the horizon, Calia shared a smile - of life, of joy - with Elessar and the others. In her radiant face, a feeling that echoed through the bond, he saw the gratitude she felt for this place and these people, for her home town and this celebration of life. This place would, despite a seeming dusty and dour exterior, always have a special place in her heart.

 

Now it was time to rest, each person filled with the Light, Wonder and Opportunities of a New Day in the Turning of the Wheel.

 

●

 

“Astrophysics is the science that employs the methods and principles of physics and chemistry in the study of astronomical objects and phenomena”, the lecturer tells the class of motivated students.

 

Four-dimensional prisms float high above their heads in colours of blue and white as chemical formulas interchange in an endless line of proton symbiotic revelance.

 

Aran Dheran has been the primary lecturer in this field of scientific research for a decade or more at the Scientific Prime University (SPU) in Emar Dal and his research has been lauded by everyone in the field.

 

“This science”, he continues, his voice loud so it carries to the back of the auditorium“seeks to ascertain the nature of the heavenly bodies, rather than their positions or motions in space–what they are, rather than where they are. We study the Sun (solar physics), other stars, galaxies, extrasolar planets, and the interstellar medium. We also study the quantum space between the realms of matter and anti-matter, where space ends and dark space begins. Emissions from these objects are examined across all parts of the electromagnetic spectrum, and the properties examined include luminosity, density, temperature, spectral velocity, perusion and chemical composition.”

 

“Because astrophysics is a very broad subject,” he concludes, “astrophysicists apply concepts and methods from many disciplines of physics, including classical mechanics, electromagnetism, statistical mechanics, thermodynamics, quantum mechanics, relativity, subpermanent thasing, thermosynthesis, nuclear and particle physics, and atomic and molecular physics.”

 

His distinct voice echoed in her mind through the centuries, a lecturing voice which made you listen attentively to every word. She had listened with fascination, already interested in astronomy and physics, and had studied hard those six long years at university and had become a famed astrophysicist, one of the few top-field women in this field of science.

 

Oh, what wonders we researched! Oh, what discoveries we made and advances that have been lost in time!

 

She remembered the space stations she had lived on; she remembered the journeys to far away stars she had made, making use of the quantum discoveries of inter-space tunnels that revolutionized space travel. She remembered it all and it made her both sad and angry that it had all been lost in the thousands of years between that time of wonder and excellence and this time of.. mediocrity.

 

●

 

Gazing up at the ceiling in her room at the inn in Mayene, Qariahna, once a renowned astrophysicist in the Age of Legends, reminisced and tried to ignore the regrets that also were a part of her. Her eyes, pools of darkness, tightened when she thought of the betrayal of her colleagues who had informed on her when she had pushed the limits on human capability for space travel. To advance, risk needed to be taken and there would have to be some sacrifices made. The leaders of the Institute, fools the lot of them, had disagreed and had warned her about ethics and misconduct but she had not listened, continuing her scientific research. Using the One Power to modify atom-splits to prolong the vital secondary particle divide, she had advanced quantum physics, producing discoveries that she was certain would never be made if one did not accept some loss of life in the process.

 

In the end her superiors contacted the Aes Sedai leadership and through sources she learned that she was to be arrested and tried. Having no choice but to escape, wanting to confront her accusers but knowing it would be in vain, she joined a few likeminded scholars at the Institute and departed quickly, hiding in Shadows for a few weeks. Hearing about discontent elsewhere, and that some rebels were assembling further north, she headed that way and her journey did not end before bowing before the Great Lord of the Dark in Shayol Ghul.

 

Anger and spite had filled her soul in the past weeks, a fury at fools who thought they knew better, at the arrogance they showed when it came to new ideas and to pushing boundaries, and so bending knee to this new power, a power which embraced her talent and her person and what she could achieve, was very satisfactory. Here she would be accepted. Here she would be admired, not scorned. Here she would have power and be able to use it properly.

 

And so the woman and astrophysicist once called Caitriona Sandher Neidhar, who was to be better known as Qariahna, became one of those Chosen to Rule the World Forever.

 

●

 

The Banners of Illian, Twelve Golden Bees on a Field of Green, atop the Palace called the Great Hall of the Council danced in the strong wind coming in from the Sea of Storms.

 

The men streaming out of the council chamber ignored the beautiful blonde-haired woman standing by the door. They had learned the wisdom in not running their eyes lustfully over her sensual body. She grinned mischievously as they passed her by, knowing exactly what they all wanted to do with her. In truth she would not have minded a little.. fun.. but he would not approve. Certainly not. Finally, Lord Sandhar approached her and there was desire in his blue eyes. He wore his dark coat with golden fringes, it was his favourite she knew, and he grinned when he saw her.

 

“Erihna, my darling” he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a gallant kiss. “Have you seduced many young men today?” It was a private joke between them, both knowing she would enjoy mightily seducing lots of young, virile men. “Only a handful today, my Lord” she replied seductively, her green eyes twinkling, drowning in his warm embrace.

 

They shared a hot, inviting kiss on the mouth but then the Lord pulled away. “Erihna, I have some matters to take care of.” He smiled his special smile, the one that always made her go weak at the knees. “But I will see you later, my darling.” Her face glowed in return and she threw him a kiss as she moved away, elegance in motion.

 

Staring at her back, he wished he could go with her and enjoy her.. charms.. but he had another matter he needed to take care of.

 

●

 

Heading down the corridor he turned a corner and walked up to a door. He knocked and waited for it to open. Lord Charon opened the door. There was a sour look on his face but Lord Sandhar was let into his private chamber. It was a matter of etiquette and since Sandhar had asked for a private meeting, Charon had to oblige.

 

He was one of the few Councillors who did not think as highly of Sandhar as many of the others seemed to do. They had fallen under the Lord’s spell, Charon thought to himself. It was something he would never do. He was several years the other Lord’s senior, in his late forties, and his brown hair had grey at its edges. He was also overweight by a fair amount and did not in any way resemble the charming and handsome Lord Sandhar. This added to his irritation.

 

“Lord Sandhar”, he said drily. A slight bow of the head as to an equal.

 

“Lord Charon”, Sandhar replied in the same manner, giving the same slight bow.

 

“Your proposal to move a good part of our armed forces into our border-region in the north was rather .. rash”, Charon said carefully, beginning the conversation. He was going to say foolish, but decided to be a little more tactful. “We ought to have considered the matter further before the motion was passed.”

 

“You think so, Lord Charon?” Sandhar replied with a slight edge to his voice, not liking the man. “Is it not prudent to guard our northern borders when we hear tales of troubles and unrest? The north has been neglected for too long, I believe, and it was time to do something about it.” Sandhar said smoothly.

 

“Troubles and unrest .. , my Lord Sandhar.” Lord Charon said. “That is just rumours .... just rumours ... and we need to be alert should those fools in Tear suddenly decide to war upon us again. You never know with them.”

 

Lord Charon held the neighbouring nation of Tear in as low esteem as most Illianers, and should Illian ever be thrown into a war it would be with Tear, he felt certain of that.

 

●

 

“My Lord Charon”, Sandhar said patiently in reply, “Tear is no threat to us.” He could see from the other man’s return-stare that he did not believe him. It did not matter. “And should Tear at some point in the future become a nuisance,” Sandhar added for the lord’s benefit, “we have enough of our armed forces down here south so we can deal with it. The majority of the councillors agree with my assessment of the situation”.

 

In a somewhat smug voice he added, “Only you and Lords Buran and Keyer were in fact against the motion.”

 

The other man’s lips tightened. Most of the other councillors thought he was a weakling, he knew, but he still had some fight left in him. “Yes, this time we lost. This time.”

 

With those final words and casting the other man a challenging stare, he made it clear their conversation was over.

 

Lord Sandhar nodded. “I understand my hope to get you to join our side was in vain. Have a nice evening.” He gave the other man a slight bow before passing him and leaving the room.

 

As the door closed, Lord Charon went and sat in his high-backed chair. There was something about that Lord Sandhar that put his teeth on edge. He was a sly one, that one, that was for sure, politically very able, but Charon - who came from one of the oldest families in Illian and who had been a councillor for many years - felt in his bones that there was more to it than that. He bears watching, he thought grimly as he poured himself a glass of red wine from a decanter and took a big swallow.

 

Back in his personal chamber, Lord Sandhar walked onto the balcony and stared out onto the twilight of the city. He had not really expected Lord Charon to change his mind, he knew that the other man despised him. It had been politics at play. That he was shown to reach out to his opponents would be smiled upon in the council. Appearance was everything.

 

However, the more he thought about it in the following days, the more he wondered if the older Illianer Lord ought, perhaps, to meet with an unfortunate accident. The ocean currents of the Sea of Storms were particularly dangerous this time of year.

 

●

 

Smashing his knife into the younger man’s throat, blood flowing in rivers down the man’s white shirt, the rough-looking thief with several scars on his face shoved the body out of the way as he continued walking down the dark alley, past the shabby Rogue Hustler inn, the knife back in its sheath at his side.

 

No one seemed to have heard the death scream but then again he did not expect anyone to. Death and murder were a part of Lugard life. It had always been so. Heading down one street and then up another, the thief saw another member of the local Thieves Guild up ahead and gave a small hand signal as he passed him. The job had been done. That was all there was to it.

 

He had been a thief all his life, at least as long as he could remember. His mother had died when he was just five years old, his father having left by then. His aunt had thrown him into the street, unable to take care of another child (she had three herself), and if a kind older man had not taken him in, he would have perished in the Lugard slum. This man it turned out was a thief and he taught the young lad how to pick-pocket from an early age. Soon the boy gained skill and as he grew, he became quite proficient. In his mid-teens he joined the Thieves Guild, first as an errand boy, later as a full member.

 

In the years since he had become one of the Guild’s most experienced and deadly members. It was not for nothing that they had begun to call him Lethal Jim. He was indeed lethal as many people had learned in the years gone by. A killer. An Enforcer. And he took much pride in his craft.

 

It was who he was. It was his life.

 

●

 

Amaranth stared into the abyss between the three standing stones and his violet eyes sparkled with excitement. A keen observer might also have noted the slight twitch to his mouth which indicated that he was not entirely confident. He was all alone though in the stone chamber, only the few flickering lights at intervals along the stone walls keeping him company.

 

Finally, he straightened and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, his hands holding onto the sides of his silk coat, he filled himself with the True Power, drawing as much as he could handle, glorying as always in the incredible thrill that enveloped him. A red gleam appeared in his eyes for a moment, the burning fire of the True Power shining, but then it was gone leaving a momentary residue, and darkness seemed instead to reflect from within,

 

It is time.

 

Raising his arms, the First among the Chosen spoke commands not uttered in the Stone of Tear for millennia.

 

ER’ANYA I SILEY’HNA VIRUBHEL!

 

Lowering his arms slowly, he waited. At first nothing seemed to happen, but then the standing stones began to glow with an inner fire, stronger and stronger, their inner light soon so strong that Amaranth had to lower his eyes. A buzzing sound then came from the abyss, the darkness between the standing stones, and the Chosen took a step back. Gazing hard at the point between the stones, several powerful weaves at his fingertips, he held his breath as something rose from its dark depths.

 

It was a spectre, a hollow figure all skeletal and cowled in black. Shadows of claws crept out of darkened sleeves and where eyes should have been there were empty sockets with a yellow gleam as if from eyes long lost. The figure appeared to study the mortal before it and pointed toward him. Not many things had ever frightened the Chosen, but this.. being.. made him decidedly..wary.

 

The lights on the stone walls dimmed suddenly and darkness enveloped the chamber. Even so, Amaranth could easily see the spectre, a shadow within shadows. The being seemed to suck in its breath and an icy wind swept over the Chosen. Then came a hoarse whisper, as if a voice coming from a grave,

 

“What is the key, mortal?”

 

●

 

Please, Great Lord, Amaranth thought, focusing on the spectre while holding hard onto the True Power. Aid your loyal servant.

 

VANI’DHEN, RENIE’YSA. SAAL!

 

His powerful words of power, aided by his Master, reverberated in the dark chamber and the lights within the standing stones now beat in response to his command.

 

Raising his arms again, the Chosen channeled, white symbols appearing in the air, cris-crossing triangles that glowed and inter-connected. The spectre seemed to hesitate, its empty eye sockets seeming to search for something.. and as the triangles of deadly light moved toward it, it took a wary step back. Then, as one of the triangles disentangled itself from the rest and sped toward the spectre, the being gave a bone-chilling shriek as Amaranth’s ancient weaves of Banishment caught it in their grip, crushing inwards. Pouring all his might into those weaves, feeling the strain but not letting go, he watched with satisfaction (and, though he would not have admitted it to anyone, some relief) as the spectre became smaller and smaller, becoming a hollow shadow that swirled like dust before the Chosen’s violet eyes. Finally, with a last shriek, the spectre and Guardian of the Dharan was gone and all that was left was silence.

 

Amaranth breathed more easily now. What he had done had never been attempted as far as he knew. That he had succeeded pleased him mightily. The spectre was not dead, the dead could not die, but it had been Banished for the time being and would not bother him anymore. It guarded an entrance that was not meant to be used, a path for what lay ahead.

 

●

 

A dark smile came upon his lips as he closed his eyes once again. Small flames of the True Power danced in the palms of his hands as he gazed at the tall standing stones which stopped glowing, their inner light retreating inside the monuments.

 

Speaking new commands in the Old Tongue

 

ARA’HL! SUDI’TJELMA!

 

the dancing flames increased in brightness, and a prism of Air surrounded him, making the runes running down his coat sleeves glow. Opening his eyes, he spoke a single word and was now in the darkness between the three standing stones, his cloak merging with the blackness of the abyss.

 

The violet of his eyes drowned for a moment in blood-red as he swam in the glory of the ocean of the True Power.

 

Amaranth, the Chosen then clapped once - and was gone.

 

●

 

The Amyrlin closed the book on the table before her and wondered for the hundredth time what she was missing. Somewhere in these many Tower books was the answer she was seeking. She was confident of it! But so far, the answer had eluded her.

 

Running a hand through her newly-washed hair, her mind turned to the other matter at hand. One of the Sitters for the Green had approached her earlier that day, advising that she put aside this plan she had devised and which a majority, a slim majority but majority still, of the Hall had approved. But the Amyrlin would not do so. She knew that plan had its risks but the world was heading toward a precipice, that she felt in her bones, and this action dangerous as it was, was necessary. The Green Sitter had departed without saying another word, her Aes Sedai-face smooth, but her blue eyes burning with fire.

 

I have no other choice. Do I? It was the question she had asked herself ever since the decision had been made and she still saw no alternative.

 

The many-coloured stole about her shoulders felt heavy this evening too. A long strip of silk about a hand wide, it was the symbolic regalia worn over her dress as Amyrlin, leader of the Aes Sedai. She was the embodiment of Aes Sedai and all they stood for. Have former Amyrlins doubted themselves too? She was certain of it, it was human after all to sometimes be uncertain because of difficult choices, hard choices, even if no Amyrlin would ever admit it or if so to very, very few confidants. I must be strong. For myself but most of all for my Daughters. It was how she thought of her Aes Sedai. She was their Mother, after all.

 

Nadhene rose from her chair and started pacing. It was something she had been known for doing ever since she took on the mantle of Amyrlin. This evening was important and she had to work hard to keep the butterflies silent in her stomach.

 

●

 

When, sometime later, suddenly there was a knock on the door to her chamber, she stopped her pacing and stared silently toward the door. Breathing slowly, taking hold of her emotions, she made sure her face was smooth and calm. Then she bade the person enter.

 

Tarah Sanighar, the Keeper of the Chronicles and second in command of the Aes Sedai, stepped into the room and gave a small curtsy to the Amyrlin. She was a short woman, brown of hair and eyes, but staunch and utterly loyal. Nadhene gave her a small smile before her face becoming Amyrlin-serious again.

 

“Mother”, the Keeper began. Her voice sounded slightly uncertain to the Amyrlin’s ears but then again that was not surprising in this instance. “There is an.. envoy from the.. Black Tower to see you.”

 

The Amylin Seat nodded silently, quenching the rising butterflies in her stomach.

 

This was the moment of truth.

 

The man who entered was in his mid-twenties. Dark hair, dark eyes, he looked pretty ordinary but his eyes were piercing and his face shone with confidence. He wore a black coat with a Gold-and-red-Dragon pinned on the right collar.

 

She stared for a long moment at the pin, thoughts of dread but also hope streaming through her mind, then caught herself, drew herself up in Aes Sedai pride, and shifted her eyes to his face.

 

She knew what he was and what he represented.

 

An Asha’man.

[Cass]

" OF LIFE .  .  ."

 

 

 

_{●●  ●  - ● - ●  ●●}

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |  | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |  | | | || | | | | | | | | | | | | | 

The day  spread  softly across  the  world at  first , then  the shroud of darkness slipped back, over the Westlands, racing against the Sun - Just, perhaps - as the  Creator had always intended until   the  Shadows  suddenly,  somehow all  now    * appeared * ||||||

||||||||||||||||  |||||||| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ||||| | | ^●  small _^● | | | |||||| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 

 

●   - \ \/-  ●  -\/ / -  ●  

 

 

Sunday shone over Four Kings, the growing daylight sweeping its way down the Caemlyn Road and along dusty side-streets, filling the ruts and rocky pot-holes with a soft golden glow, highlighting the quiet splendor of the feast-day morning. A gentle breeze lifted and drifted lazily around the town, wending over the mostly empty stables, horse-lots and plots of bare earth where merchants usually parked their wagons wheel to wheel.

 

Traditionally, this was the only day of the year that the crossroads of Four Kings were ever so quiet and tranquil; the only time merchants and handlers rested and locals found respite from the endless clamour of  shouts, calls, curses and work tied to the wagon trains passing to and from Caemlyn or Lugard and the westward mining towns in the Mountains of the Mist. Locals, and visitors who had stopped and stayed on in celebration, all made the most of the expected morning rest, sleeping off the night's ale and other blissful Summer indulgences in preparation for the day's festivities still to come.  Not a single shout from a travelling wagoneer, nor a clanging hammer from a blacksmith could be heard.

 

Occasionally the wind blew a low, wheezy moan or high breathy whistles through the narrow alleyways and tight gaps between buildings. Otherwise, as befitting the morning, the air moved as sleepily and quietly as everyone else, travelling in near silence over the various closed shutters and weathered, whitewashed boards of all the careworn wooden houses lining the street.

 

On the far edge of the town however, the breeze licked its way over the fresh paint of the inn, alehouse and brewery of the Queen's Stand, playing easily across the yard between the buildings and dancing through the apple orchard as if it was the first of the many visitors expected there for Sun-day celebrations. At the whimsy of this gentle guest, strands of green foliage and other Summer decorations fluttered in the rafters of the buildings and tails of coloured ribbons twirled and drifted softly around the waiting maypole. Tiny wisps of wind and ash floated upwards from the cool remains of the evening's bonfire, intermittently adding a light and smoky twist to the otherwise fresh, apple-scented breeze... 

 

 

^{_~   ~_.●.~   _~}

 

The sweet aromas of apple orchard and brewery drifting through the room was as simultaneously arousing and comforting to her senses as it had ever been. 

 

And, yes -

 

Sunday eve was supposed to be the time for being wide awake, for jumping over bonfires, dancing under stars and flirting - or more with potential lovers; for celebrating the spirit of Summer and the strength of love and Light - this she knew.

 

Yes -

 

Daylight was pressing against the back of the short curtains drawn across the upper-story shutters with increasing intensity, yet that in itself was easy enough to ignore - the glow permeating into the room remained pleasingly soft, and gentle. The pillows under her head were plump and kept their shape despite the weight that pressed upon them. The bed beneath had ample space, and then some. The bedsheets were almost impossibly luxurious against her skin.

 

And yes - 

 

Sunday morn was supposed to be for rest.

 

...Yes!

 

Theoretically, Calia knew this too. 

 

Much, much better than to be not sleeping, and focusing on other things, and a torrent of mixed emotions and thoughts, as she currently was.

 

^_~       ●      ~:~     ●      _~

 

Calia Sedai - once one of three young girls who had shared this very room in early childhood - was still not sleeping another wink, and it was not for a lack of trying.

 

In blatant betrayal of her best intentions, her blue eyes kept flickering wide open. Her mind played along, dismissing the chance for more sleep and focusing instead on memory after memory after memory as she stared at the ceiling, or gazed around in the soft light and semi-dark of the once entirely familiar room...

 ~●~  

 

There - the corner where she had often sat huddled with Kaylan:

each braiding the other's long, long hair and pinching spots of colour

into each other's cheeks, preparing for so many busy - and profitable

- nights waiting on the tables.

~●~
 

Here, that line on the wall - the join of those two particular vertical wooden boards

running down to what had been the almost-center of where their bed had been:

the mark which Josiane had furiously declared a solid boundary

'to the exclusion of absolutely all other sibling belongings and/or bodies'

for an entire, completely ridiculous, week!

 

~●~

The day Thayet had decided she was old enough,  at eighteen months, to join Calia and Josiane in their room... The way she had climbed up onto the shared bed in a tangle of slipping blankets and a ScRaMbLe of scrawny limbs and sandy-blonde hair, one tiny fist clutching her rag-doll horse 'Socksie' tight.

Her pale little Luin face shining full of pride before she turned and scampered over the then-mussed bedsheets to sit, absolutely stubbornly, against the far wall - refusing to be returned to her own cot in their parents' room down the hall ...Ever... 

The way, on that first day, she'd eventually fallen sound asleep, right there against the wall, her tiny thumb half-slipping from her peacefully slack, rosebud mouth, Socksie tight under her arm. The way she had cuddled into Calia every night thereafter, until the day Cal had left to follow Kaylan to the Tower.

 

- ~  ● ~ -  

 

With that, Cal gripped the edge of the bedcovers and 'tssk'd with a slight shake of her head to prevent the rise of memories that would otherwise, like the Wheel of Time, roll inevitably on from there.

 

Revisiting any of those difficult memories - the decades and decades of Luin family life that she'd sacrificed by choice; the tears and fights related to her decision; the too-rapid aging and passing of her sisters and parents; absolute absences in so many moments that mattered, from both sides; leaving her family, and this room, behind again and again - was beyond pointless. Such was the life of an Aes Sedai. Particularly a Sister of the Green, determined to make her choices and service count.

 

And her choices were already made from the moment she'd passed the Arches and Aes Sedai tests, donning her ring and shawl, and understanding so deeply the magnitude of consequences linked with not actively fighting back, of letting the Shadow rest. 

 

Without further pause, she stood - and purposely exited the near-forgotten comfort of what was, once, hers.

 

-●-

 

She crossed the pre-packed room to the not-so-little, two-piece wooden wash-stand, tucked neatly into the far front corner. Catching sight of the mischievous contraption, she grinned just that little bit wider. The more intricate carvings couldn't be seen in the construction until one had a close up view, of course. But even at a distance, the two halves of the apple-shaped 'fruit bowl' (more practically speaking, the hinged and lidded water basin) were perfectly clear, balancing at what seemed a strange angle atop the upright 'water log' (realistically, the basin's stand). The latter stood about a span tall, appearing for all the world just like the bottom of a solid tree, right down to the various markings of bark cleverly disguising hidden hinges and the handles of the three separate sets of shelves in the 'trunk' - and the way it was, quite definitely, 'rooted' through the floor.

~ ● ~

 Light knew where and how long the twins had hewn, hacked and

sculpted this ... thing... in secret. Or how their fifteen-year-old selves had managed

to install it, carved roots and all, into the floor of the girls' room - and the roof of the room below - without some sort of catastrophe!

 

But... there it was...

 

And there were Shem and Joesh, falling over themselves with laughter at their parents' attempt at seriously stern faces, and at Josiane's sharp recoil and squeal of shock as she reached for the sideways, stem-and-leaf shaped 'lid handle' of the hinged, apple-shaped bowl...

 

- ~  ● ~ - 

The thing really was both a ridiculous monstrosity, and a beautiful work of art, Cal thought.

 

Her gaze and fingers brushed quickly over the cool, polished wood and the most random, lifelike carvings on the basin lid - an assortment of tiny, puckered 'bug stings'; the spider and strings of web spread across the leaf part of the handle that had made Josi jump. And of course, the 'stem' - which on closer inspection was, very unmistakably the top half of an unreasonably large, half-emerged codling worm - complete with lifelike, ravenous pincers at the end of its overly lifelike, ugly head. Unceremoniously, Cal grabbed the absurd stick-bug, and swung the top half of the apple open over the hinge, thinking that perhaps the boys had missed twin callings as master carvers when they followed herself and Kaylan to Tar Valon, and into the life of Warders and Aes Sedai...

 

She bent her head, cupping her hands - and splashed a shock of cold water onto her face.

 

...Or, perhaps - as the 'boys' had never missed a chance to tease her - perhaps such thoughts just proved she was getting old and emotionally senile, despite her 'ageless' 'Aes Sedai skin'. 

 

Grinning at the thought, she pulled a silly face at her reflection in the looking glass above the basin and thanked the Light that brothers and Warders existed to keep Aes Sedai so .. sane and humble?

 

Yes, the life of an Aes Sedai was hard. And yes, she would leave her once-home here, again, today - knowing her duty was to that Aes Sedai life, and presently, to hunting down the Seal in the South before the growing Shadow.

 

That could not, however, be all there was to life these days, however. Despite the dire situations they were facing, Cal had found that since her bonding with Elessar, she had actually been feeling much more 'free' to remember and reconnect with the good times in life. And she was genuinely happy in his company. Yes difficult as Aes Sedai life could be, it was becoming increasingly clear to her once more now that she was bonded to her gaidin, that continuing to allow at least a small level of connection with humanity where possible was actually, in some ways, was absolutely still beneficial.

 

Beneficial, yes.

Worth it? That remained to be seen. But she was starting, again, to believe so.

 

Last night's 'pitching in' had been another example of this re-learning, for her. Despite the lack of sleep and the long hours of 'work' she had thoroughly enjoyed pitching in and helping Amelie with the busy night. Even Elessar's startled response to her cheeky wink would have been enough to make her night. It had certainly been a far cry from the pressure and satisfaction of beating back a hoard of myrddraal and beastly trollocs, darkfriends and/or other shadowspawn - but it really had been good to get her hands 'dirty', and to 'bounce back' a moment to her younger, more carefree days.

 

When she didn't know that the Dark One was, very, very surely, bit-by-bit actively breaking out of his bonds and threatening to bring the Last Battle upon them at any moment.

^●   

She shook her head again to clear it.

 

In any case. This trip 'home' had done her wonders - Even with the lack of sleep, she felt re-energised and ready to continue the journey South. In fact, she was already packed. And she would not be alone, tracking and fighting whatever Shadows they found in the South. As the buzz of the bond reminded her constantly, Elessar would be by her side.

 

So.

 

They would be leaving in the next few hours, just after breaking bread 'early' with the Luins, and giving thanks to the midday sun. Cal was glad that this trip had landed on this 'longest' day, making it at least slightly easier to juggle the need for rest and connection, and the need for speed in getting to the South. 

 

No.

 

She was most definitely not about to wallow around on a Sunday.

Age was just a number, and Sundays were made for better kinds of loopy than that! There was enough time left still to enjoy these once-familiar and much-changed surrounds, to honour the lighter side of Life before Elessar and herself marched on against the gathering dark.

 

There was day and Light enough left in this world today for it to make a difference -. And Calia Sedai, now re-bonded, this time to a Gaidin who understood both sides of the battles she frequently fought; once one of five kids who had lived at this inn in the years gone by, intended to refresh the roots closest to her heart, and to make the most of it all! 

 

 

 _.\ ●  ~ ● ~ ~   ^●   ~ ~● ~  _● /.

 

           

    ^{_{''|  /< >                '/<}}

 _{~ ^{~    ~}     '  ●}=₌₌=_● ~  _{^{~  ~}} 

  

Cal had grinned, a flush of elation and well-being flooding her, and probably the bond, when she'd realised she really would tell Elessar as much as he wanted to know about this place and her memories in it - without hesitation, when she'd invited him to accompany her through the orchard.

 

It wasn't just that, knowing his interest in stories, history and the poetic aspects of life, the Sedai hoped her gaidin warrior-poet would appreciate the things she could share with him here. It was that, as when she'd first felt that deeper sense and connection with this man through the bond - the oneness of their their determination, drive and sense of duty and respect for life -  her heart had swelled, yet again, at this newest example of how this 'new' bond actually, truly, really 'felt right' in her heart. And for a while now, she had been feeling quite 'settled' in the bond, despite herself, and very happy to share! 

 

Besides Kaylan, who'd been born next door and practically grew up with Calia and her family at the inn,  Aaran had been the only 'non-Luin' person she had ever felt close enough to to even consider having them know the stories of her home, the inn, these trees and this orchard. For such a long time, the only thing that the rest of her life had seemed any good for was her strength in the One Power, and her ability to fight the Shadow. That, at least, she had never let slide. But, After Aaran had passed, Cal had been so sure she would never invite anyone into these grounds, never share those close-to-heart stories again. Yet, here she was. And here was Elessar.

 

And inviting him here had been easy; especially with the feast-day tied in - it really was the perfect day to honour their bond, along with the strength of Summer, and the Light that each of them had chosen to serve. Yes, it felt easy, and very much like the right thing to do. 

 

Even before she'd extended the invitation for the walk through the orchard with a smile, her mind had immediately skipped ahead to the happy, driven drum of her heart - and to the two most 'special trees'' , and before she even knew it, without even the slightest of hesitation, she'd specifically invited him to visit the two of those also. 

                 

           ^7/<>

~_{^~~       ●}   ~^_~~

 

For Calia, there was nothing quite like this end of the apple orchard. It had been planted on the far Southern edge of Four Kings, running almost all the way to the present-day boundary line of the large Luin property, far before her time. She was glad to have found a moment to walk once again under the ancient branches here, to simply enjoy the peaceful moments of the morning there, listening to the leaves rustling in the breeze and taking in the the sweet, tart, earthy smells of soil and ripening apples. Not for the first time, Calia thanked the Light beyond measure that she had been fortunate enough to be born into this property in Four Kings, and not one of the much, much, much smaller plots of 'land' that crowded at the crossroads, with absolutely nowhere else to escape to but the chaos of the dusty streets. From her infancy to her early teen years, this particular stretch, with the oldest groves apple groves on the property, had always been her personal refuge, and her favourite place in all of Four Kings. The trees closer to the inn had been here only since the the Luin family built the inn, and even that was some good number of generations before Calia ever came along.

But these trees? Cal looked up at the lighter and lighter sky through the gently flittering leaves. She breathed in the scents again and smiled. These trees, were different.

 

Cal had relished telling Elessar during their wanderings together, that these beauties were definitely far, far older than she was. And that to her, they had always been as full of delicious adventures and memories as they had been of  apples! As beautiful and as close to the Shining City of Caemlyn as it was, and given the stone remnants her family had found in various fields over the years. Cal and the girls had always rather liked imagining that Ogier might have had a hand in the building of this place. She'd never found the time to investigate or ask someone in the know for 'real' truth however. Regardless whether or not the ancient Atlantin had been involved in tending the trees, this place always was, and always would be almost magical to her, and her favourite place in all of Four Kings. How could it not be? Even as a child, it was the place in Four Kings that, no matter what else had happened in her life, no matter how ridiculous the town got, or who she'd found herself at odds with, had always been there, with wide open boughs, to help her center herself in the moments she was not battling, and to bring her inner peace.  Not to mention that so, so many 'core' moments from hers and her siblings' infancy (puns intended) and early childhoods had happened here..

 

[Who ever  would have guessed at that age that the twins lied, and that the BIGGEST secret to becoming the fastest runner in the world actually had nothing at all to do with being sure to eat as many apples as possible in their entirety - dirt, skins, cores, stems/sticks/leaves, worms and all? (Especially the worms, if one should one be lucky enough to find any!) ? She never had flown like the wind. But she had blown many, many chunks of partly digested apple into it as a result. How many belly aches had she suffered through and from before her parents caught them out? ]

 

And there were many moments from later years also, when symbols and initials for secret pacts and hearts' desires  were carved through the bark - as much as they wormed their way through her young, hormonal heart. 

 

[Light knew that in most cases, many of those secret markings that had been made into various trunks and branches had lasted far longer there than in her recollections of their location and meaning!]

 

But still, there were some strong exceptions to the forgotten carvings, and many memories that soothed her heart rather than made her feel sick in the belly. for those reasons and a thousand more, she loved this place, and always would, no matter how long she lived.

                                               

 

                   _{<>\''''                   <>/.<}               

^{~  ~ ●=₌₌₌₌=● ~ ~}

 

The last time she had visited the orchard had been decades ago. She savoured and tried to treasure every minute. Touching a trunk here or there, trying to keep her feelings as light and bright as the Summers day that rose around them. Cal made sure to treasure every minute she ever got to spend in, under or close to these trees and branches. And, she had found she was easily enjoying her time there with Elessar too. 

 

The first of the two 'specials' she'd promised him was the 'Family Tree' - the largest and oldest of the Big Reds, where the name and/or hand of every child and life partner of a Luins in the area had been making its mark, recorded in living history, as it were - even generations and generations before her own. It was obvious to see the length of the history there - the tree must've been well over 200, maybe 300 or even more, years old.  Many, many generations of names had been marked into the wood of the trunk, or cut into stones the size of closed fists and piled and gathered around the trunk instead.

 

Cal had been brought here often, from a young age to learn the family history and traditions as well as the science and 'poetry' behind it all: 

 

Firstly, how this tree had probably originally been chosen because of its size, and colour of the fruit - Red for love. Red for Family - and because, after all, reds, like love, tended to make the sweetest fruit as they grew. How 'stress' applied to the tree's trunk and sometimes branches, usually improved the growth of fruit and the strength of fruit bearing trees themselves. How the marked stones were sometimes used as a handy alternative to beat at trunks and encourage a flourish of growth.  Sometimes the stones were even used by loved ones long after the original owners were gone, honouring the memories and the sense that, even departed, love, and memories of love could still be kept somehow relevant to the sweetness of the  present, and bear fruit in times to come.

 

Tradition had it right, she had learned - as long as one took care not to cut all the way down to the heart of the tree, and to not allow infection to set in through contamination, the tree would survive. And, in fact, the trees that withstood the frequent beatings without succumbing to either of the above tended to bear the most - and the largest and the sweetest fruit as they aged. She smiled at that thought as she always did, thinking yet again that much the same could be said of certain people she knew, her 'new' gaidin included!

 

              _{<>\''''                    <>/.<}               

^{~  ~ ●=           =● ~  ~} 

 

Finally, they reached the rows with the best of the Green apple varieties!

 

Cal stopped, with a wide smile, when she found the particular tree she had been looking for.

 

This was the one she had felt so entirely compelled to share with Elessar, as soon as she'd known she would be bringing him 'home' to Four Kings.

 

For an apple tree, it was still particularly broad, and tall, and strong. And it's branches still seemed to produce enough fruit to fill a large amount of barrels. She wondered out loud, not for the first time, if her immediate family members might have often 'stressed' this tree in the long absences of those who had actually carved their names upon it, in the not-so-silent hopes that helping this tree grow strong through stretches of stress would also, somehow, help the others while they were away, doing their best to survive stress and beatings of their own.

 

Calia looked upon it with a sort of proud little smile. 

 

Kaylan and herself had searched every row of trees in the hopes of finding one that the thought would grow just like this. She had not seen it for over two decades - but it was still beautiful, thriving, smelt delightful, and was perfect for its purpose.  

 

For a moment, she simply looked, remembering.

 

And then, unable to wait any longer,  she plucked a rather large apple from a low hanging bough, checked it for bug marks and admired the bright, ripe green skin that covered most of the fruit, as well as the  'Light-kissed' brighter patches that tended to form along the top - or anywhere else the balance of Sun and Shadow played out in favour of the Light. Just the way she liked it. 

 

She shared her joy and these finds with Elessar, pointing out the colours and the reasons for her - and Kaylan's choice - was there any other colour that would have been so suitable for two Accepteds, both aspiring to serve the Light as Sisters of the Green Ajah?

 

Of course Cal thought, it helped that, at least in her mind, the strong, crisp texture and flavours of Green apples tended to match her view of The Greens also - much more than any red or yellow varieties she'd ever tried. And these ones were no exception - in fact, she was quite certain they were the very best she'd ever found! Laughing about this, and insisting that she was eager to hear his thoughts, Cal offered the now polished, shiny green apple out to Elessar so her Green gaidin could take a bite and see for himself - or to take his own selection from any he fancied on the tree.   

 

And then ... 

 

 ~:~

"I'm not usually one to stand on ceremony," she began with a smile.

 

"And, I haven't done this for decades... But... " 

 

Calia fished deep into a concealed side-pocket on her pants and retrieved a small wooden box.

Inside was a small, robust rock chisel - at least as old as herself and always many-many times more sharp. With Joem's permission, she had sought this out and borrowed it from the mantle almost as soon as she'd arrived, this moment in mind.

 

She held it out, offering that to her stoic Green Warder as well.

 

And then she followed through with the smooth rock she'd also been carrying all this time. 

 

 

"But, since it is Sunday, and you are here...  " 

 

"Would you, Elessar Gaidin, do this family the honour

of adding your name, and at some of your strength, to this tree?"

 

She found herself studying his face intently, wondering what was going through his mind. The bond only told a holder and the bonded so much. Like whether the other was still awake or still asleep in the early morning after a night of being awake; or if they were already up and training with the wind in the leaves and morning Sun, or, like she had been today, walking about the yards of the inn, alehouse, brewery and orchard in with the soft breeze and early morning light.

 

She might not have been able to read his thoughts, exactly, but she did know she was glad she had bonded this particular man, this particular Warder of hers who had, it seemed, a penchant for serving Light and Life with the Greens for all the best reasons, and that, despite the risks that had been raised by setting herself in, she felt stronger, and safer with him by her side. 

 

She was glad, and proud, to have him serving the Light by her side.

And she was actually glad to finally, after so, so long, trust another gaidin like this - and to know that was the case, no matter what lay ahead.

And she was glad, that on this Sunday, there was such an appropriate way to honour the Light in her life, and the enduring strength represented by the one-ness and the bond they shared, and she was glad to invite him to have his name etched, forever more on her most enduring, favourite 'Green' - where it could stand, proud through beatings and storms, growing stronger with the Light, adding a certain, punchy sweetness to life, representing their shared choices and purpose, their strength and resolutions. Their 'one-ness'.

 

Alongside her own name and those of her brothers', Kaylan's and Aaran's - The names of her chosen, those very, very few in her Ajah who had ever made the cut this close to the core of her heart.

 

Elessar's name, she knew, belonged there too. 

 

In some ways, she trusted Elessar more with the bond than any other Warder she had ever had.

Her brothers and Aaran included. 

 

And, as she offered her gaidin the necessary tools to accomplish the task she was glad, to know that was the case, and glad to offer him the space.

 

             _{<>\''''                    <>/.<}               

^{~  ~ ●=₌₌₌₌=● ~  ~}

 

 

Edited July 26 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. An Echo of Shadows ..

►▼◄

 

Standing on the dark plain just outside Shayol Ghul, as thunder rolled and flashes of lightning came from several directions at once in that impossible way of this place, Amaranth held the ancient disc reverently in his hand as his dark cloak folded itself around his body.

 

The disc bore the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai, a white teardrop and a black teardrop conjoined, the Flame of Tar Valon and the Dragon’s Fang. It was almost new-looking, as if it had lain protected in the ground for generations.

 

One of the Great Seals on the Great Lord’s prison

 

The Chosen’s smile broadened as he gazed at it. Though only the size of a man’s hand, this was one of the few remaining Seals - or rather focal points for the actual Seals - that held the Great Lord confined. Created by the cursed Dragon and his countless minions during the War of Power, the Shadow had ever searched for these remaining discs of cuendillar or heartstone.

 

And now they had found another one!!

 

The discs were meant to be near indestructible but as with all things they weakened over time. As the Great Lord gradually exerted his influence on the world, the Seals softened, just as Amaranth had suspected all along, and could now easily be broken.

 

Hidden well across the centuries, several had, however, been found over time. There were still a few Seals out there.. somewhere.. that needed to be found and broken.. but for now, Amaranth took great pleasure in this precious object which he held in his hand.

 

His violet eyes sparkled as he placed the disc on the ground before him. Among dust and red soil, and tiny pebbles that somehow seemed out of place in such a desolate location, the piece of cuendillar looked stately almost, there it lay atop the dust of the Great Blight.

 

Thinking only of its destruction, the Chosen ignored its ancient grace.

 

Speaking ancient words of triumph and glory, praising his Great Lord of the Dark, Amaranth stamped on the cuendillar disc, the Great Seal, with his boot and it broke into a dozen pieces!

 

●

 

Just then

 

the ground started heaving and cracks appeared along the rock walls. The thunder increased, lightning streaming across the heavens in blinding flashes

 

and for a slight moment reality seemed to.. shift.

 

There was a shiver in the air as if the world was tilting - and Amaranth felt all the hairs on his body rise in exultation!!

 

Then, slowly, gradually, the world seemed to steady itself again, the here and now returning, reality re-asserting itself almost with a sigh of relief on the soft wind, and the ground stopped heaving.

 

For a long moment a deadly stillness enveloped Shayol Ghul and the deadlands of the Blight, the thunder and lightning suddenly gone, the skies going grey and indefinite, as if the world was waiting.

 

Waiting..

 

Waiting..

 

The Chosen finally dried the unbidden tears from his eyes, still feeling the thrill inside and along every nerve of his body!

 

Then he collected himself and gradually breathed more easily. There was more work to be done. Important work. Vital work.

 

For the Great Lord. For the Shadow.

 

Deep inside though, as the silence was finally broken and “normality” returned, in as far as “normal” could be said of anything in this very special place, Amaranth felt that this was 

 

A Moment of Transition

 

 

▀

 

As Shadows and Mists Merge

The Dead will walk Again

And Storms of Thunder will herald His Return

 

Seals will Break

And What was will come Again

To Darken the Path of Blood

 

Twisting the Paths of the Pattern

Folding the Spikes of Time

Burning the Web of Destiny

 

Stand ready for His Glory

Bask in the Shadow of the Great Lord

Rejoice on that Momentous Day!

 

From

The Prophecies of the Shadow

277 NE, the 3^rd Age

 

Written in blood on a cave wall in Aile Somera

Author unknown

 

●

 

Serehstra Aes Sedai stared out at the blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean and wondered what secrets it held. Running a hand through her long light-brown hair, her blue eyes gazed from horizon to horizon, the sapphire-blue skies merging with the ocean in the far distance.

 

Standing at the docks in the city of Ebou Dar, the soft afternoon wind making the heat of the day less palpable, the seamen and dock workers passed her in wide circles, whispers having been exchanged as to what she was. She ignored them, they were of no importance to her. What was of importance was finding out what was going on out there. She still did not know after all the time spent in this southern city though she did know the rumours. She did not know whether to believe them, however. Just as importantly, she had not discovered who had tried to have her assassinated. Her hands went to the Red shawl atop her pale Red dress and her eyes tightened angrily. Why? Was still the question that she asked herself countless times each day. What danger do I make to anyone?

 

A dock worker carrying some fishing nets came toward her, but seeing the dark glance she gave him he thought better of it and suddenly seemed to have business elsewhere, returning from whence he had come. Serehstra smothered the small grin on her lips and then turned and headed for the building where the Harbour Master resided. When he saw her enter, his face paled and he took a step backwards.

 

“I still know nothing”, Mistress Adela - it was the name she had started using in the city –-“there have been no new news.” He ran a hand through his short dark hair, his sunken eyes wide and wary.

 

She met his stare squarely and she shook her head. “That is not good enough, Master Hibbin.” Her eyes tightened. “I told you.. in no uncertain terms.. that I need answers.”

 

The Harbour Master started to protest but she cut him off. “You know everything that happens here at the docks. And out there.” She pointed through the window at the ocean. “Get me some answers.”

 

He promised that he would do his very best and she left without saying another word. Why is everyone so tight mouthed?

 

●

 

Heading away from the docks, she found a plaza with some benches and sat down to think.

 

People walked silently past and she ignored them, lost in thoughts. Word had come from the Red Ajah Eyes and Ears that more evidence had been found to implicate certain Cairhienin Noble Houses in certain.. dark activities. Her eyes tightened as she thought of the Shadow Rising. It disgusted her that evil had taken hold of Noble Houses in her homeland Cairhien. Aes Sedai were supposed to embrace Tar Valon and the White Tower as their new home, and so she had done, but it was still difficult to forget whence she had come and her homeland would always have a special place in her heart.

 

A couple sparrows landed on the stone ground before her. They had the smooth, round head and rounded wings of their kind. They were brown and striped which meant they were females. Serehstra had been fascinated with birds when she was a little girl and had learned much about them. They gazed up at the seated woman and chirped and sang as if for her alone. At that moment, with all her worries taking up all her time, this simple expression of birdy life and joy made her smile.

 

Where there is life, there is hope.

 

●

 

As the rain poured down from dark, heavy clouds in never-ending streams, the lost boy and girl, both scruffy-looking and wide-eyed, the excitement of adventure in the woods replaced by despondency and fear, sheltered in the giant, stone hand of Artur Hawkwing's ruined statue. They did not know its history, of course, and in truth did not care, but they appreciated the small shelter it gave from the rain and the wind. Had they looked a little further into the woods, they would have come across the other shattered parts of the giant stone statue of what had once been an infamous monument to this man who had conquered the world and created an empire.

 

Artur Hawkwing's remarkable success in unifying all the lands under one rule, and his belief in universal suffrage and equality, proved, however, extremely unpopular with the nobility. During the War of the Hundred Years, a devastating series of overlapping wars among constantly shifting alliances, precipitated by the death of Artur Hawkwing and the resulting struggle for his empire, every statue and memorial to him, and almost every book which mentioned his name, was destroyed.

 

This stone monument north in Ghealdan, near the Mountains of Mist, was no exception. The giant stone pieces littered this part of the forest, distant reminders of glory gained and glory lost.

 

A Hawk, with a Grey back and a rusty brown underside, gazed from high above at the broken remnants of the ancient statue. It had a long tail and short rounded wings and it floated on the wind currents as if born to do nothing else. Its dark eyes sparkled as it took in the vista below, glinting in the harshness of the pouring rain, but then it turned its head and gazed Westward, as if seeing a revelation in the horizon.

 

●

 

Watching Calia wander through the familiar grounds of her family home and mingle with her distant (in time) but still close relatives made Elessar happy that they had decided to visit Four Kings on their journey South. It was the most direct route southwards by way of the main trade roads but there were alternatives that some used instead.

 

It was a good choice. He thought to himself. For several reasons.

 

There was most often a smile on his bondholder’s face and a lightness to her steps as she walked around and he felt contentment and peace from her through the bond. She seemed at ease in this place and he would even go as far as to say she seemed happy. They had not been bonded that long but even so he felt he could sense her mood; the way her blue eyes sparkled when she talked about her past, the way she smiled and laughed when reminiscing something particularly funny; the way her face radiated calmness when she considered a matter. It was not as if she had suddenly turned into a different person, of course, but to him it felt as if she had stepped out of the dark reality of their quest for a precious moment to enjoy life and hope and joy with her relatives and in her family home.

 

It pleased him to see her relax and enjoy herself. Just like with the other citizens, life was to be enjoyed even in dark times and perhaps especially in dark times.

 

To find the Light within makes you stronger to withstand the Shadow without.

 

It was something his grandmother had once said in the Borderlands when he grew up and it had stayed with him through the years. The saying was true. And important. People needed some joy to build that inner strength, some belief, some faith, to assemble the layer which would aid against any darkness.

 

He and Calia were journeying into danger and darkness, he had to admit that it was so, and any inner Light they could bring with them would add to their strength and increase their chance of success.

 

●

 

Calia’s serving duties which at first had shocked him had given her joy, he had seen it in her face as she had moved expertly around the Common Room taking care of the customers. The way she had presented him to the family gave him the impression she was proud to have him at her side. Just as proud as he was to be at her side. The connection and oneness he had felt with her for long felt even stronger now. It felt “right” to be bonded to her, in the same way it had felt right to be bonded to his former Sedais.. but at the same time their.. connection.. felt even stronger, even more.. precious. It was the only way he could think of it.

 

When Calia invited him to join her in the apple orchards, he understood that those places were special to her. Not only for the apples but just as much for the delicious adventures and fond memories. He also understood when she started talking, speaking of her life as a young girl in Four Kings, that their.. connection.. was precious to her too. As she spoke of personal experiences and adventures, her words honest and truthful, he felt the trust in the sharing and appreciated her openness. He smiled with her as she told of the joy and peace she felt when beside the two special trees, the Red (the’Family Tree’) and the Green (Calia’s ’Special Tree’), and he sensed that showing him these special places was sacred for her and not something she did for just anyone. She was, he felt, honouring their bond in her personal way. That made him appreciate being there with her even more.

 

It also made him think of the apple trees back home on his family estate in Kandor. Those apples had never been as sweet or as succulent as those found farther south, the climate for apple orchards was not the best in the Borderlands, but even so he had enjoyed the red apples they had plucked from the few trees every year.

 

Seeing the joy Calia felt when talking about and showing him these very special ancient trees made him glad inside. “They are definitely far, far older than I am”, she had said with a broad smile and a sparkle in her blue eyes. This was life as well, trees that had stood for many generations, producing fruit to be enjoyed, scents to be savoured, with colourful leaves and flowers in the orchards. It was for orchards and pastures and fields and colourful gardens and forests and ponds and brooks and rivers and oceans that they were fighting. All were part of Life in the Light.

 

●

 

The ’Family Tree' was the largest and oldest of the Big Reds, where the name and/or hand of every child and life partner of a Luins in the area had been making its mark, recorded in living history, as it were - even generations and generations before Calia’s own. It was obvious to see the length of the history there - the tree must've been well over 200, maybe 300 or even more, years old.  Many, many generations of names had been marked into the wood of the trunk, or cut into stones the size of closed fists and piled and gathered around the trunk instead.

 

Calia’s ’Special Tree’ was one of the Greens. For an apple tree, it was still particularly broad, and tall, and strong. And its branches still seemed to produce enough fruit to fill a large amount of barrels. Calia wondered out loud, not for the first time, if her immediate family members might have often 'stressed' this tree in the long absences of those who had actually carved their names upon it, in the not-so-silent hopes that helping this tree grow strong through stretches of stress would also, somehow, help the others while they were away, doing their best to survive stress and beatings of their own.

 

Calia admired the Green tree for a while and then plucked an apple from a hanging bough. She checked it and spoke with knowledge about its skin, ripeness and condition. She shared her joy and finds with the Warder and her blue eyes sparkled anew when she mentioned how suitable these Green apples had been for aspiring Greens in the White Tower. Elessar shared her joy and enjoyed the interesting information she was in possession of. Learning new things had always interested him, besides stories, poetry and history.

 

These apples were in a different league to the ones he had grown up with and he told his bondholder so. She smiled joyfully and handed him the large green apple she had been holding and he took a big bite and complimented her on its juiciness.

 

A great Green apple for a great Green lady, the Green Gaidin thought to himself as he enjoyed the delicious apple. Leandreen, you would have liked her. He imagined his first bondholder replying with a lopsided grin, She’s a good’un, but I ain’t sharing.

 

●

 

Wondering what had suddenly made him think of his dead bondholder, a fiery and proud red-headed woman and passionate Aes Sedai who had never had much appetite for apples, his train of thought was disrupted when Calia spoke again.

 

 

"I'm not usually one to stand on ceremony," she began with a smile.

 

"And, I haven't done this for decades... But... " 

 

 

Calia fished deep into a concealed side-pocket on her pants and retrieved a small wooden box.

 

Inside was a small, robust rock chisel - at least as old as herself and always many-many times more sharp.

 

She held the tool out, offering it to Elessar. And then she followed through with a smooth rock.

 

 

"But, since it is Sunday, and you are here...  ", she added,

 

"Would you, Elessar Gaidin, do this family the honour of adding your name, and at some of your strength, to this tree?"

 

●

 

Elessar understood that this was important for her and an offer not given to everyone - and to him it felt like a precious moment, almost an invitation to join a select group of people close to Calia’s heart. He was stoic of nature, had always been so, Borderlander-bred to be hard and unyielding, but he had learned over the years the value of humanity, empathy, kindness. Poetry had also given him joy and perspective, history likewise, and his Sedais had over the years “mellowed” him a little.

 

In their time together Calia had “mellowed” him further, he thought, bringing more Light into those parts of his soul that had their Darkness, and he was very grateful. Now with her generous offer he felt an inner pride and appreciation.

 

She is, in a way, inviting me into her family. It was his primary thought. That is what this means. It shows how much she values me. He valued her just as much.

 

This time Leandreen’s emerald eyes smiled at him in the back of his mind.

 

“I will be happy to, Calia Aes Sedai”, he replied equally formally and with great respect.

 

There was a small smile on his lips directed at her and a glint in his dark eyes. He tried to convey through the bond how appreciative he was of this gesture - of the trust and care, of the honour - that he was grateful and found it precious.

 

“The honour”, he said, “is mine.”

 

Using the rock chisel, he added his name,

 

Elessar Telcontar Gaidin

 

etching it forever on Calia’s Special Green Tree in that beautiful apple orchard in Four Kings, where it could stand as a symbol of Life, a symbol of their Unity and togetherness in purpose and value and action for the White Tower and their Oneness in the Light.

 

●

 

He had always been a diligent soldier and when he had joined the famed Children of the Light his family in southern Amadicia had been so proud. Donning the White Cloak, his conical helmet shining, his blade a Blade of Truth, he had felt a thrill such as he had never experienced before. His pride had shone in his green eyes and the pride had only become stronger as he has risen to higher rank.

 

His superiors had seen the merits of an officer in him and he had received ever more difficult tasks for the Light, tasks he had performed expertly. Several years later he had risen to the rank of Lieutenant, second in command of a platoon, and then some years later he had become Captain of a company. At the age of forty he had finally achieved his life-long ambition, to become Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light. It was a position he had held for several years but which he would not hold for much longer.

 

He knew he was dying.

 

●

 

Where his left arm should have been, was just a bloodied stump. He was losing blood by the second. His right hand missed several fingers. His right sword-arm was broken. And he was blind on one eye. The evil witch had actually made him eat his right eye. He stared at her with his left eye, a burning stare in which he put all his hate toward the evil Aes Sedai.

 

“You may have destroyed me, you evil witch!” he spat. “But you and your pathetic Amyrlin and White Tower will fall beneath the flood of Light in the days and months to come.”

 

His voice was as filled with Truth as it had been on that first day he had joined the Whitecloak ranks many years before. His one working eye shone with the Light of Truth and it gave him some pleasure to know that, even when he died, he would win. In the arms of the Creator, he would look down and soar in his soul as the Darkfriend Aes Sedai were smashed in the Last Battle!

 

The Amo’hra chuckled inside at the Whitecloak’s words. He was a brave one, this one. Foolish and fanatic but brave. She admired bravery and so decided to not torture this man anymore. She would give him a clean death.

 

“You are a fool”, Silvahria said with honesty, “but a brave fool. You have given me the answers I craved, so I have no need for you anymore. I will give you the honour of falling on your sword.”

 

Her mouth twisted wickedly as she unceremoniously pushed his body onto the broadsword standing up from the marble floor. The tip of his shining sword pressed through his brain and as he descended into oblivion the Lord Captain Commander of the Light saw only a White plain of unending Death.

 

●

 

“We are all saddened by Lord Charon’s tragic death”, Lord Sandhar said in a sad voice, the lie coming easily to his lips. “The ocean currents of the Sea of Storms are particularly dangerous this time of year as we all know.” The other Lord and Ladies present nodded in agreement.

 

“I spoke to him yesterday afternoon”, he added, “and warned him against swimming, but he needed his weekly swim, he said, and you all know how stubborn he could be when he set his mind to it.” Again, there were several nods. “Unfortunately, this time the currents took him and we lost our good Lord. And friend.”

 

His voice was somber and he almost convinced himself that he meant what he was saying.

 

“We will remember him as a sound Lord”, Lord Sandhar added, “a man of integrity, a man of sound advice, and a strong supporter of Illian.”

 

Many present nodded, approval for his kind words, though a couple Lords looked at him with a sly look, wondering why Lord Sandhar was so magnanimous toward a man who had been his enemy. A few present thought deep inside that perhaps he had had something to do with what had happened.. but those were accusations best kept unspoken. Lord Sandhar was the most powerful man on the Council and not someone you made your enemy.

 

●

 

Leaving the Council room, Lord Sandhar walked over to Erihna who waited in the outer hall. She wore an almost see-through dress. Her long blonde hair smelled of lavender and her red lips of strawberry. He kissed her long and hard, pressing his body tightly onto hers, then led her from the hall and swiftly back to his personal quarters.

 

There she slipped quickly out of her dress and stood naked before him, a glory to behold as always. He stared at her radiating face, her wonderful curves, lovely breasts, and at the golden patch between her legs. Her smile was lascivious and hungry as he took her in his arms, his lips on hers, and held her tight.

 

It was time to celebrate.

 

●

 

“We welcome you to the White Tower.”

 

The Amyrlin gave a slight nod in respect. Her voice was smooth as silk but inside she felt those butterflies in her stomach. Calming herself, she studied his dark eyes. He seemed stoic and reminded her of a Warder. Just that this black-coated man was even more dangerous since he could channel.

 

Channel Saidin, the male part of the One Power. The tainted part, soiled by the Dark One in hos counterstrike when the Dragon and his 100 companions successfully imprisoned the Dark One and The Forsaken at Shayol Ghul but which resulted in the Time of Madness and the Breaking of the World.

 

She was unable to stop the slight shiver when she thought of that time and how the world had changed. A world that female Aes Sedai had rebuilt over centuries.

 

Saidin. The taint. The One Prophesized. And the Asha’man.

 

The man met the Amyrlin’s eyes squarely.

 

“Thank you”, he replied. His voice was deep and steady. “It is an honour to be here.”

 

●

 

It was impossible to say whether he meant it or was just being polite. She noted that his nod of respect was short of what was to be expected - noted also by the Keeper standing in the background, her face radiating disapproval - but it was not important. These Asha’man, these men of the Black Tower, were said to be a proud and arrogant lot so this was to be expected.

 

“Please sit”, the Amyrlin said and indicated a high-backed chair by the table opposite her. He seated himself while the Keeper remained standing off to the side.

 

She studied the man some more. He seemed calm and collected - he seemed sane! - but there was a gleam in his eyes which gave her the impression he was more impatient than he looked. Perhaps he was just as.. uncomfortable.. being with her as she was with him. This was an awkward situation for them both.. but it was necessary. She kept telling herself that.

 

They were both holding onto the One Power, of that, she was sure. The feeling of Saidar gave her added confidence. Though she guessed he might be stronger than her - men were most often the strongest in the One Power - she felt certain that if worst came to worst she would be able to defend herself long enough before help came. In any case, this meeting was based on trust and trust would stand between them. Mutual trust was imperative.

 

After a long moment’s silence, she spoke.

 

“These are challenging times.” She began smoothly. “The Shadow is Rising around the world and we must unite to stand against those forces.” She touched the fringes of her seven striped stole as if to gain courage.

 

“Alliances need be forged”, she added, her eyes hardening slightly. “Only together do we stand a chance against the Gathering Storm.”

 

She stopped there, waiting to see if he would respond. He said nothing, just stared back at her.

 

“Neither you in your Black Tower” - her mouth twisted slightly when she said “Black” but he did not seem to notice - “or we here in the White Tower should stand alone.”

 

“Therefore”, she added. “I confirm the White Tower’s wish for an alliance with the Black Tower.”

 

●

 

The Asha’man studied the proposed text of agreement that the Keeper brought forth and they spent the next hour going through the various sections which detailed what they were agreeing on. Tea was brought and they sipped to it as they negotiated the various points. It was vital to make an agreeable arrangement to seal this important alliance.

 

Finally, they both seemed content and the Asha’man confirmed that he had the authority to sign the papers on behalf of the Black Tower. He signed the document and used a stamp seal he carried on his person to make it formal. The stamp had an image of a Dragon. The Amyrlin signed on behalf of the White Tower, her stamp seal had the image of the Flame of Tar Valon.

 

As soon as it was done, she felt in her bones that something momentous had happened.

 

Change was Coming.

 

She shook the Asha’man’s hand and a smile came upon her lips. There was a touch of a smile in the black-coated man’s dark eyes though his face remained stoic.

 

Handing the signed documents to her Keeper, she watched her leave the chamber and shut the door behind her. Tarah would take the documents down to the Tower Archive and return with a copy for the Asha’man.

 

Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat felt a thrill inside. Now that the alliance was created most of her doubt was gone. There were risks, of course, dealing with men who could go mad at any minute, huge risks.., but risks that needed to be taken as she saw it. Desperate times required desperate measures. And this alliance would increase their chances of standing against the coming Tide of Darkness.

 

I have saved us!, she thought triumphantly as she stared past the Asha’man at the shelves with old books and chronicles telling of Amyrlins who had protected the Tower and ensured its survival. Her smile widened and it was as if a sun had blossomed inside her.

 

I have saved the White Tower!

 

●

 

Just then

 

Four slivers of light sliced through the air around the Amylin’s private chamber, Gateways opening and Four persons emerging. At the same time a shield slammed between the Amyrlin and Saidar! and likewise between the Asha’man and Saidin!, as the four powerful figures channeled in tandem stepping into the room.

 

The Amyrlin, goggle-eyed, and the Asha’man, very wide-eyed, were immobilized and gagged with Air and they could only stare near dumbfounded at the two men and two women who surrounded them as the Gateways shut behind. The tall blond-haired man had violet eyes, his black cloak folding itself around him as he walked. His gaze was hard but also triumphant as he studied the Amyrlin.

 

“Well, well”, he murmured. “An Aes Sedai and an Asha’man.. together. Who would have thought.” Amaranth ran his eyes over them both. “And making an Alliance no less.”

 

Behind him Nymeria grinned darkly. She had set her long blonde hair in a bun and her blue dress complemented her sapphire-looking eyes. She looked condescendingly at the Amyrlin, ignoring the Asha’man.

 

“Such an Alliance will simply.. not.. do..” the beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed woman standing opposite Nymeria said as-a-matter-of-factly. Qariahna wore green this day, a beautiful dress which framed her body perfectly. Her hair the colour of night glistened as if she had come straight from a bath.

 

“Indeed”, the second male agreed. His dark complexion made him look exotic, his short black hair slick, his dark brown eyes inquisitive. Kalessin stared hard at the Asha’man as if ready to ask the bound man a million questions. He completely ignored the Aes Sedai.

 

Amaranth channeled and small flames danced upon his palms. The flames gradually turned violet in colour, matching his eyes. “And so..” he added calmly, “your precious Alliance is.. ended.”

 

●

 

His grin broadened. “Even as we speak, your signed documents are being removed from the Tower Archive below and any and all copies destroyed.”

 

“So in effect”, the Chosen added with wicked delight, “Yours was an Alliance that Never Was.”

 

Kalessin chuckled at Amaranth’s words, finding a poetic reflection in them, while Qariahna and Nymeria stared triumphantly at the bound Amyrlin, like dark spiders having caught their prey in their net and relishing it.

 

“As for you, Aes Sedai”, Qariahna said, sneering at the title, “I am sorry to tell you that you.. are Mother no more.”

 

Nadhene Sedai, the Amyrlin Seat, the Watcher of the Seals and the Flame of Tar Valon, tried to ignore the barb but deep inside she felt that this would end in tears. Her Aes Sedai pride kept her looking defiant though, not wanting any of these people, these channelers .. whoever they were ..

 

- and who are they!? How did they manage to shield us while we were holding onto the One Power? And how in the world has the lost Talent of Traveling been rediscovered!? -

 

.. to see her weakness and fear.

 

“I can see that you want to say something”, Qariahna said taunting, looking deep into the eyes of the leader of the Aes Sedai. “But silence is an underappreciated virtue.”

 

Nymeria chuckled darkly inside, rolling her eyes, thinking of all the times she had wanted Qariahna to just shut up.

 

“Do not worry about your Keeper”, Nymeria added as if an after thought. “She will be kept alive. If for nothing other than our.. amusement.” Her grin was vicious.

 

●

 

“It is time.” Amaranth said finally. He stared at everyone in turn, his gaze fastening on their two captives. His violet eyes gleamed.

 

The flames dancing on his palms disappeared and soon also did the ward he had placed on the chamber.

 

Two Gateways opened behind them,

 

slivers of light slicing the air,

 

each showing a grand chamber behind with pillars and luxurious carpets and marble floors.

 

Removing the chairs, the Amyrlin - face despairing but trying hard to stay courageous - was pushed through one Gateway, and the Asha’man - anger in his face now but also proud defiance - through the other.

 

The four Chosen followed, walking like Kings and Queens, Majestic in dark Glory, and then the Gateways shut behind them, Light swallowed by the Dark.

 

All that remained was an Echo of Shadows.

 

▀▄

[Cass]

 

~ ~ ● ~ ~

 

Calia crouched at the base of the Great Green Apple tree, setting the last of the honour rocks back into place beside the others. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the dents and knocks in the bark of the tree, lingered a moment longer over each of the names carved into the otherwise smooth, time-worn stones. 

 

…Kaylan Morin…Joesh Luin…Shem Luin…Aaran Metsar…

Each name was carved deep into her heart as well as the stones.

 

Sometimes the weight of the memories there left her bruised and battered, scarred like the bark of the tree.

 

Still, every tap of stone to tree impacted and encouraged new and stronger growth on behalf of those named.

 

And, as each of them had done for themselves in life, so Calia continued the tradition with every visit. 

 

~ ~ ● ~ ~
 

Today though, even after she had lifted and replaced the older stones, Calia had smiled a little brighter as she crouched at the base of the tree, watching Elessar Telcontar Gaidin add his name and strength to the tree and the stones, her heart and mind full with the experiences and conversations they had shared so far.

 

He, of all people, understood. 

 

This was what they fought for, after all - for trees like this one, like those by the fence where they had bonded. For the orchards, pastures, field, forests and rivers - for all of the connections to Life and the Light that nurtured it.

 

Calia's gaze skipped from the rocks. It followed along the deep, strong roots of the tree, to the branches reaching outwards and towards the light and to the bright green fruit growing on every bough - and then to the gaidin who stood respectfully by her side.

 

 "The weight of those stones and memories, the bruises to heart and tree - so much more than that remains," Calia thought. 

 

Knowing they would leave Four Kings later that day, and brimming with gratitude for the tangible connections of past, present and future Life before her, Calia opened herself to Saidar. With graceful movements, she wove threads of Water from the air and warmed them with gentle wisps of Fire and Spirit. She let her weave flow from her hands to the soft earth around the tree's roots. Then, thanking Light, she released her hold on the Source.

 

Heart more full than heavy, she stepped from the shade of the tree into the early Sunday morning light, heading out of the orchard with Elessar by her side. 

 

~ ~ ● ~ ~

 

The sun had almost reached its zenith, and was casting a golden Summer warmth over the bustling yard of the Queen's Stand. Calia, dressed for riding Southward in a long-sleeved green shirt and matching, wide, flowing pants woven from cotton and the slightest hint of silk, stood at the edge of the yard, watching as the Sunday  festivities unfolded. 

 

Already, there was a lively gathering of villagers and visitors in the section of the yard surrounding the alehouse and adjoining the orchard that served as the Sunday 'green'. They gathered in hues of Green and Yellow and Sunday best, their laughter and voices rising with the background music of the minstrels. Strands of green foliage continued to flutter in the rafters of the inn and the alehouse, and the tails of brightly coloured ribbons twirled around the maypole, swirling in the lightest wind.

 

It was a sight that could have done any small town in Andor proud - and Cal couldn't help but smile at that thought. The town had never had a village green when she was a child - and it still didn't, not truly. But Joem and Amelie had managed to transform this section of yard into a welcoming, vibrant centre of festivity. More than once she caught herself marveling that this was Four Kings.

 

When the sun finally reached its full height of the Day, Calia cheered along with the chorus of music and laughter that swelled around her. As the trio of minstrels launched into a lively tune even more vibrant than those of the night before, children of all ages squealed with joy and rushed toward the maypole, their excitement palpable. Calia's grin widened. Now, she knew, the Sunday celebrations would truly begin.

 

And now, she thought, catching Elessar's eye and nodding decidedly, it was high time for the two of them to leave. Duty called. The Wheel waited for no woman, and neither would the Shadow. Calia turned a slow circle, her eyes lingering on every detail in the yard - the fluttering ribbons, the sunlight shining over the orchard, the alehouse brewery and the inn, the scent of apples in the air - committing the scene to memory.

 

The Warder and Aes Sedai made their way across the yard together, raising their arms in unison and nodding farewell to Joem and Amelie as they passed. Details of their earlier goodbyes danced through Calia's mind.

 

"Thank you," Amelie had said simply, curtsying deeper than was necessary with an air of absolute sincerity.

 

Then, reaching into her apron pocket, she had withdrawn a letter and added, quietly, "Please. Could you give this to Thayetta, with our love?" Her blue eyes had shimmered with unshed tears as she lifted her gaze to search that of the Aes Sedai's, but she offered the letter to Calia with a server's steady hand and a quiet strength in her posture. Joem had stood beside her with similar quiet strength, his hand resting on her shoulder in silent support. 

 

Calia had accepted the letter with a nod, tucking it carefully into her sadlebags, securing it with care. She hadn't promised she could deliver it quickly, only that she would certainly try.

 

"You have our thanks, Great-Aunt Calia Sedai," Joem had said, bowing his head and his familiar-yet-too-young-face respectfully, his voice steady, "For everything - And you too, Warder Elessar. May the Light Shine on you both." 

 

Now, Catching Amelie's eye as they departed, Calia patted her saddlebag meaningfully and inclined her head, smiling one more time at the woman who had worked so many marvels with this inn. 

 

~ ~ ● ~ ~

 

As difficult as it always was to leave, when the Sedai and Warder reached the  stable-yards, Calia couldn't help but laugh. Four horses, not two, stood whickering eagerly at the gate, ears pricked forward, and prancing, ready for a ride. Her bay mare stood alongside Elessar’s Stormbreaker, and beside them, the two large chestnut cart-horses with their beautiful, flaxen manes. One of them, with four white stockings, and an unusual white marking on her rump, so closely mimicked the old rag-doll of Thayet's that Calia had secretly given her the same name the moment they'd met.

 

"We can't take you all, I'm afraid!" she called, much to the big horses' apparent dismay. "But, I do have something else you lot will enjoy!" she patted the bag of green apples tucked into her saddlebags and the horses perked back up, flicking their ears and huffing in anticipation of the tasty consolation. Calia laughed again as she handed out the treats, each horse eagerly taking their share.

 

'Socksie' nudged at her pockets, searching for more apples, before Calia was even done saddling her bay.

 

“None there, big girl,” Calia murmured. The big horse gave a big huff right up in her face in response. Cal huffed back and pressed her cheek into the horse's neck, enjoying the gentle connection and the reminder of the simple pleasures that made Life so precious.

 

Finally, everything was prepared and there were no more spare apples to be divvied out. With a last goodbye to the cart-horses, a lingering glance at the inn, the orchard and the gathering of people, Calia drew a deep breath, mounted her bay mare and turned onto the road.

 

Such was the life of an Aes Sedai.

 

 

~ ~ ● ~ ~

 

She and Elessar set off, riding side by side down the southern road as they left Four Kings and their new memories behind. As they rode, the sounds of Sunday merry-making followed them on the wind, and Calia couldn’t help but smile, savoring the sounds as much as the sight of every row of apple trees beyond the boundary fence.

 

Calia and Elessar rode in companionable silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. Though a part of Calia's mind remained alert, and wary of what might lie ahead, she found that her heart was, perhaps surprisingly, at peace.

 

The visit to Four Kings had been good, for more reasons than one. And much less painful than the last. 

 

The road stretched out before them, still uncommonly peaceful and quiet under the midday sun. Calia smiled, grateful to have her gaidin by her side, letting the gentle sway of her mare’s gait and the warmth of the sun on her back lull her into a sense of tranquility. She breathed deep, wishing she could still smell the apples on the wind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then, she sat, bolt upright in her saddle, shocked to the core by a SUDDEN sense of SHADOW S-H-A-T-T-E-R-I-N-G her peace. Eyes wide with realisation and horror, she looked to her gaidin for the briefest of seconds, knowing he would feel it too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> !  >  ! > !! SHADOWSPAWN !!< ! < ! <  !

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sense she felt did not let her know what type, or the numbers the feeling underscored, only that there were MANY, and that they were some distance behind.

 

Calia glanced back, her heart frozen in her chest, knowing the basic truth of the nightmare even before she turned.

 

And sure enough, the scene behind her was just as her heart had known it would be.

 

Black smoke rose

in an impossibly thick column,

darkening the sky and choking out

the Light over

Four Kings.

 

Everything below that was on FiRe.

 

 

Without a word, Calia whirled her mare around and kicked her into the hardest gallop of each of their lives, racing back down the road the way they had come.

 

The only thought in her head was

 

NO!

 

Screaming silently alongside a desperate, wordless prayer to whatever Light remained that she was wrong, that she had not seen all this before. That they were not destined to be too late, and that this was not going to be the same as the nightmare scenes she had endured in her Arches. In her test for the Shawl.

 

And in a century of heart-breaking, reoccurring dreams.

 

 

~ ~ ● ~ ~

 

 

| | | |||||| | || || || ||| ||| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | The DAY spread  softly across   the   world at   first ,  but then  the shroud of darkness slipped back over the Westlands,  racing against the Sun  - Just, perhaps- as the Creator  had   always  intended,    until   the  Shadows    suddenly,  somehow  all  now   ||||||||||||||||||||||| |  | | || |||| | || ||| || | || | | | | | | |  **     appeared   **        ||||||||||||||| | | |||| | ||||  | ||| | || | | | | | | | |   **               ( making the light left seem)  small                     **

 

 

Edited August 10 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. A Dance of Light and Shadow ..

►▼◄

 

Nymeria removed the two-fold shield that she and Qariahna had placed between the Amyrlin and the Source and replaced it with a Domination Band around the Aes Sedai’s neck.

 

The Amrylin was only partly conscious and aware of what was happening there she lay on the settee in Nymeria’s private chamber. As the Band clicked in place, like a metal necklace, the Chosen smiled contentedly. The Domination Band was a very useful tool which she had made use of several times before, and it - and its twin - was one of the very few things she had in her possession from her earlier life, back there in what they now called the Age of Legends.

 

It was a Ter’angreal used to control channelers (usually for a woman to control a man who could channel, like its twin, but a select few, like this one, could also be used on women). It consisted of the necklace or collar and a bracelet, leash less and practical, where the controller or leash holder used the bracelet, and the controlled or leashed wore the collar. They had been made near the end of the War of Power, but even back then it was not clear who had constructed the first one since there had been several attempts at the time. Nymeria suspected it was one of the Aes Sedai who had turned to the Shadow and become a Dreadlord who had first come up with the idea, as the device had only been used in service of the Great Lord as far as she knew.

 

Aes Sedai back then had considered the device evil and the practice atrocious, even in time of war, but Nymeria and others of like mind had scoffed at the reluctance and had seen the great value of this Ter’angreal.

 

●

 

Nadhene felt overwhelming dizziness, her head pounded as she tried to focus on the room she was in and the person staring down at her. She tried to mumble something but realized to her horror that she was unable to speak!

 

What..!?

 

Gaping, she concentrated on the figure of the woman but her mind was still clouded. Her muscles felt heavy and unresponsive but finally she was able to move her arm a little. She tried again to cry out but was unable to. Her eyes were wide with consternation as they focused on the unknown face studying her closely.

 

“Yes, my child.” The woman said. “You are caught like a mouse in a trap.”

 

The woman’s voice was hard but also filled with great amusement.

 

Staring up at the tall blonde-haired beautiful woman with those sapphire-blue eyes she wondered who she could be. The woman was almost too perfect; that perfect body, perfectly-shaped nose and those high cheekbones framing a face that was a wonder to behold. Then the woman’s words took hold and the Amyrlin felt dread in her soul as she tried to take in her circumstance. Where was she? And who was this unknown woman, and channeler, in that seductive lavender dress? Calling her ‘child’ in that condescending tone of voice would normally have made her angry but her circumstance was too serious to bother about such petty issues. She was totally immobilized, unable to speak and a captive to boot.

 

Then, as her arm slowly moved to her chest and up, she suddenly became aware of the smooth collar around her neck. Her eyes widened even more as she touched it and found no clasp to open it. It was cold to the touch. Deathly cold.

 

Seeing her troubled confusion, Nymeria spoke. Her voice was as cold as the metal around the Amyrlin’s neck.

 

“That, my child, is a Domination Band.” The Chosen’s eyes glittered. “It is a Ter’angreal that gives me the power to control your channeling. To control you in all ways, actually.”

 

Nadhene felt shivers run down her spine and despite her extensive Aes Sedai training and years as a strong Amyrlin fear overtook her.

 

Nymeria saw the fear in the Aes Sedai’s eyes and thought scornfully how weak Aes Sedai were in this new Age, even so-called Amyrlins.

 

“It means”, she added triumphantly, “that you are unable to walk or speak or do anything without my permission.” The Chosen’s voice now took on an amused tone. “You can breathe and your bodily functions are not affected, but anything else..” Her smile grew dark and evil.

 

“Anything else.. is mine.”

 

●

 

Nadhene tried to remain brave but struggled in the face of this.. horror. For this was worse than being shielded.. this was.. evil. That was the only way she could think of it.

 

Who are you? She wanted to ask, but was physically unable to do so. Something stopped her from speaking and voicing her thoughts. What are you?

 

She had never heard of such a Ter’angreal that could do that. She could not either recall having read about such a.. tool. She moved the other arm slightly and tried to get into a more comfortable position on the settee, all the while trying to not become overcome with grief at the desperate situation she was in. It was all like some horrible nightmare that she was waiting to snap out of. Bitterness overcame her then as she thought of her triumphant certainty that she had saved the White Tower through the deal with the Black Tower. What a fool she had been! And now she was pretty certain that she would not live to see the White Tower again.

 

Nymeria watched the Aes Sedai but there was no pity in her eyes. She let Nadhene move her hands and arms for the moment, relishing the control she had over the Aes Sedai.

 

“I shall make good use of you, child.” The Chosen’s grin widened. “And just so you know, there is no use to resist or disobey my commands, this is what happens if you try.”

 

An avalanche of pain hit the Amyrlin and it was as if a thousand needles stabbed her at the same time! She screamed inside, again and again, she could not help it, her body shaking on the settee, and her face contorted into a twisted mess of tears and agony as the pain continued. Finally, an eternity later or so it seemed, the pain stopped though her arms and legs shook for a long time afterwards.

 

●

 

She felt shame at her own weakness but knew deep inside that hardly anyone would be able to withstand such pain. It took a long time for her to raise her tear-stricken eyes to the woman channeler. She thought she knew all of her Daughters in the White Tower, at least by sight, but this woman was unknown to her.

 

She could not fathom how the woman could Travel and have such an evil contraption. A wild thought blossomed in the back of her mind, but she shrugged it off. That could simply not be!

 

The Chosen looked at her victim for long moments before speaking again.

 

“I will be kind and let you speak for a moment”, the Chosen said and momentarily adjusted the control through the bracelet. “Be careful what you say though, child. I will not have any bad manners from you.”

 

The condescending tone grated on Nadhene’s nerves but she tried to ignore it. There were more important matters to clarify.

 

“You are Aes Sedai”, the Amyrlin began. Her voice sounded weak to her ears but it was a relief to be able to speak even if only for a short while. “I don’t recognize you, but you must be.” She added. “Why do you keep me captive, Daughter?” As she spoke her voice hardened and she felt her hope strengthen. She was the Amyrlin after all, whatever was going on here.

 

“I am no Aes Sedai!” Nymeria said with a sneer. "And certainly no Daughter of yours!" As if she would compare to these.. these unskilled children.  Pah! Then her calm returned and she added with a lopsided grin, “You can call me Mistress Silah. And from this moment on your name is Lata. Be a nice little child, Lata.”

 

She leaned over and patted the Amyrlin on the head as if she were a pet. Nadhene’s face reddened in shame and indignation but when she began to protest, she realized speech was cut off for her once again. She struggled to keep tears out of her eyes, her soul crying in anguish.

 

“As for why you are here”, the Chosen added after a long pause, her eyes narrowing shrewdly, “we shall see, won’t we, my child. We shall see.”

 

Nymeria’s sapphire-blue eyes glittered in eager anticipation as she touched her Domination Band and forced the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat to crawl across the floor like a helpless infant.

 

●

 

 Forward the White Lion! For Andor!

Were the battle cries of Might

At Four Kings so says the Lore

Maragaine conquered in Light!

 

 

The words of the last verse of the ancient poem about Maragaine

 

whispered in Elessar’s mind

 

as he rode out of the town of Four Kings side by side with his Aes Sedai bondholder Calia.

 

They turned onto the southern road, the sound of merry-making following them on the wind. Elessar glanced across at Calia as they rode, seeing her smile as they passed more rows of apple trees. It made him think of the Great trees in Four Kings that clearly meant a lot to his Aes Sedai. Adding his name and strength, as she had emphasized, to that one tree had meant more than the activity itself, the tree being a symbol of Life, what they were fighting for, and also reminding him of the trees in the Borderlands by the fence where they had bonded what seemed a long time ago. And knowing this, he had felt honoured and appreciative that she had asked him. Their bond was growing and, he felt, warming them both.

 

He also felt honoured to have met Calia’s relatives and seen what polite, respectful, good people they were, trying to make the best of their lives. He was also impressed how everyone - Calia, Amelie, Joem - had managed a potentially awkward situation, and though he only knew a little from what Calia had told him he felt certain their private conversations had also transpired in a friendly and respectful fashion. Through sheer determination and hard work, they had managed to take care of the family inn and continue the family’s age-long traditions. They were upstanding members of the community as the Warder saw it and this was reflected in the praise he gave them before he and Calia left.

 

The pleasant memory of the villagers gathering stayed with him as they rode southwards along the dusty road.

 

.. in hues of Green and Yellow and Sunday best, their laughter and voices rising with the background music of the minstrels. Strands of green foliage continued to flutter in the rafters of the inn and the alehouse, and the tails of brightly coloured ribbons twirled around the maypole, swirling in the lightest wind..

 

●

 

Calia had caught Elessar's eye at the celebration and had nodded decidedly, indicating it was high time for the two of them to leave. They had a mission to complete. The Wheel waits for no man, he had thought. Neither does the Shadow. They had made their way across the yard together, raising their arms in unison, and nodding farewell to Joem and Amelie as they had passed.

 

Riding along in companionable silence under the midday sun the Warder’s thoughts focused on what lay ahead. They had a long journey in front of them. Lugard would be the next major city on their ride southwards but they would pass some towns and villages along the way. Passing some carts drawn by horses made him think of the cart-horses in the stables back in Four Kings. They sure had enjoyed those delicious apples Calia had given them. Standing eagerly at the gate, ears pricked forward, they had seemed ready to join on the journey Stormbreaker and Calia’s bay mare (as of yet unnamed; the mare was apparently not happy with any of the name suggestions Calia had come up with, and knowing how stubborn some horses could be this did not surprise the Gaidin at all; his own suggestion Lassie had not gone done well either..).

 

Elessar smiled at the memory and was just about to ask Calia how far she wanted them to ride today when Stormbreaker suddenly became restless beneath him, changing his gait. He did not respond to the Warder’s soothing whispers and started throwing his head. Calia’s bay mare mimicked the black warhorse and Calia exchanged a look with Elessar. It was peaceful and quiet around them, the sun warming their backs, and the Warder stared hard into the trees and shrub along the road looking for any danger.

 

●

 

And then, SUDDENLY

 

he felt it.. the sense of danger..

 

Shadowspawn!

 

He saw Calia react at the same time and felt the emotion through the bond! Her eyes were wide with horror as she exchanged a hard glance with her Gaidin.

 

Black smoke rose into the air in the distance. Back from where they had come.

 

Four Kings.

 

His eyes widened too and he stopped Stormbreaker just as Calia turned her bay mare around. He felt the Shadowspawn back there.. back toward Four Kings. It was an ability that came with the bond, an ability which had helped many Sedais and Warders through the ages. He could not tell how many of the beasts were back there but there were MANY.

 

Many thoughts ran through his mind at the same time. How to keep Calia safe. Options for them now. The terrible fact that Four Kings was probably burning. The fear that Amelie and Joem would be in danger. Should they return despite the risk and try to save some lives or prioritize their important mission south.

 

Difficult choices. Hard choices.

 

He thought he sensed the nightmare unfolding in Calia’s eyes and mind. Her Four Kings was burning. Her relatives were in mortal danger. And possibly because they, she and Elessar, had visited the town. Guilt and Desperation. But also ice-cold determination.

 

He was just about to speak to her.. when

 

Without a word, Calia whirled her mare around and kicked her into the hardest gallop of each of their lives, racing back down the road the way they had come.

 

What!?

 

Elessar stared after her wide-eyed for a long moment, torn between believing her sprint back to Four Kings without discussing their options with him utterly reckless and foolhardy and seeing her swift action as brave and correct.

 

Her protection was his duty - my life before yours - and so he had no choice but to gallop after her, Stormbreaker running like the wind! Not that he would have done otherwise in any circumstance. Even so, he felt some anger that she had taken off on her own, running into who knew what danger!

 

Embracing the Flame and the Void, feeling calmness driving away the shock and anger, he lay low atop his galloping black stallion, his warder’s cloak streaming behind him, one hand tight on the reigns, the other on the sword at the horses’s side, as he tried to catch up to his Aes Sedai!

 

As always he was ready.

 

Ready to stand against the Shadow.

 

●

 

Children screamed and mothers came running in panic as shadows congregated in the dusty streets of Whitebridge. There was an oppressive heat even though it was early evening and every eye was drawn toward the street where something foul was coming.

 

A sound of marching feet could be heard, but the children had already sensed the horror. And smelled the stench of death that foretold their coming.

 

Mist and fog rose from the shadows, snake-like tendrils of darkness that swallowed the twilight..

 

And then

 

out of the swirling mist, came the Walking Dead.

 

Part skeleton, part human, some berobed, some not, rotting flesh hanging from arms and legs, they walked steadily forwards, eyes lit by some inner darkness. Some held swords, some held spades, some held clubs, others just marched unwaveringly with clenched fists. All stared hatefully ahead and then, as one, turned to gaze at the screaming children and the fearful mothers that stood on the paths leading away from the road.

 

Men who had come running too stared at the Dead as if in a dream, fear in their eyes, but ready to defend their families. A shriek then escaped the Walking Dead’s lips and it crept into the minds of those present making them tear at their hair in terror.

 

Horror. And Eternal Pain.

 

Whispers in their minds that drove the children to hysterics and the mothers to despair. The fathers and other men tried to stay brave but succumbed to the soul-shrivelling shrieks and fell to their knees, tears falling, hands shaking.

 

The foremost Dead, a berobed skeleton wielding a scythe, suddenly left the road and turned in the direction of the path of the people and the houses. Raising the scythe high in the air, it screeched, an awful sound that tore the soul.

 

Then

 

just as they waited for Death to claim them all, the Dead were gone as if in the blink of an eye, Shadows evaporating, leaving only dust and dark echoes in their wake.

 

●

 

Carah din Toral Rising Wave, Sailmistress of the Sea Folk Raker Oceanfold, was usually a patient woman. But her patience was wearing thin, waiting as they were in Tanchico Harbour for the enemy to appear out of the West.

 

She had stopped counting the days and her daily pacing on deck was beginning to grate on her husband’s nerves. Khoram, the ship’s Cargomaster, gazed with worried eyes at his wife as she paced up and down her ship, her eyes sweeping over the sea outside the harbour at intervals. Running a hand through his greyish hair, he wanted to put her at ease but he knew well that when she was in this type of mood his intervening would only make things worse.

 

Frowning, he shook his head and turned in the direction of the lower deck where some seamen were making repairs. They were impatient for something to happen too; remaining shore-bound for long periods made them restless. Khoram understood them well. He too wanted to be at sea; it was where he felt most at ease.

 

At least the trade negotiations had gone well. Carah had been pleased when he had informed her but she had been doubly-pleased when he had told her the rumours about the enemy on its way. She was adamant that it had to be the Shadow that was coming. Certain rumours he had heard in the city contradicted this, but since he did not know anything for certain and she might be right, he kept his thoughts to himself.

 

Whoever was approaching, they were here to conquer, of that he felt very certain!

 

●

 

Morin din Rubai Blue Wing, Windfinder of the Oceanfold, walked the lower deck, her eyes lowered, her frustration bottled. She was even more restless than Carah, and was on the brink of throwing herself into the sea just to put an end to everything. This endless waiting was going to be the end of her, she felt sure! And then there were the dreams.

 

The strange dreams, now so familiar, that never seemed to end. Almost every night she was brought into that.. dream that was not a dream. She could explain it no better. It had to be a dream, a recurring one, but it felt.. different. And her mother who haunted her dream with her messages and omens. But it was not her mother, of that she was certain. She could not tell how but she was.

 

Why did these.. dreams never stop? Stopping her pacing, she placed her hands on the ship’s rail and gazed at the muddy water below as she had done many times in the past days. Embracing Saidar, feeling the wonder of the One Power flowing through her, her mood brightened as it always did, bringing some sunshine into the darkness of her days.

 

She could not lose hope - and whatever her ‘mother’ said in her dreams, she stood ready to fight with the ship when the enemy appeared as Carah said. Let it only be soon.

 

●

 

“Papa, I love you”, Sandana said, burying her face in her father’s chest.

 

“I love you too, sweetheart”, he replied warmly, holding her tight, his hands caressing her hair in that way that she loved.

 

Sandana’s face was radiant as she stared up at his smiling face.

 

“I am dancing with Angels, Papa.” Her voice was dreamy, as if she were remembering an event. “I am dancing in the Light.”

 

“Yes, sweetheart”, Argam replied softly. His daughter was having these child fantasies and he did not want to make her sad by telling her that these.. dreams were not real. Let her have these fanciful dreams, he thought to himself. She will grow out of them soon enough.

 

Sandana also seemed so happy all the time and it warmed his heart to see his daughter happy. She did not have any playmates like most children had, and so it made him glad to see her not lonely and despondent.

 

“Angels are watching over us”, he added after a few moments. “To make sure we are safe from Shadows.”

 

“Oh, there is no need to be afraid of Shadows, Papa”. Sandana smiled warmly. Her large oval eyes glittered. “I know what comes.”

 

●

 

His name was Faolahr Sahrin

 

and he could not remember the last time he had thought of himself as a normal person.

 

His whole life had changed when he had understood that he was the

 

 Dragon Reborn

 

Running his fingers through his hair dark brown hair, his brown eyes scrutinizing the castle wall before him, he sensed the Commander of his Dragonsword Army approaching but kept his eyes on the tall city walls and gates of Bandar Eban, the Capital of Arad Doman. 

 

His army was camped behind him, tents in rows and with banners swirling in the soft north-easterly breeze. They were twenty thousand strong, filled with men and women, soldiers and commoners, who had flocked to his Dragon banner. But even so, gates were closed when they approached and he was treated more as an enemy. Faolahr grumbled at the thought and wondered if it would be this way everywhere.

 

Had it only been a year since it had all started? It seemed impossible; this past year had felt like a lifetime for him in more ways than one. During days in camp when preparations were made for the following day’s march, he often had found himself thinking back on that first time, when it had all started.

 

Back at the beginning..

 

●

 

And it had not started with a kiss, as in many romantic stories and songs.. oh no.. rather it had started with the bad “spells” as he had come to call them. The healer in his village Stanton Creek in north-western Cairhien, an older woman with a talent for listening to the wind as rumours went, had given him herbal remedies and told him to stress less but nothing had helped. The “spells” usually consisted of moments with heat and cold alternating and with his emotions going haywire. He had been rattled but had presumed it would pass as all momentary sickness did. It had, however, only gotten worse. Periods of dizziness and confusion had made him unsteady on his feet and finally one afternoon he lost consciousness, his whole body feverish. The healer had been beside herself, frustrated because she could not find the cause of his condition. He had finally regained consciousness and she had given him various teas to get his fever down.

 

The next day he had been back on his feet again and nothing more had happened that week. The following week, however, he had the “spells” again and this time he felt great pain in his head. The headache would not go away until he got remedies from the healer that made him sleep. He could not understand what was happening to him, he was a healthy young man of nineteen years who stayed fit, and it made him very frustrated and bewildered. He wanted answers - and he soon got them, though from a very unlikely source.

 

One day she was there, as he lay on a bench outside his home, his head aching, his body covered in sweat, his heart pounding. She came out of nowhere from what he could see, a quick movement out of the corner of his eye, but suddenly the woman stood before him with an amused smile upon her lips. She wore an elegant blue travelling dress and her long golden hair cascaded down her back. Her grey-green eyes studied him closely, almost as if in recognition, before she spoke.

 

“Faolahr Sahrin”, she began in an almost seductive voice. She spoke his name almost as if she had expected an other. Her face was beautiful, he thought, and it captivated him even in his reduced state. “You must listen to me”, she said. “What I have to say is important, very important. It will sound crazy perhaps, you may think me insane, but you must believe me.”

 

“I know what is happening to you.” She added softly, but the words sounded like a clarion call to his ears.

 

●

 

He looked back at her, his mouth open. She knows?? When she touched his forehead and his headache lessened, his mouth opened even further. He looked for a Great Serpent Ring on her finger, deducing that she had to be one of those Aes Sedai his father had spoken of in his late-night tales and that she had used the One Power on him, but she wore no such ring. Looking more closely at her face he registered that she did not seem to have the ageless look that his father had described when speaking of Sisters of the White Tower that he had come across in his youth.

 

To meet one Aes Sedai was uncommon but to meet several, as his father had claimed, was almost unbelievable. But his descriptions of the Tar Valon women he had come across in his travels had made a young Faolahr certain that his father had seen many things over the years.

 

Puzzled, confused and more than a little wary, Faolahr stared up at the woman, waiting to see what more she had to say. Seeing his confusion, the woman shook her head slightly, but her voice was clear when she continued.

 

“You will not believe me.” She began. “But please listen. What you are going through is called channeling sickness.” She saw his eyes grow wide with disbelief. “It is a condition experienced by people born with the ability to channel, but who are unguided in learning how to do so.” She saw him begin to shake his head emphatically and stopped him. “Accept what I say, it is the truth.”

 

His head became dizzy again, whether from this supposed sickness or from assimilating her unfathomable words he did not know. “You must be wrong!”, he replied, his whole being screaming in denial. “You must be wrong!”, he repeated, an edge to his voice now. This could simply not be true. He refused to believe it! Why should this foreign woman come up with such a lie to frighten him? His wariness turned to anger and his eyes tightened darkly. He started to protest heavily but she held up her hand which made him pause.

 

“I am sorry, but I am not wrong”, she said and then proceeded to tell him the rest. That he was using the One Power without knowing it and this unsafe usage was causing a slow, sapping illness that would eventually kill him unless a trained channeler helped him control it.

 

It was too much for him, he felt his head explode and he lost consciousness.

 

●

 

The woman touched his face, a strange expression upon her own facial features, and gradually he came awake again, his mind foggy. He kept mumbling that she was wrong

 

wrong wrong wrong -  The word echoed in his mind - wrong wrong wrong

 

but deep deep inside he feared that she was not. After all, even the healer woman had no idea what was wrong with him and she knew everything with regards to sickness as far as he knew from his upbringing in the village. It had to be something very unusual, something not widely known, and what else could it be? 

 

No, I am must be mad to think of this, to accept it. It cannot be!! It just cannot!!

 

Like others in the village, he had on occasion heard whispers of such young men, cursed individuals, who had been found to be male channelers and who would go mad. Hunted by the Red Ajah Aes Sedais these young men often jumped off a cliff or slit their throats to end it before they became dangerous to everyone around them. Cursed with the taint ever since the Dragon, Thranduil Alahr Sehn, a name never forgotten, had broken the world those thousands of years ago. False Dragons had almost destroyed the world on several occasions since, or so the village storyteller old Sevin had told him in secret when his mother had not been around (she would have whipped the old man had she known the stories he was telling).

                                                                                                                           

No sane person wanted anything to do with the One Power and certainly no men. That was all there was to it.

 

Just thinking about it made him shiver and he kept shaking his head in denial.

 

He lay there for about an hour, flitting in and out of dizziness, sleep, dreams and fogginess, aching to just have peace and forget everything the woman had said. When he finally woke again, his head clearer than before, she was still there. She was looking down at him with that strange expression on her face, as if she ought to know him but could not quite place him. She remained silent, understanding that he needed time to process the information. He wanted to ignore all she had said but a small voice in the back of his head whispered that she was telling the truth. Closing his eyes in anguish, and knowing that the bad “spells” would return, and fearing deep inside that whatever was happening was killing him slowly, he finally accepted her words.

 

●

 

When he tentatively asked the woman if she could help him control whatever was happening to him, she replied that she could not. Only a male channeler could do so. The concept gave him chills. Male channeler. Those mad male channelers thousands of years ago had Broken the world!! And now he was supposed to be one of them!? Screams of denial began once again in his throat, all logical reasoning gone for a moment, his eyes tightening in fear, but she forestalled him. “There is no use being in denial”, she said, her voice a touch harsher now. “That will only make it harder for you.”

 

Her gaze met his pointedly. It was hard to say whether there was any sympathy in her eyes. He wanted to scream at the world but something in her look made him stay silent. “What you must do”, she went on carefully, “is find some of the other male channelers, those who have learned to control Saidin. Only they can teach you.”

 

Faolahr’s eyes grew wide.

 

Other male channelers..

 

“They are living in secret, hiding from the Aes Sedai”, the woman continued. “Red Ajah scouts are everywhere.” She paused, looking to see his reaction. His eyes were the size of saucers but he kept silent. “But I know where some of the men are”, she added smoothly. “I will give you directions.” She spoke softly now, for his ears only, giving him the name and location he needed.

 

“Oh, and there is one more thing you need to know”, she added, almost as an afterthought, as she was leaving.

 

Her smile was amused again and her grey-green eyes glittered. “You are the Dragon Reborn, prophesized to save or destroy the world.”

 

Faolahr lost consciousness again.

 

●

 

In the days that followed the young man lived in denial. His momentary logical reasoning and acceptance had evaporated and panic had set in, he could simply not accept what he had been told. Not only was he supposedly a channeling man, but he was the Dragon Reborn, fated to destroy the world but also save it! It was just too much. It could not be true. Whatever his “spells” were, it had to be something different. It just had to be!! As the days passed, he convinced himself that it had all been a dream, a very realistic dream but a dream even so. A dream brought on by the sickness. But then the pain and dizziness gradually returned, the cold and the heat, the weakness and the tiredness.

 

After the third evening in a row with painful dizzying “spells” he was so beside himself that he was ready to sell his soul to the Dark One to make it all stop. Crying in his sleep, silent tears running down his face during daytime, he finally admitted to himself that he had no choice but to seek out those men the mysterious woman had talked about. Whether he was a channeling man or not, perhaps they could help him. He did not know anyone else who could.

 

●

 

Packing a little food and some travelling essentials, he said goodbye to his dear father, pretending he was only going on a week-long journey to neighbouring towns. He did not want to worry his father and so did not tell him the real reason for his departure. Saddling his horse, a brown mare of good temperament, he rode slowly out of the village early one morning and headed for the southwest. While he rode, he went over in his mind what the strange woman had told him, but no matter how much he considered it, he could not accept those facts. He, the Dragon Reborn, destined to save the world!? It was ridiculous! And if it were somehow true, then he might as well throw himself off a cliff somewhere. The burden placed upon him would be far too great.

 

The mysterious woman had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived; no one had apparently seen her leave, he was told when he inquired. Very strange indeed. He felt sure she must be Aes Sedai though - her touch had lessened his pain, who else could do that? - and if so, what she had spoken was truth. Aes Sedai could not lie, that much he knew from lore and stories, though the stories also added that what the Sisters of the White Tower said was not always what you thought it to be. Even so, he could not yet face what she had said about him. He focused on covering as many miles as he could while there was still daylight, his mind on the men he was trying to find. At any other time, he would have thought himself insane to seek out men who could channel, men like those who Broke the world. But he was desperate to find help for what was happening to him, and would seek it anywhere he could.

 

A week later he found the men he was looking for. They were living in a nondescript village in northern Andor, a long way from any major city. Dust flew into the air behind him as he rode into the village beneath a cloud filled sky. Scruffy-looking children gazed at him from behind unkept picket fences and working men in worn clothes and with rugged faces glanced at him dispassionately as he rode past. He stopped outside an inn near the center of the village and tethered his horse. He threw a coin to a stableboy and told him to give his horse some hay and care and then he headed down the village street past a row of houses to one building that stood a little apart. It looked as shoddy as all the rest, perhaps even more so, but this was the place he was looking for. Knocking several times on the door, he waited for it to open. When it did, an ordinary looking somewhat older man stared back at him. Faolahr spoke a few words and saw the other man’s eyes widen. Then he was hurriedly shown inside.

 

●

 

The man was not alone in the building. Another man, middle-aged, waited in the living room. The young man from Cairhien seated himself in a chair and gazed silently back at the two men. His emotions were in turmoil, part fear of these two men - if they were what he believed they were - part desperation. His bad ‘spells’ had increased in the past days and he had had to stop many times during his journey. He just wanted the sickness, whatever it was, gone. He was uncertain how to start the conversation and waited for them to speak first. Finally, the man who had met him at the door asked him who he was.

 

He replied honestly. They were cautious at first when he approached the subject of why he was there and they wondered how he had found them. He explained what he could (leaving out certain bits) though they seemed as puzzled as him at mention of the mysterious lady. When he told them of his predicament, the bad “spells” and the headaches, leaving out the talk of the Dragon Reborn for the moment, they listened in silence though he saw a look of recognition pass between the two men.

 

When he was finished, a long silence followed. He knew he needed to win their trust but he was getting desperate and pleaded with them to help him. The older of the two men finally nodded and brought him to a guest bedroom at the back. It was very small and simple but it had a bed and a small window which let in some light. The young man lay down gratefully and soon fell asleep, fully clothed, exhausted from his long journey and his ordeal.

 

When he awoke several hours later, it was getting dark outside. He could see the sky darkening through the bedroom window. He could also hear voices from the living room, a discussion taking place. He could guess what they were talking about. Was this young man to be trusted? Was he a threat to them? He would have reacted similarly if he were in their shoes. They were keeping a low profile from authorities and especially from the White Tower; could they risk the truth with this supposed channeling man, should they help him? The voices stopped as he entered the living room. He seated himself again and told them that he understood their doubts and their uncertainty. But he needed their help. The older man nodded once more, looked at the other man who reluctantly acquiesced, then reassured the young man that they would help him.

 

●

 

They explained that they kept to themselves and kept their abilities secret. It was safer that way. Faolahr could understand that very well. The older of the two men then spoke of similar ‘spells’ he had had years before but that he had somehow managed to control it after a while. He did not know how but mental exercises learned from combat - he had been a soldier in the regional army once - had helped him. He had been as horrified as Faolahr upon suspecting that he was using the One Power in some way but had gradually accepted what he was and focused on staying alive. In time he had met others like him and they had taught each other how to wield the One Power safely. Listening to him talk the young man felt horror at the thought that this was most probably happening to him now - the strange Aes Sedai woman had been right! - but his thoughts soon centered on what could be done to help him with the “spells”.

 

He stayed with them for seven weeks and they soon began teaching him mental exercises to help him control the One Power. The purpose was to show him how to channel safely and thereby to stay alive. It was a strange experience, unsettling at times and difficult, and part of him still resisted the idea that he was one of those cursed channeling men, but the dizziness and bad “spells” lessened as the weeks went by, as he worked the One Power with the two men. It was hard to know what to believe but in truth he was just happy to feel better for the first time in weeks and if this training was going to save his life, who was he to complain. A small bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered that he would go mad in the end though, but he ignored the voice and worked hard at the practice sessions with the two male channelers.

 

At the end of the seven weeks Faolahr had sufficient control over Saidin, they told him, to be able to take the final steps on his own. Saidin was like a torrent in him when he channeled, and it had taken a few weeks for him to gain enough experience to handle the weaves with care. He was to continue the training on his own for a few more weeks and then he ought to be safe from the channeling sickness. This would keep him alive, they said, though they did not add anything about sanity. They themselves had seemed sane to him, but could madness be manifest even if it was not apparent? He preferred not to think anymore on that subject and was just glad most of the pain and headaches and dizziness were gone. It was a huge relief to him and overshadowed the fact that he had gone through the entire seven weeks without telling the two men that he was the Dragon Reborn.

 

●

 

Travelling to new villages, he spent a few hours every day doing the mental exercises they had taught him as well as the channeling exercises he needed to complete. He did it all in secret, of course, ensuring no one had any inkling if what he was and what he was doing. He was gradually coming to terms with the fact that he could channel the One Power, that he was one of them. Reality was slowly but surely sinking in. He understood this was not something he could run away from and as the days went by, and then weeks, he adopted a more positive stance: this was a new challenge for him and he just had to make the best of it! There was nothing else to do. He was still the same person as he had always been. Now he just had an added ability. He kept telling himself that. He kept telling himself that time and time and time again.

 

As for supposedly being the Dragon Reborn, that part still rankled him. It still seemed too incredible to be true and part of him just did not want to believe. Even so, what the Aes Sedai woman had told about being able to channel had been true, was it likely that the second part was untrue? Aes Sedai told no lies, no?

 

●

 

In the months after he left his teachers, as he had come to think of them, he travelled across the country, from place to place, trying to come to grips with his supposed Destiny. Without really knowing how, or intending to, he gradually became more and more convinced that he really was the man the prophecies spoke about, that it was all true. Even his dreams seemed to indicate it. A recurring dream had him walking beside a mountain that looked like fabled Dragonmount and a whisper in the surrounding mist calling out to him.

 

To the Dragon. To the Saviour. To the Destroyer.

 

She came to him in dreams as well. The Aes Sedai who had placed him on this path. The woman who had told him about the channeling sickness and that he was the Dragon Reborn. She praised him for the steps he had taken and told him to stay true. He had already fulfilled one prophecy, she said. He would fulfil more on his path. She told him to embrace and cherish the Power for the Glory would be his.

 

“You are who you are”, she whispered to him as she faded into nothingness. “Never doubt it.”

 

As the days passed, he felt more the fool for remaining in denial. A small part of him still urged to run away but he more and more convinced himself that he would be an ignorant fool if he ignored the signs and portents. Taking on the burden of saving the world seemed almost too much to contemplate; all he could do was take one step at a time and see where that would take him. It felt daunting and part of him was terrified, but he had always been a stubborn man who needed to succeed with all tasks.

 

This would be the biggest task of his life.

 

●

 

He started alone, one man wandering.

 

But soon there was a group of them.

 

Then several groups.

 

Had he known it, he would have understood that this happened because he was Ta'veren, a person around whom the Wheel of Time specifically weaves the Pattern with all surrounding life-threads. They were ‘drawn’ to him these people without knowing why, only knowing that his path was their path - and they followed him as he travelled, strong in the belief that they were doing the right thing.

 

His confidence in himself and in what he was doing was growing as the months went by and he was formulating plans in his head. His thoughts often went back to the channeling men who had taught him the basic steps to controlling the One Power and he soon had a vision for them all. It was necessary, not the least if they were to have any chance against the Shadow. They needed channeling men. They needed the One Power. He knew there was risk involved, and possibly danger, but it seemed the only way. The first task was to find them.

 

Months later he had assembled the channeling men who had helped him, as well as two dozen others who had somehow felt ‘compelled’ to seek him out, letting them all know who he truly was, the Dragon Reborn of prophecy, and he shared his vision, an ambition for everyone of their kind: a safe place for men like them. And a base to build Power.

 

A Black Tower, as he called it.

 

In Andor.

 

●

 

It was built with the Queen’s blessing, or at least her acceptance; it depended on who you asked. The Black Tower grew from a few small houses to greater buildings and soon had an enclosing wall nearly three square miles around the structure. Barracks were subsequently added as they managed to find and ‘recruit’ many more channeling men using a new testing method. Scouts were sent out in all directions gathering men and their number grew. The initiative was time-consuming - and the Dragon Reborn was frustrated that there was not a faster means of travel than by horseback - but it was important to assemble all men who could channel for the Last Battle.

 

In time, the Black Tower was organized almost like a shadow of the White Tower: with leadership and a Hall of the Tower, with Asha’man (fully trained men with advanced skills), Dedicated (partially trained men with intermediate skills) and Soldiers (‘rookies’ with beginner skills). Teachers trained the men and their skills with the One Power grew. Rumours of the new Black Tower spread across the lands and also reached the White Tower.

 

Thinking of the Black Tower now, his hand touching the sword at his side, his gaze returning to the battlements in front of him, Faolahr felt certain that Tiram Ralnovar, the First Asha’man and leader during the Dragon Reborn’s absence, had everything in hand. He was a very capable man and leader, the right man to leave in charge. He knew that Tiram wished him to be more present in the Black Tower, and he was not alone in that view, but that he also understood that the Dragon Reborn had other tasks and duties, prophesized as he was.

 

●

 

And then there was the Taint. Whenever he thought of male channelers he thought of the cursed Taint on Saidin. His channeling teachers in that village had told him its history. When he had asked, somewhat timidly, if there was any way to avoid the taint, they had answered that unfortunately there was no way around it. It was a nightmare and something the young man usually kept out of his mind.

 

The slight ‘wrongness’ he felt with Saidin though was this Taint, he felt certain of it. He looked for signs of madness in his Asha’man and also in himself. He felt in control of himself, but whispers appeared in his mind at times and it frightened him though he kept it to himself. Knowing madness would slowly creep up on him was a terrible strain on his mental state, but he had so many things he had to do so he tried to ignore it.

 

He became fatalistic after a while, resigning himself to the fact that something was going to kill him anyway, at the Last Battle if not before.

 

He only partly convinced himself.

 

●

 

There was still no activity by the main gate that he could see. He wondered if the Arad Domani rulers would welcome him and his army. His advisors had differing opinions, some believing he would be welcomed once they had ascertained he meant them no harm, some believing they would view him as an enemy out of fear.

 

He had decided to wait to see if they would send a messenger to him. He had thought they may be more comfortable that way, that they could initiate negotiations since this was their homeland after all. His army was camped far enough away to not be misunderstood for an invading force. Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake.

 

In the past months he had often wondered how it was that he was going to gather nations and armies to him, to be able to fight the Shadow in the Last Battle as the prophecies said. He was no Battle-General, after all. He was just a young man who had had this massive mission for the world thrust upon him. But his growing number of followers believed in him, Battlesworn they called themselves, and gradually he had built an army, soldiers and would-be soldiers coming from near and afar. Now they needed to grow further and so the Dragon Reborn had travelled into the West, to Arad Doman, to forge an alliance with its rulers. Word of armies of Shadowspawn further south, gathering around a supposed False Dragon, concerned him greatly and he wanted to discuss this matter also with the Arad Domani King.

 

If he ever appeared.

 

●

 

Sighing, he closed his eyes and opened himself to Saidin, focusing on a point of light within him in the way he had been taught, and it rushed into him like a flood, like the usual torrent, filling him almost to bursting. He readjusted the flow, as he liked to think of it, his skill with the One Power having increased in the last months, and the pressure lessened.

 

It was wonderful to hold onto the One Power though, everything felt more real, more crips, more detailed and alive. He did also feel that odd ‘wrongness’, that sensation that he now understood to be the Taint. It was like a foul oily substance on clear water, a touch of sour bitterness among the surrounding sweetness, but he was able to ignore it.

 

Letting go of Saidin after a while, he felt somehow diminished.

 

When the whispers began again in his mind a little later, whispers of an Age long past, whispers of a man long dead, Faolahr’s facial features tightened and he clenched his fists, hardened himself and faced the taunting voice.

 

Driving that other voice away, Faolahr Sahrin unsheathed his battle sword and held it high!

 

Flashes of Saidin glinted on the sword tip and light danced along its shiny edge as slivers from the sun bathed it in brilliance.

 

I am the Dragon Reborn!

 

 

●

 

►▼◄

 

●

 

And it shall come to pass that what men made shall be shattered,
and the Shadow shall lie across the Pattern of the Age,
and the Dark One shall once more lay his hand upon the world of man.
Women shall weep and men quail as the nations of the earth are rent like rotting cloth.
Neither shall anything stand or abide...

 

The Shadow shall rise across the world, and darken every land, even to the smallest corner, and there shall be neither Light nor safety.
And he who shall be born, according to Prophecy,
he shall stretch forth his hands to catch the Shadow,
and the world shall scream in the pain of Salvation.
All Glory be to the Creator, and to the Light, and to he who shall be born again. May the Light save us from him.

 

Yet one shall be born to face the Shadow,
born once more as he was born before,
and shall be born again, time without end.
The Dragon shall be Reborn,
and there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth at his rebirth.
In sackcloth and ashes shall he clothe the people,
and he shall Break the world again by his coming,
tearing apart all ties that bind.

Like the unfettered Dawn shall he blind us, and burn us,
yet shall the Dragon Reborn confront the Shadow at the Last Battle,
and his blood shall give us the Light.
Let tears flow, O ye people of the world.
Weep for your Salvation.

 

From The Karaethon Cycle:

The Prophecies of the Dragon

 

Year of Grace 231 NE, 3rd Age

 

▀▄

 

 

 

 

 

[Cass]

...

 

~●~

 

The early afternoon sun shone bright over the Queen's Stand. Echoes of lively music, the buzz of conversations and the joyous squeals of children combined on the breeze to fill every corner of the yard with an air of vibrant energy. Children dashed between tables their, faces smeared with the sweetness of honey cakes and sticky fruit. Adults danced around the maypole or toasted the day, the Light and each other with tankards of apple ale and hearty cheers. 

 

The wind wove through the celebration, tugging loose strands of hair, greenery and the free tails of maypole ribbons alike, setting all of them fluttering in the sunlight. As it ruffled the leaves of the trees that bordered the green, Joem and Amelie shared a smile across the yard, moving through the throng separately with trays of ale and platters of roasted meats, their faces glowing with the joy of the day.

 

Moving on, the wind swirled through the stable yard, gently teasing the manes and tails of the white-and-chestnut cart-horses therein. The four-socked mare snorted, shaking her head as the breeze tickled her ears, and the other horse flicked her tail lazily, but did not stop her grazing for a second.

 

Onward the wind moved, away from the yards and into the apple orchard beyond. The leaves rustled in response to its touch, a soothing murmur that blended with the distant notes of music and cheer from the village. The branches of the apple trees swayed gently, setting the fruit swinging in return. Pressing forward, the breeze carried the scent of apples past the orchard’s edge and the property boundary, into the denser woods beyond. Here the trees grew taller, their trunks thicker and their branches more gnarled. Sunlight struggled to break through the canopy and branches, and the shadows spread deeper. The air was thick in the Summer heat despite the remnants of breeze. By now the sound of the wind was barely a whisper, the echoes of music and laughter were long gone.

 

A mass of thick, thorny bushes sprawled among the trees, wild and tangled, an  almost impenetrable barrier of twisted branches and razor-sharp thorns. A final breath of wind stirred the bushes with just enough force to reveal a glimpse of  stone hidden beyond. And then the wind was no more.

 

Behind the thorns and twisted branches stood an immense stone wall, ancient and intricately carved with patterns of leaves and vines that seemed to shift and move in the dim light all by themselves. Each leaf and tendril was so finely detailed that they appeared almost alive - as if they had grown from the stone itself. The center of the wall was more beautifully carved than the rest. With the passing of the wind, a single leaf, as agelessly delicate and perfect as all the rest, seemed to wake. And then, without a sound, the avendesora leaf shifted downwards in position. And stopped.

 

The stone wall, once solid and unyielding, began to shift. With a deep, grinding groan, it split down the middle and swung open. Between the parted stone, an almost dully reflective surface shimmered, followed by a void so dark that it seemed to swallow the light itself. Once, long ago, such entrances to the Ways had shone like mirrors, reflecting the sun and sky with a brilliance that rivaled the brightest day. But in this time, in this place, only darkness remained within.

 

And from that darkness, the Shadow spilled out into the world.

 

●

 

The air was tainted thick with the stench of decay and rot and a sense of something foul and menacing as the first creature emerged from the Waygate. Pale and eyeless, the myrddraal slipped out of the ways and into the waiting shadows of the wood  with lightening speed and predatory grace. Its black cloak hung motionless over black armour, despite the speed of movement. It waited for just a moment, its head shifting this way and that, its long fingers twitching in anticipation.

 

Behind it came the Trollocs—a flood of monstrous forms that surged from the darkness like a tide of nightmares, their thick hides impervious to the sharp barbs that greeted them at the exit. Bestial faces twisted into snarls, crude weapons slashing and tearing at everything in their path. Soft earth shifted beneath their weight as they raced through the dark forest, and into the orchard ahead.

 

 

 

●

Be steadfast - Be steadfast - Be steadfast.

 

The rhythm of the bay's galloping hooves pounded the packed earth of the road, each strike matching that of the words echoing in Calia's mind. The horse ran with her neck outstretched and hooves thundering, flicking dirt and small road debris backwards in their wake, flecks of foam forming around the bit in her mouth. The Aes Sedai kept the reins loose and kept her own eyes forward, back long and elbows tucked close to her knees as the wind bullied her face and whipped her hair and clothes about her almost viciously. Her focus remained unyielding—straight ahead, toward the looming dread she couldn’t yet see in any detail but could feel - again -  in the very marrow of her bones.

Elessar and Stormbreaker flew by her side, the sound of their passage a heavier, yet just as steady drumbeat backing up her own.

 

Be steadfast - Be steadfast -Be steadfast.

 

Then - a thunderous CRACK! and a resounding ROAR! split the sky ahead! A thick, black plume of smoke poured into the sky from the edge of Four Kings. Calia's heart lurched, cold dread mingling with the fire in her veins. She knew, with a sickening certainty, the source of that explosion—the brewery. Her father's biggest non-family station of pride and joy, built to such precision, to his own design, mostly by his own hands. The brewery. Just a stone's throw or a trolloc's dash away from the yard where the entire village had been at play. The urgency in her chest grew into a fierce, burning ache, urging her onward. She rode with purpose, her thoughts honed to a single, desperate point.

 

Be steadfast!

●

 

Bark and branches shattered into splinters. Apples, ripe and ready for harvest, flew from their peaceful boughs, red and green skins splitting from the forces that assailed them. Sweet flesh was crushed to pulp beneath hooves and clawed feet as bestial howls and cheers filled the air. Juice seeped into the mud and dirt.

 

A cruel smile twisted the thin lips of the Myrddraal so that it's stained and jagged teeth were entirely prominent. With a slow, deliberate motion, it raised one skeletal hand and pointed forward, urging all the linked Shadow Brothers on. 

 

In the orchard, the last of the apples fell as the screams of terror began, and bright red skins split open as they hit the ground.

 

 

 

●

 

 

Her heart pounded in her chest, a relentless throb that matched the ache in her legs from gripping the horse’s sides. Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, for relief, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop. Elessar and Stormbreaker remained by her side, the bond humming with the force of protection. Calia clung to the mantra that had driven her this far.

 

-Be steadfast-

 

And forced her breath to come in controlled, deliberate patterns, forced herself to calm and focus her mind. The world was a blur around her—trees, fields, the sky—nothing but streaks of color as she rode hard.

 

But the dark sense of the horrors and shadowspawn ahead remained.

 

Until, quite suddenly, it was - mostly -  gone.

 

She choked the sharp intake of air that interrupted the concentrated rhythm and drew another,  more  controlled breath in its place. It made very little sense that such a large presence would just ... vanish after reaching Four Kings, and she knew better than to fully relax at the change. The vanishing did not guarantee the end of the terror. And she - needed to be there. Needed to face her fears head-on, and do what she was trained and determined to do - prepare for all of the battles that lay ahead.

 

Be steadfast.

 

She glanced at Elessar by her side.

 

And they galloped on.

●

 

FINALLY, just ahead was the last twist in the road - the stretch where it would open up beside the Luin boundary - the point where, one way or another, the nightmare would become more clear. 

 

Calia coughed, her lungs spasming and eyes streaming at the assault of smoke and ash billowing in their direction. Still, she did not slow. Instead, she took a calculated risk, embraced the source and wove nets of Air and Spirit as fast as she could for herself, Elessar and the horses, tying them off around each of their heads in the hopes that they would help.  

 

Almost as one, the Aes Sedai and Warder wheeled their galloping mounts around the corner.

 

The - her - their- orchards - were entirely on fire!

 

She blocked the images from her mind.

 

The horse yards were on fire!  'Socksie' and her cart-mate raced the flames amidst a rain of ash - eyes rolling, manes and tails flying, embers flashing in their faces and across their hides and making them rear, buck and wheel in sheer panic.

 

She hardened her heart. Leant forward as Stormbreaker and the bay's hooves pounded the road, swirls of barely-settled ash lifting in their wake.

 

Light, help us!  - it was more of an exclamation than a prayer. They rounded the corner at full gallop.

 

To find that the brewery, once a proud centerpiece of the Queen's Stand, was now a collapsed and smoldering pile of ruin.

 

Beyond the broken brewery, the inn was also on fire and beyond the point of no return. Flames licked voraciously up the walls, and black smoke bellowed from the roof. 

 

Oh, Light.

Be steadfast. Be steadfast. Be steadfast!

 

They reached the gate and Calia flung herself from the saddle, embracing the source and storming down the path. She knew what to expect. Knew what she was likely to see. But still it did not make it any easier to face. She refused to falter in her strides.

 

Please, please don't let it be real - don't let it be too late! This time it was a prayer.

 

Her heart shattered as she entered the yard, her prayer unanswered.

 

They were face with the old nightmare. As real and as familiar as it had ever been - in every single detail. Only this time, Calia knew, there would be no 'way back' appearing in the midst of the horror. No way to simply leave everything behind and return to Tower life. This was the what shall come to pass.

 

The sounds of the merry-making, the laughter, and the music that had filled this place such a short time before were replaced by the roar of the flames and the cries of the dying.

 

Bodies lay scattered across the green - the same green where children had danced and played only hours earlier.

 

The lower half of the maypole lay broken on the ground, the upper half skewered half a dozen bodies, bloodied and broken. The Sunday ribbons, originally so vibrant and full of life, were now charred and torn, the remains of them fluttering weakly under the weight of gore and oppressive heat. Not even the slightest whiff of sweet apple on the Summer breeze remained. There was only smoke, and ash. As she had known it would be.

 

And there.

 

On the edge of the 'green' that had never existed:

 

It was not her Da, face-down in the grass with that once-sandy-blonde hair sticking in every which way without the control of it's usual cap. It was not her Da, trampled, with a makeshift spear sticking up from his back. 

 

And it was not her Ma, face down several paces away from his body, her arms extended at an unnatural angle. 

 

And, by extension, it was also not their child, not her littlest sister Thayet, lifeless between them. But it was somebody else's child.

 

And it was Joem. And it was Amelie.

 

Tears rolled down Calia's face. 

 

Too late. Too late. Too late.

 

A shrill scream from somewhere closer to the center of town cut through the crack of flames. 

 

Be steadfast.

 

Calia stood, grateful for the strength of Elessar nearby. She caught his gaze and embraced the Source again, this time not caring who or what might sense it and respond. She knew what was to come. And she knew that afterwards, she would not stay. Could not stay. Because other duties called, and the awful truth was this place was no longer her priority, no longer home.

 

But this time,  she thought, I will not leave before resolution. Before revenge. She drew deep, and marched towards the scream.

 

●

The sun had disappeared below the horizon, leaving everything in darkness by the time Calia and Elessar were alone on the road again. 

 

Exhausted in more ways than one, Calia pushed the fragmented images of the afternoon's and evening's events out of her mind, focusing only on getting to the next place of rest, as she knew they must.

 

Myrddraal and a handful of trollocs; a flash of light, imploding into a thin vertical slice of twisted air that disappeared leaving only woven residue she could not comprehend - faces of Four Kings villagers in various stages of fear, shock, anger and disbelief, and - in the case of a few of the previous night's customers, shocked recognition and a myriad of other emotions as she and Elessar arrived, as she fought, healed, departed. Socksie and her cart-mate, terrified, consoled. The sounds of four sets of hoofbeats plodding together on the road as they left everything behind. 

 

Flashes of memory chased her, but that was all there was for now - flashes. Memories with holes. Later, she knew, the nightmares would probably come. And she would let them. Such was the life of an Aes Sedai. But somehow, though there was less light in the world for now and forever more, and there was fresh pain - not everything in her nightmares had come to pass - the Shadows had not taken everything this time - and she had not left until it was right.

 

And, as weary as they were, there was still the sounds of two sets of hoofbeats now, still side-by-side, still steadfast. 

 

She held onto that thought until they stopped and she dropped, beyond exhausted, from the saddle, to stand, weakly, by her bay's drooping head. She felt Elessar start in her direction, and then she let go, and everything turned to black.

~~~●~~ ~

 

Edited August 19 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. Living Nightmares & Dreams of Glory ..

►▼◄

 

Tarah Sanighar was an Aes Sedai of one hundred seventy years and she had devoted her life to the White Tower. She had been a Sitter in the Hall of the Tower for twenty years when she had become Keeper of the Chronicles, second in the White Tower only to the Amyrlin, Nadhene Carahnas.

 

Her friend.

 

Who had now disappeared from the White Tower and had not been seen for several weeks.

 

It was inconceivable that she would just leave in such dangerous times as these. But the truth was that no one had seen her leave and no one had heard from her ever since that evening when she had offered an alliance with the Black Tower.

 

An alliance which no longer existed since the document had disappeared too.

 

●

 

Thinking back on that evening, the Keeper could do nothing but shake her head in disbelief. She had been proud to observe the Amyrlin take the daring but oh so necessary step to go into an alliance with the Asha’man. Taking the signed document down to the Tower Archives, she had walked the corridors in silence, carrying that valuable piece of paper.

 

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, a Shadow had blanketed the light of the hallway, she had felt someone embracing Saidar and then she remembered no more until she woke some time later, crouching against the wall, her entire body aching, the document gone. Bewildered, she had sprinted back up to the Amyrlin’s private chamber, thrown open the door, but it had been empty, the Amyrlin and the Asha’man both gone.

 

Had the Asha’man betrayed them? Had he somehow managed to incapacitate the Amyrlin and smuggle her out of the Tower? It seemed impossible and she could not quite believe it, but she could not think of any other explanation that made sense. Were there traitors in the Tower who had aided him?

 

She had reached out and had received letters from the Black Tower insisting that they had nothing to do with the Amyrlin’s disappearance. Indeed, the Asha’man who had been sent to sign the treaty on behalf of the Black Tower was apparently gone too.

 

A true mystery if they were to be believed.

 

The Hall of the Tower was up in arms over the matter. Half the Sitters so outraged that they argued some sort of reaction against the Asha’man. The other half arguing that caution was wise until they had evidence of what had happened. In the Amyrlin’s absence the Keeper led the proceedings and she had taken on the administrative duties of the leader of the Aes Sedai.

 

This included much paperwork and the reading of many messages meant for the Amyrlin. Going through the messages now again, she wondered if the world was on the brink of disaster. Some claims seemed valid, some not at all. It was difficult to know what to believe.

 

There was chaos everywhere.

 

The False Dragon in Amadicia has been captured by Red Sisters, stopping the war

The Fortress of Light is under siege by Aea Sedai

The Dead are Walking in Andor

A Storm is coming in the Aryth Ocean, a Storm of Shadow Forces

The Sea Folk are fortifying Tanchico Harbour

A Shadowspawn force is moving eastward in the Borderlands, crushing defenders

Shara is mobilizing

The Queen of Saldaea has disappeared

The Shadow has infiltrated Noble Houses in Cairhien

The Stone of Tear has been breached

The Dragon Reborn is gathering forces, Dragonsworn, in Arad Doman

 

●

 

That last message worried her the most. The Dragon Reborn. Free, as she and Nadhene had decided was the best. The dangerous decision they had made in a split Hall which had debated what to do if they managed to get the Dragon Reborn safe and under protection. She and the Amyrlin had privately feared that locking up the Dragon Reborn could tamper with the Prophecies that needed to be fulfilled.

 

A dangerous decision letting him run loose.. but they had had no choice as they had seen it. Knowing they could be deposed if the Hall were to know that they had willingly let the Dragon Reborn run free when he could have been captured, they had kept the secret deep in their hearts.

 

Even so, it frightened her to know he was out there making nations tremble.

 

Dear Creator, let it be the right decision! She prayed silently, crumbling that last message. Let him be the Champion of the Light that we hope he is!

 

Leaning back in the Amyrlin’s high-backed chair, removing a dark lock of hair from her forehead, closing her brown eyes, she placed her arms on the table top before her, her thoughts returning to the most pressing issue at hand.

 

Where was the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat?

 

●

 

Galloping hard, flying like the wind, Elessar’s valiant warhorse Stormbreaker caught up with Calia’s smaller bay mare after a quarter of a mile. Cloaked in the Flame and the Void Elessar was focused on reaching his Aes Sedai only. A small irritation at her brave but somewhat reckless rush towards Four Kings still remained in the back of his mind, but he ignored it as he exchanged a quick glance with his bondholder as his mount came abreast of Calia’s.

 

He only felt intense determination coming through the bond as Calia lay low atop her mare with its neck outstretched and hooves thundering across the packed earth of the road. She seemed deeply focused and Elessar quickly decided that there was no point in making her stop and consider her action. She had decided when she rushed off, and now all he could do was trust that her decision had been a wise one and to stand by her side come what may. They may have words later, but he was there to protect her and that he would do unto death and beyond!

 

The wind whipped his Warder’s cloak as Stormbreaker ran at high speed, Elessar’s eyes fixed on the road far ahead. He still held tightly onto the reins with one hand and onto his sword at Stormbreaker’s side with the other. In his mind he calculated how far ahead the Shadowspawn could be. He sensed them still and he could feel the looming dread. Death and carnage awaited ahead.

 

●

 

Suddenly

 

a thunderous CRACK! and a resounding ROAR! split the sky ahead! A thick, black plume of smoke poured into the sky from the edge of Four Kings.

 

The explosion thundered - and Elessar suspected its source. He gave a quick glance at Calia as their mounts picked up even greater speed and he could see the intensity and purpose in her eyes and stance.

 

Four Kings

 

Even stronger emotions came through the bond from Calia now, and having visited the town with her and seeing how precious it was for her - the family inn, her relatives, the orchards, the trees - everything; he understood how personal it was. And how destructive this could be for her. He knew there was no way to shield her though from the coming pain, the coming carnage. She was Aes Sedai, she was a Battle Ajah Sister, and she would face what was to come, however painful. strongly and proudly.

 

●

 

The world was a blur around them as they rode, almost as if they were travelling at the edges of a dream. Stormbreaker’s heart beat fast beneath him, like a pounding drum carrying them to war. Despite the calm and control Elessar felt inside there was exhilaration as well and adrenaline flowing through him. His pulse was high and his body ready to throw himself into whatever danger awaited them. He exchanged another quick glance with Calia as they rounded a bend in the road and headed straight ahead towards the ominous black clouds in the distance.

 

Finally, they reached a twist in the road, past trees and to a stretch where it would open up beside the Luin boundary. Smoke and ash now billowed in their direction and Elessar coughed and felt his eyes beginning to water. He half-closed them and tried to hold his breath at intervals but then suddenly he was able to both see and breathe normally again and he understood that Calia had created some kind of bubbles of Air around their heads. Leandreen has done similarly once and it helped them massively now. He hoped Calia felt his appreciation through the bond. Almost as one, united in action and purpose, they wheeled their galloping mounts around the next corner and came face to face with burning orchards.

 

●

 

Bark and branches shattered into splinters. Apples, ripe and ready for harvest, flew from their peaceful boughs, red and green skins splitting from the forces that assailed them. Sweet flesh was crushed to pulp beneath hooves and clawed feet as bestial howls and cheers filled the air. Juice seeped into the mud and dirt.

   

In the orchard, the last of the apples fell as the screams of terror began, and bright red skins split open as they hit the ground.

 

●

 

The horse yards and stables were on fire too, Elessar saw as they galloped onwards. He did not need to gaze into Calia’s eyes to know the horror she felt.

 

Her home was burning.

 

The cart-horses were racing the flames, eyes rolling, manes and tails flying, caught in a whirlwind of fire and storm. The Gaidin hoped those horses would make it but they could not stop yet, they had to reach what lay ahead. The inn and the people. And there ahead Elessar saw it, the brewery was a collapsed smoldering ruin. He felt emotional pain coming through the bond from Calia and knew she must be devastated for such strong emotion to be felt by him. He understood her grave pain and wished he could spare her for what she would see next.

 

Beyond the broken brewery, the inn was also on fire and beyond the point of no return. Flames licked voraciously up the walls, and black smoke bellowed from the roof. 

 

They reached the gate and his bondholder flung herself from the saddle, storming down the path. Elessar dismounted a little more orderly and took hold of his mount and Calia’s. He was tempted to run after his Aes Sedai but something told him this was a moment, however painful, for her alone. This was her home after all.

 

Staring at the burning flames running up the side of the inn, tendrils of death coated in orange, his dark eyes tightening in anger, he felt another shock come through the bond from Calia and knew what that meant.

 

His eyes filled with unshed tears for her.

 

Joining her, he stood in silence before the Fallen. Seeing poor Joem and Amelie dead on the bloodied ground, his body trampled, with a makeshift spear sticking up from his back, her body crushed, her arms extended at an unnatural angle, made Elessar’s heart ache.

 

Innocent victims of the brutality of the Shadow. A Shadow that spared no one. A Shadow that drowned out all Light.

 

Thinking of the joyous celebration of this place such a short time ago and how it now was a place of Death and Devastation made the Warder’s soul bleed.

 

Standing close to Calia in the death-filled yard, but giving her the personal space she needed, he gave her strength through the bond and determination. They exchanged a swift glance and he thought he saw appreciation in that otherwise devastated look.

 

A Wanderer in a Land of Death, Elessar of Kandor vowed to take revenge on those who had destroyed this place in the Sun.

 

●

 

Twilight came and went by the time Calia and Elessar were on the road again. The darkness without mirrored the darkness within, as the horror of what they had witnessed stayed with them.

 

They had dispatched the remaining Shadowspawn, relishing the killing of those savage brutes as rightful vengeance for the innocent dead, and afterwards had given the bodies of Calia’s two relatives as deserving and as special and honouring a farewell as possible. The Gaidin had dug two graves in the lee of one of the apple trees furthest to the east in the orchard, a part not totally damaged by the fire, and had placed the two bodies reverently in the ground.

 

When Elessar had spoken the Borderlander words of honour, “May you Shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last Embrace of the Mother welcome you Home”, Calia had nodded softly though she had appeared distant.

 

They had then set off but not before rescuing the horses from the flames in the horse yard. The mounts had run off, free from agonizing death, across the orchards and into the trees beyond.

 

●

 

Elessar now felt very tired but he sensed that Calia was even more exhausted. Not surprising, considering the added emotional toll. They needed to get to a place of rest; a place where memories of Shadows no longer festered.

 

In a blur they rode, chased by smoke and ash and mist, leaving behind most of what they had seen, what they had done, what they had revenged. Unable to escape some remnants of Death and Destruction, whispers in the mind too painful to lay to rest as of yet, they continued onwards for a New Day, another Day to be Alive.

 

●

 

Some time later, time lost in a haze, they stopped, needing the rest, and Calia dropped, beyond exhausted, from the saddle, to stand, weakly, by her bay's drooping head.

 

Elessar dismounted quickly and casting a worried glance at his bondholder he saw how weak she was. He felt her exhaustion through the bond and started toward her. She stared back at him almost blankly and as she started falling, Elessar leapt toward her and caught Calia in his arms.

 

He saw that she was unconscious and placed her carefully on the ground. He understood that it was due to exhaustion, both physical and emotional, and that she would recover after a good night’s sleep. They were nowhere near a village though and so Elessar carried her a distance into the trees and lay her down softly on a bed of moss near some large rocks that would give shelter from the wind. Then he fetched their horses and set up camp.

 

He moved Calia onto a blanket that he removed from their saddle bags and made sure she was comfortable. He would give her some water to drink later but for now she needed that sleep. Tethering their tired horses and giving each an apple to munch on, he then found his own blanket and placed it near Calia’s. The night was not cold and so they would manage without a fire. Elessar walked the perimeter of their makeshift camp to ensure there was no danger nearby before laying down in his own blanket.

 

The Borderlander Warder did not sleep much that night, watching over his bondholder.

 

●

 

Lord Sandhar knelt before the shimmering figure.

 

Her dress was multi-coloured but lit in a way from within which made it shimmer to the extent that it was impossible to see the woman’s facial features or even the colour of her hair.

 

But he knew it was her.

 

“Great Mistress”, the blond-haired, blue-eyed Lord of Illian said. His voice was submissive and unusually soft-spoken for him. He had been a womanizer most of his adult life, loving the pleasures a woman could give him, but with this woman it was entirely different. This woman was deadly and he dared not disobey.

 

“I am ready to serve, as always.” His head was still bowed. “I have served well in the past.” He had served the Great Lord of the Dark well ever since he had turned to the Shadow a decade before. He was proud of his service especially in these final days before the Great Lord’s Return.

 

The woman stared down at the kneeling man and grinned though he could not see it. He had served her well in the past and she would make sure he kept serving her well. Dominating the Council of Twelve of Illian was something he enjoyed doing for the Shadow and it was important work.

 

She kept silent though, wanting him to sweat a little more.

 

“I moved half the military force of Illian north as you commanded”, he added carefully when it was clear that she was remaining silent. “Now that force is split and thereby the defence of this nation is weakened. Just as we want.”

 

“Just as I want”. Her voice was as always strange-sounding, female but somehow twisted in pitch. It always made it run cold down his back. “Remember, you are doing my bidding.”

 

●

 

He felt something press against his throat and began to struggle to breathe. His eyes widened and his hands went to his throat. There was nothing there though, but the pressure continued. Tears filled his eyes as he tried to find a breath but he could not!

 

“You are my tool, Lord Sandhar”, the woman spoke. Her voice was hard as ice. “Never forget that!”

 

Adding flows of Saidar, Spirit woven just so, he felt pain erupt in his head. “And don’t ever think to betray me.” Her voice crashed down on him now. “If you do, I will lock you in a box and make you feel pain worse than this for years before I kill you.”

 

He felt pain such as he had never done before! A thousand needles puncturing his skin, touching every single nerve in his body, making him shake violently and uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. When he regained his breath at last, his face smashed into the marble floor, his dark cloak blanketing his body, and he lost consciousness.

 

Gazing down at the unconscious Lord, the woman shook her head. Another pitifully weak man of this Age. But he had his uses and so she kept him alive. Touching the sleeves of her pale-green dress, her eyes narrowed and she wondered if he would carry out his next task with the same diligence. Time will tell.

 

Opening a Gateway behind her, the sliver of light slicing the air of the Palace chamber, the Chosen stepped through and shut it behind her.

 

In Illian, Twilight was approaching, day slowly turning into night as Shadows spread.

 

●

 

It was early afternoon and clouds were drifting in from the far west. Patches of blue sky were still in view from the Black Tower and the wind was picking up.

 

Tiram Ralnovar, the First Asha’man, gazed at the training men on the training grounds before him and nodded. He wore his black coat with the gold-and-red Dragon pin on the right side of the collar as well the silver sword pin of the Dedicated. A tall strongly-built man in his late thirties with light-brown hair, pale brown eyes and a soft beard, he radiated confidence and had the canny ability to build confidence in others. He was an excellent leader - and he knew it.

 

Seeing one of their newest recruits, a young lad from Arad Doman, struggle with his weaves he walked over to the Soldier and showed him how it was done. The young man appreciated the help and tried to appear confident when the First Asha’man left him to see to another. By the Great Lord, I have to do better! I just have to! The young Andoran kept mumbling to himself as he kept weaving the flows of Saidin.

 

Leaving another young recruit, Tiram walked back to the barracks. The training was going well on the whole though some of the new Soldiers were.. troublesome. Madness had set in in some of them, subtle signs but they were there if one knew what to look for. The Hall of the Tower, the council of the Asha’man, had debated what to do when these individuals became worse.. but the Dragon Reborn had forbidden that they be put to death. If worst came to worst, those men would be locked in an enclosure and watched closely.

 

“Do not dare to disobey me on this”, Faolahr Sahrin, the Dragon Reborn, had said to their faces. “I have spoken!”

 

●

 

The Dragon Reborn. Tiram respected the man, he who had created the Black Tower. He was young and inexperienced but there was something about him that made you listen, made you pay attention, made you follow.

 

He did think the man ought to be more often in the Black Tower, to inspire, to be seen, but he also understood the very important mission he had, born of Prophecies, born to save the world, and that he therefore had to leave much in Tiram’s hands. If he were honest with himself, the whole Prophecies thing was way over the First Asha’man’s head, the Last Battle apparently coming and everything. He lived day by day, relieved that he still had his sanity and that he had not destroyed everyone around him, and did his very best to train these young men who would stand against the Shadow on that final day.

 

He was proud to be among the Asha’man and of what they had created here in their new home, the Black Tower. A future, however long it turned out to be, for men such as he.

 

He remembered what the Dragon Reborn had said to them all before he left the last time.

 

“An Asha'man”, he had said, his brown eyes sparkling, “is a man who defends Truth and Justice and Right for everyone. A Guardian who will not yield even when hope is gone. Remember that!"

 

His words had inspired the young men and Tiram as well. There was an echo of revelation in those words and it made them all proud.

 

Entering the barracks, he strode across to a bunk near the corner and looked down on the sick man. He was feverish, sweat was beading on his face and running into his unkempt beard. His eyes were partially closed and his breath was wheezy. He was mumbling to himself and the First Asha’man shook his head. The madness was getting worse. Touching the man’s shoulder, Tiram whispered a few words of encouragement, then turned and left the room. He remained standing outside for quite some time, cursing the Taint that all men who could channel bore to some extent. It will be the Death of us all! He thought as he walked across to the manor where the leaders, the Asha’man, lived. Reaching his private chamber at the end of the corridor, he opened the door and closed it behind him. Lying down on his bed, not bothering to remove his black coat, he stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

 

The torrent of Saidin still ran through him, an avalanche that he both loved and dreaded, a power that had to be subdued and dominated. It was something he controlled and felt running wild within. It was a paradox which he had never understood nor been able to explain to others. From what he had heard, it was different for women who channeled. For them the One Power was a “river” which must be surrendered to or ‘embraced’ in order to control. The raging power that was Saidin, however, had to be faced straight on like a dangerous bull coming right at you at high speed - and you had to grasp for the horns! And those horns can rip through your body if you are not careful!

 

●

 

He had been one of those men who had managed some control on his own before coming to the Black Tower. He had been lucky, he had understood. In the past six months or so he had learned how to increase the control over his power. He did not ever think he would master it all though. He did not think anyone was able to master Saidin completely. It was like a wild animal that would never be fully tamed.

 

It had pleased him that they had chosen the name ‘Black Tower’ for the community, in clear contrast to the White Tower in Tar Valon. Not that he had anything against female channelers even though they did hunt men like him. But it felt like a nice symmetry: black vs white. Teachers in the Black Tower had also explained further differences with the Aes Sedai. That women channelers could sense the ability to channel, the spark, in others something men could not (though Waymand, one of their half-mad Dedicated, claimed he could feel the ability in strong male channelers like the Dragon Reborn, that there was a resonance, an echo of sorts; he was not believed though due to his mental state, but it was an interesting metaphysical question).

 

They were also taught that Aes Sedai could sense if another Aes Sedai was stronger or weaker in the One Power. It was different for men and also believed to be impossible to tell how strong a man could become as a channeler. In truth, Tiram thought there were many things no one really knew about the One Power and men. Those who might have known, the male channelers of the Age of Legends, were dead three thousand years.

 

A couple hours later he had a quick meal and then returned to the training grounds.

 

He walked across to a Dedicated practicing battle-weaves off to the side, throwing balls of fire at a tree in the distance. Stepping up to the fairly young man, he could hardly be twenty-five of age, he showed him how it was done properly. The Dedicated found it difficult to duplicate the older man’s weaves but that was to be expected. He was quite newly acquainted with Saidin, having arrived at the Black Tower a few months earlier, and would need time to become proficient.

 

Tiram gave him encouragement and then moved on down the line to the next Dedicated training.

 

There was much work to be done at the Black Tower.

 

●

 

Taeda din Varede Four Moons, the Mistress of the Ships and ruler of the Atha’an Miere, the People of the Sea, otherwise known as the Sea Folk, stared forcefully at the gathered Sailsmistresses and Wavemistresses.

 

They were gathered there on the quay by the green-blue waters of the Aryth Ocean, eighteen women seated in a large half-circle with the Mistress of the Ships seated at the open end on a heavily decorated high-backed chair that served as a throne in this place.

 

Aile Dashar was sparsely populated and this small village of Sindhar was its largest site. It consisted of the docks with the ships, a few fisheries and houses and a main street with some shops, a blacksmith, an inn and some private houses. Parts of the isle were off limits to anyone but select people, the secretive Amayar among them, though the reasons were unknown to most people. The isle lay northwest of Arad Doman and had been controlled by the Sea Folk for generations. It was seldom visited by anyone not of their kind. Visits were in general by permission only.

 

“Thank you all for coming”, the Mistress of the Seas began smoothly. Her hand went to her heart in the ancient greeting. It was repeated around the circle but they added the greeting of respect, their hand touching their lips. “We have important matters to discuss.” She stared hard at every woman present and they all felt the force of her gaze.

 

A strong woman, Taeda had a very dark complexion, very dark eyes, almost white hair and a face carved of iron. She was tall for her race and thinly built but her arms had the strength of someone half her age. She had six rings in each ear, a sign of her high station, and numerous medallions on the chain connected to her nose.

 

Though no one dared say so openly, they all thought of her as a Force of Nature.

 

“Some of our numbers are not present since they are needed elsewhere”, she said matter-of-factly. “But this matter is so important that I wanted to assemble you all.”

 

●

 

She gazed at every woman present in turn, weighing them in her mind.

 

Who was strong enough to face what was coming? Who was not? Who was faithful?

 

And who was the traitor!?

 

For she knew there was one in their midst. Her dark eyes tightened momentarily but she doubted many of the assembled women noticed. She was known to have a hard stare at the best of times.

 

“The time has come.” Her voice was strong now and excited and the Sailmistresses and Wavemistresses leaned forward in their chairs listening intently. “The future has arrived!”

 

Her eyes glittered now and her face almost glowed with anticipation.

 

“We all”, she said, “know the Jendai Prophecy, Herald of new Age.”

 

The sky opened above her as she spoke, clouds moving aside to reveal sunshine streaming down on her. It was the wind at an opportune moment, but she took it as a sign, an important omen.

 

“I have the greatest of news!”

 

Standing up, she opened her arms as if to embrace them all; her people.

 

“The Coramoor”, she shouted in triumph, “is come!”

 

●

 

The woman ran a hand through her long golden hair which cascaded down her back. Grey-green eyes framing a beautiful face of pale complexion followed the young man with the sword from a tower window as he walked briskly toward the gate of the Royal Castle.

 

The Dragon Reborn.

 

She remembered him as he was back then.. Thranduil Alahr Sehn.. the Dragon..

 

..a tall, well-built blond man in his late twenties, sparkling blue eyes intense, laughter hard.

 

She had desired him for years but he had never had an eye for her. All he had cared about had been that wife and that mistress and lover. His refusals to notice her had made her bitter, bitter and angry.

 

Her grey-green eyes tightened in anger remembering. Desperate to win his love, she had plotted against his wife and his mistress but her very creative attempts came to nothing. She gave up the pursuit in the end but vowed to win him back one day.

 

This young man looked very different. He called himself Faolahr Sahrin and had dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was also a little shorter than the Dragon had been and seemed less prone to tantrums. At least that was her impression from studying him.

 

But it was the same man inside, of that she felt certain!

 

When she had looked into his eyes back in that village what seemed a long time ago, she had seen glimmers, echoes of the man he had once been. It had been as if she had been looking at a man with a mask, with his real face hidden underneath. She had gazed at him as if imagining him without that ‘mask’, wanting the hidden man to reveal himself. Gazing as if he almost were there.

 

She had placed him on his path to survival and revelation, hoping he would listen to her words and gratified that he had done so. Following him from the Shadows, also using the World of Dreams to reach out to him, she had ensured he had learned enough to survive and that he finally had embraced his destiny.

 

For His destiny was Her destiny. They were Meant to rule the World together!

 

●

 

She would make him understand this; this time he would choose her, now that his wife and blasted mistress were dead thousands of years. But it would have to be done gradually and with some tact. Impatience had always been one of her less fortunate character traits but she could be tactful when necessary. Oh yes! Certain other.. parties would not be pleased once they caught wind of her intentions, but she had dealt with them before.. in her own way.. and would again.

 

She had been driven to the Shadow back in that old life, out of anger, out of spite, out of bitterness towards the Dragon who ignored her, and out of hunger for more power. Power and Glory had always been her dreams. Kneeling before the Great Lord at Shayol Ghul had made her feel Glory in her Soul but even then she had focused on assembling power for herself.

 

As the War of Power continued, the Shadow fighting the Light on battlegrounds of blood and carnage with the One Power used with terrifying results, she had found herself able to forgive Thranduil. Forgive him for ignoring her totally. Forgive him for not embracing Greatness with her.

 

But then, the end had come of a sudden!, she and the others caught at Shayol Ghul with the Great Lord, sealed into the Endless Sleep as she had come to think of it. Now, however, she was back in the world, a very different place but even so, and now she would have her chance.

 

The woman once called Neverine Parahm Arkhin, Chief Engineer of the mighty Collam Aeorosol Science Complex in V'saine, embraced Saidar and felt that glorious power inside her, the Sun blazing within. Around her slender neck hung an emerald stone that was an ancient Angreal. Touching it tenderly, she smiled broadly.

 

He will be mine. This time he will!

 

Her eyes glittered as she saw the young man stop before the gate, head raised, face seemingly calm, hiding what power he had. A Hawk came gliding through the air just then and it made the man gaze upwards.. and for a second, as he lowered his eyes, they caught hers up in the tower window. A thrill went through her and she stared back, holding her breath. Then his eyes fastened on the gate again and she could breathe once again.

 

Mine!

 

She had been known by many names among her friends and foes, but she preferred the name she had taken for herself in those days when the world changed and she became One of Those Chosen to Rule the World Forever,

 

Crysanthia

 

▀▄

 

[Cass]

Flashes of Light

 

►▼◄

 

The darkness of the woods was interrupted only by the faint glimmers of moonlight filtering through the canopy above. Save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze and the soft sounds of Stormbreaker and the bay mare shifting in their sleep, the night was still.

 

Calia lay curled in a blanket, asleep on a bed of moss, her face half-hidden in shadow. Her gaidin kept a stoic and quiet watch close by as the night wore on and dawn grew ever closer.

 

The night was still, yes, but there was no stillness in the Aes Sedai's mind. 

 

Old nightmares clutched at her, dragging her deeper into a dark, twisted world where scenes from silver arches and the horrors of the Shadowed Sunday she had witnessed earlier mixed and replayed with merciless clarity. Between each torturous scene, a 

 

|

|

! FLASH ! 

|

|

 

 

of disappearing, channeled power, and the fading residue of the weave she had never seen. 

 

~●~

 

! FLASH ! 

 

The slice of light in the air imploded and instantly disappeared. With it the sense of saidar use that was not her own.

Remnants of the twisted pattern etched, deeper still, into her mind.

 

 

! FLASH ! 

 

 

 

Four King's villagers: surrounded by fire, snarling faces, rending claws and gleaming black blades.

A myrddraal's eyeless face turning towards Elessar and herself as they arrived, its lips stretching back over bared teeth in a grotesque, Shadowy smirk.

 

 

 

! FLASH ! 

 

 

A shield of Air and Spirit slammed around the villagers, separating them from smoke and Shadow alike.

 

The myrddraal's body fell in separate, severed pieces even as the beast flew towards them. Saidar hummed in her veins. 

 

 

! FLASH ! 

 

... The way back will come but once. Be steadfast...

 

Except there was no way back. Not this time.

 

Joem and Amelie lay before her, their bodies broken and lifeless on the ground. But in her mind, they weren’t just Joem and Amelie—they were also her Da, her Ma, and her little sister Thayet, lying as she had found them so many times before. The nightmare played out in a cruel loop, merging the two scenes until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. She knelt beside them all...

 

Never again.

 

! FLASH ! 

 

Socksie, Thayet's beloved horse-doll was there in her hands, whole and unburnt this time.

 

She lifted the patchwork toy to her cheek, the touch of soft threads bringing a warmth to her chest.  For a moment, she was just a girl again, playing in the orchard with her sister and her best friend, laughing and carefree. The scent of sweet apples floated on the wind.

 

Then, the scene shifted and toy-Socksie became the real cart horse, big and calm, gentle and trusting, leaning alongside her cheek-to-cheek, nuzzling at her hand. Calia leant into the memory, letting it soothe her - a promise of something to hold onto, something that hadn't been taken by the Sunday Shadows.

 

~●~

 

The nightmares retreated.

 

Calia's eyelids fluttered as she drifted back into consciousness, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant call of a nightbird coaxing her from the depths of exhaustion. For a few moments, she lay still, her body heavy with fatigue, processing the fragmented images that swirled in her mind—fire, smoke, the shattered remains of the orchard, and the faces of those she could not save.

 

The scent of charred wood clung stubbornly to her senses, and she inhaled sharply, pushing away the memories on the exhale, thankful there did not seem to be any actual fire nearby. She shifted, sitting up slowly, and the blanket she didn't remember seeking slipped from her shoulders.

 

Instinctively she turned towards the comforting presence of Elessar nearby, grateful that he had obviously taken care of her when she had not been in a state to do so for herself. 

 

Just how tired was I?

 

The Warder sat close by, his posture alert despite the stillness of the night. His eyes swept over their surroundings, his vigilance a silent reassurance. Calia could sense his concern through their bond. She felt their gazes meet in the dark, and she managed a small, weary smile. She wasn’t certain if he could see it or if it was lost altogether in the dim light, but she could feel the bond between them, still humming with shared understanding. Exhaustion, grief, determination—it all melded into the sense of a silent exchange that words would never quite fit or capture. She was simultaneously sorry to have brought him to this, and deeply grateful to have him by her side.

 

The cool night air brushed against her skin, a sharp contrast to the searing heat of the flames that haunted her memory. Elessar held out a waterskin, and she accepted it with a thankful nod, drinking deeply. The cool water soothed her parched throat, bringing her back more fully to the present moment. But even as she tried to keep herself in the present, questions gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, refusing to be dismissed.

 

How had the Shadowspawn appeared so quickly? The attack had been sudden, too well-timed to be a mere coincidence.

 

And just as swiftly as they had come, they had vanished, leaving behind only death and destruction. How?

 

The images flashed before her eyes again: Trollocs, the Myrddraal’s eyeless gaze, and the unknown figure disappearing through what appeared to have been a sort of channeled doorway. The presence of that weave lingered in her mind like an echo, the memory of that sudden flash of vertical light, twisting and imploding into nothing - taking that impossibly strong channeler with it, haunted her. It was a weave she had seen only once before, at a distance too great to discern any detail, in the valley battle near the Plain of Lances. It had stunned her then, and it stunned her now. The complexity was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

 

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall the precise structure of the weave, the way the threads had twisted and coiled. The image in her mind was detailed and clear, but the secrets of the weave remained frustratingly elusive. It was as if the pattern had burned itself into her memory, yet refused to reveal its secrets.

 

And then there was the question even she was afraid to touch: Who had channeled it? Was that nightmare really, truly real? The figure disappearing through the slice of Air and Light into ... nothing... flickered in her memory, leaving her with more questions than answers.

 

Her thoughts moved ahead with a sense of growing urgency. The weight of their mission pressed heavily on her. And, she found, so did the mantra that had carried her through the recent chaos: Be steadfast. It wasn’t just a reminder; it was a vow, one she had to uphold no matter the cost.

 

Too much depended on them now.

 

The bond and Elessar's quiet presence anchored her again, pulling her back to the present. She took a deep breath, re-asserting herself in the here and now. She would hold onto these questions, but they had to keep moving. They had to stay ahead of the Shadow. Cal passed the waterskin back to her gaidin, meeting his gaze again.

 

“Thank you, Elessar."

 

She paused a moment before adding with quiet sincerity, "For everything."

 

She rose then, every muscle protesting the movement, and stretched. The unanswered questions lingered like shadows at the edges of her mind. Despite the fatigue weighing down her limbs, she forced herself to stand tall. There was no other choice. They had to continue. She could not allow the Shadows to win—not here, not now. Not ever. 

 

"We should move soon," she murmured, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside her.

 

With a determined breath, she walked toward the horses. The moonlight cast a soft glow over the camp, and the gentle sounds of the night were soothing after the chaos of the day. Her bay and Stormbreaker stood nearby, their coats shimmering faintly in the pale light. Calia approached them, her hands gentle as she checked them over. She ran her hands along their flanks, feeling for any signs of strain or injury from their recent journey. The Healing she had administered them and her gaidin earlier should have helped, but she wanted to be certain before they moved on. She whispered soothing words to each horse while her fingers traced muscles and joints, checking for any lingering discomfort. Her touch was light but deliberate. Both animals were clearly tired, but still seemed in good condition, and ready for whatever lay ahead.

 

She turned back to Elessar.

 

"What do you think?"

 

▀▄

Edited August 28 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. Caught between Dawn and Twilight ..

►▼◄

 

The Miagoma clan of the Aiel nation was a proud clan.

 

It included several septs and one of these was called Spine Ridge. It was the northernmost of the clan septs and its Chief was Rei’ad. He was a tall red-headed man of above middle-age and of good strength. Though perhaps not the strongest man in the sept, he was certainly the wisest and he possessed much cunning, a combination which made him well suited for the position.

 

Staring into the far north he wondered when the ‘bleakness’, as he called it, would descend on them all. The Storm is Coming. He could feel it in his bones, he often said in private meetings with the Wise Ones. These were women of wisdom in the village who often - but not always - had the ability to channel the One Power. They kept many secrets, but as Clan Chief he had deduced some things which were not common knowledge. Wise Ones had great influence among the clans and also great responsibility. They could be as stubborn as the desert, like all women in Rei’ad’s experience, but ought to be listened to (that did not mean that they always got their way, however). It was a prudent fact of life. His wife, Varthana, herself a Wise One of many years, had taught him as much.

 

As Clan Chief he also knew the secrets of Rhuidean. And about the origins of the Aiel. He had been there, he had walked through the Rings of Power, he had learned the Truth. The greatest Secret of all. One that could never be revealed to the clans.

 

Rhuidean was an ancient and holy city in the Aiel Waste built some time after the Breaking of the World by the Jenn Aiel, an extinct faction of the Aiel and unique among their people. The Jenn did not abandon the Way of the Leaf, a pacifistic code of honour, something that went against all that future generations of Aiel stood for. That the Aiel originally had been pacifists was something their people would never be able to accept, the Clan Chiefs agreed.

 

He remembered the buildings in Rhuidean well. Majestic palaces, ornate buildings, with many unfinished. There was a great plaza in the centre of the city filled with hundreds of objects of the One Power, presumed brought there, in service of the Aes Sedai, to save the objects from the madness and upheaval of the Breaking. Also there was Avendesora, the legendary ‘Tree of Life’, which grew at the very centre of the Aiel city.

 

A place of wonder indeed.

 

●

 

The Clan Chief shook his head as his thoughts went back to what he had experienced when he had walked through those Rings. He had seen the past. He had seen a possible future. He had seen the Truth. And he had seen more.. things he could never talk about to anyone. Things he could not believe..

 

Waiting for.. Him..

 

He who would break them but also save them.

 

Rei’ad did not understand that paradox, but he believed there was Truth there.

 

Turning away from the north, the desert sand whipped up into a storm a way to the west, his eyes shifted to the village before him and a hint of a smile came upon his rugged face. This was home and he would protect it whatever happened. To his dying breath.

 

Veiled as he was, in the fashion of his people, he looked every part the warrior. His spear lay at his feet at the moment but could be picked up and thrown in an instance. As Clan Chief he had little use for it in every day life, not like warriors scouting or defending the village, but he carried it with him out of tradition and pride. The spear was part of their identity just like many of their other special customs, some of which would be hard to understand for outsiders.

 

Ji'e'toh was a prime example. He remembered how it had been explained to him when he was a little boy.

 

“Ji'e'toh, my boy, is a complex system of honour that we the Aiel follow. Ji'e'toh determines all interactions in Aiel life; fighting, housing, even intimate relationships and marriage. The term is from the Old Tongue and means, literally, ‘honour and obligation’. Ji is honour, and toh is obligation. The greatest ji comes from touching an armed enemy in battle without harming them. This incurs a great deal of toh upon the enemy, and the person who is touched usually becomes gai'shain, which in the Old Tongue means "pledged to peace in battle." A gai'shain serves his or her captor for a year and a day, touching no weapon, doing no battle, and wearing only white.”

 

Outsiders will never understand, thought Rei’ad as he walked into the village, greeting several villagers that he passed. Wetlanders are different and always will be.

 

A cold gust of wind coming in from the north made the Clan Chief think of his premonition again, and as he entered his private abode, placing his spear beside the entrance, the ancient Aiel Oath, known to all their people, popped into his mind.

 

He murmured the words almost without thinking, whispers out of time.

 

▼

●

▼▼▼

▼▼

▼

 

 

"Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow

with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath,

to spit into Sightblinder's eye on the Last Day."
 

-Ancient Aiel Oath

 

 

●

 

  ֎֎֎֎֎                 ֎֎֎֎֎

   ֎֎֎֎          AIR          ֎֎֎֎

 

 

 

There was the sound of thunder from an open sky and the air suddenly seemed to twist in on itself over the city of Cairhien, mists of swirling translucent light merging to create phantoms above the banks of the River Alguenya, as if reality for the slightest of moments

 

inverted itself and bent the light.

 

 

People stared worriedly at the phantoms of light and up at the sky above,

 

many dumbfounded, some gasping for breath and fearful of what was going on.

 

 

For a second it was as if time had stopped…

 

 

But then, almost on cue, the world righted itself, the phantoms in the air dissolving into nothingness, the mists falling onto the river water like miniscule silvery petals, and most of the city’s citizens wondered, had they just imagined it all?

 

●

 

Very little light penetrated the dark woods as night approached dawn. Slivers of moonlight brushed the leaves on the trees like feathers touching the morning.

 

Elessar kept vigil, watching over his Aes Sedai.

 

His eyes swept through the dark forest, searching for any threat. But there was nothing, near silence and quiet. A few nightbirds were heard in the distance and some shuffling through the brush by nocturnal rodents but nothing of consequence. There were no Shadowspawn nearby either; he would have felt them through the bond.

 

Gazing at Calia, still asleep in her blanket close to him, he wondered if she was going through nightmares. She was murmuring in her sleep and seemed restless but he did not want to wake her since she needed all the sleep she could get. Leandreen had told him how exhausted Aes Sedai could become after extensive use of the One Power, unable as they were to Heal themselves, and here Calia had had additional emotional hardship. It was no wonder it had become too much for her, her body and mind now needing rest.

 

After a while she calmed and seemed to have more pleasant sleep something which pleased her Gaidin. He hoped she would rest at least until dawn and then they would see how strong and rested she was.

 

Thinking back on the horror in Four Kings, he felt both sadness and anger. Sadness that so many people had fallen to the Shadow and anger that he had been unable to stop it. Joem and Amelie’s faces flashed in his mind. First the way they had looked when they had arrived; very much alive and filled with purpose and energy. And then the way they had looked in death. His heart cried out to them once again and he cursed the evil Shadow for destroying such wonderful, peaceful and giving people.

 

He also wondered how the Shadowspawn had appeared so quickly in Four Kings. It was impossible to move bands of Trollocs and Myrddraal far across country without being observed. So how had they done it? He did not know, though he had some suspicions, but he felt that this was something they needed to find out. If Shadowspawn could suddenly appear anywhere, then the danger was even greater than they had supposed. He once again wondered if the sudden attack on the town had anything to do with the two of them and their mission, but he presumed not. They were not so important that a fist of Trollocs would be sent after them. Surely not.

 

He was glad they had given Joem and Amelie a respectful burial, in the part of the apple orchard that was not totally destroyed, but the horror and destruction of that day would not so easily be buried in Calia’s mind, of that he felt sure. Looking at her again, her face half-hidden in shadow, he knew he would do whatever was needed to keep her safe and alive. My life before yours.

 

●

 

As dawn was approaching, he felt her slowly wake. She lay still, her body probably heavy with fatigue, but then she finally shifted in her blanket and sat up slowly. She turned softly toward him and in the half-light, he thought he saw a small smile on her weary face. He returned the smile but did not know if she saw but he felt a sense of appreciation and silent understanding through the bond.

 

Exhaustion, grief, determination—it all melded into the sense of a silent exchange that words would never quite fit or capture. Calia was simultaneously sorry to have brought Elessar to this, and deeply grateful to have him by her side.

 

He sat up straight then and continued his watch in the stillness of the night, giving his bondholder all the time she needed to process things and regain her strength and awareness. He was a little concerned over her fatigue but hoped she would heal, without and within, in the days to come.

 

●

 

When she seemed ready for it, Elessar held out a waterskin to her and she accepted it gratefully, drinking deeply. Afterwards she thanked him. He smiled back. “For everything” she added after a moment and he nodded back, appreciating her words. He knew he had only done his duty as a Warder, but it was always valuable to be appreciated. “It is my honour,” he whispered back.

 

He watched her rise from her blanket and look around carefully. Then she turned toward him and said that they should move soon. He nodded and then saw her walk across to their tethered horses. A soft moonlight cast a glow over the camp and he glimpsed the horses’ coats shimmering faintly in the pale light. He nodded with approval when he saw her check them for injuries and weariness. They had a long journey ahead of them by horseback and it was important to take good care of their horses, their valiant companions on the road.

 

While Calia saw to their mounts, Elessar broke camp, gathering all their belongings in saddle bags. Dawn was breaking as he was finished packing and he walked the perimeter of the camp once again to check that nothing untoward lurked in the shadows. When he returned, having neither seen nor heard anyone, Calia was finished with the horses and turned toward her Warder.

 

“What do you think?” She asked.

 

●

 

“I think”, he replied steadily, meeting her eyes, “that you are right.” He saw her nod and give him a small smile. “Presuming you are rested, of course.”

 

She assured him that she was, at least rested enough for the next part of their journey. He felt some weariness in her still through the bond but she seemed ready to ride southwards.

 

“Then we ride south”, he said. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

 

He fastened their saddle bags to the horses, double-checked that they were secured, and then they led the mounts carefully across the moss-heavy forest floor and down to the forest road. There they mounted, Elessar whispering words of encouragement in Stormbreaker’s ear, and soon the Warder and Aes Sedai were riding south just as glimmers from the sun streamed down on them from above.

 

●

 

On a sunny afternoon several weeks later, with soft winds coming in from the south-east, Calia and Elessar arrived in sight of Lugard, the Capital of Murandy.

 

Elessar had been there several times in the past and it was indeed a shifty place just as the book he had read had said. One has to be especially alert in this city. Located in the heart of the nation on the banks of the River Storn, it was the trade centre for Murandy, and Lugard had a well-earned commercial reputation, making and exporting lace and handling goods from all neighbouring nations. Lugard also, however, had a very bad reputation for thievery and licentiousness. It was said that residents are said to consider any outsider to be a fair mark for theft or a con and that the unpaved roads and alleys were dangerous to travel alone.

 

We have to be careful here, he thought again as they continued down the Lugard Road, riding past several despondent men and women with children, poorly dressed with downcast eyes, who looked tired and worn, hungry and apathetic, and who walked steadfastly toward the Capital, eyes only on the road in front of them.

 

The wind, stronger now, caught hold of the banners of Murandy atop the city’s eastern gate, the famous Shilene Gate, sending ripples through the cloth, pushing the Red Bull into strenuous forward motion on its vertically striped field of blue and white, as Calia and Elessar rode slowly through the Gate and into Lugard under an azure-blue afternoon sky.

 

 

>>>>>><<<<<<

 

 

Riding through the streets of the city, haphazard-appearing in layout and plan, there was a thick layer of dust upon buildings and streets alike. Houses, shops, and inns [it may in this context be noted that Lugard may very well be one of the few cities in the world which actually have more inns and stables than houses and shops] all were of grey stone and roofed in blue, red, purple or green tiles but those bright colours were covered with a dull haze of dirt.

 

It was just as Elessar remembered it. A place of colour. But also a place of dirt. And worse.

 

They finally arrived beside a building that did not look quite as worn down as most of the inns they had passed. It still was shabbier than many inns Elessar had visited, but the innkeeper, if he remembered correctly, was positively inclined toward Aes Sedai [to the extent that was possible in this disreputable city] and the rooms were fairly clean and the beds as well. Dismounting, the Warder took their horses to the stable at the back of the building and returned soon after to carry their saddle bags inside.

 

They did not notice the pair of piercing blue eyes following their every movement from the other side of the dusty street as they entered the ‘Hanging Noose’ inn.

 

●

 

Faolahr waited impatiently before the gate to the Royal Castle.

 

He needed this alliance with the King of Arad Doman. To bind the nations together, as the prophecies proclaimed. A Hawk suddenly glided into view and he raised his eyes to watch its flight. A Hawk to attack our prey. It was the voice again, the voice he tried to ignore. Shut up! He said silently, and wearily heard the voice chuckle in his mind. As his eyes lowered, he caught a glimpse of someone looking down at him from a castle window. Perhaps it was the Queen. He saw the hint of a woman’s dress before the figure disappeared from view. If only the King would appear. This delay was starting to border on insolence. He shook his head. He had never been so impatient before, but there was so much to do and he could not afford to delay.

 

Finally, the gate opened and a figure appeared. He was dressed in military uniform but looked to be in his early fifties with a grizzled look and a worn face. He stopped a few feet from Faolahr and gave a bow.

 

“My Lord Dragon”, he said, his accent thick. “Please follow me.”

 

Faolahr gave a respectful nod back and waved for two of his Asha’man to join him. The two black-coated men walked up the path and stopped right behind the Dragon Reborn. They were both in their twenties and utterly loyal to Faolahr. They walked one to each side slightly behind as the Dragon Reborn headed into the castle proper. Well inside, the gate shut behind them. Six soldiers waited inside the castle yard and formed an honorary party around them as they headed inside the castle itself. Along several corridors with painting on the walls, rugs and opulent statues until they finally reached a larger chamber. The older man walked up to a pair of guards and spoke. Soon he returned and faced the Dragon Reborn.

 

“Lord Dragon”, he began. His eyes swept over the two Asha’man and his eyes tightened momentarily in consternation but then he focused on Faolahr again. “The King is absent from the castle at the moment. But the Queen is ready to meet you.”

 

●

 

Faolahr sighed inwardly. So, the King was not here, or he was here but not ready to talk with him. Either way, it seemed he would not be seeing the Arad Domani King today. So be it. He did not know to what extent the King took his Queen into his confidence, but since he was here, he would speak with her.

 

“I understand”, he replied smoothly. His eyes were hard though. “It is unfortunate that the King is absent. But I will speak with the Queen. She may relay what I have to say to her husband.”

 

The old soldier nodded as if he had expected nothing less.

 

“Then, please follow me.” He indicated that the two Asha’man were to wait in the hall and they positioned themselves one on each side of the entrance to the hall, standing still but looking as deadly as wolves. Faolahr followed the old man into another corridor which led to a large oak door with an insignia at the front. He knocked twice and a voice from inside bade him enter. Opening the door, he stepped aside and let Faolahr step into the room. Closing the door behind him, he returned to the hall. This chamber was smaller but still of ample size with marble floors and walls decorated with massive paintings depicting war scenes and ocean battles.

 

A long table with chairs for twelve people stood in the middle of the room, a large office desk behind it. Several bookcases along the walls and marble statues in the corners. In front of one of the statues stood a regal woman in a beautiful dress wearing a small tiara. The Queen. She was in her forties with long beautiful brown hair, high cheekbones, oval eyes and a smile on her face. Beside her stood another woman, just as beautiful. She had long golden hair cascading down her back. Grey-green eyes looked intensely at the Dragon Reborn. Staring at her he thought she looked vaguely familiar.. but he could not quite place her.

 

Walking up to the Queen he gave a respectful nod and received a similar in return.

 

●

 

“Queen Irhana”, he said, a small smile touching his lips. “My Lord Dragon”, she replied. Her smile was wide. “May I present my advisor, Lady Oriana.” She nodded toward the other woman and Faolahr greeted her too. There was something about this other woman.. but before he had time to think more on it the Queen bade him sit at the table. She sat down opposite him while her advisor sat down beside her.

 

“I am sorry that my husband is not present”, she began. “He is elsewhere on royal business.” Faolahr nodded, wondering again if this was true. Not all rulers would be keen to meet with him and, as they feared, risk losing power and influence. Perhaps he was away at the moment.. “I understand”, he replied smoothly. “It is unfortunate but I hope you will relay my offer to him.”

 

“Offer?” she asked, her smile still as wide but her eyes shrewd. “Yes, my offer of an alliance.” Faolahr added sincerely. “It is important to stand together in these uncertain times.”

 

“Yes, the times are uncertain”, the Queen responded smoothly. “With Dragons causing havoc here and there.” The Dragon Reborn pretended not to have noticed the barb. “False Dragons make war. We have one to the south as you may have heard.” His tone became harder. “They must be stopped.” The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Dragons must be stopped.”

 

●

 

The Queen’s advisor remained passive, listening to the conversation. Faolahr noticed the emerald stone necklace she was wearing around her slender neck. It was beautiful matching the beauty of its wearer. His eyes met those of the woman and once again he felt that almost recognition. Where have I seen this woman before? I know you. The whisper in his mind echoed in his ears but he shut away that voice again. Turning his eyes toward the Queen again he heard her say that alliances were difficult to build when an army stood at its front door.

 

“My army travels with me”, he said smoothly. “We are no danger to anyone who joins our cause.”

 

“And will you force cooperation?” the Queen added, her smile less wide now.

 

Irritation started to build within him but he remained calm. “To force will not be necessary if an alliance can be made.” His face darkened slightly. “But those who stand against me in this fight to preserve the world from the Shadow, they will pay the price.”

 

“That is only fair, don’t you think?”

 

“I will relay your offer to my husband, the King”, Queen Irhana replied smoothly. Her eyes were still shrewd-looking but her smile was gone. “I am glad you came in person to relay your offer.” She put emphasis on the ‘offer’ knowing he would take notice.

 

Standing up from the table, she pushed the chair back. Her advisor did similarly but Faolahr noticed her studying him closely, her eyes wide, her chin slightly red. She ran a hand through her hair without knowing it and found it difficult to focus on anything but him. The voice in the Dragon Reborn’s head started to say something.. but just then the door to the chamber opened and the old soldier entered.

 

“Thank you for your time, Queen of Arad Doman”, Faolahr said imperiously and walked straight out of the room and down the corridor. In the hall his two Asha’man joined him and they left the palace to rejoin the army outside.

 

In the Queen’s office chamber, the Queen and her advisor spoke for several minutes before the Lady Oriana left, closing the door behind her.

 

He is more impatient than before, Crysanthia thought to herself as she walked down the corridor. Her position as advisor to the Arad Domani Queen, in the guise of the late Lady Oriana, was shrewd she had thought. She had needed a base for her operations and Arad Doman had been as good as any. And available. And very fortuitous as it turned out since the Dragon Reborn had decided to make an alliance with this nation.

 

She knew that Amaranth would not be pleased that she was advising the Arad Domani Royal House to ally with the Dragon Reborn, but who cared about that stuck-up arrogant man anyway? She did not care about him nor his ambitious plans. All she cared about was the Great Lord (who would trust in her judgment) and herself.

 

And the Dragon, of course.

 

●

 

Carah din Toral Rising Wave, Sailmistress of the Sea Folk Raker Oceanfold, awoke suddenly, the sound of waves brushing against the ship’s side. Her head felt heavy and her eyes were sore. She had had another bad night’s sleep, waking every hour or so, the same dream appearing in her head time and time again.

 

She could not understand why that particular memory should become so insistent. It was that of her mother speaking to her eight year old daughter Carah of Windfinders and Aleh’ren.

 

“Windfinders, Carah, are honoured among us. They can channel the One Power and their Weaving of Winds is highly useful for our ships; they provide safe and swift travel, transport and trade.

 

Aleh’ren, on the other hand, is a different matter. This is the name we give to those unfortunate men who can channel. If a man is discovered that he can channel, he is given two choices: the first is to drown himself by walking of the bow of their ship holding a stone that is tied to their legs, or be abandoned on a barren island with no food or water. The second is considered the more shameful of the two. “

 

Perhaps it was the impatience that brought on the dreams. Or perhaps the rumours of chaos in the world. Her husband Khoram had spoken of those and he had seemed quite concerned. For whatever reason she hoped the dreams would stop. The subject of Aleh’ren was a dark one that Atha’an Miere usually avoided.

 

●

 

Getting up from her bunk, Carah stifled a yawn and went out onto deck. It was close to dawn, the sun beginning its slowly rise in the horizon. The blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean were seen everywhere, waves splashing and rocking in that oh so pleasant way, and the sight calmed her down. The salt in the air made it feel like home and she embraced it all.

 

They were a few miles out of Tanchico Harbour. Against the orders of the Mistress of the Ships. But everyone on the ship had been close to madness after all the time at dock in Tanchico and she had seen no other choice than to head to sea. At least for a little while. Smiles of relief could still be seen on the faces of the sailors on board and her Windfinder Morin din Rubai Blue Wing had almost cried with relief when they had left harbour.

 

They could not go too far out to see though. The enemy was out there somewhere and they had to be able to return to Tanchico in time for the imminent invasion. For invasion the Sailmesstress was sure was coming.

 

The Shadow is coming.

 

●

 

“So, Amaranth”, Erandel began, a flirtatious smile upon her glossy blue lips. “Where are your harlots today?”

 

Her painted face, blue echoes on one side, orange echoes on the other, enhanced by the One Power, looked striking behind her elaborately decorated exotic mask and headpiece. Her eyes, enhanced by shadows, also took on the colours of her painted face and they watched the other Chosen closely.

 

Amaranth knew that Erandel had brought that unique mask and headpiece from their own time back beyond the Endless Sleep; it was one of her most prized possessions. He also knew that when she was speaking of ‘harlots’ she was not only thinking of the ladies of the night who pleasured him at times.

 

“Very droll, Erandel”, Amaranth replied, tightening his eyes slightly as he gazed back at her. She enjoyed teasing him and could not help herself when they were alone together. “Dressed up, I see”. He added smoothly. “Some special reason?”

 

He knew that she was a somewhat flamboyant character who liked to dress up at times and also to cloak herself in multi-coloured shimmering weaves when she did not want to be recognized. Amaranth thought she was vain, but he no longer bothered to remark on it. Her work in the White Tower was what mattered and she was doing a very good job there, creating division and cracks between the Ajahs just as the Great Lord wanted.

 

“Do I need a special reason?” Erandel responded, amusement in her voice. Touching the exotic earrings with gems that hung from her ears, and smiling somewhat mischievously at the leader of the Chosen as she took a sip from her glass of red wine, she wondered if one of those two.. harlots had pleasured him today. Never mind, it was not important “I simply fancied it.” She said matter-of-factly. “I have always embraced colours, as you know.”

 

“Yes you have”. Amaranth took a long sip from his wine. In more ways than one.

 

●

 

They were seated in the living room of his mansion. It was all white, marble walls meeting marble floor, a luxurious white settee with some high-backed chairs and a glass table with a crystal decanter and a pair of crystal wine cups. In the corner sat his prized chess table, with pieces to move and be moved.

 

“Do you ever dream of.. home?” He said after a while. His eyes had an absent look.

 

She knew what ‘home’ meant when he said it that way. Their life back in their own time. What people in this Age called the Age of Legends. “Of course I do”, she replied, her eyes darkening for a moment. “This Age is pale in comparison. A shadow of what once was.”

 

She was correct in every way. This Age was a poor reflection of what had once been and he felt sadness for all that had been lost. Anger too. And frustration. But mostly regret.

 

“You are right”, he added pensively. “This world is a pale shadow.”

 

He rose to his feet and walked across to the huge window which faced the large garden outside. Green grass amidst flower beds and fruit trees, it was very picturesque and Amaranth had it tended properly. Nowhere near the splendour of his garden back in Comelle Adanzan, of course, back in that time with its spellbinding flowers, small waterfalls defying gravity and blue-violet droplets falling on leaves of shining gold, but it pleased him and he had a caretaker making sure it was kept to perfection.

 

A soldier he was in most ways, but he too took pleasure in the joy of colours.

 

●

 

Turning around at last, he faced the beautiful woman in the settee. “Now then”, he began. He gazed at the colourful dress she was wearing which managed to be revealing but also decent at the same time. It had a low cut but not excessively so. She saw his stare and was unable to hide a grin. “There was something”, he said, “you wanted to talk to me about.”

 

He was dressed all in black; it was something he favoured. The shirt was of the finest silk, the pants casual but not overly so, the boots stylish. The dark colour made a great contrast to her colourful attire. Remaining standing, he waited patiently for her to reply.

 

Looking at him, she had to admit that he was handsome. He was not her type though even if she did enjoy flirting with him now and then. She undressed him with her eyes and saw him react to the attraction of her. That made her chuckle inside. Shifting her attention to the matter at hand, her eyes became more serious.

 

“Yes”, Erandel began carefully. She had been debating with herself how much to tell him. Too little and that could become a problem. Too much and that could also become a problem. To find the right balance was not always easy. “I have heard rumours about.. the Dragon.”

 

Amaranth’s violet eyes tightened and his posture stiffened. His face darkened further as she explained what she had learned.

 

●

 

The little boy of five years called Mo (short for Mortimer) embraced his grandda warmly, feeling safe in the old man’s arms.

 

“Your stories are always the bestests”, he said, smiling into his grandda’s chest. “I want to hear the one of the prince and the maiden again. The one where they battle the monster!”

 

His eager smile made his grandfather chuckle. The little boy had brown ruffled hair and green eyes, a big nose and out sticking ears. He would never be the handsomest boy around, but what he lacked in looks he more than made up in charm, wit and a pleasant personality.

 

“Alright, my boy”, the old man said, grinning into his grey beard. His green eyes glinted with pleasure. “I will tell that story again.” He placed his grandchild on his knee and started speaking.

 

●

 

“Once upon a time.. in a Kingdom far, far away there was a prince who was a fierce fighter. A brave man. But one day as he visited the local village, he came upon a fair maiden who took his breath away.”

 

Chase smiled broadly, enjoying the telling.

 

“Her light-golden hair”, he continued, “glistened in the sun and her eyes were wells he could lose himself in. And her smile.. oh, what a smile. He was beside himself with love, obsessed with this young woman after that first sight, and one dark night he snuck out of the castle and visited the maiden in her home.”

 

He paused then, hearing a noise outside the house. Looking through the window he saw harbour in the distance and a large ship arriving. The docks in Mayene were often busy so such a sight did not surprise him. The noise did not return and so he continued telling the story.

 

The tale of the prince and the fair maiden who ran away, and on their journey, they had adventures.

 

By the time he had told the whole story, the little boy had fallen asleep in his arms, a happy smile on his face.

 

The old man smiled himself. He loved his little grandchild and cherished every moment with him.

 

This is what makes life so precious.

 

●

 

Her life was a living nightmare.

She feared she was losing her mind.

 

Nadhene’s life before joining the White Tower had not been an easy one. Left to fend for herself at an early age, her parents’ self-destructive individuals who one day threw her out of the house and locked the door, she had been cared for by her aunt who not either was a caring person. It had almost been a relief when at the age of fifteen she had been tested by passing Aes Sedai and found to have the spark. They had taken her to the White Tower to be trained.

 

Her years as a novice had not been easy either, struggling to learn and miserable with all the menial tasks novices were made to do to ‘grow character’ as they said. She had spent more years as an Accepted than most and her first years as a Sister of the White Tower had been rough. It had taken decades of hard work and personal development to reach her potential and to grow in strength in every way, a hard path to walk.

 

But nothing came close to the horror she experienced every waking hour as slave to the Forsaken Nymeria.

 

Oh, the woman had imparted her name one day and had laughed gleefully seeing the Amyrlin’s eyes widening in terror. One of the Forsaken! Loose in the world. If Nadhene had not been broken already she would have become so at this horrific knowledge. If the Forsaken were loose, they might all be doomed!

 

Given pain every single day through the evil Domination Band, she had begun to treasure the few moments of non-pain and had begged the Forsaken, her Mistress Silah, for mercy even though it shamed her to utter the words. Nymeria had chuckled at the pitiful words and had punished her even harder.

 

Crawling across the floor daily like an infant, in soiled clothes and in her own vomit, Nadhene was an emotional wreck and as far from the powerful Amyrlin she had been as could be. She did not care about pride anymore, though. Pride was for the living. She was, in reality, dead to the world. Dead to herself. And dead to the Amyrlin Seat.

 

●

 

And then one day it all suddenly stopped.

 

She was given proper food to eat (no longer the dog food she had been given), was cleaned up and given a hot bath which made her cry in appreciation even though the hot water stung her many wounds across her naked body. She swallowed ashamed tears and just relished not getting pain anymore. That she had fallen so low made her soul scream in anguish but she hushed down her inner pain and hoped the moments of pleasure would not end.

 

Watching her slowly regaining strength, physical and mental, Nymeria smiled inside.

 

To break her down completely. And then to build her up again. We need her strong for what is to come.

 

“You have been a good child, Lata.” Nymeria’s voice sounded kind but as if she were talking to her pet. “No complaints lately which is good. Therefore, you deserve these rewards.”

 

Nadhene’s lips trembled but she tried to smile through cracked lips. “Thank you, Mistress Silah. Lata will be a kind child.” What horrified her was that she knew that she meant it.

 

As her body slowly gained strength, her mind did too. She despaired over her situation but with the constant pain gone her self-confidence grew and she was able to get some blessed relief. In her most secret of hearts she began to think the unthinkable.. to escape. She hardly dared think the thought, fearing that perhaps the Forsaken could read thoughts through the Domination Band, but she could not help herself. She cried herself to sleep at night but as morning dawned in the small spartan prison they called her room a small hope blossomed that somehow she would be able to get free.

 

●

 

She was let out into the garden twice a day. It was a small patch of green with two trees and a flower bed. High brick walls, twenty feet high, encircled the garden and so it was impossible to see beyond. She had in fact no idea where she was but the taste of salt in the air told her she was somewhere close to the ocean. Not that it really mattered where she was but she still wondered. The servants who did everything from making food to cleaning walked silently around with empty eyes and never said a word to anyone. They were clothed like normal people but they did not act like normal people. Not that that mattered either. But as the days passed the Amyrlin took more notice of things while attempting to seem uninterested.

 

She had no idea how long she had been a prisoner when one day she found the house empty. She had just gotten up, washed herself and readied herself for breakfast. She had been given a book to read the night before, “Artur Hawkwing: Fact or Fiction?”, and had started reading, appreciating the gesture since it would help her mind working again. Now, however, her thoughts went to the White Tower wondering how they would have reacted to their Amyrlin and Leader being gone. Perhaps they have elected a new Amyrlin by now. Waiting for her captor to arrive, she sat down in a chair. The table that had had maps was empty. There was no sound either.

 

Finally, after a time, she rose and walked slowly toward the entrance door. She did not know if she dared try and open the door. The collar around her neck had given her atrocious pain the one time she had done so. Touching the accursed collar now she almost expected the pain to come. It did not. Hope rose in her and she touched the door lever. Nothing happened. Pressing it down slowly the door opened and she stared with blurred eyes as she saw the brown-black mountains in the distance.

 

 

Freedom.

 

 

She took a step outside onto the gravel and stopped. Gazing frightfully but with hope streaming through her she looked left, then right. She saw no one. She could not feel the One Power inside her but it had been that way since she arrived. Somehow, she knew she had not been stilled, the Saidar was still a part of her, just that she could not access it. Yet. Another step towards freedom. The path before her surrounded by rocks and small bushes beckoned her forwards. She took a third step and waited. When no one stopped her, she continued down the path, hope blossoming in her heart.

 

As she reached the end of the path, she turned to stare back at the building that had been her prison - and saw the Forsaken staring back at her! She was smiling smugly.

 

“So, Lata”, she said, her voice clearly amused. “There is some fight in you after all. Wonderful!”

 

Nadhene’s hope was shattered.

 

●

 

To her surprise she was not punished for trying to escape. All continued as before, she was given food, rest, and no pain. She did not quite understand it but she appreciated the leniency.

 

She grew more and more confident as the days went by, inspired by the heroic tales of Artur Hawkwing, though she remained subservient when in the presence of her captor. She began to make plans for what she would do in the White Tower - she was certain she would somehow be able to escape - once she was back. The world needed to know that at least one Forsaken was loose. If one was loose, others were probably too.

 

This made it even more important that the Forces of Light - The White Tower, the Black Tower and the Dragon Reborn’s forces - unite and stand together against the Shadow. The mission she had sent Calia on together with her Warder, to find and recover one of the remaining Seals on the Dark One’s prison, was now even more important. There was so much to do but first she needed to gain her freedom.

 

●

 

“It is good to see you strong in yourself again, Lata”, Nymeria said one morning, patting her on the head like a dog. Nadhene felt her chins redden but tried to swallow the shame. She was only partly successful. The Chosen pretended not to notice. “We need you strong now.” Her smile broadened but in a dark way. “You are going to be a good.. asset, child. A very useful asset.”

 

The Amyrlin stared demurely at her captor, seething inside, wondering what she meant.

 

Just then a chime sounded in the house and a Gateway opened at the other side of the room. The second woman who had abducted her in the White Tower, the dark-haired beauty, stepped into the room. She wore a dark blue dress with silver sleeves and a bronze-style belt. Her dark eyes fastened on the Amyrlin who wore the same dress she had been captured with. Washed of course and ironed. “So”, she said taking another step toward the Aes Sedai. “Your little pet is ready to do some work.” Her voice was smooth nut her eyes sparkled. “It’s about time, I’d say.”

 

Nymeria glanced at Qariahna wanting to shut her mouth. Instead, she responded just as smoothly, “Yes, Lata is now ready. She will carry out her duties with utmost proficiency, I am sure.” The other Chosen pursed her lips but said nothing in return, just kept staring at the Amyrlin. She in turn tried to fix her stare on a point midway between the two women. Inside though she wondered what it was they meant. How would she be able to help them?

 

Grabbing Nadhene by the shoulder, Nymeria pushed the Aes Sedai toward the open Gateway and stepped into what looked like a cave. Qariahna followed soon after and closed the Gateway behind her. Nadhene was unable to treasure the incredible fact that people could Travel again in the world because just as soon she was pushed forward into a corridor leading inwards into the cave. She could hear the waves crashing against the rocks in the distance and understood they were yet again close to the ocean. Their path angled downwards for a while and Nymeria pushed the Aes Sedai along. Qariahna followed at the back, a soft grin on her lips. The cave path slowly straightened, then angled upwards and finally opened up, walls of stone rising upwards on all sides, with huge malachite hanging from the ceiling high above.

 

In the middle of the huge stone chamber, criss-crossed by symbols on the ground and partially lit by three dozen candle lights, stood thirteen Myrddraal and eleven Dreadlords, six female, five male. The two Chosen placed the Aes Sedai by the stone wall and then Nadhene was lifted off the ground by weaves of Air and bound to the wall three feet above ground. The Two Chosen joined the Dreadlords so they were now thirteen Myrddraal and thirteen channelers, the acquired number for the business at hand.

 

To turn Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat, to the Shadow.

 

●

 

The Amyrlin’s piercing brown eyes stared hard at everyone gathered. She wondered why so many were assembled and her eyes widened when she recognized some of those faces. Bound to the stone wall she was unable to move even her head and she realized she was gagged with Air again. When a clicking sound was heard and her collar, her accursed part of the Domination Band, fell from her neck she felt relief for a swift moment before a shield slammed between her and the One Power. To get confirmation that she had not been stilled, that Saidar still flowed inside her even if she could not reach it, gave her another moment of pleasure. But then she saw the triumphant smiles on the two Forsaken’s faces and her momentary relief was shattered.

 

What were they going to do, kill her? If so, why the need for so many channelers and Myrddraal? She had seen Fades in the Borderlands many years ago but this was the first time she had seen so many assembled together. Were they ready for war? Was that what this all was about? Fear began to take hold of her heart though she kept her Ageless features smooth. In the back of her mind something she had read about in ancient texts in the White Tower grabbed her attention. It cannot be.. Cold shivers ran down her back.

 

The black-coated Myrddraal stood silently waiting, their Eyeless faces turned upwards. The two Chosen spoke to the Dreadlords and though Nadhene could not hear what they were saying she saw the women robed in black bow reverently.

 

Nymeria then walked up to the bound Amyrlin and staring up into the Aes Sedai’s face she whispered, “This is a day of joy for you, Lata.” She wore a lopsided grin. “Soon you will join your Sisters and Brothers in service to the Great Lord. You are forsaking the Light. And you will be Amyrlin again. Does this not make you happy?”

 

Comprehension slowly dawned on the Aes Sedai. That ancient parchment from shortly after the Trolloc Wars had spoken of such an evil practice.

 

Her entire face went white as a bedsheet as she understood what was going to be her fate.

 

●

 

She started to scream inside, her brown eyes widening in horror! Her soul cried out and had she been able to, she would have killed herself rather than go through what she now understood was about to happen: she was going to be Turned to the Shadow against her will! Tears started flowing down her chin, her cheeks burning with frustration, as she thought with despair that they would make her betray the Light forever.

 

The words from the ancient parchment now burned in her mind.

 

In order to Turn someone unwillingly to the Shadow, it had said, one needed to gather thirteen Myrddraal and thirteen Dreadlords in one place. The victim of Turning must also be able to channel. The combination of Saidin and Saidar channeled through Myrddraal in this way was said to shift the allegiance of any channeler to the Shadow against their will. The process twists the person so that any previous commitment to the Light is redirected towards the Shadow.

 

It was the ultimate horror Nadhene could imagine and she screamed silent screams that almost tore her soul.

 

Seeing the terror that enveloped the Amyrlin’s face made Qariahna relish the moment. She had always found pleasure in Turnings.. in the War of Power, it had been used successfully on several occasions. It needed many participants though and so was only carried out on very important people; people who would be especially useful to the Shadow. This Aes Sedai would be very useful for the Great Lord and so they had gathered here in this place.

 

Nymeria exchanged a look with Qariahna and nodded. It was time to begin.

 

Qariahna was the one leading, controlling the flow. She felt Saidar surge through her body, amplified by her Angreal, and she increased the flow almost to bursting, feeling ecstasy in her soul. The power coming from the thirteen channelers was so strong that it made the air vibrate. She removed the gag of Air from the Aes Sedai and she screamed loudly, unending, a desperate cry that welled up from the bottom of her soul. Channeling through the thirteen Myrddraal, mixing with the power that the Fades derived from the True Power, the thirteen channelers of the Shadow threw their combined might, Saidar and Saidin, at the Amyrlin and it hit her like a burning storm.

 

Horrendous screams erupted from her mouth as she tried to fight the massive onslaught. Crying out for the Light, tears flooding her face, she fought the mental rape for what seemed an eternity, using every fibre of her being and will and Hope to defend her soul, her heart, everything that was Nadhene Carahnas from the town of Darluna in Arad Doman, resisting for as long as she was able.

 

Gradually hysterical with pain and fear, trying in vain to reach for the blessed One Power, and wanting oblivion, she fought on.. and on.. OH LIGHT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! .. her will strong, strengthened by adversity, and fighting and brave and pure….. but it was not enough.

 

 

Nowhere near enough.

 

 

Slowly, by increments, she felt her inner defences weakening, her thoughts became muddled and she knew .. OH DEAR CREATOR, I CAN FEEEEEEEL IT!!! ..

 

that her soul was being darkened.

 

Her strength waned, all that made her Nadhene slipping, and then at one point, an eternity later, or was it just a moment? she could not tell, she felt a.. change inside her, as if a hand of darkness had reached into her and extinguished everything she had ever been, everything she had ever thought, every love she had ever nurtured, every passion and dream she had ever had. 

 

Her soul was breaking - and the scream in her mind was endless and filled with terror!

 

Her last thought as herself, as Nadhene, the Amyrlin Seat of the Light, before she passed out, was that she wanted to die and end it all.

 

●

 

Afterwards all the channelers felt spent. A Turning always took its toll also on the Dreadlords. Qariahna retreated to the back of the cave and spoke with Nymeria for a while. It had taken longer than expected to break this Aes Sedai, but it also meant she would be a strong leader for the Shadow. The Turning had been successful and the woman was no longer the same woman, the same personality, that she had been.

 

She had been released from her captivity and when she recovered a little later, she walked up to Nymeria and bowed reverently. Her face was flat but without any defiance as she swore new binding Oaths to the Great Lord holding a Binder, or Oath Road as they called it in this new Age. Her eyes were deep wells of nothingness but this did not surprise the Chosen since she knew that Turned channelers were said to have a darkness or soullessness behind their eyes, at least for some period after the event.

 

The Amyrlin joined her Dreadlord Sisters, women of the Black Ajah who bowed to her as Amyrlin. She put on a black robe similar to theirs and already started to make plans on behalf of the Great Lord to disrupt matters in the White Tower. There were several things that needed doing.

 

When Qariahna came to stand before her, she knelt before the Chosen.

 

“Are you ready to carry out your duties for the Great Lord?” She asked carefully, looking deeply into the Turned woman’s eyes.

 

“I am, Great Mistress.” She replied truthfully.

 

Her eyes were dead but there was no doubt in her voice.

 

“Remember your new binding Oath, Amyrlin Seat.” Qariahna added in a cold voice. “Remember your Duty.”

 

 

Nadhene nodded deferentially.

 

She was ready to serve the Shadow.

 

●

 

It was well past midnight on a moonless night when the Gateway opened in the Amyrlin’s office chamber high up in the White Tower.

 

Nymeria stepped through followed by Nadhene. A woman already stood in the chamber. She had long brown hair and dark eyes. Her dress was pale green with a low-cut bodice. She smiled when she saw the Amyrlin and quickly introduced herself.

 

“I am Erandel”. She said, her eyes twinkling. “But you will know me as Leihda Sedai of the Green. A Sitter in the Hall of the Tower.”

 

Nadhene immediately knelt before the second Chosen.

 

“You will report to me.” Erandel added smoothly. “There is important work to be done for the Great Lord.”

 

“Yes, Great Mistress!” Nadhene replied honestly.

 

“I will leave you to your business”, Nymeria mumbled and gave a nod to Erandel. She nodded back, her eyes sparkling, and watched as the other Chosen entered the Gateway and was gone.

 

Looking the Aes Sedai up and down when she rose to her feet, the Chosen nodded softly to herself.

 

“I am glad to see the Tower in good hands”, Erandel said with a lopsided grin as she walked slowly toward the door that led into the corridor behind. Weaving the Mask of Mirrors she gradually turned into Leihda Aes Sedai of the Green before the Amyrlin’s eyes.

 

She closed the door softly behind her and Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat, was left alone in her office chamber.

 

 

A Tower of Shadow,

the Black Sister Amyrlin embraced the Darkness.

 

 

▀▄

Edited August 29 by Elessar

[Cass]

Shifting Shadows

 

►▼◄

 

 

Calia and Elessar rode from the camp in silence. Her bay and Stormbreaker moved on with a mostly steady rhythm, each as unfaltering as ever despite the residual fatigue and events of the previous day.

 

The sun rose lazily, glimmers of sunlight sneaking into the world with the beginning of dawn. Soft nocturnal shufflings and other sounds quietened in the woods around them,  stilled. For a time, silence hung heavier in the air than the rustle of leaves in the wind or the fall of hoofbeats on the ground. Long shadows clung to the road like a reluctant farewell to night. Then, little by little, the veil of darkness and obscurity lightened and lifted from the road and surrounding countryside, and the colours and details of the day emerged.

 

Calia processed sounds and scanned ahead automatically as they rode on, as she always did. In a practice born from long experience, she tried to appreciate the blessings and wonder of the day as it began - the first hints of dawn, the soft calls of first one then two, then three - then all - birds to chorus, the gentle spread of Light and warmth. The serene beauty of the day did not go unseen. Still, her heart ached. A large part of her focus returned again and again to Four Kings, and she felt the sense of growing wrongness with the world as a heavy weight that had now reached - and irreversibly smothered - a space  of importance at her very core. 

 

She had felt that same devastating weight before, too many times to count, in over a century of nightmares since her arches. She had endured the pain twisting through her entire being like a spear had stuck in her heart, every time. This time though, 

 

 

It.

 

 

was.

 

 

 

all.

 

 

 

real.

 

 

 

 

and

There was

no way

back

●

 

 

Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill with the impact of each hoofstrike taking her further away from what had once, and against all custom and expectation had somehow always still been home. 

 

"There is always some reason

not to return, something to prevent you, or distract you.

...You must want to be Aes Sedai

more than anything else in the whole world,

enough to face anything, fight free of anything, to achieve it..."

 

The Mistress of Novice's voice gnawed at her mind, as it had for many years following the Arches and each of her recurring nightmares. As it had after the deaths of Shem and Joesh, Aaran. But this time, Calia refused to let the words twist in her mind.
 

'Being Aes Sedai' only mattered because everything else in the world mattered so much. Because every scrap of connection to joy and Light that was - and should remain - close to one's heart, was utterly important. 

 

It wasn't about 'being Aes Sedai', Calia thought, it was about becoming as equipped as possible to face anything, fight free of anything, achieve anything - to ensure that darkness never entirely won the battle, never grew stronger than the love for everything else in the world, never outweighed the hope that Light could remain.

 

Too late, the deeper costs of pouring her energy into 'being Aes Sedai' by maintaining deliberate separation from all else in the world for so many years - including the various lights that had remained to her in Four Kings - became clear.  Joem and Amelie, the orchards - those lights had deserved more of her attention while they had shone in the world. Now they too were gone, for good. The years of deliberate distance hadn't spared her any loss of light - they had kept her world unnecessarily dim. She might not have known and loved her great grand-nephew and his wife as much as the family members she had maintained active connections with - but she could have. 

 

She could have fought for the Light, and lived in it too.

 

Despite the pain, she did her best to keep her head high, and her sights on the road ahead.

 

Even when the tears began to fall.

 

●

 

Some time later, Calia glanced over at Elessar and Stormbreaker, keeping pace beside her. The Warder's face was a mask as he surveyed the road and surrounds. Neither of them had spoken since leaving the camp, but the bond held the space between them with a combination of care and determination for which Calia was grateful.

 

She had kept the greater wash of her emotions somewhat free of the bond to reduce the subsequent impacts on Elessar as they had travelled, but out of trust, respect and a determination to not fall into old habits, she had not masked the sense of the bond itself entirely, as she might once have done. 

Each of them deserved the light and honour of the connection they had chosen to serve in, and she was not going to be the one to make the mistake of keeping that at bay.  

 

As the road curved gently downhill, the sound of rushing water drifted toward them, faint at first, but growing louder as they travelled on. Soon, the shimmer of a river came into view, its surface glistening under the midday sun like a ribbon of silver threading through the landscape. The river meandered alongside the road for a short stretch, its waters clear and fast-moving, tumbling over smooth, worn stones. Tall, leafy trees cast patches of dappled shade along the bank, and wildflowers bloomed in clusters, their soft fragrance carried on the breeze.

 

Calia slowed her horse, her eyes drawn to the cool waters as they eddied in a shallow bend, forming a gentle pool between the rocks. The peace of the scene offered a quiet respite from the road’s dust and the weight of their journey.

The thought of slipping into the river—of feeling the cool, rushing water wash away the heaviness of the last few days—was tempting. A rest here, even if only a short one, would be welcome. And a wash in the pool would likely be both more effective and refreshing than the rinsing from water barrels they had managed at Four Kings. The idea took root quickly - a small, practical indulgence that seemed more necessary with each passing moment.

 

Calia cast a glance at Elessar, gauging their pace and whether a brief stop might be acceptable. The road ahead stretched far, but the river here, peaceful and inviting, felt like a small moment of respite waiting to be seized. Voicing her thoughts to Elessar, she was glad when her Warder had not objected in the slightest.

 

●

 

"...You are washed clean of Calia Luin from Four Kings."

 

Calia lifted her chin, stubbornly, at the memory of the words. Just as she had after the first time she'd witnessed the Shadow take Four Kings and felt the torment of the people and world she loved snuffed out by the dark.  

 

The woman was wrong. Then and now.

 

"You are washed clean of all ties that bind you to the world..."

 

Calia Luin, Aes Sedai of the White Tower and of Four Kings, closed her eyes let the water of the river rush and swirl around her.

 

The ties of her past - her family, her home, the sweet smells of the inn and orchards - had been scorched and ruined by fire and Shadowspawn, not washed away by being Accepted or Aes Sedai. 

 

She held tight to the memories of home and kin that had brought her light, and rubbed at her skin as if to chase away the smell of smoke that clung in her mind. The river lapped at her, its current strong but comforting in its embrace, and she pushed off from the bank, determined to be unmoored on her own terms. 

 

A rustling noise from the bank, heavy and persistent, brought her back to reality as she drifted. Her eyes snapped open. 

 

A snort. A loud, insistent snort and heavy movements in the underbrush near where they had left the horses and the saddlebags. She couldn't see the area from where she was in the pool. 

 

Embracing the source, she waded towards the bank, and catching Elessar's eye for less than a second before -

 

"Socksie?!"

 

The name flew from her lips before her mind had caught up. 

But sure enough, amidst a trail of squashed underbrush, her nose digging around Calia's saddlebags stood Socksie, refusing to be pushed aside from the search for apples by the second cart-horse for even a second.

 

 

>>>>>><<<<<<

 

 

Several weeks later, despite the difficulties of the journey South, Calia still grinned every time her thoughts wandered back to that moment by the river -  and the antics that had ensued. Even now, as wagon after wagon clattered through the Shilene Gate, her thoughts drifted back to Socksie's reappearance and the memories sparked warmth in her heart. The dirt, dust, and din of Lugard—Murandy’s twisted, disreputable capital—pressed in on all sides, but not even the city’s lack of charm could dim the lightness that memory brought.

 

Luin cart-horses had always been known for their intelligence and gentle, easy-going temperaments, but it had been no easy feat getting the two escapees - particularly Socksie - to leave the apples in the saddlebags alone, or to follow Stormbreaker and the bay rather than take at least equal lead on the road! And then there had been the drama, days later, of trying to leave them both behind at the Hilran Estate for safe-keeping as Elessar and herself continued on to Lugard and beyond. Not that the caretakers of the estate objected in any way - Calia Sedai was well-enough known to them and the head of the house they served that they gladly offered their services for as long as she might require. Socksie, on the other hand, had done her best to make her disagreement with such an arrangement very well known. More than once.

Calia ceased her reminiscing as they ventured deeper into the city, making sure the wards on everything of importance were still in place and holding strong.  Here the streets grew of Lugard more crowded, and the faces that passed them were harder, filled with weariness and suspicion born of experience in this city. She watched the passers-by from the questionable comfort of her saddle, sensing the wariness of both horses and her Warder as much as her own.  She couldn't speak for the horse, but she knew it was no great secret to Elessar that in this melting pot of trade, commerce, danger and deceit, trust was a rare commodity, and foreigners - even Warders and Aes Sedai - all made a 'fair' marks.

'Yes, we have to be careful here, girl', Calia spoke softly as she patted the strong chestnut neck stretched out in front of her. A single ear flicked back in her direction was the only response from her new, stubbornly self-appointed mount. Until the big mare swung her head sharply to the side and snorted a very clear warning at a stranger that dared to get too close.

 

Outwardly, Calia kept her gaze and demeanour as sharp as ever, but internally, her heart still felt more full than she had thought possible for days after Four Kings. Whoever had coined the Lugarder saying "Trust no one but yourself, and yourself not too much" had obviously never had a gaidin like Elessar—or horses like Stormbreaker and Socksie—by their side. She caught Elessar's eye briefly as they each navigated with practiced ease through the throngs of vendors, cutpurses, visitors - and most of those who simply lurked in the shadows, waiting for a chance to spring. 

 

As they approached the Hanging Noose inn, Calia dismounted, her hands moving in fluid motions to tie off wards around the tack and horses.

Socksie, ever aware, followed her movements closely with big brown eyes, nosing at pockets with expectation as soon as Calia lowered her hands. Cal grinned. Fishing the apple from her pocket she leaned close to the mare to whisper, "Be good then," as she handed over the reins.

 

The big horse let out a huff at that, shaking her head vigorously and stamping a hoof in a way that seemed to promise no compliance. Calia chuckled softly.

 

'An entirely appropriate response,' she thought to herself as she waited for Elessar to return,

 

'We are in shifty Lugard, after all'.

 

▀▄

Edited September 8 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. Adrift in Profound Divergence ..

►▼◄

 

“You are back!?”

 

Tarah’s large brown eyes were wide in surprise and her mouth fell open!

 

Her Keeper’s stole, a hand's width in the colour of her Ajah, was upon her shoulders and in her hand she carried an old parchment which she had been reading in the White Tower Library when a Sister had told her of sounds of moving feet up in the Amyrlin’s private chamber.

 

She had swept out of the library, almost knocking over a Brown Sister on her way in, and rushed along the hall and up the stairs - and now, catching her breath, her mouth opening and closing liked a beached fish on land, she stood staring at the woman by the Amyrlin’s writing desk.

 

Closing the door to the chamber softly behind her, trying to regain her Aes Sedai composure, she stepped forwards into the room. “Where har you been.. Mother?” She remembered to add the honorary title and tried to get a hold of herself. “The Hall has been sick with worry.”

 

●

 

Nadhene stared silently back at her Keeper but did not answer at first. She turned and placed the sheet of paper she had been holding on her desk and closed the book that lay next to it. Only then did she turn around and face Tarah.

 

“I had business outside the Tower. Important business.” Her voice was smooth but her eyes were cold, soulless. “Amyrlin’s privelige.” It was the expression she had always used when the matter at hand was for the Amyrlin’s eyes and ears only.

 

“I understand”, the Keeper replied. Her friend seemed so cold. What had happened? “But the Hall was deeply concerned since you..”

 

“Since I disappeared so swiftly?” Nadhene said, completing the sentence.

 

Her Keeper nodded, studying her friend of many years.

 

“The matter was so important that it was necessary for me to leave.. unseen”, the Amyrlin added, folding her hands. “As it turned out, it was more complicated than I anticipated. And much more time consuming.”

 

She met the Keeper’s stare squarely.

 

“I assumed you would have matters in hand”, she said, “here during my absence.”

 

Yes, Tarah thought to herself. But to be away for so long? And without giving word? And to disappear just after the agreement with the Black Tower?

 

What she said, however, was, “We managed, Mother.” Studying the Amyrlin’s face more closely she noticed those cold eyes.. colder than she had seen them before. Colder.. but at the same time empty of light. She could think of it no other way. “But we were concerned..”

 

“The Hall is always concerned.” Nadhene’s voice was as cold as her eyes now. “Whenever they are not bickering and arguing that is.”

 

Tarah knew there was ample truth in that. But even so, the Amyrlin’s words were harsher than she recalled. And without the sarcasm that often accompanied her frustrations after meetings with the Hall of the Tower.

 

“In any case, I am back now.” Nadhene said matter-of-factly. “The matter has been sorted and we have much to do.”

 

●

 

The Keeper nodded, trying to ignore her misgivings. The Amyrlin was back and that was the most important.

 

“But I have spent the time away from the Tower re-considering some things”, the Amyrlin added as she walked back to her writing table. “Some things will change now”, she said speaking over her shoulder. “Some of my.. our.. decisions were a bit.. hasty.”

 

Tarah’s eyebrow lifted and she looked questioningly at the Amyrlin who turned around to face her again.

 

Nadhene ignored her Keeper’s reaction and picked up the sheet of paper that she had been reading before Tarah interrupted her.

 

“First of all, and most importantly”, the Amyrlin said in her cold voice, “we shall capture the Dragon Reborn and keep him safe here in the Tower.”

 

Tarah’s mouth hung open again.

 

“Letting him run free was.. a mistake.” Nadhene added with Aes Sedai smoothness. “Too dangerous.. for us.. and for the world.”

 

Tarah was gobsmacked, unable to say a word. Her eyes were wide and she slowly closed her mouth. Staring fixedly at the Amyrlin, she wondered if she had misheard. But she knew she had not.

 

She shook her head slowly but her voice caught in her throat.

 

“A majority in the Hall will support my decision”, the Amyrlin said with confidence. “We shall make no such mistake again.”

 

●

 

When Tarah left the Amyrlin’s private chamber, she did not know what to believe anymore. She never would have believed Nadhene would change her mind on such an important matter as this. They had spent hours and hours, days the two of them, in secret, discussing the Dragon Reborn and had finally agreed on their plan. They had stuck by it in the following weeks.. never doubting.. never wavering.. and now suddenly Nadhene had a reversal of opinion?!

 

Puzzled more than she could say, she almost bumped into another Sedai when she reached the bottom of the stairs leading down from the Amyrlin.  It was Leihda Sedai of the Green on her way up, her face Aes Sedai smooth and her dress dark green with embroideries on the sleeves, and Tarah mumbled politely ‘Sister’ to her as she passed her by, receiving a whispered ‘Sister’ in return.

 

The Keeper of the Chronicles felt lost for the remainder of the day, wondering again and again:

 

What could have happened to the Amyrlin out of the Tower for her to suddenly change her mind completely with regards to the Dragon Reborn!?

 

●

 

Faolahr was unable to fall asleep.

 

Laying in his blanket in his huge war tent that night, he kept staring up at the top section of the tent but his thoughts were elsewhere.

 

He was thinking about the meeting with the Arad Domani Queen earlier that day.

 

He highly suspected that the King was present in the Royal Castle but did not wish to enter into any agreements with him, the Dragon Reborn. And so they pretended he was away ‘on business’. Were he present, he would either need to form an alliance with Faolahr, or decline the offer with potential consequences, or try to stall. Perhaps neither option appealed to the King or perhaps he needed more time to decide. It was perfecly understandable that rulers were sceptical when the Dragon Reborn appeared on their ‘lawn’ as it were, with an army, and offered an alliance. But he did not have the time for month-long negotiations. The Dark One was touching the world, that he had learned in the year that had passed, and he had far too much work to do to unite the nations and far too little time in which to do so. So he needed this alliance sorted quickly so he could move on to the next nation where new challenges awaited.

 

The Queen had been polite and correct in her behaviour during their conversation but he had noticed the nuances in her words and the way she had spoken.

 

“Dragons must be stopped”, she had said when he had spoken of stopping False Dragons. Not a slip of the tongue, he believed; it was deliberate - and the question was if it was a warning or an attempt to show him that she -and they- were weary of all Dragons. And that he should be careful with his demands.

 

She had impressed him. But her advisor, the Lady Oriana’s image burned in his mind. Where had he seen her before? She looked familiar somehow…

 

I know her!

 

The voice in his head spoke up and there was an intensity present.

 

“Oh, shut up!” he replied, driving the voice away.

 

Running a hand through his short brown hair he wondered anew where he had seen her.

 

Suddenly an image floated in his mind.. of a similar-looking woman who had bent over him and given him Healing that day what felt an Age ago..

 

The woman who appeared in his dreams at times..

 

But it couldn’t be..

 

This Lady Oriana looked similar, a little older perhaps, her face a little more mature, but still beautiful.

 

Listen to me! I know her!

 

●

 

He shut the voice down a second time and tightened his eyes. The voice appeared more often these days than had been the case in the beginning. Part of him feared this was madness creeping in, but except for the voice he felt fine, himself and in control and so he ignored that fear. Rather the voice was becoming a little.. irritating.

 

He did not know who the woman was who had Healed him and set him on his path to discovery and, ultimately, survival. She had never said her name. But she was an Aes Sedai. What else could she be? He was grateful to her whoever she was. This woman in Arad Doman looked as if she could be the Aes Sedai’s slightly older sister but it was probably just a resemblence. He had once come across a farmer who lived far away but looked the spitting image of one of the elders, Seith, in his own village. Strange to think that people looking so alike lived all across the world.

 

Turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand, he considered what should be his next move. Did he have time to wait for the Arad Domani King to consider the offer of an alliance? Should he press the issue? Or should he move on to the next place and see if he had better luck there? He had an army at his back but he did not want to start a war unless it was absolutely necessary. There would be war later with the Shadow; uniting the countries - under his leadership - should be done peacefully if possible. He knew it would not always be possible to avoid war but he wanted to avoid one until his army was bigger and stronger.

 

So what to do in this case?

 

He lay for a long time pondering this question. Finally he rose from his blanket and walked to the tent door. Gazing out into the dark night sky, the silver moon half-full far above, he enjoyed the soft breeze touching his chin. He nodded to the two Asha’man guards standing just outside the war tent, black against the black of night, then returned inside and sat down in the settee they had brought all along their journey. It was leather-made with soft cushions and very comfortable to sit in. The only luxury he indulged himself in on this march.

 

Sipping some cold tea from a cup on the table in front of the settee he thought about his options and considered consequences. He finally came to the conclusion that the best thing to do was to speak with the Arad Domani rulers again. Yes, he had to make a second attempt. He had to make them understand that this was for their benefit too.

 

The Shadow is spreading.

 

This was his own thought.

 

She will try to use you.

 

That was not his own thought

 

Shrugging his head, he took another sip of his cold tea.

 

I need to speak with Lady Oriana again. He thought. Yes.

 

Somehow that seemed the right thing to do. As advisor to the Queen, she would understand matters and have knowledge of things. Perhaps she could give him good advice on how to influence the King and Queen. But he needed to speak to her alone.

 

Her face blossomed in his mind and he knew that was not the only reason he wanted to see her again.

 

●

 

The morning after, as dawn was breaking over Arad Doman, the sun beginning its long journey in the sky, bringing Light to the world, the Dragon Reborn wrote a message on a small piece of paper which he then gave to a messenger to be delivered at the castle gate. It was an invitation to the Lady Oriana for a personal meeting in his war camp.

 

He did not know if she would accept but he felt there was a great chance considering how intensely she had studied him during the meeting with the Queen. She seemed interested in him.. and he was curious about her.

 

Several hours later a messenger from the castle returned with a short message for him. It read:

 

Thank you for your invitation.

 

I accept.

 

At the bottom was a letter which looked halfway an O and halfway a C, he could not quite decide.

 

Smiling to himself he put the message aside, thanked the messenger who left, and then sat back in his settee and pondered on the questions he would ask this lady advisor.

 

When she arrived at the appointed time, she wore a pale blue dress with a low neckline. With her long golden hair cascading down her back, a pair of intense grey-green eyes studying him, he could not help but find her beautiful. The emerald stone necklace she wore around her slender neck seemed to pulse in tune with her smile. So familiar.. Brushing that thought away, he welcomed her and bade her sit down beside him in the settee.

 

“My Lord Dragon”, she said as she seated herself, her chin reddening softly again. The way she said ‘Dragon’ made something stir inside him but before he could reply she added that she had been pleased to get his invitation.

 

Be careful.

 

●

 

It was the voice in his head again and he shut it away once more, more forcefully than the last time.

 

Seeing her up close in this way she looked even more like the woman who had Healed him, the Aes Sedai. He found that he was struggling to find the words he wanted and so to buy some time he offered her some cold tea. She accepted and sipped to the tea while sneaking some glances at him from the side.

 

“I am sorry, but you look so familiar to me somehow”, he said after a few silent moments. “Do I know you?”

 

“Perhaps”, she replied softly, her eyes glinting. He stared at her lips, they had a soft red colour, and then his eyes went to the emerald stone. And lower.. to her breasts, only half-hidden.

 

Realizing how he was staring he apologized and quickly raised his eyes again but she did not seem to disapprove, rather a playful smile came across her painted lips and a twinkle in her eyes.

 

“We are all souls drifting in this place, from one place.. to another.” Her voice was soft and seductive.

 

He thought that answer was a little cryptic but it did not matter. He was drawn to this woman and had to focus to think clearly.

 

“I have asked you here to get some advice.” He began. “I do not want to go behind anyone’s back, but it is important to create an alliance here and I don’t have much time.”

 

His gaze was drawn to her slender neck again and he swallowed deeply. “None of us want a war”, he emphasized, “and I hoped perhaps.. you had some clues as to what.. steps I can take.”

 

●

 

Her grey-green eyes seemed to draw him in and he was unable to look elsewhere.

 

“A step here, a step there

Walk the path, with me.”

 

She whispered the words softly, but he hardly heard.

 

The voice in his head began to whisper a warning but he ignored it as he felt his whole body react to this stunningly beautiful woman beside him.

 

He opened his mouth to say something.. but then drove the thought from his mind.

 

Something was wrong.., he felt it deep inside, but he was unable to stop what was happening.

 

When she touched his arm tenderly, he sighed excitedly and when her hand moved to his thigh he felt a thrill run throughout his body. She leant toward him and her mouth covered his. The taste of strawberry on her warm lips made his pulse quicken further.. all rational thought Gone With The Wind.. and he lost himself in passion with this gorgeous beauty of a woman.

 

●

 

The little boy blundered into people as he hurried through the crowd, earning hard looks and angry comments. He reached the end of the street and threw himself around a corner coming face to face with a rugged-looking man with a scarred face and arms the size of logs. With a yelp he dived low and between the big mans’s legs and climbed to his feet and ran on. This alley was mostly empty of people and he made good time. Finally he reached his intended destination, the Cross Keys inn. Pushing the door open he ran inside and shut the door behind him. The innkeeper, a pink-faced fat man in a starched white apron who had graying hair combed back over a bald spot, noticed him straight away and shook his head.

 

“This is no place for you, boy!” he shouted and stepped toward him.

 

The boy was quicker though and swung to the side and into the next room. The Common Room was fairly large and paneled with dark wood. Fires on two hearths warmed it well. The boy stared toward the end of the room but saw no back door. The smells of roasting meat and baking bread drifted from the kitchen, though, making his mouth water. He would not have admitted it aloud, but his belly was gnawing at his backbone. He did not get his chance, however, as a bouncer, big as a Mountain, lifted him into the air and threw him over his back and carried him outside.

 

“Off with you, boy”, the big man said somewhat gruffly though without malice and then shut the door to the inn. Unmindful of the now pouring rain the young boy hurried down the street. He passed shops that had awnings out front sheltering tables covered with goods and traders who were hawking their wares. The wind whistled over the rooftops and thunder was heard in the distance.

 

●

 

The light from an open door suddenly spilled into the dark street and the boy glimpsed a large shape standing there. Hurrying on he looked over his shoulder but saw no one following. As he neared the corner of the street a shadow suddenly appeared before him in the heavy rain and he came to a sudden stop, his eyes wide! A stony-faced man cocked his head and said, “And where are you going, boy?” Sprinting past this foul-looking man the boy rounded the corner and continued running.

 

Slipping on the paved street he hurt his elbow as he fell but he did not care. He rose quickly and ran off as only boys can do when they are young and filled with energy - and motivated by shadows chasing. At the end of this street he saw a horse and its rider. The stallion danced a step sideways, restive and the boy gazed at it with wonder as he ran past. Two more horses could be seen a little ahead but these moved at a brisk walk despite the slippery road.

 

Finally he stopped running and had to catch his breath. He was wet to the bone like a drenched cat but there was nothing to do about that. When he could breathe normally again he started walking out of the city and into the countryside beyond. A while later he saw the lights of farmhouses that flashed into sight and smoke rising from chimneys. He smiled, knowing his Ma and Da would be there and he would get dry clothes and perhaps something to eat too. His stomach continued to remind him that it had been many hours since his last meal.

 

When he threw open the door, his Ma and Da greeted him warmly and asked what mischief he had been up to today. He answered that he had been a good boy and they grinned at his mischievous face. Seeing a tin tray sitting in the middle of the table holding a pitcher and cups, as well as hot stew and bread, the little boy thought it was wonderful to be home.

 

●

 

The knife whistled past Calia’s face and embedded itself in the woodwork behind her!

 

<> 

 

The night before, after they had arrived at the Hanging Noose inn, they had had a meal in the Common Room and had gone to bed early, both tired after a long day’s riding. To his surprise Elessar had had trouble sleeping and had lain awake for several hours thinking about the past days - and of Four Kings.

 

Calia had not talked about it in the days afterwards and he had not found a good way to approach the subject with her in an appropriate manner. Neither had he spoken to her about the way she had rushed off into danger without him. It was something he needed to speak to her about at some point.. but he had wanted to give her time since he guessed that she was grieving in her own way. Aes Sedai appeared stoic and unemotional at the best of times, their training and hardness assured that, but they were human beings and all human beings would feel emotional wounds to some extent.

 

As they had ridden south, he had intermittently felt some sorrow through the bond even if Calia did not openly show grief and despair outwardly that he could see. He sensed some of her grief though, at moments when he caught a glance at her face when she did not notice. And so, he rode at her side, hoping to be a steadfast comfort and companion on the road and to be there for her if she needed to talk. She rode with her head high and Elessar was proud of her and happy to be at her side as her Warder. Whatever danger lay ahead, they would face it together!

 

Even though they spoke little in the days ahead, he somehow felt that the bond held the space between them with a combination of care and determination for which Elessar was grateful.

 

He was glad that that connection he had felt with her that first time in the Tar Valon streets had been right. By the Light, I was right!

 

Thinking back that night, he recalled when they had come upon the river in the wilderness.

 

<> 

 

The memory echoed in his mind:

 

.. the shimmer of a river came into view, its surface glistening under the midday sun like a ribbon of silver threading through the landscape. The river meandered alongside the road for a short stretch, its waters clear and fast-moving, tumbling over smooth, worn stones. Tall, leafy trees cast patches of dappled shade along the bank, and wildflowers bloomed in clusters, their soft fragrance carried on the breeze..

 

Calia had wanted to stop and refresh herself in the river pool and he had agreed with a smile. While she was swimming, he had kept watch over the horses and the surroundings. When suddenly there had been a rustling noise in the underbrush, Elessar had been as surprised as Calia by seeing the two horses from Four Kings there! Seeing the broad smile upon his Aes Sedai’s face when she climbed out of the water and embraced the nearest horse warmly made the Warder smile warmly too. This was the little bit of sunshine she needed at that moment!

 

Later during their journey Calia had tried to leave the two horses behind at the Hilran Estate for safe-keeping; but the horse called Socksie had wanted none of that, and in the end, Calia had swapped her bay mare for this enthusiastic new horse as her travelling companion and she and Stormbreaker had carried the Gaidin and Sister of the White Tower the final part to Lugard. Socksie was quite a character, it turned out, just as Stormbreaker was - and Elessar thought they would suit one another very well indeed.

 

<> 

 

He had finally fallen asleep in the night, exhaustion taking him in the end, and had awakened late this morning, the sun shining into his room through the window, decently rested after all.

 

They had eaten a late breakfast at the inn, had looked in on their horses and smiled at Stormbreaker and Socksie sharing a stall, their noses touching in a beginning friendship, and afterwards had walked the dusty streets of Lugard. They had bought provisions for the next part of their journey south, Calia had attended to some personal matters, and Elessar had visited a local blacksmith’s shop and taken a look at the displayed weapons. He had bought another knife, a good-looking quality piece with stylish decorations on the blade.

 

He had not, however, expected to have to use it so quickly!

 

In this dark alley this night.

 

<> 

 

Elessar threw himself over his Aes Sedai, bringing her to the ground with a thud!

 

Another knife flew past his head with a whooshing sound and he kept himself in front of his bondholder like a living shield.

 

Cursing inside that they had been taken by surprise, he stared into the darkness trying to pick out the perpetrator.

 

There was only silence..

 

But then suddenly

 

he saw a shadow move ever so slightly off to the right, and he withdrew his new knife from its sheath at his side and threw it in almost the same motion.

 

He heard a muffled grunt signalling that his knife had hit its mark.

 

Nodding contentedly, he gazed into the surrounding darkness. Calia moved beside him and soon crouched a few feet away.

 

I knew this was a decidedly shifty place, he thought to himself darkly as he considered their next move.

 

Through the bond he felt Alertness and Determination.

 

●

 

Sandana smiled.

 

She loved the pond. It was her special place this pond, one that no one else knew about. At least she had never seen anyone there. It was close to that place she had been that time; the place where she had felt as if she were flying. She did not know what exactly had happened back then, but it was a wondrous memory.

 

Swimming in the pond this afternoon gave her peace of mind. For she had had many strange dreams lately, dreams that scared her a little. But here in the sunshine, here where the water could run all across her naked body, where the sun’s golden rays could warm her muscles and give her renewed energy, here there was nothing to fear.

 

Her eyes glittered as she looked up into the blue sky. With no clouds present the sky looked almost like an ocean, an endless sea of blue. She felt she could lose herself up there; float like a bird on winds going north and south, east and west. How beautiful that would be. And then she would be able to look down on Papa as he worked in the garden behind their house.

 

She loved her Papa, the bestests man in the whole world!

 

●

 

When she was ready to get out of the water, she swam to the edge of the pond and climbed onto the ground. She stepped carefully so as to not hurt her feet on the sharp stones near the edge and walked across to the mossy ground. Laying on her back she let the sun warm every inch of her body. The weather was warmer this season than usual, warmer than for many years in the Borderlands, and Sandana loved it.

 

Butterflies flew above her, their wings the colour of red and blue and violet and green and yellow in wonderful combinations and she laughed joyfully as they landed on her stomach. They sat there, their small wings fluttering very slowly, and it was almost as if they were bowing to her.

 

She giggled, happy with the Wonder of Life!

 

A beautiful hummingbird with feathers of blue, red and green, came to a standstill in the air beside her and she stared at it with wonder in her eyes. She reached out to touch it but was too late. The hummingbird flew away up into the sunshine leaving what almost seemed like silver threads behind.

 

It was all magical to Sandana and when she finally headed back home, remembering to bring her clothes which she had left at the other end of the pond, she kept singing all the way to their house, a Song of Light and Beauty - and of Hope.

 

●

 

The Children of the Light

 

were founded in FY 1021 during the War of the Hundred Years by Lothair Mantelar. They were originally preachers working to expose Darkfriends, using Mantelar's book “The Way of the Light” as their guide. At first they only defended themselves against the Shadow, but by FY 1111 they had become a fully militarized force. One of their most notable accomplishment in the early New Era was their murder of the Amyrlin Seat, Myrna Riluhr, in 306 NE, while she was mediating a dispute in Murandy; they hanged her body after death.

 

The Children's power and prestige was initially limited, but over the succeeding one thousand years, as the influence of the Aes Sedai began to ebb due to their declining numbers and failure to prevent the War of the Hundred Years and many subsequent conflicts, they became more popular and powerful. In the 930s NE they reached an accord with the King of Amadicia, who agreed to let them establish a permanent base of operations, the Fortress of the Light, in the capital city of Amador. However, the power of the Children within Amadicia rapidly outstripped that of the King, and within a few years the royal Serenda Palace had been removed to outside the capital and the Amadician army reduced to an auxiliary force under the Children.

 

The Children entered a period of rapid growth under young, successful military commanders, and in 957 NE, they launched an ambitious attempt to bring the much larger and more divided neighboring kingdom of Altara under their rule in what became known as the Whitecloak War. The kingdoms of Illian and Murandy intervened in the conflict and the Children were forced to abandon the attempt, despite significant military gains and successes.

 

Despite many intrigues and attempts to extend their influence into neighboring Altara, Ghealdan, and Tarabon, the Children's influence and power has been contained within Amadicia.

 

Excerpt from

“The History of the Children of the Light”

By Serein Casalain, Chief Librarian

Royal Library of Caemlyn

971 NE 3rd Age

 

●

 

Red blood filled the walls of the otherwise pristine marble-white Fortress of the Light.

 

Dead Whitecloaks littered the corridors of the fortress, lifeless bodies in cloaks now bloodied and torn, and with empty eyes staring into the beyond. Walking down one corridor the Amo’hra, leader of the Sharan Ayyad, grinned broadly. Her eyes sparkled as she stepped over the body of a young Child of the Light whose aspirations and dreams had been extinguished forever. Turning a corner she came upon one of her Sisters and smiled, receiving a smile back.

 

Entering the office of the former Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, Lord Enthar Mehrin, she gazed down at what remained of his body. What is your Truth now, Whitecloak!? She thought with some pleasure as she stepped down on his head and crushed bones that had not been destroyed. Laughing wickedly to herself she recalled their.. session.. when she had taught him what real pain was.

 

When he had broken.. and given her the primary answers she needed.

 

A brave man though, she had to admit yet again, which was why she had let him fall on his sword, though not perhaps in the way he had quite expected.

 

Only after she had taken his eye and made him eat it, did he answer her second question, however.

 

“Has the Children of the Light made alliances with other nations outside Amadicia?”

 

He had finally answered, yes. It had come out like a croak. Alliances had been made with the rulers of Altara and Ghealdan. In the Light.

 

●

 

That was useful knowledge for Silvahria and the Shadow. As the Amo’hra, she had gotten much out of this mission, more so than she would have expected. Destroying the Fortress of the Light, killing its Lord Captain Commander, gaining knowledge of several Whitecloak companies out in the land, and lastly the knowledge of alliances made with outside rulers.

 

Disruptions made and disruptions to come.

 

Her train of thought was disrupted when one of her Ayyad Sisters brought the final prisoner in. Another young lad in his early twenties, cloaked all in white but with blood flowing from his head. Another pair of eyes that shone with Truth and a twisted face that gazed hatefully at her.

 

“Filthy Aes Sedai scum!” he spat and tried again in vain to get free of the hands holding him.

 

She ignored the barb this time, sick of being called Aes Sedai both in her present incarnation and otherwise.

 

“Now then, young man”, she began, picking up the knife that lay on the former Lord Captain Commander’s table. “Do you wish to share your Lord Commander’s fate?”

 

Only now did the young Whitecloak see what remained of his Lord Captain Commander and he threw up on the floor and went to his knees. There was despair but also rage in his dark eyes when he lifted them to look up at her. He remained silent though but she could see the disgust and horror in his eyes.

 

“Good”, she said after a moment’s pause. “All right, I have one simple question for you.” She bent down so her eyes came level with his. “Is it true.. that you are, in fact, a Darkfriend, Child Sedron?”

 

His eyes went as wide as they could go and the indignation he felt made his face burn. He spat at her, disgusted that she would even say such a thing. He was a Child of the Light and had always been so! No lies from witches would ever change that!

 

●

 

Silvahria chuckled inside though her face remained passive. Of course he was no Friend of the Dark. She just enjoyed toying with him a little before killing him.

 

“Child Sedron”, she said at last when he had calmed somewhat down, “you will have the honour of being the last Whitecloak to be killed here in your precious Fortress.”

 

He stared blankly at her, trying to be stoic but she saw the darkness behind his eyes. A darkness that bespoke knowledge that his time here on this earth was coming to an end.

 

“Since you are the last”, she added smoothly, her eyes sparkling in triumph, “you may get the choice whether I shall remove your arm or leg before you die.” His eyes widened in horror.

 

“I want you to suffer”, she said matter-of-factly, “and perhaps then no Whitecloaks will consider going to war with Shara.”

 

She could see from his eyes that he did not understand but it did not matter. His eyes looked at the knife she brought before his face and his attempt at bravery failed.

 

“I die in the Light.” He whispered as he closed his eyes. “Dear Creator, shelter me”.

 

Then the excruciating pain began as she tore into his leg with the sharp knife, crimson blood flowing onto the marble floor, painting it red.

 

●

 

Opening the massive Gateway outside the Fortress of the Light in Amador, beneath a shining afternoon Sun bringing Light to the region,

 

the remaining Sisters of the Sharan Ayyad under the leadership of the Amo’hra stepped through and the huge Gateway shut behind them, light slicing the air and then evaporating into nothingness.

 

All that remained in the Fortress of the Light, bastion of the Children of the Light, was blood flowing - and death.

 

▀▄

[Cass]

"We-"                              

 

<  ! X !  >

 

A sudden <stab> of heat bloomed at the center of Calia's throat. Her entire body jerked hard to the right.

 

●

 

The streets of Lugard had grown darker as the evening settled in, the city’s bustling energy slipping away with the last rays of sunlight. The narrow alley they found themselves in now was a world apart from the dusty, crowded marketplace they’d passed earlier. Here, shadows pooled in forgotten corners, and the soft scuff of their boots seemed to echo louder than it should, as if the alley itself were holding its breath.

 

The oppressive quiet had gnawed at Calia’s awareness, pressing in closer with each step. The alley was closing in around them, narrowing into a dilapidated unpaved path of dirt, stone and shadow. The tall buildings that flanked them loomed overhead like silent sentinels, their worn facades watching, waiting. The air felt heavy, dense with something more than just the humidity of a Lugard night. Her senses strained to catch any hint of movement, any sound out of place.

 

She had pushed aside thoughts of her mission and the day's affairs, focusing instead on the shadows ahead. Who else she and Elessar could possibly trust at the Tower was a question for later - likely much later - than tonight. They needed to focus on what was directly in front of them first. 

 

She had checked, again, that the warning wards attached to her circlet were still in place, a flicker of irritation shooting through her at the fact that she couldn't remember doing so in the first place.

 

Burn it, woman. Lugard! Focus! 

 

Their mission had brought them to here, deeper into the heart of what was becoming a tangled web of rumors and half-truths about the Shadow’s movement. She had hoped that the further South they'd traveled, the clearer answers they might find, but so far it had not been the case - the streets and her contacts had offered little more than cryptic whispers.

 

Too much noise and too little substance, she thought.

 

Too many broken links...

 

She scanned the shadows before them rather than allow her mind to wander back into the recent past.

 

No way back.

 

She shut the thought down, as she had since the day after leaving Four Kings, forbidding it to surface at a time that was not solely hers. It was not the first time she'd borne scars courtesy of the Shadow. And it would likely not be the last. But there were new scars now. There forever more, unlike her loved ones and family, whether she hid them deep or not.

 

Such was the life of an Aes Sedai.

 

And many others.

 

And so, as Cal had vowed, she would fight with everything she had left. 

 

She'd scanned the shadows before them, Elessar moving ahead of her, his silhouette tall and steady in the half-light. She could feel his vigilance through the bond, the subtle thrum of alertness that had become a constant presence between them. And she'd considered, appreciatively, how much had changed since their first alley-way adventure back in Tar Valon.

 

She just hadn't expected so many things to also stay the same.

●

 

Saidar flooded through her, enhancing her senses, catching the flash of silver in the corner of her eye as the knife flew past - too close—too close—and the blade buried itself into the wood behind her with a solid thwuck.

 

And then, the world lurched as Elessar tackled her to the ground, his body a blur of motion, instincts perfectly timed with hers. Her heart raced, saidar humming in her veins, and she set to searching the shadows for the source of the attack.

 

<  ! X !  >

 

Another knife! Following the second!

 

Eyes wide now, on full alert, she scanned the areas of Shadow ahead, in the direction of where the blades had been coming from.
 

A shift to the right!

 

A grunt as her gaidin's new knife found its mark.

 

Good, she thought with a nod.

 

Now they probably needed more light there.

 

A globe would do it, if she set it far enough away that it wouldn't light her and her Warder up like targets in the dark.

 

A low, nearly inaudible hiss escaped her lips. “Elessar.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the Warder’s head tilted ever so slightly, a signal that he had heard. She made hand signals indicating a ball and burst of light and pointed to the high point down the lane, knowing her gaidin would see what she meant to do, and could protect his own field of vision when she did.

 

She felt the familiar ripples of saidar pooling in every fiber of her being, like a current waiting to be unleashed. The bond with Elessar hummed with alertness beside her. He was always there—steady, watchful, a blade in the darkness ready to strike. He had moved instinctively to shield her, placing his body between hers and the knives, putting his life before hers, just as he had vowed.

 

Not on my watch, she had thought, prepared to protect him in the instant the threat had made herself known at her neck. She setting a shimmering wall of Air and Spirit around herself and her gaidin the instant his knife had left his hand.

 

“Keep low,” she signaled. She wove the orb using everything but Fire - that she kept separate until both her and Elessar were ready.

 

Her eyes flicked toward the spot where Elessar had thrown his knife and she felt a brief surge of pride at his unerring accuracy.

 

There was no sign of further movement, only the stillness of the night around them. Yet, she remained poised, waiting, the bond between them vibrating with the silent agreement to remain cautious. Through the bond, she sent a pulse of acknowledgment to Elessar.

 

And then she flung the orb towards an overhang on the side of the building where the grunt had come from and filled it with a burst of Fire and Spirit that spotlighted the area just as they needed. Her fingers instinctively sought the hilt of her dagger, its cool metal a reassuring weight in her hand.

 

Calia stared intently into the glow that Shadows had all but fled, wondering who their would-be assassin might be this time, and for some reason, finding it impossible to shake the young man they'd met previously in an alley setting - dark haired and dark eyed with a crooked nose and a long scar down his face...

 

Calia stared into the newly lit alley, her mind racing. Who was their attacker this time? Her instincts whispered a warning that there was absolutely potential that there was more at play here than a simple robbery.

 

She didn't know what, exactly, was happening here, in this alley, on this night.

 

But she did know that her and Elessar would handle it together.

 

And that maybe some things, some people, never changed!

 

...

Edited September 30 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. The Flame of Axion ..

►▼◄

 

It was past midnight and Darkness covered the city of Cairhien.

 

Lights were out in most houses except for a few inns here and there from where sounds of laughter and music wafted. In one house, partially secluded at the end of an alley on the outskirts of the capital, however, light streamed through the windows like silver threads breaking the oppressing dark.

 

●

 

Walking down the stairs to the cellar, mind focused on the task at hand, the short old woman frowned. She did not like not getting the answers she wanted. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned right and lit the lamp on the wall. It was a sparce cellar room with two small windows, a table, a shelf, and some tools. And the large box. Six feet by two, made mostly of iron, it stood on the stone floor in the middle of the room. It was closed on the whole except for a small open end on one side. Gazing down at the bound man, she sighed. Why would he not give her the answers she wanted? Poking at him again with a sharp knife, he grunted, his eyes staring fearfully up at her.

 

“There, there my pet”, she whispered softly as she poked some more, drawing blood. “If you will only give me what I want, this pain will stop.”

 

She smiled almost caringly and kept poking at the side of his face. Drawing more blood, she sighed as he remained stoically silent. Shaking her head, she rose from her crouch and placed the bloodied knife on the table. She made a note in the diary-like notebook she always carried on her person. Running a hand through her almost white hair, her piercing blue eyes then fastened on the opposite wall and she nodded to herself. Raising her hand, she channeled and a doorway appeared on the otherwise grey stone wall. It opened as she approached and she walked into a larger chamber. This room was empty, every stone wall bare, except for a huge decorated mirror about six feet tall and four feet wide which stood at its centre. Walking up to the tall mirror, Denya grinned slighty. In the mirror there was movement, blue and green and yellow colours shifting beneath a dynamic grey haze.

 

But when the Brown Sister’s hands touched the exquisite wood frame, the image changed and became one of a serene afternoon-setting in a forest with a charming-looking white-windowed cottage surrounded by brush and trees. Birds could be seen settling on the roof of the small building, the wind making branches on the trees move in unison. This was a real image in that it was a mirror into this place and not an imaginary image. It was as if being there, seeing it from a short distance. Denya had not mastered the use of this Ter’angreal - it was supposed to show the viewer what he or she most needed to see - but it worked some of the time at least and that would have to do for now.

 

Some colour came into her otherwise pale complexion as she wove Saidar, blending Air with Spirit just so, and saw with pleasure the image change slightly, sharpening and edging closer to the building.

 

Touching the sides of her brown dress excitedly, holding tightly onto the One Power, she whispered a word of command.. and stepped into the mirror!

 

All that was left in the cellar, was the occasional whimpers coming from the large iron box.

 

●

 

The gleeman wore his cloak with many colourful patches with pride.

 

He had always been fond of stories and from an early age had shown a talent for singing. His parents had encouraged him to pursue his talent and teachers had given him private lessons over several years. As he grew into adulthood, he knew that he wanted to become a gleeman and, perhaps one day, a court bard and he spent all his time improving his skills. He finally achieved his ambition and had now been a travelling gleeman for over a decade. He knew he was skilled, and appreciated by many, and he loved spinning his tales of history and myth and legend. Most of all he loved poems and songs about real historical events, stories that he told with passion and enthusiasm.

 

His crowd of guests in this inn in Fal Moran this night gave him polite cheering for his flute playing, but it was when he started telling his stories of legend and history that they really came alive. Boisterous cheering and banging on tables followed his captivating story of Maragaine, the legendary Queen of Andor, and cheerful laughter followed his story about a middle-aged Boderlander Nobleman of very bad repute who had run off with a young local blacksmith’s daughter and was pursued by her six furious brothers. The story did not end well for the Nobleman.

 

●

 

Smiling to his crowd, he ran a hand through his medium-long blond hair and over his short beard. Most of those present where local Shienarians but he saw some men from Arafel and Saldaea as well, easily recognizable by their attire. A couple southerners sat at the back, Andorans by the look of them. They were among the most boisterous but the gleeman suspected they were not as drunk as they appeared. Did they know his secret? He shut the thought down, this was not the time for worry, and focused on the crowd before him.

 

When he began on his next story, a famous historic poem called ‘The Winds of the Trolloc Wars’, his voice pitch-perfect for dramatic effect, all the people in the Common Room sat forward eager to be captivated.

 

Soon they were spellbound, as the master-storyteller wove his magic..

 

 

►▼◄

 

 ‘The Winds of the Trolloc Wars’

 

In an Age of Darkness and battling Light

A Time of Conflict, a hardened Fight

The Shadowmight came from Northern Shores

It was a Time called the Trolloc Wars

 

Spawn of Darkness, coming from the Blight

Brought their evil, marching through the Night

Poured in masses into Southern Lands

Slaughtered the people and killing the Clans

 

Trollocs, Myrddraal, Draghkar, they All

Conquered in force for the Nations to Fall

Joined in mission by Darkfriends so Cruel

And also by Dreadlords with great lust to Rule

 

Opposed by the valiant Forces of Light

In Jaramide and Aramaelle, the erupting Fight

Was great and bloody, as Barsine Fell

Under the yoke of the Shadow’s Spell

 

The Ten Nations bravely tried to Defend

With Aes Sedai, the breaches to Mend

But could not contain the poisonous Spread

As men and women and children lay Dead

 

The city of Mafal Dadaranell was Lost

An Ogier-fortress, destroyed at high Cost

The Shadow turned south, toward kingdoms Great

Attacked Coremanda and Aridhol Straight

 

Major assaults on Tar Valon Occurred

The White Tower fought back and onward Spurred

Developing new tactics, encircling the Dark

Battling with strategy, lighting a Spark

 

The Fall of Manetheren and Aridhol as Well

Were heavy defeats for the Light, so they Tell

Eharon’s capital, Londaren Cor Overrun

Barashta destroyed, in the Light of the Sun

 

From the Embers of Defeat, the Light rallied Strong

The Shadow’s Forces confused; their judgment Wrong

Were taken aback, by the new Amyrlin’s Attack

Rashima Kerenmosa, fought the Darkness, pushed it Back

 

A great Battlefield commander, she the Aes Sedai Lead

To victory at the Shining Walls, assaulting army, Dead

For ten years she campaigned, the many lands to Free

From evil and oppression, until Maighande’s Battle Be

 

The Battle-Defeat weakened Shadowmight for Sure

But remnants fought on, using forcefulness and Lure

As time went by, their dreams of Power drowned in Vain

As the Darkfriend-forces and the Dreadlords were Slain

 

In the end the Shadow-threat was vanquished for Man

The Conflicts were ended, and Peacetime Began

All that was left of the Shadow’s Northern Shores

Was the echo of the Winds of the Trolloc Wars

 

►▲◄

 

●

 

Tarah Sanighar had always considered herself to be a reasonable woman.

 

As a young girl in Cairhien, she had been well behaved for her age and her teen years had been considerably less rebellious than most others’. When Aes Sedai had found the spark in her at age fifteen, they had whisked her off to the White Tower and she had gone without much protest. She had attained the Shawl of an Aes Sedai after only eighteen years an Accepted and had become a Sitter for the Gray Ajah after only twenty years a Sister. It had surprised no one when Nadhene Carahnas had selected her as her Keeper of the Chronicles. Tarah’s rise in the ranks had impressed many in the White Tower and her years as Keeper had reinforced the view that she could very well rise to the rank of Amyrlin one day.

 

Whatever expectations others had of her, she was flustered at the moment with the Amyrlin’s amazing turnaround regarding the Dragon Reborn.

 

What has gotten into her?

 

●

 

Running a sweaty hand through her short brown hair she shook her head. She was seated at the back in the Tower Library seemingly leafing through some thick books. In reality she was thinking.. and trying to get to grips with the situation. What could she do about it? Around half the Hall of the Tower wanted to capture the young man anyway and the other half were reluctantly opposed, believing - as Tarah did - that despite the danger of having him free in the world locking the man up could tamper with important prophecies. Nadhene would get the majority she wanted, no doubt.

 

Leafing through some more pages of the thick book before her, a history of High King Artur Hawkwing’s exploits, she thought back on the conversations she had had with her friend and inspiration in the week since she had suddenly appeared from her period of absence. The conversations had been short and to the point, almost as if Nadhene did not care for her opinions anymore. When Tarah had mentioned that there were several administrative tasks that needed doing swiftly, Nadhene had just shrugged and said she would get to them in time. When she had mentioned the alarming rumours about Aes Sedai making war on Whitecloaks, Nadhene had replied that it was false rumours. And when her Keeper had pointed out that the agreement and treaty with the Black Tower was no more, that the written agreement had disappeared into thin air, the Amyrlin had just shrugged and said it was of no importance. No importance!!

 

When Tarah had insisted that they contact the Asha’man anew in Andor, Nadhene had replied that an agreement with the Black Tower might not be in their interest after all. Shocked more than she could say, Tarah had left the Amyrlin’s office at a run and had hurried down to her private quarters and had spent much of the rest of the evening with her face in her hands, flabbergasted. It was almost as if this ‘new’ Nadhene was an entirely different person!

 

●

 

Shutting the book on the table before her, touching her Gray Keeper’s stole with one hand, she sighed inwardly.

 

Can people really change that quickly?

 

She had asked her friend another time what had happened out of the Tower, smiling disarmingly as she met the Amyrlin’s brown eyes, but had gotten no reply. The way Nadhene’s eyes looked empty much of the time disturbed Tarah, but it was not something she could explain.

 

Something had happened to her friend when she was absent from the Tower, and it affected her in some way. It was, however, personal and the Keeper did not wish to intrude on a matter that was Nadhene’s and hers alone.

 

She was the Amyrlin, the Mother. She was the leader entrusted with the future of the Aes Sedai.

 

Taking her face in her hands once again, in a very un-Aes Sedai like fashion, Tarah closed her eyes, feeling a deepening emptiness inside.

 

What am I going to do?

 

●

 

What am I going to do?

 

Serehstra gazed at the blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean and wondered why it was that she had not left Ebou Dar. She had not succeeded with any of her tasks. After weeks on end, she still had no answer to what was going on out in the ocean. Only rumours and they were wilder the more fishermen came ashore. Her visits to the Tarasin Palace had yielded no results either.

 

Her hand went to the red shawl that lay across her neck. Thinking about her.. talks.. with the resident Aes Sedai made her blue eyes tighten in anger. There was no cooperation to be had there. And on top of this there were the messages through the Red Ajah Eyes and Ears network that the Shadow was on the rise in her homeland Cairhien. Infiltrating the Nobility. She cursed inside at the thought. She still had feelings for her homeland even if she had not lived there for generations, and the thought that Darkfriends were taking over Noble Houses there made her angry.

 

Curse the Shadow!

 

The smell of salt on the air had become commonplace for her by now and the breeze which most often came in from the south-west ruffled her long light-brown hair gently. Touching the side of her pale red dress she turned away from the sea and faced the dock with workers running to and fro in that chaotic-seeming but planned movement mooring ships and loading vessels. Walking slowly past them, seeing them give her a wide berth, something that always made her smile with amusement, she headed into the nearby street and up toward the nearest inn.

 

●

 

Entering the establishment - “The Blue Dolphin” the painted sign above the door had read - she found an available table and ignored the looks she received (drunken from some who did not recognize what she was, fearful from some who did recognize what she was, disgusted from some who certainly recognized what she was, and horny from some who certainly did not recognize what she was). She ordered a cup of coffee with a little cream on top (‘Caffè NotAlatte’ it was strangely called, certainly something from foreign lands) and sat studying the other guests while she waited for it to arrive.

 

 

A child sitting on the next table looked strangely at her..

 

Its near black eyes seemed to widen of a sudden..

 

and then it smiled wickedly, sharp jagged teeth red with blood.

 

 

What!?

 

When a shadow passed before her table, and a non-descript figure leant down as if to whisper something in her ear, she only had time to look up quickly and see the echo of a very ordinary face in front of her before the man was gone. Only a few seconds later did she notice the dagger sticking out of her side, a pain beginning to spread, and the blood flowing onto her pale dress making the red colour starker.

 

Baffled more than she could say, she heard the scream from one of the other guests as if from far away and then e v e r y t h i n g happened in s  l  o  w motion. Her hand went to the knife, her blue eyes widening in disbelief, her mouth opening as if to speak.. but then she felt herself topple and crash onto the floor.

 

More screams from far, far away.. and then everything went blank.

 

●

 

The alley was closing in around them, narrowing into a dilapidated unpaved path of dirt, stone and shadow. The tall buildings that flanked them loomed overhead like silent sentinels, their worn facades watching, waiting…

 

Gazing into the oppressive darkness, the thought crossed Elessar's mind that this was their second alley-adventure together. The first had been in Tar Valon way before they had bonded. Now once again they faced a threat that had to be dealt with - and they would deal with it together! He felt Calia’s alertness through the bond and she crouched beside him, her eyes studying the darkness before them.

 

A few moments later she gave him what was barely a whisper but he heard and tilted his head ever so slightly to let her know. He saw her make hand signals and understood what she intended to do. To make a ball of light and throw it above the place where one of the attackers had lain. It was a good move and might flush out the second attacker. She signalled for him to keep low and he crouched in the dark, ready to protect his field of vision when the night would light up. The stillness of the night continued around them as Calia remained poised, cautious, a feeling he shared through the bond.

 

And then, long moments later, Calia flung the orb towards an overhang on the side of the building where the grunt had come from and filled it with a burst of Fire and Spirit that spotlighted the area just as they needed..

 

Elessar shielded his eyes for a second, then gazed into the Light which had dispersed the Darkness, searching for the second man. He held his old knife in his hand, ready to throw it at the sight of any movement. Calia stared just as intently into the now lit alley and he exchanged a small smile with her, happy to have her at his side.

 

●

 

For a long time, there was only silence. A few sounds drifted in from the inns a few streets further down but here in this alley nothing moved. The Warder felt intuitively though that the second attacker was still here. This was no petty thief trying to overcome two visitors to Lugard. This was a professional operation, these men were experienced, and it was only the Warder and Sedai’s alertness, skill and competence which had saved them.

 

I should have detected them even earlier though. Elessar shut down that thought and focused on the here and now. Could these be of the Shadow? Too many strange things had happened lately for it all to be coincidence. That being said, Lugard was indeed a shifty place.. and attacks here were far from rare.

 

●

 

Lethal Jim stared hard through the darkness at the place where his prey lay. His piercing blue eyes gazed intently and he touched his scarred face almost without thinking. His knife had missed! thumping into the wood behind them. Damn! Lata’s knife had also missed. Instead, he had been mortally wounded by a knife coming the other way.

 

This operation was slowly turning into a disaster!

 

The orders had been simple. Kill the woman and leave her body in the alley for others to find. The man was unimportant. Who she was he had not been told. It was not important. What was important was to salvage something from this bungled assassination attempt.

 

There was only silence and he considered whether to remain where he was or to move closer. His instincts, which had served him well in the past, told him to lay low, to wait for his prey to make a move. He was a patient man but his intuition warned him that stalling might be unwise this time.

 

●

 

Just as he was about to creep forwards, a ball of light suddenly destroyed the darkness above where Lata had lain in wait!

 

Cursing to himself, he shielded his eyes and crouched even lower against the building.

 

Aes Sedai!!

 

No one had told him the woman was of the White Tower! That surely meant that her companion was a Warder. Damn! This prey would be extremely dangerous. The glowing orb lit up the alley and he rushed further along to hide from the light. There was nothing he could do for Lata. The man would be dead by now.

 

And so may I be soon if I keep after this Aes Sedai and Warder.

 

He brushed the thought away but orders or no orders, killer-experience or no, he needed to retreat and re-consider this operation now that he knew what those two were.

 

Cursing another time, angry at his superiors for keeping the identity of his prey secret, and thereby preventing him from preparing properly for the danger at hand, he disappeared down the alley and headed back to his quarters in the city.

 

●

 

Elessar spotted the shadow moving in the light, their attacker close to one of the buildings. He whispered a warning to Calia and saw her eyes move in the same direction. The man whoever he was, was quick though and just as Elessar stood ready to throw his second knife or to intercept him, either thought blossomed in the Gaidin’s mind, he felt Calia touch his shoulder and shake her head. The man was simply too quick and had a head start. He saw the man’s silhouette disappear out of the light and down into the shadows further along the alley.

 

Nodding to his bondholder, he remained alert as they stood in silence waiting to see if the second man would run too. When nothing happened for several minutes, they agreed to approach carefully. When they were a dozen feet from where they assumed the man lay, Elessar leaped toward the figure, knife in hand, and came on top of him, his knee planted hard on the man’s chest.

 

Laying with his head against the stone-face of the building behind, it was clear the man was dead. Elessar’s new knife was buried in the assassin’s chest and his eyes stared emptily into the beyond. Nodding to himself as he withdrew the knife and cleaned it on the dead man’s shirt, he shared a small smile with his bondholder. It had been an excellent knife-throw in the dark!

 

Calia stared at the dead man but remained silent. Elessar felt approval through the bond though. She too would wonder who this dead man was and why he had tried to kill them. And his colleague was out there, a danger still.

 

“This is no simple thief.” The Warder mumbled to himself, gazing at the man’s clothes and the hardness of his middle-aged rough features. “These men were professionals.”

 

He shared a look with his bondholder and saw silent agreement in her blue eyes.

 

“The question is”, he added thoughtfully after a while, his face pensive, “did they know who they were trying to kill?”

 

●

 

Faolahr woke early the next morning and for a moment wondered where he was.

 

Shaking his head, he stared at the empty bed sheets beside him almost as if expecting them not to be empty. Trying to get a hold of himself, he focused and recognized the tent top and recalled that he was outside the Royal Castle in Arad Doman.

 

Dawn was breaking outside he saw through the opening in the huge tent and he nodded to himself. Dawn. A new day.

 

But what happened last night?

 

Running a hand through his unkempt hair, an image of a beautiful woman popped up in his mind.

 

Lady Oriana!

 

As moments of reflection passed by, more images of her flashed in his head. Those beautiful painted lips and the taste of strawberry on her breath, her gorgeous eyes that he wanted to drown in.. and then her whole body embracing him, the lustful smell of passion, losing himself in her stunning beauty..

 

His cheeks reddened at the thought.

 

And then. Nothing. He remembered no more. Until he awoke this morning.

 

●

 

What had happened?

 

How could be lose himself so totally in a stranger? How could he lose all self control?

 

His emotions were a mass of wonder, embarrassment and thrills thinking back on what he could remember.

 

The lady in question was gone now, probably back at the castle. Thinking what she might tell others made his cheeks redden even further.

 

As the moments lengthened his embarrassment turned to uncertainty and then to anger that she might have taken advantage of him. But had he led her on? He could not remember. Perhaps I did and it was all my fault!

 

Sighing loudly, still flustered, he lifted the sheets and saw that he was naked underneath. Of course. Shaking his head again, he climbed out of bed and put on some underclothes. Finding his shirt crumpled in the corner he picked it up and put it on. He could smell strawberries on the sleeves and yet another time he wondered how in the world she had managed to seduce him to this extent.. if she had, in truth.

 

It took him some time that day to get his mind on other matters, but only in late afternoon did it truly sink in that he was nowhere nearer an answer as to whether it was worth it to try and reach an agreement with the King of Arad Doman.

 

 

●

 

Amaranth

 

stared at the five men and one woman chatting at the back of the large hall and wondered if they knew that he knew everything about them. Everything that was important at least.

 

Oh, he knew their backstories. He had always prided himself on knowing all there was to know about his associates.. and potential enemies. Oh yes!

 

His violet eyes sparkled as he studied each person in turn.

 

Landroval. Tall, strong-bodied, blond-haired, bearded with piercing green eyes and a prominent nose. Arrogant but a good tactician. In his dark blue coat, he looked like a Nobleman and he had in fact been among the elite also back in their own world, Mayor of a large town west of Emar Dal. He seemed to sense Amaranth’s eyes upon him because he turned from his conversation and gave Amaranth what looked like a slightly challenging stare.

 

Varanis. Medium tall, thin with a slightly gaunt face with a scar down the left side. Blue eyes that seemed almost wild. Amaranth had always wondered if the man was entirely sane. Dark-haired and short-tempered, he had been an entertainer of sorts in V’saine back in their world. An artist for sure - and artists were in general unreliable as Amaranth saw it.

 

Zephyr. A shorter man but stoutly built. His long dark hair framed a handsome face from which almost black eyes stared. He had been a renowned dentist in V’saine back in their world and he relished showing off his brilliantly white shining teeth when he smiled. Calm of nature he was a strategist who many underestimated at their peril.

 

Dalimar. Built like an ox, he stood fifteen inches taller than most men. Dark of hair and of skin he looked like a fighter, his face hard as stone. Few would have believed he was a chemist back in their world, at the famed University of Jalanda. Often soft-spoken, there was great intelligence behind his brown eyes, however, and he was one of the others that Amaranth enjoyed having philosophical conversations with.

 

Belarian. Of medium height with grey-green eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. A jester who loved to tease everyone around him. Behind those teasing comments, however, lay a sly manipulator who it was wise to keep an eye on. Born in Emar Dal he had moved to a large town east of the famous city and had set up a medical doctor’s practice. Rumours had grown of dubious practices there involving some unethical experimentation but he had never been found out or accused by the authorities.

 

Tinuviel. A tall red-headed woman with a fierce face and damning blue eyes. He had never seen her smile and he presumed the hatred she bore was too strong. For she hated all men, having been repeatedly raped by her uncle in her childhood. Amaranth knew that she had killed her uncle in the end, castrating the man first, and had hunted men as she grew into adulthood. Born in Jalanda, she had left at sixteen and never returned. Working as a consultant to a major security firm had never sated her lust for blood and so she had taken on certain ‘jobs’ on the side. Sensing Amaranth’s eyes on her, she gave him a hateful stare before turning back to the conversation she had been in.

 

●

 

Six men and women; different in many ways but all sharing 2 important things - their skill with -and love of- the One Power, and their allegiance to the Shadow. They had each bowed to the Great Lord at Shayol Ghul and sworn New Oaths, relinquishing their bonds to the Aes Sedai.

 

Nodding to himself, Amaranth went over in his mind what he was going to say to them all. He was glad to see these six assembled. They had been busy of late, each in their own base of power, but now it was time to get everyone together.

 

To plan ahead.

 

A chime rang and a Gateway opened several paces behind him. He turned just as Qariahna and Nymeria emerged, each in their beautiful dresses. They nodded to him, Nymeria smiling as if she bore a secret, as they walked toward the other assembled men and women. Another chime and Erandel stepped into the hall. Her painted face, blue echoes on one side, orange echoes on the other, enhanced by the One Power, looked striking behind her elaborately decorated exotic mask and headpiece. The smile she gave him was somewhat mischievous and he wondered what she was thinking. More chimes followed and Kalessin, Silvahria and Crysanthia each emerged from Gateways, giving him a nod of respect and walking across to the others gathered.

 

●

 

Finally, Amaranth faced the group.

 

As he channeled, small flames danced upon his palms. The flames gradually turned violet in colour, matching his forceful eyes. Commanding the others to join him, his voice low but heard by everyone present, he raised his hands outwards as all the men and women stepped toward him making a semi-circle around their leader.

 

“I am glad to see you all here.” He began softly, meeting each pair of eyes in turn.

 

“The time is near!”

 

His voice was strong now and there was intensity in his violet eyes.

 

“We stand ready, Great Lord!”

 

His voice was exultant now - and a booming sound started reverberating in the grand hall.

 

The flames changed.. and now channeling the True Power - dark weaves forming in intricate patterns in the air before them - Amaranth brought forth the dark Mist that had appeared only once before.

 

A Shadow unlike any other, swirling like a wind in an ocean of Darkness, black like the deepest Night, moving as if alive, meandering in unending twists and arcs until the Ancient Symbol was formed:

 

 

●●●

●●●●

●●●●●●

 

 ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

▀▀▀

▀

 

The FLAME of AXION

 

 

They all bowed reverently, the glory of the moment overwhelming them all!

 

They were the 13 most powerful channelers from an Age of powerful channelers.

 

They were those Chosen to Rule the World Forever.

 

▀▄

[Cass]

The would-be assassin’s silhouette shifted deftly across the face of a building at the far end of the narrow alley. Elessar breathed a warning to Calia, his second knife half-raised, determination gleaming sharp in his dark eyes despite the man’s swift retreat.

 

Calia’s hand came to rest lightly on her Warder’s shoulder, the smallest shake of her head enough to still his action. His knife lowered a fraction as the faint echoes of the assassin's footsteps faded into the general hum of Lugard’s city streets.

 

She offered Elessar a small smile, glad they had thwarted the assassin's plans so far - and that nothing was lost. She had the beginnings of a plan, and she would share it with him soon, once the other attacker’s fate was confirmed.

 

After several moments, the Aes Sedai and the Warder moved as one, alert to their surroundings. Cal kept the warmth of saidar flowing through her like a river ready to be unleashed. But nothing stirred. The two of them approached the spot where Calia suspected the second assassin had fallen, and she wasn’t disappointed. A single well-placed knife had found its target in the critical upper left portion of the man's chest.

 

Calia exchanged a smile with Elessar. It had been an excellent throw in the dark.

 

The dead man’s features and clothing offered no immediate answers beyond what her Warder highlighted after a short study - 
 

“This was no simple thief,” Elessar murmured, crouching to inspect the body more closely. “These men were professionals.”

 

Calia nodded silently, her thoughts mirroring his own. She could feel it too. These men had known what they were doing.

 

“The question is,” Elessar added after a moment, his face pensive, “did they know who they were trying to kill?”

 

“I don’t think so…” Calia replied, glancing down the dark alley.

 

“After all, who would be fool enough to attack an Aes Sedai and her Warder as they stroll through the shifty shadows of a backstreet alley?” she gave him a lopsided grin as she asked

 

***

 

Her voice was calm, but her thoughts turned inward.

The bracelet at Calia’s wrist hummed ever so slightly beneath her skin, a delicate reminder of the tiny weave she’d tied to the fleeing assassin—barely there, yet potent in its subtlety. The sliver of Spirit, anchored to the small, plain silver arrow-shaped charm beside her dragonfly, was so finely tuned to the man’s body temperature that he would never notice its presence.

 

The weave was a masterwork of patience, one she had perfected over many, many years — Spirit twined with a touch of Fire, hidden in plain sight. And then inverted, so that it was truly hidden from all.

 

She flexed her fingers absently, feeling the faint threads of the weave stretch, pulled taut in the direction of her prey. The assassin was moving, and she sensed the pulse of that movement through the weave—its tension like a spider’s thread, whispering a distance she could feel but not really see.
 

Her gaze drifted back to the corpse at her feet, then to the shadows beyond the alley. The face of the assassin who had escaped gnawed at her—the flash of those sharp, cold eyes, the set of his jaw. She’d seen his likeness - at least - before, in another dark alley under a different sky. The night she and Elessar had first crossed paths in Tar Valon, when they were hunted by men who had possibly known far more than they should about what the Warder and Sedai had discovered.

 

The resemblance was strong, if not unmistakable, in her mind. The more experienced, sour-faced man from that night… Could it really be him? Was the Pattern twisting threads she couldn’t yet - would never- see, or was her own mind playing tricks on her? Her chest tightened at each of the options, but she pushed the uncertainty aside.

 

There would be time for questions later.

 

For now, the weave hummed softly against her wrist, a steady reminder that while the assassin had fled, he was also now caught in their web.

 

Behind her, she felt Elessar shift, his presence as steady as the earth beneath her feet. She felt his gaze on her and turned, the weight of his unasked questions as palpable as the weave linking her to their quarry. His eyes, too, flicked down the empty alley, searching for answers.

 

Calia’s fingers flexed again, testing the tautness of the weave like a marionettist might test a puppet's strings.
 

“We can find him - if we want to,” she murmured, her voice just low enough for Elessar’s ears alone. “When it’s time.”

 

***

"It's potentially risky," Calia acknowledged, "depending on who the men were and why they targeted us as they did. And..." her voice trailed off as dread dragged at her heart and the pit of her stomach.

"... who they might ultimately be linked -or have been linked- to..."

 

She kept her gaze connected with Elessar's. With effort, she inhaled and exhaled, determined to shake the tension her thoughts caused before she continued.

 

"So. We only act on this if we are both in agreement. Do you want to follow him?" Calia asked Elessar, emphasising the facdt that she would not be acting further on this matter without - or against - joint input. 

 

***

 

To Calia's mind, the streets of Lugard bustled with every iota of its usual shifty, dangerous energy, a stark contrast to that of the calming, reassuring presence of the Warder bond between Calia and Elessar.

 

Together, they moved swiftly but without urgency, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if the attack in the alley had been nothing more than a minor disturbance.

Calia’s eyes scanned the marketplace they entered, though her mind was focused elsewhere—on the thread of Spirit tied to her wrist, stretching in a subtle line toward their mark.

 

The weave hinted at distance, and at the assassin moving steadily through the city, unknowingly guiding them through the labryinthiney streets.

 

“Still moving,” she murmured, barely turning her head to address Elessar. Her tone was casual, but her focus remained sharp. There was too much at stake here. 

 

Elessar nodded, his steps in perfect sync with hers, eyes always scanning. “We need to find out who sent them.” His voice was low, but there was an edge of steel in it.

 

They both knew this attack was no random encounter—it was targeted.

 

As they approached the end of the marketplace, Calia flexed her fingers again, feeling the thread lax slightly.

 

The assassin was slowing. “He's either hiding or meeting someone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We need to be ready.”

 

They reached the corner of a narrow side street, and Calia could feel the tug of the weave stronger now, a direct line leading them into another shadowed alley. Her breath caught as they reached the mouth of the alleyway. The assassin had stopped moving. As in, had become completely paralysed. 

 

Elessar met her gaze, his dark eyes unreadable but alert. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and she knew with certainty that he would be ready for whatever they would find.

 

Cal, for her part, resisted the urge to hold saidar as her and her Gaidin made their approach. As it was, Calia's every sense was on high alert—the murmur of voices from a nearby tavern, the smell of freshly baked bread mingling with the tang of damp stone.

 

They turned a corner, and there he was—the assassin, speaking in hushed tones with a second figure, cloaked and hooded, their face hidden in shadow.

Calia’s eyes narrowed as she observed the would-be-assassin's posture - the tension in his frame unmistakable. This didn't just look like the man was simply reporting to a superior—he was vehemently pleading. 

The hooded figure stepped forward, voice cold and low, though Calia couldn’t hear the words. She felt someone embrace the source.
 

Her heart raced. Whoever this was, they weren’t just some cutthroat. They had the ability to weave—and they were unbelievably powerful and dangerous.

She exchanged a look with Elessar, her heart pounding in her chest despite herself.

 

The weave on her wrist felt like a lifeline, but it was clear now that something far more sinister was at play. If they were to strike, they had to be careful. One wrong move, and any of them could die before the truth was actually uncovered.
 

The air between them hung thick with tension, the decision looming. To strike or to wait? To uncover who was behind this? The choice would define their next move.

 

And for once Calia was not going to make these moves alone!

 

* ^ * 

[Elessar]

.. The Shadow of the Seal ..

►▼◄

 

“Your mission”, Amaranth said softly, “will be to find the Seal - and to bring it safely back to me.”

 

Tinuviel met Amaranth’s stare with one just as intense. Her blue eyes which never sparkled did sparkle now. The neck-long red hair which framed her fierce face was as fiery as her personality. She touched her face delicately with one hand, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath her fingers. It was one of her mannerisms that she knew amused Amaranth. Her lips were painted blood-red which made a great contrast to her pale complexion. Opening her mouth slightly, in a very sensual way, she deliberately did not respond for a long time. She just kept staring back at the First among the Chosen, her stare hard.

 

Amaranth’s face hardened, his violet eyes tightening, and any amusement he had felt disappeared. Of all the Chosen Tinuviel was one of the least obedient. She did not show him the respect he was due and that infuriated him. It had always been so. But she had her uses and this mission would suit her well. She had always been a loner among them, preferring to work on her own, not trusting anyone or anything. Even so, he needed her to understand the importance of this mission and that she had to succeed.

 

“You do understand”, he added in a somewhat sour tone, “don’t you?”

 

Tinuviel kept staring back at him, thinking what a bastard he was, but finally replied. No matter how much she despised him, and all men if truth be told, she knew she did not want him as an enemy. That could be deadly and she very much wanted to stay alive. She had many more men to kill to atone for the horrors that had been done to her.

 

“I understand, Amaranth.” Her tone was neutral but her blue eyes kept sparkling. “I will do as the Great Lord commands.”

 

●

 

She deliberately said ‘the Great Lord’ and not ‘you’ and enjoyed the slight frown that came upon his face. They both knew the command had come from the Great Lord, passed down to the Chosen even if Amaranth would think of the command as his. Amaranth ignored the barb however, focusing on what was important.

 

“Good, Tinuviel.” The First among the Chosen replied, his violet eyes now sparkling.

 

He took a sip of red wine from the cup on the marble table before them and savoured its taste. Lifting his violet eyes so they were parallel to Tinuviel’s he wondered how far he could push her. Not too far. Not if he expected her to be useful. He watched as she took a sip from her own cup, raising it to her red lips in a very sensual way. He greatly doubted any male would feel the softness of those lips.

 

“And Tinuviel”, he added softly, as if an afterthought, once she had placed the cup back on the table. “Do not feel tempted to destroy the Seal yourself. That would be very unwise.”

 

His violet eyes hardened to the point of ice and she could see her own death in those eyes.

 

“Of course,”, she replied, her voice as modest as she could make it. “I hear and obey.”

 

●

 

Leaving the marble-tiled chamber, she walked slowly into the smaller, neighbouring room and opened a Gateway to her base in this new world. The hall was empty as it should be, the tall white pillars framing a large chamber with pale red walls. Stepping through, she closed the Gateway behind her and wandered down the corridor until she found her personal room.

 

Well inside, she removed her ruby earrings, her two golden rings, her pale red dress and her underclothes. Wearing only the red crystal necklace with the star-shaped medallion that was an ancient Angreal, her favourite piece of jewellery, she stared at her naked reflection in the tall-standing mirror. Her hard face softened a little as she ran her fingers down her body, over her shapely breasts, her stomach and down to the red patch between her legs. That she was still able to find pleasure after what had been done to her years ago was something she did not quite understand but appreciated more than anyone could know.

 

Lost in passion was the only way she felt truly free.

 

Turning around slowly, she stared at the naked woman laying invitingly in the large bed that dominated the room and her blue eyes sparkled even more.

 

Tinuviel felt her body responding too and her voice was seductive as she said, “Those soft lips of yours look.. inviting.”

 

The woman smiled lasciviously back, her blonde hair looking newly washed. She lay with one arm on the pillow and the other across her stomach.

 

“A woman’s touch”, Tinuviel added softly, almost like a whisper, feeling that thrill which she feared she had lost ages ago, “is always the best.”

 

When they kissed, body against body, it was the first of many. And it was only much later that her red crystal necklace with the star-shaped medallion was removed.

 

●

 

To Elessar’s question whether the professional thugs or assassins knew who they were trying to kill, Calia replied that she did not think so. Glancing down the dark alley she added,

 

“After all, who would be fool enough to attack an Aes Sedai and her Warder as they stroll through the shifty shadows of a backstreet alley?”

 

He saw her lopsided grin and gave her a similar grin in return. It was indeed very likely that they had not been told who they were going to dispatch.

 

It had been a deadly surprise for the trained killers.

 

●

 

Elessar gazed down the dark alley wondering how far the killer would run. Would he lie in wait for them beside an abandoned building? Or would he go for reinforcements? Or would he call it a day and look for other, easier prey?

 

The Warder shifted, his eyes now fixated on his bondholder, waiting for her to decide their next step. She felt calm through the bond but he often found it difficult to tell just as had been the case with his previous bondholders. He had long suspected that the Aes Sedai could control - for lack of a better word - the bond to a more accurate extent though none of his Sedais had confirmed it. He needed to see her face and to hear her thoughts.

 

“We can find him - if we want to,” Calia murmured, her voice just low enough for Elessar’s ears alone. “When it’s time.”

 

He nodded in the darkness. She would explain herself. He did not need to know how it was to be done, just that it was.

 

A few moments later she added that it was potentially risky depending on who the men were and why they had targeted the Aes Sedai and Warder as they had. And, who they might ultimately be linked - or have been linked - to.

 

Elessar noted the slight edge to her voice though she still appeared calm. It was understandable in the circumstances. He shared her suspicions that these killers could be linked to their mission, linked to the Shadow.. even if they had no proof as of yet.

 

"So. We only act on this if we are both in agreement. Do you want to follow him?" Calia asked Elessar, emphasising the fact that she would not be acting further on this matter without - or against - joint input."

 

●

 

Elessar kept his gaze connected with Calia’s as he considered their situation.

 

First of all, he was glad of being asked. Though Aes Sedai-Warder teams were meant to work in tandem, he knew from other Gaidin that some Sisters of the White Tower did not involve their Warders much in their decision making. The decision was, after all, the Aes Sedai’s, but a wise and prudent Sister would listen to her Warder in a dangerous situation (and elsewhere) and weigh his opinion. That Calia so readily asked for his opinion and even more so said they would have to be in agreement to go forwards with her idea, showed trust in him and respect for him and that he valued and appreciated.

 

As for the decision to be made, what were the alternatives? To let this matter be and continue their mission even if it could mean them being followed by the remaining killer or others in his employ? There was risk in that even as there was risk in hunting down this killer. He did not think either of them thought this attempt on their lives was random. Neither Calia nor he believed in coincidences. He shared these thoughts with his bondholder, his voice making it clear that he appreciated her trust in his judgment.

 

They were in agreement and decided to chase down the killer whoever he might be.

 

●

 

They moved swiftly but without urgency through the city streets of Lugard. Elessar did not ask how she knew exactly which paths to take, he trusted her and her abilities. The Warder’s eyes swept over everything in the way of his kind as they traversed the streets, noting every detail and looking for any danger. They entered a marketplace which during day hours would be filled with traders hawking their wares and customers haggling. Now it was almost empty. He heard her murmuring that their prey was still moving, her head barely turning toward him, and he nodded in return, his eyes scanning the darkness of their surroundings. He added in a low voice but with an edge of steel that they needed to find out who had sent the killers. It was an obvious statement, mainly voicing his thoughts, but as they slowly closed in on their prey the importance of those words increased.

 

As they approached the end of the marketplace, Calia slowed her step. Her voice barely a whisper, she said that the assassin was either hiding or meeting someone. Elessar exchanged a glance with her and she added that they needed to be ready. Further along they reached the corner of a narrow side street where Calia stopped and waited for a moment. Then a little later they reached the mouth of a shadowed alley. Elessar met his Aes Sedai’s gaze, his dark eyes unreadable but alert. His hand rested on his blade, ready for whatever awaited. They approached very carefully in the silence which was only broken by the murmur of voices from a nearby tavern.

 

Turning a corner, they saw their prey at last - a shadow in seeming conversation with another figure, cloaked and hooded. Elessar’s eyes narrowed as he studied the two figures and their current dark surroundings. Something about the way the assassin held himself made the Gaidin believe he was pleading.. perhaps to his superior. Perhaps he was worried about the consequences of his failed mission. It was difficult to tell since Elessar was unable to hear what was being said. The hooded figure had a cold voice though and though he could not hear the words the Warder was certain they were admonishing.

 

●

 

Calia tensed then and sensing it he turned half toward her before focusing even harder on the scene before them. Holding his breath in suspense, feeling the darkness closing in on them, he exchanged a look with his bondholder and now felt concern coming through the bond. She has sensed something. An added danger. The thought swirled in his mind as he focused again on the two figures some way away. This could complicate their plan. If this other person was a great threat, then it could be too dangerous to strike as they had planned. The air between them seemed to hang thick with tension as they kept staring at the two figures who were still in conversation or, rather, it was now mostly a monologue by the hooded figure, chastising the assassin.

 

What were they going to do? Elessar motioned to Calia for them to draw further back along the alley so they could discuss their options. She understood his intention and moved together with him until they were further away but still in sight of the two figures. Only then did Elessar whisper:

 

“I sensed that you felt the other hooded figure to be a great threat”, he said softly, giving her an even look. “Chastising the assassin in that way, at least that’s the way it seemed to me, indicates it is a person of authority and power.”

 

He did not need to add that it was more than likely a Darkfriend or at least someone associated with the Shadow. Presuming their suspicions with regards to this attack were correct. But he believed they were right in their thinking, and that made this an even more dangerous threat.

 

“Do we continue with our plan?” He whispered, shifting his gaze to the two figures in the distance and then meeting her eyes squarely. “Or should we reassess the situation?”

 

●

 

“You are to obey. That is all. Your excuses are pitiful!”

 

Qariahna looked sternly at the man before her from beneath the hood of her dark cloak. She had been assured this special member of the local thieves’ guild was a professional but now she wondered.

 

“Yes, but..” he pleaded. “I was not told..”

 

“You are told what you need to know.” The Chosen’s voice was cold as death. “That should be enough.”

 

“Yes, but this is an Aes Sedai..”

 

His voice was more pleading than he preferred, but this woman had terrified him in his dreams and very few things terrified Lethal Jim.

 

“Stop this pathetic whining”, Qariahna said with disgust in her voice. “Tell me why you failed.”

 

Anger made her embrace the source, Saidar flowing through her veins like a potent river of well-being. She drew even more of the One Power, almost as much as she could safely handle, and gloried in its wonderful feel. Staring hard at the cowering figure before her, she was almost tempted to take his life, as an example to others of the price of failure. But no, he could still be of use.

 

His voice lower now, he promised he would do better and succeed with his second attempt. He would need to alter his plan though and get some added assistance. Qariahna nodded but told him this was his last chance.

 

Pointing her finger at his chest, she channeled and a very thin weave of Spirit and Fire burned a pattern into his skin marking him as hers. He grunted in pain for a moment, then sullenly looked up into the face in the hooded cowl. He could not see the face clearly but those very dark almost black eyes bore into him like a sledgehammer, eyes he recognized that haunted him in the night.

 

With a few final commands the Chosen let him go. For a slight moment she shifted her gaze to the end of the alley, as if sensing someone was there, but then she shrugged and walked slowly into the Shadows at the other end and further into a nearby alley and was gone.

 

●

 

Taeda din Varede Four Moons gazed out at the blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean and sighed.

 

Things were happening too fast. But also, too slow. The threat coming from the west was real. And the Coramoor had arrived as the prophecies had foretold. But they had been unable to discover where he was and so had not sent any emissaries yet.

 

The Darkness is coming. She felt it in her bones and it made her confidence waver. Not so anyone saw, of course, but privately in her own quarters before bedtime. When she questioned her decisions in her heart, hoping that she would be worthy of what was expected of her and of what was to come.

 

Sometimes the burden of being the Mistress of the Ships was heavier than she would have wanted, but she was a stubborn woman and she would carry that burden with strength and with pride come what may. Her dark eyes narrowed as she studied the horizon, almost as if expecting the enemy to appear at any moment.

 

Twilight was almost upon them here in Aile Dashar and the last vestiges of sunshine touched her near white hair making it shine for a moment, like a piece of Light in the Darkness.

 

●

 

Her face then resumed its hardness, carved of iron as she knew her Sailmistresses called it behind her back, and she turned to face the Wavemistress and the bound prisoner. Her Windfinder stood off to the side eying the bound woman angrily.

 

The traitor.

 

They had finally found the traitor but not before the woman had killed two of her Sailmistresses.

 

“Let me phrase the question in a different way”. Taeda said, her voice hard as stone. “What was your purpose in infiltrating the Atha’an Miere?”

 

Studying the bound woman, bound by weaves of the One Power too strong to break, she wondered who had put the glamour on her. Who had made this woman in her mid-twenties with long brown hair, light-brown almond-shaped eyes and a pale complexion look like one of them, one of the Sea Folk, so she could pass among them unnoticed? And why?

 

The Windfinders had no answers but said an intricate weave had been put on the woman, an inverted weave they said, though that meant little to the Mistress of the Ships. The woman could not channel herself but whoever had placed the glamour could indeed channel - and do it very well. It had been by chance that the glamour had been discovered, or so at least her own Windfinder claimed without going into details. As for who had set the weave? Aes Sedai seemed the prime suspects, though Taeda could not quite understand how such an action would benefit the White Tower.

 

“I don’t know anything”, the woman whimpered again. “I can’t remember anything from the last few weeks.” She shook her head, her eyes watering. “To be honest I don’t even know how I got here.”

 

Taeda remained silent for a long moment. She saw their prisoner turn her face upward and stare at the six rings she had in each ear, a sign of her high station, and numerous medallions on the chain connected to her nose, and sighed. Perhaps she was telling the truth. Was it possible to be made to forget like this? She would have to talk to her Windfinder. First though, she would interrogate this woman some more.

 

They needed answers. And quickly.

 

●

 

“How did this happen!?”

 

Voreyna’s voice was harsh as she stared at the pale, near-lifeless body of Serehstra on the bench before her. Seeing the wound in the other Aes Sedai’s side, her eyes tightened. She had stopped the flow of blood and had used what Healing skill she had (which was not considerable to say the least) to keep the Red Sister alive. For now.

 

She only half-listened as the Ebou Dari man, a local innkeeper with a pale face wearing a dirty apron, explained that someone had stabbed the Aes Sedai in his establishment but had gotten away. Nodding to herself, she placed her hands again on the other woman’s forehead and sighed. She had never been fond of Serehstra, a flippant, arrogant woman at the best of times as she saw it who thought far too much of herself and her abilities, but she was Aes Sedai and no one got away with harming Sisters of the White Tower.

 

We need a Yellow to heal this wound. She thought. The wound was blackening from the evil that had infused the blade, and deep inside Voreyna feared it would be too late to save her.

 

She thanked the upset innkeeper and sent him away with a few coins for his trouble. At least he had the sense to bring her here.

 

●

 

Turning back to the unconscious Sister, she considered the situation with the calmness and patience that had benefitted her many years as a negotiator in her station as Gray Ajah. She wore the beige dress with a high neckline that was her favourite, and a matching necklace, and as she pondered the problem her right hand touched the sleeve of her dress and she felt the bracelet beneath. The old family heirloom.

 

The room they were in was at the back of the Tarasin Palace, a well-decorated chamber filled with paintings on the walls and a comfortable settee with several chairs and a table. Beside the table lay the bench they had carried inside when Serehstra had been brought in. This was a ‘guest quarter’ Voreyna had been told, and the Aes Sedai was impressed.

 

Gazing at some of the paintings now she recognized depictions of what were southern sea battles of yesteryear if her memory served her right. The framed paintings were quality work, that she could determine, even if art had never been among her interests.

 

Is there a Yellow here in the city, I wonder?

 

Making her mind up, she called for a servant (an older modest man, finely dressed in palace livery, who had been ‘assigned’ to her during her stay in the palace) and gave him a message to deliver to the ‘Southern Bloom’ florist on the western side of the city. The man left swiftly, closing the door behind him. The florist in question was part of the Gray Ajah Eyes and Ears network and he would let her know promptly if a Yellow Sedai was somewhere in Ebou Dar.

 

Just don’t let it be too late.

 

●

 

“Rei’ad, heart of my heart”, Varthana of the Aiel said, eying her husband closely, “this is Wise One business, so leave it be.”

 

They sat across from one another in their tent. His spear lay resting at his feet and he had removed his veil.

 

Gazing lovingly at her mate of many years, this tall red-headed man with his blue eyes and amused grin, she wondered if they would still be together had he not been a Clan Chief. Not that she had ever pursued men of power, oh no, not at all, but she needed a strong man by her side and Rei’ad had fit the bill.

 

He still did, and she was very proud of him though she was careful to not tell him so too often. It was important for an Aiel wife to have a husband who never felt overconfident. It kept him in place - on his toes - as was necessary for a fruitful relationship. She had cunning, of course, so she made him think he was in charge while she naturally made the decisions for them both.

 

Now and again, he became stubborn though, like in this case with the young spirited girl of their Sept, Rhandra, who wanted to join the Far Dareis Mai, the Maidens of the Spear.

 

●

 

Rei’ad looked at his darling wife of many years and inwardly felt blessed that she had chosen him, of all people, to be a lifelong mate. She was a wonder - strong as the mountain, beautiful like a desert rose, fierce like a giant Gara, and cunning like a Bloodsnake - and he had had her by his side for decades ruling this Sept with a deft hand. Outwardly though he grimaced and shook his head, pointing a finger at her.

 

“No, my desert rose”, he replied, his voice slightly raised. “This affects the whole Clan. She has, as you know, been bred to become a Wise One and so we cannot allow her to leave.”

 

“Oh Rei’ad”, she said somewhat exasperated. “If we cage that girl, she will run away.” She fixed her eyes on him. “I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. She does not have the spark and so we cannot hold onto her.”

 

The Clan Chief frowned and opened his mouth to protest some more, but she stopped him with a stern look.

 

“Heart of my heart, it is no use.” Her blue eyes sparkled as they always did when she had decided a matter. “However", she added smoothly, "the Wise Ones will discuss how to proceed in this case.”

 

She touched her neck-long red hair and wondered if he could sense her mixed feelings on the subject. It was best to keep her uncertainty for the Wise One council. She wanted to test the girl another time to see if she had the spark. If she did, then they would be able to stop her going. Somehow. Even if it would cause some grief.

 

Headstrong girls had run away before and some had never been seen again, lost in the desert that surrounded them on every front.

 

Other headstrong women married Clan Chiefs.

 

When she left their tent a little later, having calmed her husband sufficiently, she headed across to the tent inhabited by another Wise One of many years, Sirantha. She had a good head on her shoulders and would give good advice.

 

They needed to talk. They needed to sort this situation before it got out of hand.

 

●

 

Raun Selid gazed at the Soldiers training hard and with vigour in the yard and nodded to himself.

 

Their abilities were growing and, in a month or two, they would be ready to take the next step and become Dedicated. He approved of fast progress and it made him think of the ranks in the Black Tower and how they were producing skilled, efficient channelers.

 

The men of Dedicated rank wore distinctive black coats (some of wool, some of silk) and a silver sword pin, a metal collar pin in the shape of its namesake, on the left side of their collars. Those able to take the final step and become full Asha’man, the highest rank in the Black Tower, would wear the silver sword pin of the Dedicated as well as a gold-and-red Dragon pin on the right side of their collars. Not every Dedicated managed to reach the level of Asha’man, but they still had their uses and every man in the Black Tower had a function, regardless of rank.

 

There were also cases of men burning themselves out, or killing themselves accidentally in the militaristic battle-oriented training, as well as the taint affecting some men to the extent that they became a danger to themselves and to everyone around them. Such cases were fairly few though and were taken care of appropriately.

 

And then, of course, there was the Dragon Reborn. The man who had built the Black Tower, the man who was their ultimate leader. An Enigma in many ways.

 

The Black Tower was proud of the working men as Tiram Ralnovar, the 1st Asha’man, kept reminding them all. Raun saw the tall strongly-built man in the distance and could imagine him instructing the Soldier in his calm, serene way. Those pale brown eyes gave an impression of a man who was no danger to anyone, but Raun knew different. Tiram was very dangerous indeed. Running a hand through his short dark hair and beard, Raun frowned.

 

Then his eyes shifted to the Soldier barracks off to the left where he saw several young men going inside. Heading that way, he passed two middle-aged men in black - one tall with a pale complexion, the other shorter with a dark complexion, but both similar in step and attitude as if they were one - who gave him a respectful bow. They both wore the silver sword pin of the Dedicated as well as a gold-and-red Dragon pin on the right side of their collars. They were the oldest Asha’man in the Black Tower, a place mostly filled by younger men. They never made a point of it though. Raun’s dark eyes tightened slightly as he continued toward the barracks.

 

●

 

He ignored the hustle and bustle and sound of heavy explosions coming from the training grounds, well used to the sound which was part of daily life here in the Black Tower, and opened the door to the barracks and stepped inside.

 

The Soldiers immediately stood to attention when they saw who entered and stood proudly by their bunks. He was Asha’man and not only that but 2nd Asha’man, second in command of the Black Tower during the Dragon Reborn’s absence. A friendly smile came upon his lips as he faced the Soldiers.

 

“You are good men”, Landroval the Chosen said with a grin, his dark eyes glittering from within. “We shall make you a power to stand against any foe!”

 

The Soldiers of the Black Tower bowed respectfully to Raun Selid, their faces eager and excited, proud to be taught by such a great and honourable man.

 

●

 

”Sly is the Shadow

So make sure you have Three Eyes open.”

 

Old Arafellin proverb

The Third Age

 

▀▄

[Cass]

Illusions

 

►▼◄

 

The bracelet on Calia’s wrist had thrummed with a barely perceptible hum, that subtle tension only she could feel, the invisible tether guiding her to their quarry. She could sense the would-be assassin’s movements as if they pulled on a thread knotted between them, stretched just tight enough to relay faint impressions of distance, direction, and motion. Each shift reverberated against her skin, a rhythm she felt as surely as her own pulse.

 

Her fingers had traced over the plain silver arrow charm beside her dragonfly—a simple decoration to most, but she treasured the masterpiece of Spirit and delicate whispers of Fire she kept kindled within it - and the ability to form and track powerful connections such as it had. As well as the knowledge on how to keep the weave so finely woven for both responsiveness and inversion that even another channeler would miss it upon their person if they didn’t look for it. That delicate balance had taken years of practice, testing, trial and perfection between herself and her closest Sisters. 

 

Now - she had severed that link - as quickly, completely and as discreetly as she knew how.

 

But a sense of dread still snaked and bit at her from those Shadows with every heartbeat. She knew she had felt only a glimpse of the woman's strength in the One Power, seen only a glimpse of the figure in the cloak, but that glimpse had been enough to make her blood run cold. The angle of the woman’s face beneath her hood, the intensity of her aura and the piercing feeling that accompanied her presence like an impossibly sharp, heavy weight pressing down; the embrace of saidar that was palpable and wrenching in a way that was once-felt, never forgotten -

 

The details had come too fast to be logically sure of anything. But they were unmistakable.

 

Light!

 

Only twice before that internal prayer had felt so immediately, impendingly overshadowed.

 

Once near the Plain of Lances, and then, more recently at Four Kings.

 

Now here.

 

There is no certainty yet, she reminded herself, breathing deep, calming her thoughts. She couldn’t afford to let fear guide her mind's steps. But she knew, in her heart of hearts. And the possibilities alone were enough to turn their mission from dangerous to near impossible.

 

“Do we continue with our plan?” Elessar whispered,

shifting his gaze to the two figures in the distance

and then meeting her eyes squarely.

 

“Or should we reassess the situation?”

 

A surge and flash of saidar pulled Calia's glance back toward the Shadows. 

The woman was gone! Darkness remained. Again she caught a faint residue of that complicated weave!

 

Calia turned her eyes back towards her Warder, and the Light, focusing on what was still plainly before her, rather than what had vanished and what was yet to be. Regardless of the risks, their task remained the same: retrieve the seal before it fell into the wrong hands.

 

No matter whose hands those might be - Her heart solidified the resolve her mind was yet unable to comprehend. She forced herself to be calm, to breathe as if they weren’t mere steps away from something that could end... everything.

 

She felt the silent connection between herself and Elessar - both concerned, both steadfast, both unwavering. She trusted him with her life, trusted his thusfar unwavering calm and resolve to counterbalance her own fervor with his own. He would follow her - had followed her - to put his life 'before' hers. And despite how well she knew he chose that path wholeheartedly, the weight of that knowledge deepened her determination to do things right, and make sure they would always do the dedications they had sworn justice.

 

“We need to leave,” she said, her voice a measured tone that belied her inner storm.

"Now."

 

Elessar's eyes, dark and steady as the earth beneath their feet, searched her face and her own electric, icy blue resolve. 

 

She felt the silent connection between them as a subtle warmth—They had committed to 'standing ready', and Elessar would need to see that she was just as steady and dedicated to that end as always.

●

 

"So, we move, fast. And we change as often as night turns into day," Calia's summary of concerns and the bare outline of her plan was succinct.

 

They moved immediately, with purpose, as soon as Elessar nodded his agreement. 

 

●

 

The stables of the Hanging Noose loomed ahead, shadows creeping here and there about the walls in the dim light of early evening. Even from a distance, the structure smelt of dirtied straw, damp hay and worn leather. Calia knew that the stablehands would have retired to their dice and taverns by now, but tonight at least, she was grateful for their bad habits. A glance exchanged with Elessar confirmed their sentiments were shared.

 

"Ssssh girl, shhhh now," Calia soothed the skittish mare at her side as they crossed toward the building and she felt the horse's ears flick back, "We didn't have the luxury to be too picky, but it's a better place than where you both came from, that's for sure!" The mare gave no reply. Beside them, the stallion led by Elessar was also silent. 

 

Well, Calia thought in response to the lack of equine argument, At least these two have the right heights and weights, if not the right temperaments, to do the trick ... 

 

Illusion weaves, it was true, worked best the closer one kept to what was there before in size and shape - and these two had fit the bill at least. As far as anyone watching would be concerned, the Warder and Aes Sedai were leading their very distinctive socked-and-flaxen chestnut carthorse and dark stallion back to the stables, as they had done before. At least that's what Calia had intended with the careful, inverted weave - and she had been quite proud of the results - as far as she could tell, the only 'easy' distinctions to be made at this point were in the horse's temperaments. And she doubted many had got close enough to their mounts for that to count any time soon.

 

In fact, if the Light was with them and Elessar and herself had their way, Calia hoped it would be quite some time before anyone realised the Aes Sedai and Warder had departed Lugard, despite having left 'their' distinctive mounts behind. 

 

Together, the Sedai and Warder slipped, silent as wraiths, into the stables. Elessar took the lead, rearranging the horses and packing provisions and belongings on Socksie and Stormbreaker with practiced ease that disguised any tension he might have felt. His movements as sure as they had ever been, his hand resting loosely by his side, sword within instant reach the instant he was done. Calia followed, her steps light, her senses acutely aware of every creak of wood and scuff of her boots against the stable’s earthen floor as she embraced the source and prepared for the next installment of their plan. 

"Well my girl," she murmured to Socksie, who snorted appreciatively.

 

"I told you we'd have to be careful here - but did I tell you that when in Lugard, there's a better rule?"

 

"Trust no-one but your self, and yourself not too much,'" she confided, and then set to work.

 

●

 

A good deal later, they were packed and mounted upon two very different-looking beasts than the ones they had ridden into Lugard on. Elessar remained stoic - even beneath his woven disguise, his gaze always watchful, ready. Calia felt a flicker of warmth as she looked at him. Disguised or no, this fierce Warder would lay down his life fighting for the Light and for her without hesitation. But he also knew when to leave the fight to live another day. He’d said nothing yet in response to the threat that had driven them from Lugard, but she knew he saw the implications almost as well as she did.

 

"Trust no-one," the Lugardians might have proffered, but Calia decided that in this, she would keep her - and Elessar's own - council.

 

“We won’t look back,” she said softly. “And we’ll keep our heads low until we’re far, far from here.”

 

Elessar’s solemn nod was enough.  Together the pair eased their horses from the stable, making their way out of Lugard in silence, melding into the dim alleyways with practiced caution.

 

●

 

As the faint glow of twilight gave way to deepening shadows, two perfectly non-descript travelers left the stables atop two perfectly non-descript, yet plucky horses. They moved out of the yard, all sense of them soon lost in Lugard's winding alleys, the sounds of raucous merrymaking, arguments and  twisting shadows.

 

If the dark woman atop the large grey horse looked exhausted from creating, inverting and tying off a series of complex weaves in a short space of time, or the young blonde man atop the dull roan looked wary enough to be a Warder, nobody - not even a channeler - could tell why.

 

●

 

Finally, they reached the edge of Lugard, where the dense buildings began to thin, giving way to open fields and the distant silhouette of the hills. Together, they guided their mounts onward, the faint, raucous sounds of the shifty city fading into the distance behind them, leaving only the shadows and the open road ahead.

 

Only then did Calia allow herself a deeper breath, releasing the immediate tension in her body as the night air wrapped around them, cool and almost refreshing. But there was no true rest in her bones; the threats in Lugard's shadows still clung to her, and the journey before them was still fraught with dangers they had barely begun to contemplate.

 

She glanced at Elessar, who met her gaze with a look of unyielding resolve.

 

"We," Calia said, drawing her horse close to Stormbreaker and looking up at her gaidin, "are going to need some serious speed on the path ahead." 

 

And, Light help us! More allies with iron resolve down the track, if we are to turn the tide against this rising Dark!

[Elessar]

.. A Vessel of Revelation ..

►▼◄

 

“So, Serehstra”, said the woman in the dark grey dress, amusement in her voice. “Who did you anger this time? A channeling man you were hunting?”

 

Voreyna was trying to make light of the situation though they both knew this had been deadly serious. Serehstra had been an inch away from losing her life, or so at least the Yellow Sister, a Gareihna Sedai, who had Healed her had claimed.

 

The Yellow Sedai had arrived in a huff, having been pulled away from certain important appointments in the city, but when she saw the Red Sister and Delved into her seeing the near-mortal wound she had become all business, throwing everyone out of the room so she could do her work. Much later she had invited the Gray Sister inside and let her see their patient. Serehstra had still been pale but a little colour had begun creeping back into her face and Voreyna had sighed in relief when told the Red Sister would live. Regardless of her personal feelings toward Serehstra, the Tower had few enough Sisters for what lay ahead as it was and could not afford to lose any more.

 

The poisoned dagger had lain on the desk, warded. Eying it as one would a dangerous viper, Voreyna had destroyed it after the Yellow had left, feeling the filth of it permeating the air. Now it was gone, but the question still remained: Who had tried to assassinate the Red Sister?

 

●

 

Serehstra lay in a bed in this more private guest chamber, a half-eaten meal on a plate on a bedside table. She gazed back at the Gray Sister who sat in a chair beside the bed and kept the frown from her face. This was not the time for teasing or barbs, but the woman had saved her life, she and the Yellow Sister who Serehstra did not recall from the White Tower, and so she deserved some gratitude.

 

“I wish I knew who did it”, she said in measured tone. “It was like a shadow.. that I sensed out of the corner of my eye.. it was there.. and then it was gone.” She shrugged, her face neutral but deep inside she felt a gust of fear. How can anything take me so unawares. Meeting the Gray Sister’s gaze, she added, “I have been asking some questions here in Ebou Dar. Perhaps certain parties did not like those questions asked.”

 

That was very cryptic but she was not about to share Red Ajah matters with the Gray. That was for her Ajah and it alone. Even though this woman had helped save her life. She did deserve some gratitude though. Raising herself up half-way in the bed, her face brightened slightly.

 

“Thank you, Voreyna.”

 

She was going to add something more, but then thought better of it. The Gray nodded with a half-smile, knowing that Serehstra would not find it easy to utter words of gratitude to her. Laying her head back on the pillow, the Red Sister closed her eyes and said she needed to rest and Voreyna quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Some sunshine was coming in through the glass windows, between the heavy curtains, and Serehstra did feel the need to rest some more, but primarily she had sent the other Sedai from the room because she needed to think. Who had tried to kill her!? Who? Pondering on the situation and on what had happened, she ate the rest of the meal - feeling a deep hunger - and then lay silently in bed for several hours thinking, her train of thoughts dynamic, before she finally let sleep take her again.

 

●

 

“So, Amaranth”, Dalimar said shrewdly as he studied the marble chess board before them. “You seem to be moving your pieces well.” That could be taken several ways just as they both knew.

 

Amaranth half-grinned at the comment, his violet eyes glinting. He knew very well what the other Chosen meant. There were always layers of meaning behind Dalimar’s words which was why Amaranth enjoyed these conversations. It was a challenge to read between the lines with this man and Amaranth had always enjoyed challenges.

 

“Well, Dalimar”, Amaranth responded smoothly as he moved another piece on the board, a subtle move but one with hidden possibilities, “strategy has always been important in this game.” That could be taken several ways also.

 

The game of chess. But more importantly,

 

The Game of Power.

 

“Yes indeed”, the other man said with a grin. Too true. In every game.

 

His brown eyes glinted too as if there were secrets hidden behind those eyes.

 

●

 

Studying the man opposite him, the First among the Chosen wondered if the man was scheming against him. For as long as he had known him, Amaranth had had the impression that this ox of a man, dark of hair and skin and most often soft-spoken, would stay loyal to his commands. But Amaranth had begun to suspect everyone lately. Can it be that you too will betray me, Dalimar? He did not voice his thought, shifting his gaze back to the chess board and to the other man’s latest move, Knight to E4. Taking control in the middle of several important positions on the board.

 

“And some pieces”, Dalimar added softly, considering the implications of his latest chess move, “do not always wish to be moved.” He met Amaranth’s eyes squarely and held his gaze. Amaranth stared back just as calmly, understanding another double meaning, wondering if there had been a challenge in those words. Am I reading too much into things? The Leader of the Chosen moved another piece on the board, Knight to F6 to neutralize the threat.

 

“That is the way of the world.” Amaranth’s voice was soft now, softer than usual. “Pieces are moved.. and battles are won.”

 

He leaned back in his chair and his fingers brushed his dark robe, loving the feel of silk. The white robe Dalimar wore gave a great contrast to his dark skin. Amaranth guessed that was why Dalimar often wore white. Studying the other man’s violet eyes Dalimar gave no instant reply but inside he wondered what battles the First among the Chosen was thinking of. There were many battles to be had these days. Against many an enemy.

 

Moving his Warrior, a chess piece which could move diagonally in any direction, to E6, an offensive move, he sat back and considered the game.

 

●

 

Dalimar had always enjoyed chess ever since his early days in Jalanda back in his earlier life. Chess was a game of strategy, a game of cunning, a game of skill but also of surprises. One wrong move and one could stare defeat in the eye. The risk enticed him and the ultimate glory of victory. In some ways chess felt similar to his other passion in life, chemistry. There was logic in the elements and in the way they were combined to produce results. Wrong combinations could result in failure at best, disaster at worst. At the University of Jalanda, he had shown his prowess in chemistry and in his free time he had shown his passion for chess.

 

He had led a good life.. until he had seen society slowly beginning to break up under the arrogance of its leaders. Science had become stale, no new discoveries made, no innovations and just an arrogant view that all was perfect and would stay so forever. Feeling an urge to challenge this world view he had found that his strong opinions had been brushed away and, in some distinguished circles, criticized and over time this had made him seek out those of similar mind who believed there was something better, more exciting, more powerful out there, ready to embrace new challenges, new ways of thinking, and create a new world order.

 

This had finally brought him to Shayol Ghul and he had sworn new Oaths in return for the promise of immortality. As one of those Chosen To Rule The World Forever.

 

●

 

And now I have another chance to influence the world order. Dalimar thought cunningly to himself. In this new place, in this new time.

 

“But we need to remember”, Amaranth added subtly after a long while, moving his pawn aggressively to D5, “that a Knight is a Knight. A Pawn may, however, become a Queen.”

 

Dalimar stared smoothly back at the other Chosen, trying to interpret the other man’s words. A Queen? Is that a hint? In which case, which Queen? Amaranth had always been clever, strategically sound, and dangerous. Very dangerous. As long as he does not interfere with my schemes, Dalimar thought shrewdly as he moved another piece in response, a pawn of his own, all is well.

 

“That is true”, Dalimar responded softly after a while, his hands resting comfortably in his lap, his brown eyes fixed on the marble chess board but with his thoughts on the scheme he was about to implement. “But at the end of the game, the King left standing, is the victor.” He raised his glinting eyes to Amaranth’s and his small smile was filled with secrets.

 

●

 

Riding in front of his army, Faolahr Sahrin, the Dragon Reborn, left the gates of Bandar Eban, the Capital of Arad Doman, behind and headed in a southerly direction.

 

At his side rode the Lady Oriana, advisor to the Queen of Arad Doman. She was beautiful and regal, long golden hair cascading down her back, grey-green smiling eyes watching him from time to time when he did not notice.

 

Faolahr was pleased that his mission to Arad Doman had succeeded, with a treaty signed, very pleased indeed, even though he quite frankly somehow did not quite understand how it had happened. Or how it was that Lady Oriana had joined him on his quest.

 

He remembered the Arad Domani Queen - another beautiful woman - the first time being somewhat sceptical of his proposals and speaking with caution as her husband, the King was apparently absent. The Dragon Reborn had left with no deal and with many questions. And then that night with Lady Oriana that almost seemed a blur.. He blushed thinking about it but then wondered why he was blushing. She was beautiful after all, and very desirable. And after that.. everything was somewhat confusing.

 

When he had approached the castle a few days later, to try a final time to get the treaty signed, the Queen had suddenly been understanding and eager to sign, the caution of before gone. Her husband, the King, an elderly man in his late fifties with a strong jaw and a steely-eyed look, had also agreed, a strange smile on his face as he had signed the documents.

 

Lady Oriana had sat in the background, her body still but eyes glinting, as the proceedings had been finalized. When she had added that it would be wise for her to accompany the Dragon Reborn on his quest to gather armies for the Light, as a representative of this new alliance, it had seemed perfectly logical and when the King and Queen of Arad Doman had nodded in agreement, he had felt it was the right thing to do, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head.

 

●

 

And here they were, riding before a mighty force to which the King of Arad Doman had added five thousand soldiers and ample provisions. It was more than Faolahr could have hoped for, so why was he somewhat puzzled? Everything was logical, after all. Even if some details were somewhat.. muddled and confusing.

 

The small voice in his head had gone silent after they had set off which was fine as far as Faolahr was concerned. He was tired of telling the voice to shut up.

 

Gazing across at the Lady Oriana, resplendent in a pale blue travelling cloak, her face radiant, her long golden hair cascading down her back in waves, he felt his whole body tingle with desire. Her incredible beauty, her sensual body, her lustful red lips, so soft in their love-making, soft but also passionate, almost made him tremble.

 

He did not know if she was the woman of his dreams, the woman who had saved him back then.. or if she just resembled her strongly.. but he no longer cared. She was the woman he desired and she desired him. That was all that was important. That, and the continuing quest for the Light. In which order, he sometimes could no longer tell.

 

“We will ride for a few hours”, he said to Lady Oriana, his voice warm, his look adoring “before taking the first break.”

 

Crysanthia nodded with a smile at him. She could see how her smiles affected him and could almost sense him stirring. Memories of their passionate love-making brought some redness to her cheeks. He may be young, but he certainly had stamina. For a second she felt a touch of regret for how she was using him, but then it was gone and she knew it was necessary. And he is so desirable.

 

“That sounds good, my dearest.” She replied, her grey-green eyes smiling, her voice seductive. “I love riding as you know.”

 

The double-meaning did not escape him and she was sure she saw him blush.

 

His black stallion, a feisty horse who had become a close companion on the road, and her white bay mare, a horse of mild temperament but with ample speed, kept pace as they galloped southwards in Arad Doman under a beautiful blue sky and an orange sun, several black-cloaked Asha’man riding twenty or so paces behind them. The Dragonsworn army with soldiers and wagons with provisions, under the banner of the Dragon Reborn, followed at a slower pace.

 

It is a good day, thought Faolahr happily to himself, to be alive.

 

●

 

Elessar shared a long glance with Calia, his Aes Sedai, and waited for her to respond.

 

He trusted her with his life just as she trusted him with hers. My life before yours. Alone at night, staring up at the ceiling or at the night sky depending on where they were, he often wondered how it was that they worked so well in unison, almost as if they were One. They had not been bonded very long, after all, and often it took time before a Warder-Sedai pairing functioned perfectly. I have been lucky. Again. Though they were clearly different as persons, with different personalities, they suited one another very well when it came to their service for the White Tower.

 

Elessar had felt that kinship from the very start, similar to the one he had felt with his former bondholders, but there were never any guarantees that a couple in service to the Light would unite in purpose and effectiveness like in the case of Calia and he. He wondered if she were thinking the same thing. The impression she gave was, at least, that she was very pleased to have him as her Warder. That belief strengthened his confidence in the duty he performed.

 

Gazing at her now, there they stood together in the shadows, he felt purpose, resolve and steadfastness in the silent connection between them that was the Aes Sedai-Warder bond. He also felt some concern sifting through which was understandable in this very volatile situation. Her glance was unwavering though and he knew she saw a similar unwavering glance from him. They were on a vital mission together and they would face united whatever waited, strongly and without hesitation. We stand ready. Words that defined them.

      

“We need to leave,” Calia said, her voice a measured tone that belied her inner storm.

 

"Now."

 

Elessar’s dark eyes searched her face, seeing resolve in her icy blue eyes. There was clearly added danger here in this place and they needed to leave it straight away. He trusted her judgment. She has sensed something. His eyes went to the now lone figure in the distance. Calia leaned closer and whispered concerns she had and gave him the bare outline of a plan and Elessar listened intently while keeping a close eye on the darkness surrounding them. He nodded his agreement when she had explained, agreeing with the option she described. She added that they move fast and they change as often as night turns into day, and with those last words they set off together.

 

They moved swiftly through the dark streets of Lugard, Elessar alert as always and doubly so at the moment, Calia focused on the road ahead. Some time later, as shadows merged in dark alleyways, they reached their destination.

 

●

 

The stables of the Hanging Noose loomed ahead, shadows creeping here and there about the walls in the dim light of early evening. Even from a distance, the structure smelt of dirtied straw, damp hay and worn leather. 

 

Elessar knew that the stable hands would have retired to their dice and taverns by now, but tonight at least, he was grateful for their bad habits. A glance exchanged with Calia confirmed their sentiments were shared.

 

While Calia saw to her mare who was somewhat skittish at the moment, Elessar walked across to his black stallion and patted the staunch warhorse on the back. The two mounts had become friends in the time they had been together, something which pleased but also surprised the Warder. His horse had, after all, been bred for war and was usually of a solitary nature, periodically also a little grumpy and feisty. Stormbreaker had taken to the mare, however, almost in a protective way mirroring his master. Giving the black stallion a caring pat on the nose and a few whispered words of affection, to which Stormbreaker nickered softly in response, he led him forwards and joined Calia and Socksie as they crossed toward the building.

 

Elessar heard the words Calia whispered to her horse and smiled inside. Neither horse responded. Had either replied, be it in Andoran dialect or the Tongue of the Borderlands, the Gaidin’s eyes would have gone as wide as the stable door. Then, he would have promptly sat down and had a good long talk with Stormbreaker about the tragic lack of variety in the black beast’s diet.

 

Calia soon set to work with her plan while Elessar stayed alert, his eyes sweeping over their surroundings. His Aes Sedai had not given him all the details but he approved of what she had told him. It was a clever move - and prudent. She sensed added danger here in Lugard and he agreed it was wise and necessary to leave. And to do so in a way not anticipated, and hidden. According to Calia it would hopefully be quite some time before anyone realized the Aes Sedai and Warder had departed Lugard, despite having left 'their' distinctive mounts behind. 

 

Together they stepped silently into the stables. Elessar re-arranged the horses and provisions and belongings on the two horses with practiced ease. His Warder training kept his emotions in check but while he was packing, he was thinking about the journey ahead. They still had a long way to go to reach Ebou Dar. And there would be further stops before that. The journey is dark, but we will prevail! When he was done, he waited in silence, his hand resting loosely by his side, sword within instant reach.

 

Calia spoke to her horse in whispered tones and the mare snorted appreciatively as if understanding every word.

 

"Trust no-one but your self, and yourself not too much,'" she confided, and then set to work.

 

●

 

Later they were mounted upon two very different-looking horses than the ones they had arrived on. Elessar remained stoic, even beneath his woven disguise, alert as always. Apparently, he was now a young blond man atop a dull roan or so at least Calia claimed. Thinking about it, he had always wanted to be blond, so this was simply marvellous! Stormbreaker snorted in response, though whether it was from Elessar’s amused comment or from the fact that he himself was supposed to be a dull roan, it was hard to tell. Perhaps both. The Warder swallowed a chuckle when his stallion stared at him with a not very amused look. Calia, however, was now a dark woman and pretty much the opposite of what she normally looked. She probably loved her somewhat exotic look. They were quite a couple, the two of them. And no one, surely, would know them for who they were.

 

Calia spoke softly and said that they wouldn’t look back and that they would keep their heads low until they were far, far from there. Elessar gave a solemn nod. Though he did not know everything, he saw the implications just like she did and knew it was the right decision.

 

Together, as One, they eased the mounts from the stable and made their way out of Lugard subtly and carefully in silence, passing dark alleyways and darkened streets with practiced caution. Moving as two perfectly non-descript travellers atop two perfectly non-descript horses leaving the sounds of boisterous merrymaking in inns and taverns behind.

     

●

 

They finally reached the edge of the Murandian Capital with fewer buildings around and with open fields in the near distance. Further away would be the hills in the countryside and forests. Riding along the dirt road, a soft wind ruffling his Warder’s cloak, Elessar kept his alertness, as always ready for any danger. With the recent episodes in mind, it was prudent to be especially aware this night. The sounds of Lugard drifted away into the distance behind them, like echoes on the wind, soon lost in the shadow of the darkened ground.

 

Elessar rode just ahead of Calia, looking back over his shoulder at intervals to see if there was anyone behind them. He was trained to use his night vision and it was a skill few had on the level of Warders. Calia’s face looked slightly less strained when he caught her stare. It was to be expected now that they were out of that shifty city. He met her gaze with a look of unyielding resolve.

   

"We," Calia said, drawing her horse close to Stormbreaker and looking up at her Gaidin, "are going to need some serious speed on the path ahead."

 

●

 

A week or so later, the days sometimes passing in a blur of riding, resting, eating and more riding, they arrived in the small village of Remen in north-eastern Altara.

 

The village was situated only some miles from the border to Murandy and it lay on the Lugard Road, or at least its extension which ran all the way south to Ebou Dar. The village was just like any other they had come across on their journey, filled with dust and dirt and weary villagers as well as travellers of all kinds. As they rode into Remen on a sunny afternoon, a strong wind from the east making it feel chillier than it really was, they both felt weary after hard riding for many days and looked forward to sleep in a bed and to dine inside. There had been several wet, rainy nights in makeshift camps in the woods since leaving Lugard and they had stopped at few inns, wanting to travel fast and to remain inconspicuous despite their disguises. Here they would, however, spend a couple days also to rest their tired horses.

 

Most importantly though, there had been no further incidents since the Murandian Capital and it seemed for the moment at least that they were free of Shadows.

 

Stopping before one of two inns in the village - the ‘Staunch Ox’ the worn sign read above the entrance door - Elessar took both their mounts and walked steadily to the back of the tired-looking building and delivered them to a young, scruffy stable hand who promised to take good care of them. Stormbreaker looked at the scruffy lad with some scepticism and the look was shared by Socksie, but they let themselves be led into the stables. Afterwards Elessar carried their saddlebags and belongings inside the inn where they were met by a thin innkeeper with a sour face wearing a dirtied apron. The Warder had always been sceptical of thin innkeepers, it just did not suit the profession in his mind, and so he kept a weary eye on this one as the bald middle-aged Altaran with his shifty eyes showed them to their rooms. Calia’s room was of fair size and looked decently clean while Elessar’s room adjacent was smaller but more than adequate. They unpacked their belongings and afterwards Calia met Elessar in the corridor with a big smile on her face. She was going to enjoy a lovely bath!

 

●

 

Elessar had never known a woman, Aes Sedai or no, young or old, poor or rich, who did not love a hot bath, especially after many strenuous days on the road, and he bade her enjoy it!

 

As she disappeared down the corridor, a smile upon her Aes Sedai face, he went down the stairs to the reception area and found himself an armchair in the corner where he could sit and observe everyone. Including the innkeeper. Perhaps especially the innkeeper. He also needed time to think. They were closer to Ebou Dar now and they both were eager to reach their destination. There were still details he did not know regarding the object of their search, but he had the information he needed for now. Calia would inform him of the rest later, if needed.

 

Ebou Dar. He had many memories of Ebou Dar from previous visits with his bondholders. Some good, some bad. Some unforgettable. A beautiful city filled with many white shiny buildings, plazas and fountains of beauty and wonder, but also a place of danger as were most large cities.

 

His train of thoughts was cut off, as a rough-looking fellow of middling age with long unkempt hair and a scarred face came through the door and walked up to the shifty-looking innkeeper standing behind his counter. He whispered something in the innkeeper’s ear to which the bald man nodded fiercely. Then he appeared to give the other man several coins which the innkeeper pocketed quickly. Throwing a quick glance at Elessar seemingly slouching in his chair, the rough-looking man then departed the establishment and shut the door behind him.

 

That man will be trouble. Elessar thought to himself as he returned to his room upstairs a little later. He had seen enough troublemakers through the years to recognize them on sight. You can bet on it!

 

●

 

“Leihda”, Tarah began in a measured tone. “I don’t know quite how to say this, but.. mmm.. do you think.. Mother.. is different after she returned?”

 

She stared at the tall, blond blue-eyed woman in her pale green dress seated across from her sipping her tea and wondered again if it had been a good idea to approach her. She did not want to seem weak or hesitant.. that was never wise for a Keeper who wanted to stay Keeper for long.. but she was at her wits end and in near desperation she needed a second opinion.

 

Sipping her own tea slowly, she waited patiently for the other woman’s response.

 

“Different?” Leihda finally replied in a smooth voice. Her blue eyes studied the other woman closely, like a hawk studying a potential prey. “In what way?”

 

Tarah waited a few moments before responding. She was not sure how much to reveal, but she needed to add something to what she had said already.

 

“She seems.. even more closed off than before.” She began tentatively, touching the side of her grey dress as if its smooth texture would add to her confidence. “Even less trusting in our conversations. It just surprises me, that’s all.”

 

The Green Sister studied the Keeper shrewdly before replying. She could see that Tarah was struggling to maintain Aes Sedai composure. This meant the other woman was indeed very much upset and worried.

 

“Oh, I think it’s nothing to be worried about”, Erandel the Chosen replied very smoothly. Her blue eyes glinted. “She just has many things on her mind, that’s all. Her mission outside the Tower, whatever it was, has probably taken a toll on her. The Amyrlin will be fine.” As fine as can be, for her, she added silently in her mind.

 

“But.. there are Tower matters she needs to deal with”, Tarah added, unable to hide the worry in her tone. “Matters she disregards as unimportant. It is becom..”

 

“Don’t worry, Tarah”. Leihda’s voice had seeming empathy now. “She will have everything in hand, just give her some time.”

 

●

 

The Keeper’s brown eyes narrowed slightly. Can it be that I have misjudged the whole situation? Had the Amyrlin just reconsidered the matters they had decided on? Did she just need more time as Leihda claimed? It did not make sense to her, something inside her protested strongly, but what she replied instead was, “I am sure you are right. My worry is probably over nothing.”

 

Erandel studied the Keeper closely as she sipped her tea, holding her cup before her face, wondering if this was a fly to be squashed.

 

“I am sure you have more important matters to focus on, Tarah”. Leihda Sedai added squarely. “The Tower never rests.”

 

Tarah saw the Green Sitter’s eyes glint amusingly and felt a moment’s embarrassment for having brought up the issue. She had chosen Leihda to talk to because she was one of the Aes Sedai who seemed to be the most in contact with the Amyrlin lately and therefore might best understand if there was something.. different.. about her. She had not spoken much to Leihda before, it was not that usual to ‘cross the floor’ as it were to other Ajahs, but the Green had seemed approachable. Now her last words almost felt like a dismissal, and so Tarah knew the talk had come to an end.

 

“I am sorry to have bothered you on this fine afternoon, Leihda”, the Keeper said finally, placing her empty teacup on the table before them. “Thank you for taking the time to talk.” She gave the Green Sitter a tentative smile and then, her face Aes Sedai-smooth again though inside she was still deeply concerned, left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Erandel’s eyes tightened as they stared after the departing Keeper. It would not do to have the Keeper of the Chronicles nosing about in affairs that were not her business. They did not want any suspicions that the Amyrlin was anything but what she had always been. The Chosen would have to keep a close eye on Tarah in the days and weeks to come.

 

And if necessary, she would be dealt with. Permanently.

 

●

 

The Globe of Light filled Sandana’s vision until it was too bright to gaze on.

 

Shielding her eyes, she stepped backwards but then felt the wall at her back and she could not move further. Her child-like eyes were filled with some fear but also wonder and she caught her breath as the globe swelled further. Then, suddenly, a pair of arms reached out of the globe, two female hands beckoning.

 

A soft voice sang in her mind. A song of beauty and hope.

 

And now she understood. It was the Summons she had dreamt about.

 

She moved slowly forwards and away from the wall, confident now, as the light lessened slightly, reaching for those gentle female hands. She felt warmth run through her as their fingers touched and she became breathless in anticipation. Tears of joy ran down her young beautiful face, and then she became

 

One with the Light.

 

((((((((((((((((((((((O))))))))))))))))))))))

 

.<>Time standing still<>

 

 

and it was as if a moment was repeated in her mind..

 

.. She was back with the Twelve female figures in long white cowled tunics, decorated with strange symbols and paired with belts in shining silver.

 

The palace interior one of pure white marble, thousands of small marble bricks fused together in a way that it almost looked to be one massive piece of eternal white. The shape of the central chamber was one of eight straight sides, a beautiful structure symbolizing the octagon that stood at the centre of their Order.

 

A soft light started to glow from all eight sides of the octagon that formed the hall. A symbol also detached itself from the ceiling high above, a shining Star two paces wide, and floated downwards toward them.

 

Sandana sat on the throne of white marble. Smiles could be seen on several of the women’s faces; euphoric smiles, happy smiles, expressions of awe - and wonder.

 

The woman who had led the small procession, a tall handsome blond-haired woman of middling years standing beside the throne, raised the hood of her white cloak and faced the other women. Her eyes were pale green and they sparkled now.

 

“We are One”, she intoned and the other Sisters repeated the words in clear voices.

 

“The Winds hear our Voice.”

 

Gazing at the little girl, the woman smiled warmly.

 

“And You, Vayasha, are the One prophesized.” She added passionately. “You are the Octagon.”

 

Placing a small emerald stone on the little girl’s forehead, she spoke words of Resonance and the green stone, delicately cut with eight equal sides, now seemed a part of the skin.

 

All the women knelt and bowed before her, their white robes touching the marble floor reverently.

 

The Chamber sang with white Radiance - and the Star above stopped its descent and remained positioned ten feet above the throne.

 

Sandana’s eyes Watered in Delight - and her Smile was as Warm as the Sun.

 

●

 

Pulled through the Portal Stone

 

colours swirling in her mind, in never-ending combinations

the brightness swelling

a soft wind blowing from nowhere

an ocean of sapphires

and dancing butterflies in a meadow of small suns

 

 

And she finally settled, as the world stopped spinning, and gazed calmly at the familiar beautiful women in white cowled tunics who waited in the circle of tall standing stones inscribed with octagon symbols; and she smiled warmly.

 

This was a new place, a new world and somehow she knew that she belonged.

 

She was home.

 

“I am Sandana”. She said with a triumphant and dazzling smile of Light. “I am the Octagon.”

 

Silver light streamed from her body, like a S t a r in their midst, as if from a Vessel of Revelation.

 

 

“I am The Oracle.”

 

(((((o)))))

 

Thunder followed her Pronouncement

In a Sunlit Sky Ocean-Blue

Starlight spreading in Waves

Heralding a Prophecy Fulfilled!

 

▀▄

[Cass]

- Questions of Balance -

 

The marketplace near the River Manetherendrelle buzzed with sharp scents and sharper voices. Weaving her way through the press of busy bodies, a dark-haired woman with wide brown eyes set in a tanned face that hinted at thirty-something years quickened her pace towards the fishmonger's stall. She scanned ahead, stepping neatly around jostling adults and children alike with practiced precision. As she moved, she wrapped her dark blue-green shawl tighter around her shoulders - as if it alone was a sufficient barrier to keep the chaos of the market and the biting Easterly wind at bay.

 

A rhythmic creak of boats rocking against the docks knocked out a steady beat to the chattering and calling of the crowd as the woman quietly took a place at the back of the queue for the fishmonger's stall. The queue moved quickly, dispersing much faster than she had thought it would have, with many of the patrons ahead of her turning away empty handed, mumbling curses into the wind. 

 

"... and bloody ashes..."

 

"... cursed, I tell you!"

 

"... again!..."

 

The woman tilted her head slightly to the side and raised a dark enquiring eyebrow at the man wrapping the last bundle of salted fish in parchment for a waiting customer. His eyes, a little more careworn, but still as bright green as she remembered, flicked briefly her way. He began to shake his head with a tip toward the now-empty table as if to point out that there was no point in waiting - but then his eyes widened in recognition. He handed the wrapped fish to the customer, and waved the dark-haired woman forward.

 

"Mistress Mara," he greeted her gruffly, giving a small smile as he wiped his hands clean on a cloth he'd had tucked into the side of his apron. "Been quite a while since you came around, thought the trade routes away from here must've swallowed you whole - What can I do for you today?"

 

The woman chuckled the way 'Mistress Mara' always had, with the slightly raspy voice and lilting Murandian accent that so perfectly matched her appearance. 

"You know better than that, Master Basrin. I travel at the whims of the trade, yes - but I could never stay away from here and your good stall for good!" She paused meaningfully.

 

"I was hoping for some of your Ma's delicious salted fish, since I'm finally passing through, but..." she surveyed the bare table with pointed disappointment. "... it seems I am too late and might have to wait 'til our paths cross again?"

 

"Right you are there, and maybe then some!" The man muttered, tension creasing the space between his brows, a slight scowl forming on his lips. 

 

"Come, Basrin - you know how long it's been and I've been looking forward to this fish the entire time - I need more of an excuse or explanation than that!"

 

The banter had the familiar ring of their long acquaintance, but the woman who was not really Mara could sense the fishmonger's heart was not in it as it might once have been.

 

"Strange season, this," he told her in all seriousness as he began stacking the few baskets on the table into a pile.

 

"Some swear on the Light that the River's turned cursed: each catch smaller n' the last; good nets tearing or crumbling for no reason, even without loads of fish; boats turning upside-down in calm waters. Catches that seem at first to be good shifting into piles of ash... Folk walking off planks in the dead of night..."

 

He looked back at her then, and 'Mara' drew a sharp breath, her lips parting as though the wind had stolen her words. She clasped her shawl even tighter about her shoulders and shook her head - the perfect picture of a merchant woman horrified by such dark tidings. Basrin, she knew, was a friendly soul who liked to chat and was prone to share gossip as generously as he salted his fish, but he liked a dramatic reaction to his stories, and physical disguises only got one so far - the rest was down to the wearer's ability to act.

 

"No! That's awful!" she rasped softly in Mara's voice. "Though it's not the first of such stories I've heard," she added mournfully, thinking to herself just how true that was, despite the altered persona she wore. The Seals that hold back shall weaken... Not a word of a lie... Both the prophecies and herself always spoke the truth.

 

Basrin nodded, the strained expression still creasing his face. "And everyone says it's worse the further South you go..." 

 

With a tight, wry smile he spread his hands and added, "... so the wife forbids me to go even slightly South these days, and by way of it, the salted fish are few..."

 

"I'm both glad and sorry to hear that, Master Basrin. But if those stories are true, it sounds like you'd do well to keep listening to your wife, Light protect you both! Still... save me a small packet of fish over the next day or two, if they come your way?"

 

The fishmonger nodded his agreement as he continued to pack up the afternoon's stall. The woman Mara gave thanks and offered a lingering smile before turning back toward the road. Her steps quickened with purpose, the air of confident merchant-woman clinging to her appearance. Though she was no merchant, her confidence was real. How could it not be, as she followed the sense of her steadfast Warder through the bond? She gave his unfamiliar face and their large, apparently palamino and dappled-grey mounts a small, strained smile as she approached.

 

A strange season, indeed...
 

●

 

Some time later, Calia squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun, sharing a meaningful glance at - and with - her Warder. The wind from the East blustered at their backs, swirling as vehemently as Calia thoughts, carrying dust from the road around Socksie's and Stormbreaker's hooves and tugging at every thread of cloth and every strand of hair on human or horse that was not tightly braided or pinned in place. 

 

The market's hum had long since faded behind them, the vibrant chatter giving way to the rhythmic clop of hooves on packed earth. Ahead, a collection of tall, grey stone buildings loomed at the intersection of the ancient river and the Lugard Road.

 

It had been some time since she had last passed this way, and through Remen. Still, the village appeared much like she had expected it would, and much like the others they had come across on this journey - filled with dust and dirt and weary travellers who, no doubt, would have a few more stories to tell of yet more strange happenings that had taken place here and there over the river and across the land. 

 

Not that we'll share our own stories, Calia thought, but there's no doubt now that the Shadow's reach is growing.

 

She stifled a sigh. Outwardly calm, her body still bore the truth of the grueling weeks they'd left in their wake. Her thighs ached from endless hours in Socksie's wide saddle, her mind throbbed with unanswered questions and the weight of shadowy prophesies, stories and theories that she was yet to be confident they could safely traverse, let alone solve. Breaks in travel since leaving the shifty city of Lugard had been infrequent, the pair and their mounts trekking as fast as possible through the woods of the Cumbar Hills and spending several rainy nights in makeshift camps to avoid excessive use of roads and inns.

 

Other than providing Elessar and herself with small pockets of dry to sleep in, crafting changes to the Illusions woven over herself, Elessar and the horses and embedding a number of weaves into everyday items amongst their luggage, Calia had limited channeling to the barest minimum - embracing Saidar only in moments and amounts she was confident would not be detected - making sure to lock every thread of every weave she tied off into an inversion so complete and so tight that it absolutely would not be seen, nor sensed by other channelers. 

 

Each day had worn the pair and their mounts down a little more — too few moments of rest had been available on their trek from the shadows in Lugard, and those that still haunted her mind from Four Kings. 

 

It was time to rest. And The Staunch Ox in Remen would have to do. Calia glanced again at her Warder as they approached the inn together, dismounting almost as one. She smiled at him as her boots crunched on the gravel path and her legs protested the sudden change in position. Despite the weight of their mission, the buzz of Elessar's half of the quite determination in the bond between them remained as steadfast as ever. And despite his own weariness and the disguise she had spun about him, the gaze of the gaidin at her side was still undeniably sharp. It seemed some things were more difficult to hide than others, no matter how tightly one could weave Illusions...

"Thank you," she said, simply, as he led the palamino Stormbreaker her way and took Socksie's reins, preparing to walk the pair to the stables around the back. Calia's voice and accent were no longer her own, but neither Socksie nor Elessar reacted in the slightest. So 'common' had the inverted weaves she'd been placing around hers and Elessar's mouths become. She patted the mare's - presently dappled-grey - neck as the trio passed, chuckling softly at the nuzzling she received on the shoulder in response.  

 

A short time later, with their new, 'young Murandian brother-sister merchant' disguises still in tact, the Sedai and Warder entered the inn and arranged for their rooms. Elessar went first, carrying their saddlebags as steadily as always. Calia didn't have to see the innkeeper in that first instant to know that he must look like he'd missed more than a few good meals, or that his apron would be badly stained - the most subtle of shifts in Elessar's posture and buzz in the bond gave it all away. When she did finally spy the man, she found he was indeed thin, his ill-fitting apron looking like it would slip at any moment. He had the sour air of someone who spent far too much time indoors, perhaps with his nose in other people's business. She paid him no mind as he passed them to show them to their rooms - Elessar would have the measure of him as soon as she could have, and really, as long as he let them to be, and the establishment had a decent bath available, she would be content.

 

Still, she raised one eyebrow slightly at Elessar as he turned to follow the innkeeper up the stairs. The look he gave her in return only encouraged the spark of amusement she felt even further.

 

"Do try not to scowl so much, brother," she whispered in the lilting Murandian accent which was her newest norm, her now dark brown eyes uncharacteristically wide and innocent-looking. "You'll terrify the locals."

Outwardly, the man with the curled mustache and small beard on the tip of his chin gave only a soft huff in reply as he passed her. The bond however, betrayed at least a flicker of humour between them, and Calia smiled.

 

●

 

There was a bath. It was not overly large. Nor was it fancy. But it was large enough for one, and now, after the simple band of metal at her wrist had been submerged long enough to release the inverted heating weave she'd pre-prepared, it was bliss. Calia slipped her entire body under the surface of the water, closing her eyes and and letting the warmth envelop her completely for as long as she could hold her breath. Rising slowly, she set about soaping herself down from head to toe, washing the dust from her hair and skin, savouring the softness of the fresh lather and the scent of the jasmine-and-apple soap she'd received from Amelie in Four Kings.

For a while, she worked consciously on emptying her mind of the pressure of their mission and releasing the related tension she had stored in her body, letting the weight of it all float away in the water, allowing herself to simply relax in the soothing warmth. If there was one thing she was grateful to have learned in all her years of becoming and being Aes Sedai, it was this - the mastery of mind that only a century of practiced meditation could, almost reliably, bring.

 

The half-expected trouble in the shadowy streets of Lugard.

 

The shock of that woman being somehow attached.

 

The twist of reality into a no-longer unimaginable, no-longer undeniable threat.

 

The increased urgency of their mission in response.

 

The frustration that the Tower should have thought of this, should have arranged more for this before now.

 

Who could be trusted now?

 

Who would act? How?

 

She slipped down deeper into the water and let the warmth ease away some of the ache from the long hours spent in the saddle.

 

The strain of covering tracks, laying false paths, making all the subtle adjustments and movements they needed to make to keep their path clear of darkness for as long as they could. 

 

The darkness they had left behind.

 

The unravelling of threads ahead, the lines of prophecy that had been circling in her mind since they had left Four Kings...

'There is no salvation without destruction, no hope this side of death... The Seals that hold back the night shall weaken... All that is, all that was, and all that will be shall balance on the point of a sword, while the winds of the Shadow grow...'

 

She let the thoughts wander, weightless, and wash away. For a while. Whilst she could.
 

Until, some time later: 

 

 ''...The Wheel weaves as The Wheel wills ..."

"All things change... until we wake, the dream drifts on the wind... "

 

 

 ''...The Wheel weaves as The Wheel wills ..."

"All things change... until we wake, the dream drifts on the wind... "

 

 

 ''...The Wheel weaves as The Wheel wills ..."

"All things change... until we wake, the dream drifts on the wind... "

 

 

Her return to the weight and responsibility of reality had always been inevitable, Cal knew. But she had not expected it to begin in quite that fashion, nor that immediately persistent. She slipped once more under the water as the long-ago voices of her early Tower teachers and a most beloved Wise One from later years in the Waste began bubbling, entwined, to the surface of her mind. No amount of conscious meditation or warm water could wash Shadows or the turning of The Wheel away, she knew. And what was more, the truth and strength of each of those affirmations in her mind were both undeniable and welcome, despite their weight.

 

With near-perfect Aes Sedai poise, she surfaced and exited the bath in a single move, taking extra care to spill as little water as possible onto the floor. Her fingers toyed with the leather cord and ring around her neck as she did so, and she smiled at herself as she realised what she was doing in those two moves, and why. Aiel punishments, it seemed, had left memories at least as strong as their wise quotes, even after all these years. With a twinge of longing for Aaran and the moments of that life that had once been, she released her hold on the ring and reached for her towel.

 

The road ahead was surely paved with all the reasons why the Sisters of the Green and their Warders stood ready, and trained. She had chosen her Ajah for good reasons. And she was clean enough, for now.

 

●

 

Besides, Calia noted, Elessar was moving from his previously-settled position downstairs, returning to his room with a slight flare of wariness was flickering through the bond. She dressed quickly in response, still taking the time to ensure her 'Mara the merchant' attire and reflection had no noticeable weaknesses or flaws before she entered the hall. 

 

Knocking softly on Elessar's door, she called "Brother?" and waited for his reply before entering.

 

Once inside, with the door softly closed behind her, she pulled a circle of knotted rope from the bag she had collected from her room.

 

Encouraging Elessar to stand close beside her, she lifted the circle up and over both of their heads and spreading the circumference as wide as it would go on the floor. The effect of standing in the circle this way wouldn't be quite the same as having wards set to silence the entire room, but she was confident enough that the weave she had tied to it would make all conversation unintelligible to any would-be listeners.

Her gaidin's presence was as steady and determined as ever, but she knew him well enough by now to know he was concerned about something, even if she hadn't felt that flash of wariness through the bond.

 

The Wheel alone knew what was being woven around them now. 

 

"What is it?" she asked, matching his balance, keeping her voice low and calm, her eyes searching his face as she waited for his reply...
 

▀▄

[Elessar]

.. The Winds of Time ..

►▼◄

 

~ A strong wind ~

 

formed high in the Mountains of Dhoom, borne on the Winds of Time, floating along the swift currents high in the sky over the Borderlands.

 

It passed

 

through the Shienarian capital city of Fal Moran where Varanis the Chosen, a medium tall, thin man with a slightly gaunt face with a scar down the left side and wild-seeming blue eyes, studied his latest painting which was coming alive before his approving eyes.

 

To the west the wind drifted, through the Arafel capital city of Shol Arbela, where the woman called Sirih confronted the three scarcely clothed women before her, eyes downcast, and lay a knife against their bare throats. She whispered that traitors would not be long for this earth.

 

Further west it swept, across the nation of Saldaea, passing over an army of Shadowspawn packed with Trollocs, led by several mounted Myrddraal, their eyeless stares fixed steadily on the northern horizon, their black cloaks still in the strong wind.

 

Fierce northern currents heavy with rain pushed the wind south and east, drifting past Tar Valon with its towers and buildings of splendour, finally ruffling the leaves of several trees beside a villa just outside the city of Cairhien where Belarian the Chosen, a man grey-green eyed with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, sat closely studying a strange artifact, a dark crystal with ancient symbols, that he was holding in his hand.

 

Drifting on now softer currents the wind turned further south, swirling as it touched the banners of Andor and swept into the city of Caemlyn. Nymeria the Chosen felt the breeze on her face as she walked confidently up toward the Royal Palace, her blonde hair almost shining in the strong afternoon sun.

 

Onwards the wind blew westward across Andor to the town of Whitebridge. Standing on the huge milk-white bridge that spanned the River Arinelle, from which the town took its name, his dark cloak contrasting with the crystal glimmers around,  Amaranth the Leader of the Chosen stared pensively into the horizon, his violet eyes glinting, as he saw his plans coming to fruition in his mind.

 

A gust took the wind onwards on its long journey, turning south toward Murandy. Sweeping into the capital Lugard, stronger now in force, it brushed the dusty travelling cloak worn by Qariahna the Chosen standing before a dust-worn building speaking to a local Nobleman in a loud, imperious voice, before continuing through the city and westward.

 

Passing through Ghealdan and the capital city Jehannah, making the banner of Silver Stars on a field of Red atop the Royal Castle ripple in the wind, it swept past Tinuviel the Chosen, her hair as fiery as her temper, who was seated in a small garden behind an enclosed house staring fixedly into a crystal ball which showed images of tall spires.

 

The wind drifted upwards again and this time turned south-westward, floating on swirling currents into Tarabon. Down it went and ran through the little village of Serana where Denya the Black Sister stood beside the corpse of a dark-haired, attractive, strongly built young Taraboner man, touching the red blood flowing from his neck and wondering why another poor soul would not give her the answers she craved and needed.

 

Westward the wind swept, borne by ocean breezes, to the Seanchan capital city of Seandar where the Seanchan Empress was making plans for the re-taking of their ancient lands in the East. Keyraa Erem Sani ne Paendrag, the Daughter of the Nine Moons, heir to the Seanchan Empire, listened to the conversation between her mother and her advisors but her mind was elsewhere that day. It was the Day of Reckoning.

 

Storms in the Aryth Ocean forced the wind eastward again and eventually it passed through Amador, the capital city of Amadicia, where Sovenhia Taralth, newly raised Sister of the Blue Ajah, sat staring at a map in the hideaway she was using. She was Mistress Rina in this place, a merchant traveller on her way east. Her Warder Aran sat a few feet away, his light-blue eyes watching the shadows with strong intent. The dead Whitecloak lay still at his feet, the fresh blood darkening the man’s white robe.

 

Onwards the wind swept, into Altara and the capital city of Ebou Dar where Zephyr the Chosen, a stoutly built man handsome of face with brilliant white shining teeth that deeply contrasted with his black heart, sat quietly on a park bench studying the figure of a man holding a sword in his hand. The figure was of marble and, more importantly, was an ancient Angreal. Smiling to himself, his almost black eyes glinted dangerously.

 

The wind passed through Altara and swept east into Illian and its capital city where Lord Sandhar was entertaining a young brunette. She lay naked in his bed, her legs parted invitingly, stroking his chest softly, gazing lustfully down his naked body. In her mind though she was considering when would be the best time to kill him.

 

Further east the wind went, dancing on the currents, passing into the nation of Tear where Tiragh Rendiana, Captain of the Stone, stood staring emptily into the distance beside the Stone of Tear.  His grey-green eyes finally shifted to fix on the old woman before him who had just told him in a tearful voice of his niece’s death. At the hands of Darkfriends, or so it was said.

 

Finally the wind turned northward and east, borne on newly formed strong currents, and swept into the desert lands of the Aiel. Passing through the village that was home to the Spine Ridge sept, it swept past the tent where a motherly Varthana, Wise One and Clan Chief’s wife, comforted a hugely disappointed Sirantha who would not go away and join the Far Dareis Mai after all.

 

As the wind continued ever northwards, the currents softer now, it lost some of its force and vigour, and finally it came to rest at the darkened foothills of the ominous Mountains of Dhoom,

 

its full circle completed.

 

●

 

There was a creak in the floorboard outside in the hallway.

 

Elessar was immediately awake and stepped out of bed and threw on a shirt and pants as he tip-toed across to the door.

 

Another sound outside the door!

 

Elessar held his breath for a moment, then threw open the door!

 

Outside there was no one.

 

Gazing up and down the hallway there were only shadows at either end.

 

This has happened before!

 

The thought struck him and he was puzzled because it seemed so strange.

 

●

 

He closed the door behind him and listened for any sounds coming from Calia’s bedroom.

 

She was still asleep or so it seemed from the sensations coming through the bond.

 

Should her wake her? He took a step toward her bedroom door but just then there was a slight sound coming from down one end of the corridor.

 

Turning abruptly, Elessar held the knife he had brought from his room before him as he stared into the darkness.

 

Another creak..

 

●

 

Staring hard down the hallway he waited for whoever was there to make his move.

 

The seconds passed and nothing happened. He started wondering if it could just be the wooden boards adjusting as wood in old buildings sometimes did.. but then again it could be something else..

 

Again he had the feeling that this was an echo of something that had happened before.

 

Myhrri, are you safe?

 

He felt a moment of confusion, but pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

 

Another floorboard creaked..

 

Holding his breath, Elessar stepped slowly down toward where he thought the sound had come from. Peering into the dark, he waited for whoever was there.

 

His eyes became gradually accustomed to the darkness and he studied the shadows, looking for the possible threat.

 

Then the sound came from behind him!

 

●

 

Turning abruptly. The Warder saw a shadow somewhere close to Calia’s’s door.

 

He felt his Aes Sedai awake now and moving toward her bedroom door.

 

He wanted to warn her but his voice caught in his throat as he heard another creak in the floorboard.

 

Holding onto his blade, he readied himself to act.

 

A small movement outside Calia’s door..

 

A shadow among shadows..

 

●

 

Elessar was a miniscule moment away from leaping toward whatever or whoever threatened outside his Aes Sedai’s door, when..

 

..Calia opened the bedroom door - or was it Myhrri? - and peered outside, her pulse rising.

 

Was there danger?

 

Just as the Warder began his movement forwards, carrying his momentum into whoever was in the blackness outside his Aes Sedai’s door, the shadow detached itself from the shadows around..

 

A sound erupted from the black creature’s mouth..

 

Tiny globes of half-light where its eyes were..

 

And it leapt straight at Elessar!

 

●

 

He jumped in spite of himself, a gasp of surprise! escaping his lips .. his dark eyes widening.

 

Her eyes widened as well and she embraced Saidar!

 

It was only as the creature sped past him with a feral scream, that the Warder realized that the intruder, their dangerous foe this dark and creepy night, was in fact..

 

.. the innkeeper’s huge black cat Rascal!

 

Chuckles of mirth escaped Elessar’s lips and he shook his head, his pulse slowly decreasing.

 

Dangerous foe indeed!!

 

The cat had disappeared down the corridor and would probably not return. At least not at once. Perhaps it had been terrified of the lurking giant with a deadly blade standing there in the dark corridor.

 

Or perhaps it had just been amused that this human creature would be interested in its nightly hunt for mice in the deserted hallways of the inn. Who knew the thoughts of cats.. They were, after all, Masters of the Universe.

 

As a wide-eyed Calia turned into Myrrhi and back into Calia again before his stunned face, the sound of soft mirthful laughter came from afar.

 

Echoes remained in the otherwise still hallway as Elessar gazed at his Aes Sedai almost as if disbelieving what he was seeing. Because he saw them both reflected in her eyes.

 

His last thought before he abruptly awoke from his dream was, that this was impossible.

 

●

 

Elessar lay for a long time awake in his bed in the darkness of night, thinking about the strange dream he had just had. It was part memories from years ago, part strangeness in that weird mixed-up partly surreal way dreams often were.

 

The past merging with the present, what was with what could have been, as if the mind had a journey to make.

 

And as if Myhrri and Calia were One.

 

●

 

The next morning Elessar woke early, had a quick wash and did some exercises before meeting up with Calia in the Common Room for breakfast. He was thinking of the weird dream-memories he had had that night and it made him think of Myhrri, his former bondholder.

 

He hoped she was doing alright; he had not met up with her again after their bond ended a good while back. She would always be a good friend. Smiling to Calia, he sat down by their table and ordered some morning caf and some bread and vegetables.

 

●

 

While they waited for it to be served, the Warder reminisced the events of the previous evening.

 

Mistress Mara’s amusing comment as they had walked up to their rooms, that he not scowl so much to avoid terrifying the locals, to which her Murandian merchant ‘brother’ with his presently curled mustache and small beard on the tip of his chin had given only a soft huff though inside Elessar had grinned darkly. His time in the reception when Calia had gone to take a bath. The shifty innkeeper and the equally shifty visitor. Returning upstairs to his room a bit later he had pondered on their situation and on whether he was seeing shadows where there were none. He had prioritized checking on their innkeeper before taking care of his personal hygiene, but he now intended to get his sweaty and smelly body over to the bath chamber.

 

Just then there had been a soft knock on his door and a voice had called out “Brother?”. He had replied and the dark-haired woman with wide brown eyes set in a tanned face had entered. Mistress Mara. He had gotten so used to Calia’s different look and accent that he hardly paid it any attention by now. Once inside, with the door softly closed behind her, Calia had pulled a circle of knotted rope from the bag she had collected from her room. She had then made him stand close beside her and had lifted the circle up and over both their heads and spreading the circumference as wide as it would go on the floor. A ward of some kind so they could speak in confidence. She had stared at his face then as if she could sense the concern he bore stoically and had asked him, her voice low and calm, “What is it?”.

 

He had told her his concerns regarding the shifty innkeeper and the shifty rough-looking man and they had talked a little about potential dangers there in Remen. Many travellers passed through Remen on their journey south towards Ebou Dar and it would not be inconceivable that there were Darkfriends presently in this village. The shifty-looking man might be just a local scoundrel.. or he could be something more. They needed to be alert.

 

After this short but important conversation Elessar had excused himself saying he needed to get his sweaty smelly body over to the washroom and the gaze Calia had given him had told him it was a good idea. He had enjoyed a long soak in the bath, relishing the warmth and letting his muscles relax, soaping himself down from head to toe, washing the dust and grime from his skin, before returning clean to his room.

 

When speaking to fellow Gaidin he always pointed out, however, that he preferred to soak in a cold forest brook. It was the truth. Of course it was.

.

●

 

A middle-aged blonde-haired heavyset woman with log-sized arms and piercing blue eyes, of dubious reputation, came with their food and drink. She did not give the Murandian man a second look and hardly seemed inspired to do anything but serve quickly and be gone. She mumbled an ‘enjoy your breakfast’ under her breath before turning swiftly and disappearing back to where the innkeeper waited at the other end of the room. A few tables were occupied, with travellers mostly, but on the whole the Common Room was empty and far quieter than it had been the previous evening. Elessar, the Murandian merchant, swept his gaze over the room alert as always but there was no sign of the shifty scoundrel. As they ate, they chit-chatted a little about the next part of their journey. They were edging closer to their destination, Ebou Dar, and both were excited and pleased to soon be getting there.

 

After the morning meal, Calia went up to her room to pack while Elessar went to see to their horses at the back of the inn. The sun was rising in a blue sky with some clouds drifting in from the west and people were beginning to fill the street; locals, shopkeepers, merchants, travellers. No one appeared to take notice of the Murandian merchant who walked a little way down the street and then headed for the stables behind the establishment.

 

A few minutes later the Warder -in the guise of the merchant- came sprinting up the stairs and knocked hard on her door. She had sensed him coming in a hurry and felt through the bond that he was concerned and so she opened the door a fraction of a second after he knocked. Calia saw the uneasiness on his face and, her stomach tightening, waited for the bad news.

 

“The horses are gone!” Elessar said with consternation. His dark eyes tightened with concern and anger. “Someone has taken Stormbreaker and Socksie!”

 

●

 

My dearest Triamohna,

 

There is a time for everything and now Twilight is soon upon us!

 

I rejoice to think of what is to come! You know of what I speak.

 

The Rise of the Black Sun.

 

 

As Shadows will cover the World in glory.

 

When our Master Rises from his Sleep.

 

All Glory to the Great Lord of the Dark!

 

 

Your loving sister,

 

Fiahna

 

●

 

Serehstra walked along the corridor to her room in the Tarasin Palace, her pale red dress softly brushing the marble floor. She had finally recovered from the assassination attempt and would soon be able to move back to her room at the inn.

 

The Queen was adamant that she stay as long as she needed and the Red Sister was appreciative. Coming up to her chamber, she opened the door softly and closed it behind her. She was surprised to find that the room was not empty.

 

Voreyna stood by the window staring outside but turned as Serehstra entered.

 

“Oh, there are you are”, the Gray Sister said. Her voice was a tad more welcoming than it had been on certain occasions in the past but it was not too friendly.

 

“Voreyna”. Serehstra said as she faced the other Aes Sedai. “I did not expect you here.”

 

Looking at the beige dress the other woman wore with its high neckline, Serehstra wondered if the woman ever had tried to wear something a little less.. dull. Not that one needed to wear near see-through dresses with very low necklines that Greens sometime favoured.. but a little colour and variety would not go amiss. She did not bother saying anything about it, however, since Voreyna probably saw the disapproval in the Red Sister’s eyes.

 

“I wanted us to.. talk.” The Gray Sister began tentatively, her voice more friendly. She had noticed the other woman’s disapproving look at her dress but ignored it. If Serehstra wanted to flaunt herself, as if she were a flaming Green, that was her business. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

 

Serehstra’s eyes narrowed slightly, wondering what Voreyna was up to. She would not be so friendly-seeming if not for a reason. What is your play, Voreyna?

 

“Sure”, the Red Sister replied, and offered the other woman a chair. Sitting down herself, folding her hands, she waited for Voreyna to speak what was on her mind. Even as she waited her mind was still pondering on the big question: who had tried to kill her? For the thousandth time she wondered and for the thousandth time she had no answer. It was infuriating!

 

●

 

Sunlight drifted in through the windows, light streaming into the chamber. The bustle of city afternoon life could be heard in the distance but only as fading echoes. It took a while before the Gray Sister spoke but finally she did.

 

“The White Tower has gone.. quiet.” Voreyna’s eyes were inquisitive. “Have you heard from.. home lately?”

 

Home was, of course, Tar Valon.

 

It was a surprising question and Serehstra wondered what lay behind it. “I have not been in direct contact since I arrived in Ebou Dar”, the Red Sister said. “Only through intermediaries.”

 

Voreyna understood that she meant Eyes and Ears. All Ajahs had Eyes and Ears in most major cities in the land and certainly in as important a southern city as Ebou Dar.

 

“Is something worrying you, Voreyna?” Serehstra’s voice was smooth but not condescending in any fashion. She would try and be as friendly as can be since the Gray Sister appeared to be reaching out.

 

Voreyna’s eyes tightened slightly but she replied calmly that no, nothing in particular, just that there seemed to be an unusual silence from the White Tower.

 

“I am sure Mother has everything well in hand.” Serehstra added with a small smile. The Amyrlin was very capable indeed, a woman of great integrity, a woman to be trusted, even if some of the Sitters sometimes felt she was a bit.. demanding.

 

Voreyna nodded though her eyes still had question marks in them.

 

“Things are changing, Serehstra”, the Gray Sister said after a long silence. Folding her hands she closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again, meeting the Red Sister’s eyes squarely.

 

“There are rumours that a storm is coming”. Voreyna’s voice was calm but serious, her eyes narrowing. “And this is a storm we must weather together.”

 

●

 

“Your Keeper is becoming suspicious of you.”

 

Erandel gave the Amyrlin a no-nonsense look, then shifted her gaze to the ancient parchment on the desk. It was part of the Amyrlin Seat’s private archives, documents few had ever read apart from Amyrlins and perhaps their closest advisors. They dated back to the Trolloc Wars.

 

The Chosen thought with some amusement that she could, if she had wanted, have added much valuable information to these archives about the time the people now thought of as the Age of Legends, a time from which there were hardly any historical records. But she had much more important business to take care of.

 

“She confided in me”, she added while she was reading the document. “Well, in Leihda.” A dark grin came upon her face. “Of all people, she chose Leihda. Which is fortunate for us.”

 

Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat stared at the Chosen’s back and replied smoothly. “Tarah will not become a problem. She has always been somewhat of a worrier.”

 

Closing the parchment, Erandel spoke again. “Even so”, she said lifting an eyebrow, “we need to keep an eye on her. It will not do if she starts sharing her.. concerns with others.”

 

“She has no proof of anything; who would believe her?” Nadhene’s voice was calm and measured.

 

“Still”, Erandel said, “we must make sure she does not talk.” Her eyes narrowed with a dangerous gleam.

 

●

 

“You mean kill her?” The Amyrlin said. Her voice indicated that the killing would not bother her but that it might be inconvenient; she would rather her Keeper remained alive.

 

“If necessary”, the Chosen said coldly. “But the important thing is that we know she is suspicious.”

 

“Tarah is a good Keeper”, Nadhene said as she opened another ancient document on her desk. “She does her duties efficiently and well.”

 

Finding the page she wanted, she started reading while speaking at the same time. “I would not care to have to teach some other Sister those tasks. That could take months.”

 

“Perhaps you won’t have to”. Erandel replied, running a hand through her hair. “If she behaves.”

 

Nadhene turned to face the Chosen now.

 

“Do you have other.. options in mind?” She asked. Her face was Aes Sedai smooth though her eyes still had that empty look that would often remain for a good while after a Turning.

 

“There are always options”, Erandel replied smoothly, her eyes glinting dangerously. “You should know that better than most.”

 

The answering look in the Amyrlin’s brown eyes was unreadable, but she nodded in respect, knelt and said, “Yes, Great Mistress.”

 

●

 

When the Chosen in the guise of the Green Sister Leihda Sedai had left the Amyrlin’s private chamber, closing the door softly behind her, Nadhene’s gaze shifted back to the documents she had been reading.

 

Finally, she put them aside and opened a new parchment which was from the Amyrlin’s personal Eyes and Ears network across the land.

 

The short message read: The Dragon Reborn is on the move.

 

●

 

“Be a good boy, Sendril,”, the grey-haired old woman said emphatically, her dark eyes narrowing, “or Amaranth, Qariahna, Nymeria or perhaps Landroval will come in the night and take you!”

 

The young dark-haired boy looked with huge frightened eyes at his grandma, half-hiding under his bed sheet, seeing Shadows in his mind, creeping under his bed to snatch him in the night.

 

The nightmares she mentioned conjured up images in his mind that made it run cold down his back.

 

In the dark, after his grandma had shut the door to his bedroom and gone downstairs, Sendril closed his tearful eyes and promised the Creator to be a very good boy from now on.

 

●

 

The old woman descended the stairs and found a comfortable armchair to sit in. Gazing up towards her grandson’s bedroom, she shook her head. He had always been unruly ever since he was a toddler, but now at six of age he had become more than a handful.

 

She needed to put some fright into him, to make him start behaving as a boy should. At least that was her opinion. Her son Sarik, the child’s father, was too lenient, she believed. He let his son do practically anything he wanted and hardly ever corrected him. It was up to her to sort it out. And sort it out she would.

 

Thankfully there was no danger of the evil Forsaken coming to snatch her grandchild; but Sendril did not know that.

 

Almost without thinking, she mouthed the comforting and ritualistic invocation, words whispered and spoken since the dawn of time:

 

“The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time".

 

It was a relief to know that it was so. And that the Darkness was just an ancient memory.

 

●  

 

”Do not fall into Wells of Ignorance,

For Nothing is certain

Except that the Shadow

Perseveres.”

 

Old Shienaran proverb

The Third Age

 

▀▄

[Cass]

   Amidst 

the softly whispering  leaves 

of the         great   Green     apple tree,

galaxies of light pink and silky white blossoms waved

-  ^*s_*p^*a^*r_*k^*l^*e^*d* -

almost, silver

in the moonlight,

shifting and spreading

their scent across the orchard in the gentle Summer breeze.

 

 

<><><>

 

The orchard was bathed in silvery light, a big moon hanging low and luminous in the clear night sky. As Calia stepped back from the trunk and bruised bark, she felt Aaran's calloused palm slip into place against her smooth one, his fingers curling protectively around her own. Then he lifted his arm dramatically upwards, her hand still caught in his. She laughed, letting her arm and her body follow his on cue. 

 

He guided her out and into a familiar twirl. The jingle of bells in his long, dark hair singing sweetly into the crisp night air, the set of tiny Jakandan silver beads he'd given her as a wedding gift clicked almost inaudibly, just as he had intended for her own hair, making her smile with fond recollection.

 

The turn brought them face to face, but he kept her at a distance, stepping back half a pace. As she raised an eyebrow at the change in routine, he inclined his head in a sincere bow and then revealed a small garland of apple blossoms in his free hand. Gently, he slipped the wreath onto her head and let his hand trail down her spine to the small of her back. Then he drew her sharply close. Warmth spread through her entire body. She smiled up at him, her gaze bypassing the chiseled planes of his face to catch his warm, dark eyes. His own gaze was intense as she had expected it to be, for all the corners of his eyes crinkled into those familiar merry folds as he grinned down at her.

How?  part of her mind wondered -

 

- And then she was spinning again, and the bells were clanging alarms as blistering heat roared over her skin.

 

The orchard was transformed. All around her, flames snarled at the trees. Explosions of super-heated sap snapped and cracked the silence of the night with a terrifying concert of whips. Red and green apples turned to coal and dropped from their branches, lying as charred and jagged shadows on the melting ground. 

 

Instead of sparkling in the trees, the apple blossoms spun from the boughs as molten embers. 

 

Aaran was gone.

 

The wreath of blossoms crumbled into ash in her hair.

 

In the distance, a horse's shrill whinny sounded. Lost.

 

Then louder and louder.

 

Closer and closer.

 

 

Calia tried to channel, but saidar skipped out of her reach, again and again. When she did finally grasp it, the threads melted and slipped from her hands - or burned her - again and again. Suddenly a sound of thundering hooves joined the horse's scream, and a distinct blaze of white socks flashed through the inferno as Socksie raced the spreading flames in a circle around Calia. Her hooves struck sparks from the scorched earth, her mane and tail whipped around her like silvered fire.

 

As Cal watched, Socksie's form shifted - her coat melted into a dappled grey, her socks and patches disappearing, darkening, until her whole coat was midnight black and she was no longer Socksie, but Stormbreaker, Elessar's horse, galloping through the chaos with steadfast determination before the image split, and both horses charged side-by-side, their appearances shifting and shimmering, flickering in time with the flames - pale roans, dark bays, palominos...

Suddenly, the flames consumed the scene, roaring higher and hotter until the orchard was gone.

Too late, Calia turned to run after the horses, her bare feet pounding against the cracked and crackling earth, but her steps faltered and the world shifted as 

  she

 

     fell

             

to the hot, dry sand of the Aiel Waste. Here it was only the horizon shimmering with heat. In front of her was an enormous stone, that shifted form back and forth between solid rock and a blacksmith's anvil. As she watched, a circle formed in the sand around her, closing her in. Water began to drip from the sky, not as rain, just as a steady drip - and she knew her punishment now was to stop even a single drop from going to waste...

 

Calia cupped her hands, catching drop after drop of water from the sky and trying to ignore the way it and her emotions were steadily rising, welling right up to the edges of where they would not be held. The sound of dripping water intensified, rising into a drum of galloping hooves that filled her ears. She turned toward the sound as it shifted into a clanging of bells. 

 

<> <>

<> <> <>

And then she sat upright, wide awake, heart pounding in her chest.

 

She sat for just long enough to catch her breath, and then she pushed the blankets aside.

 

Her room was still, save for the faint rustle of wind against the shutters. She crossed to the small washbasin, splashing cold water onto her face to chase away the bitterness she felt. She straightened, searching beyond her own gaze in the tarnished mirror.

 

He wasn't there. And never would be again.

 

She sighed. And spent the rest of the night, once again, trying to regain her ability to sleep.

 

<> <>

 

“The horses are gone!” Elessar said with consternation. His dark eyes tightened with concern and anger. “Someone has taken Stormbreaker and Socksie!”

 

Gone.

 

Calia exhaled slowly, masking her growing frustration behind a calm façade. Of course, they would target their mounts. Stormbreaker, with his steady endurance, and her big, sock-wearing cart-horse who could outpace most, were treasures too tempting for any thief, illusion-spun or no. To lose time chasing after them now felt like a slap to the face. Light be thanked that she had prepared for this. She closed her eyes and focused on links to the tiny metal beads she had clipped into Stormbreaker and Socksie's manes. The Finder weave she had attached to those sentimental beads was not the same as the tracking thread she had used on the would-be assassin in Lugard. No, the Finder weave was more akin to the warder bond, albeit one-way and much, much weaker. 

 

With a sigh of relief she opened her eyes and filled Elessar in on the details.

"At least they haven't got far," she said, "And they wouldn't have gone anywhere without a fight!"

"Let's go!"

 

 

<> <>

 

The sense of the weaves dissolved, and Calia froze in the middle of the market square and gave Elessar a meaningful look as worry and disappointment crept into her heart for more reasons than one.

 

She pushed aside the pang for the Jakandan silver beads that might now be lost to her forever. She'd given one to each horse out of fondness as much as necessity. And the beads themselves would be as impossible to replace as the horses.

 

She turned to her warder.

 

"The weaves went dark. Either both horses randomly lost their beads, or whoever took them severed, or at the very least were informed about things they should not be able to see. I feel like we were close, though, and I might be able to keep us heading in the right direction." her eyes scanned ahead in the direction they had been travelling.

 

Until her gaze landed on a dark, glistening deposit several paces ahead of them. And then another patch of something similar quite aways ahead of that. Her brow furrowed softly as realisation struck. A trail of dung! Scattered and irregular, but unmistakable. She grinned. 

 

It was almost laughable. Almost.

 

Elessar caught her eye. Her lips twitched upwards.

 

"Clever mounts!"

 

<> <>  <>

 

Through the market, then this street and alley and that, through the door and out the other side, the dark deposits led the Sedai and Warder on a merry chase. 

 

Despite the absurdity of the method, it worked. They were surely closing in by now - the dung drops were looking 'fresher' with every pile. 

.

Abruptly, they rounded a corner into a narrow rather abandoned alley, only to be were met with a very unexpected sight. Socksie - still disguised as a very large-'dapple grey' carthorse, and Stormbreaker the palamino, still taller and larger than Socksie, with the situation very much under control.

 

This time, Calia did laugh. 

 

Because it wasn’t the reunion she had feared - or even remotely imagined...

 

And there, pinned against the crumbling stone wall of a storage house that appeared to form the back end of the alley were two men, wide-eyed and pale - and most thoroughly trapped by the horses themselves!

 

One had the misfortune of being pinned, quite firmly by her mare’s hindquarters, his tunic bunched up around his ribs where the horse’s weight pressed him firmly in place.

 

The other had his collar... and perhaps some of his shoulder... caught in Stormbreaker’s teeth, the stallion holding him steady with an air of what Calia could only interpret as steadfast satisfaction.

 

“Well,” she said to Elessar searching the bond for any hint of his reaction even as she outwardly observed the scene, her voice rich with quiet amusement.

 

“We found them! And seems whatever else the two in custody know or don't know, they failed to consider that their prizes might come with their own sense of justice and both the strength and to carry it out!”

 

<> <>  <>

Edited Sunday at 06:47 PM by Cass