A Bond of Faith (attn. Calia Sedai)

[Cass]

It was mid-evening and dark outside. Noise and light from the common room spilled into the street as the inn door opened. A chill wind slipped softly around the walls, whispering its way across the town from the north-west. Unheard in the cacophony of chattering voices and clinking mugs of ale, the wind continued sweeping over the cobblestones, swirling through the spreading light and retreating shadows alike. Clouds of dust lifted lazily into the air as the wind passed, drifting and glittering through the glow of nearby lanterns - testament to the many weeks without rain in these parts. The outthrust door was made of worn, but smoothly polished and waxen wood. The wind caressed the surface gently before sneaking silently through the  spaces on every side, crossing over the threshold into the inn.

 

Aes Sedai Calia Luin-Metsar settled her hood around her head as she exited the brightly lit common room, stepping smoothly around the man who had stumbled into Elessar ahead of her. Sounds from inside followed them through the doorway and down the street on a soft, crisp breeze. Floating echoes of the crowd's reaction to the gleeman's booming voice were the last to fade away. And then, the night was quiet. High above the Sedai and Warder, a rainless haze shifted across the sky in patches, obscuring moon and stars.

 

Enjoying the walk and relative silence, Calia watched the clouds. She drew cool air deep into her lungs and exhaled it in soundless, misty breaths. She did not know where Elessar was headed to continue their conversation, but considering the depth and nuances of their earlier talk and the contrasting lightness in his voice when he had invited her outside, she thought she knew why. 

 

It had not escaped her attention that the warrior-poet, usually enraptured with old songs and stories, had listened carefully to her - not the gleeman - when she'd spoken about the deepest cuts to her soul and told him she could not ask him to sign his life to a bond. Nor had she missed the comprehension in his eyes when she'd continued by saying she would rather respect and honour his right to direct his life however he truly wanted.

 

It was still possible, of course, that she was not the type of bondholder Elessar desired. And equally possible too, that the Kandori Warder was simply too polite to tell an Aes Sedai that he believed firmly in the bond, but not in her, in the middle of a bustling inn, mere moments after she had bared her soul and detailed being so bereaved.

 

But, both logic and intuition had Calia dismissing those possibilities as the most likely reason for this walk. She was, in fact, distinctly certain by this point that the road ahead was leading directly to a committed bond - the very thing she had actively avoided over the past fifteen years.

 

Yet somehow, she walked willingly on - now easily at peace with that belief.

 

After decades of believing Aes Sedai-Warder bonds were a perilously dangerous trap, it was a revelation and a mystery to her that she should feel so calm walking straight into one.

 

Calia's gaze drifted from the far-off clouds to the face of the gaidin at her side as she attempted to analyse the depths of her inner calm from every angle. Elessar slowed his pace somewhat and the two of them came to a complete stop, in unison, alongside an old, worn fence. After a moment, the Warder wandered several paces away, staring towards a pair of old trees just over the boundary-line.

 

Calia didn't dare disturb the silence, but she did observe both the man and the trees through the darkness, in the hazy light of the partially-shadowed moon. The trees boasted impressive silhouettes, even with only a few yellowed leaves left to their branches. Supported at the base by large, solid roots that fanned out and undoubtedly dug deep into the soil, both trunks were tall and wide, leaning ever-so-slightly inward towards each other, as if on purpose. The branches reached rather determinedly out and up from the trunk; every bough left to them appearing well-spaced, strong and well-proportioned - ready to bear fruit, provide shade, or resist wind. As her vision adjusted to the shadows in the field, Calia saw the bark of each tree, as well as the trunks, was thick and strong, though marred with deep gouges, scratches, knots and grooves on much of the visible surface.

 

Testament to surviving many seasons and many storms... she thought.

 

And suddenly it was easy to draw parallels between the scarred and yet strong old trees, and the Warder at their fence. And perhaps also between the Warder and herself.

 

And she understood, completely, why she could feel so calm about the idea of having this particular man rooted to her side, come what may.

 

"We are fighting for life," Elessar spoke over his shoulder, his voice strong. "The fight against the Shadow is a fight for life."

 

She watched as he picked up a fallen twig from the ground and ran it between his fingers, listened as he outlined his belief that the Battle Ajah fought so hard because of their passion for life, and their desire to preserve it.

 

"We stand ready," he added, in barely a whisper. "This old tree is not that healthy-looking, but it is still life. It is what we all should fight for."

 

He was facing away and talking quietly, but Calia heard him and wholeheartedly agreed.

 

--

 

When the Warder turned to face her, the wind was shifting errant strands of dark hair across his face. He confirmed her guess that the Green Ajah was where his heart, and sword, still belonged. Nodding at this and expecting the sense of what was coming next, Cal watched Elessar place the twig by the fence and walk up to take her hand.

 

"Thank you for sharing your past with me. For honouring me with your kind words and trust. For speaking words that feel true... You have not jumped to the wrong conclusions."  Elessar continued, affirming their mutual sense of kinship and respect, and confidence in their combined abilities.

 

She squeezed his hand quickly - the only response she could manage in that moment, whilst her inner calm all but fled. She'd expected the sense of what he'd said, yes, but - Oh Light! - she had not expected the strength of the soft sincerity in his voice or the depth of warmth in his dark, now-smiling eyes when he spoke. 

 

 

Strength paired with fragility, she thought. 

 

Light, do not let us break! 

 

 

**

 

 

"The 'right' Aes Sedai," the Kandori continued confidently, "stands before me."

 

Wind slipped inside her hood and around the back of her neck. Calia shivered, having forgotten, uncharacteristically, to hold herself separate from the cold.

 

"...I would be honoured if I could serve you as your Warder, dutifully, honourably till death and beyond." 

 

Elessar was letting go of her hand, eyes shining, to kneel before her. 

 

"My Life Before Yours," 

he vowed, closing those dark, shining eyes. 

"If you will have me".

 

**

 

At that very moment the clouds that had shadowed the moon departed and the moon's silver rays shone down on the two of them, pure and strong. Calia looked up to see a perfect circle of brightness against the dark staining of the sky. And then she smiled too, regaining her composure and her inner calm - feeling as warm as if she were inside sipping tea.

 

Pattern recognition... superstition... sign of affirmation - it mattered not. The revelations were clear. And both the Warder and the Aes Sedai had made up their minds.

 

**

 

"Elessar Telcontar Gaidin," she began,

"I would be beyond honoured to have you as my Warder."

 

Then slowly, surely, lowering herself in a subtle swish of green silk, she settled knee-to-knee with the gaidin and reached for his hands, bowing her head to his.

 

She did not rush.

 

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," she whispered with the wind. 

 

"But without question, Elessar, I would be beyond honoured,"

 

The Aes Sedai embraced Saidar and rose slowly as she spoke, still holding the kneeling Warder's hands. 

 

"To have you standing ready,

bonded at my side, fighting for life

- till Tarmon Gai'don and beyond."

 

She stood smiling in the circle of silver moonlight, encouraging Elessar to do the same, calling forth the threads of Spirit that would form the bond between them.

 

As the Warder rose, Calia spun the threads carefully, one by one. She strengthened every filament of every shimmering strand, every detailed intersection of warp and weft, every layer of the weave. 

 

She did not rush.

 

The weave shone a glowing white, complete in the light of the moon. The pattern was intricate and complex, but the result was as strong as she had ever created, and she'd meant it to be so.

 

**

 

The wind stopped blowing and the air seemed to go still, as if in a Moment of Revelation.

 

It was time.

 

She smiled in satisfaction and caught Elessar's eye to be sure he was ready. Then she tidied her own inner world against the swell of emotions that were sure to come, anchoring everything inside her down so as not to be swept away. 

 

Taking a breath, Aes Sedai Calia Luin-Metsar lifted the weave, stretching it from her own tether of Spirit and Saidar and wrapping it gently, securely, strand-by-strand over the waiting Elessar Telcontar Gaidin.

 

The weave settled over her Warder.

 

Thread by shining thread the sense of him grew in her mind, and in her heart. Even with her eyes closed, she felt he was there. Right there, in front of her. Standing ready. In every sense.

 

                e   l  l                      t   i             

                         w                            o              o n                   

 A   s               of        e m                  s

 

He was a flame and a void.

Vulnerability and strength.

Fighting for Life.

Alive.

 

Steadying herself, Calia Sedai released the source and, as strongly as she could, directed all of her deepest gratitude, respect and determination for Elessar through their new bond.

 

She sent gratitude and respect for Elessar Telcontar the man - who had strength and character enough to want to fight for life, against all odds. The man who had suffered the almost un-endurable because of that choice, and then still had the strength, the character, the desire to fight for Life, and live to fight.

 

She sent gratitude and respect for Elessar Telcontar Gaidin, whose skills had already long-served the Tower, the Greens and the Battle Ajah - and had already saved her life in a moment of Shadow and stupidity that could have been her last.

 

And she sent gratitude and respect for Elessar Telcontar - her Warder, who fought fiercely for the general ideal of freedom, yet had just chosen to live the rest of his own life in a bond at her side.

 

And she sent determination - a deep, driving determination that this bond of faith would not be in vain.

 

That the threads tying herself and Elessar together now would hold true, adding strength to their seams and stitching each of their scars shut, for all that the marks underneath were parts of themselves that might never truly heal.

 

That the threats of this bond would be to the Shadow and to the Shadow alone.

 

That bound together, Warder and Aes Sedai, the two of them would weave a stronger thread through the pattern on the side of Light.

 

And through all of that, she wove the most absolute determination - that they would stand ready. 

 

That they would fight for life. Come what may.

 

And that, on the other side of every battle from this moment to beyond death - beyond Tarmon Gai'don - both of them would still be standing: ready, together, alive.

[Elessar]

 

.. A Bond of Faith ..

►▼◄

 

The moment seemed to last forever.

 

Bathed in the beautiful reflection of silver rays from the moon high above, left alone by the wind and the common sounds of life, the image of the kneeling Warder and the calm-looking Aes Sedai were burned into the memory of the silently watching old woman.

 

A tear ran down her dirty chin and she brushed it away with an equally dirty hand, leaving smudges on her wrinkled face. But she did not care. She was spellbound - and it was as if time stood still and she were in a dream.

 

●

 

Eyes closed reverently, Elessar held his breath.

 

It was as if time stopped for him, as if the Wheel of Time momentarily paused in its eternal journey through the Pattern of the Ages, as if the silver moon high above stared down at him in distinct approval, and the wind which had brushed famed Dragonmount on its long way northwards ceased moving for a while, giving him a moment of near perfection.

 

And inner peace.

 

●

 

The Aes Sedai woman was speaking now but so softly that the old villager was unable to hear. It was not important. Running her rough hands through her greasy grey hair, the woman smiled, her grin almost toothless, eyes wide with wonder. She moved a little to the side of the old shed where she had been hiding, to get a better view, her scruffy dress getting caught on a nail in the woodwork, but her attention was on the couple a distance away and she did not notice the slightly ripped dress.

 

The Warder was still kneeling, his cloak brushing the ground, his head bowed in reverence while the Sister of the White Tower looked down at him. Then the Sister knelt also, her head bowed in respect. The old woman held her breath as the moment lingered, thanking the heavens that the clouds that had shadowed the moon had moved on so she was able to see in the clear light from the moon and stars.

 

The Aes Sedai are here to save us from the Shadowspawn. The old woman thought with gratitude as she kept watching. And Warders will join them. Together they will drive the foul ones back to where they came from.

 

●

 

Letting out his breath again, his dark eyes still closed, Elessar waited.. his heart skipping a beat.. his pulse rising again.. hope burning inside him like a flame that had too long been absent..

 

until..

 

She spoke.

 

When she said that she would be beyond honoured to have him as her Warder, joy filled him, hope fulfilled. He felt happiness inside since he would now become a bonded Warder again.

 

He would be whole again.

 

Slowly he opened his dark eyes. They sparkled now, wet with the water of hope. He remained kneeling, his head bowed, but saw from the corner of his eye that Calia lowered herself to the ground before him. In a subtle swish of green silk, she settled knee-to-knee with him and reached for his hands, bowing her head to his.

 

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," she whispered with the wind.  "But without question, Elessar, I would be beyond honoured,"

 

●

 

Another tear ran down the old woman’s cheek, as her eyes were glued to what was happening only forty feet or so away by the fence and the trees. She had never seen a bonding before but she knew this was what she was seeing. Many, many years before, when she had been but a girl, an Aes Sedai, a woman with the stance of a queen and the fierce eyes of an eagle, had come into the village to test girls. She remembered it vividly. She had been agape at seeing an Aes Sedai in their little village. She had been tested but found to have no spark. The disappointment had worn off in time, many tears later, but ever since that first moment she had been in awe of Aes Sedai and as an adult had read books on the White Tower and its Sisters.

 

She had also talked to visitors to the village from the South to get news of the Aes Sedai - what battles they were fighting, what heroics they were up to for the Light - and had wanted to learn all there was about them, much to her late husband Maram’s grumbling. Not that he had had anything against the Tar Valon Sisters, of course, but it was safest to stay away from their One Power and such he had always claimed. She had ignored him, continuing her quest to learn more, and in time had also wanted to learn more about Warder-bonds which one of her books had briefly mentioned without, of course, going into any detail. It seemed something magical to her, something few would ever experience or be able to watch. And this night, by chance, or fate as she liked to think of it afterwards, she had been out in the garden throwing away some refuse when the couple had passed her worn-down house. Recognizing the Warder’s cloak and the way he carried himself and glimpsing the regal look on the Aes Sedai’s face from the partial light from the moon, she had caught her breath and, unable to stop herself, had followed them from some distance.

 

Watching enthralled, she now saw the Aes Sedai rise carefully to her feet, her hands holding his. He rose too but did not straighten, keeping his head slightly below hers. The silver moonlight shone down on them both as if in a Moment of Revelation and though the old woman could not see anything happening, she knew something was. The wind has stopped blowing, as if waiting.. waiting for completion, waiting for resolution. She did not know how she knew but she did. The air was still. There were no sounds anywhere. It was as if time paused for a few moments - and just for her. Another tear of happiness began running down her chin as she watched with an expression of pure rapture on her face.

 

It was the finest, most precious moment in old Lavara’s life.

 

●

 

The honour is mine, Elessar whispered in his mind, grateful for the Aes Sedai’s words. He knew they would be true and it warmed his soul that she too very much wanted this bonding.

 

Calia then rose slowly as she spoke, still holding Elessar’s hands. Her voice was clear and strong as she told him in affirmation that he would stand ready, bonded at her side, fighting for life ‘till Tarmon Gai’don and beyond.

 

He swore in his heart that it would be so. On his honour. On his life.

 

My life before yours.

 

Calia stood smiling in the circle of silver moonlight, encouraging Elessar to do the same.

 

He rose slowly, anticipation building within him, as the silver rays from above shone on his face.

 

The wind stopped blowing and the air seemed to go still, as if in a Moment of Revelation.

 

●

   

Calia smiled in satisfaction and caught Elessar's eye to be sure he was ready. He gave a slight nod in affirmation, preparing himself for the avalanche of feelings that would come as she placed the bonding-weave on him.

 

He had felt the weaves enveloping him each time he had been bonded through the years and each time it had been indescribable. It was no different this time. The feeling was as if he were drenched in cold water but at the same time swept into an ocean of fire. It was images and colours and smells and sounds and all of it coming together in a single otherworldly moment..  or an eternity. He could never tell.

 

And then he felt her. Or at least the sense of her. It was hard to tell the difference.

 

His eyes began watering slightly but he paid it no mind. The bliss of being connected to an Aes Sedai again almost took his breath away. The swirl of emotions running through him caught him in its grip and held him fast. He knew he should be used to this by now but he was just as awestruck each time and it always took a little time to get used to.. And for some reason the emotions he felt were never exactly the same. He had spoken with Leandreen about it after their bonding so many years ago and though she had been unwilling to talk much about the subject she had hinted that the experience, the emotions felt, depended to some extent on the Sister in question and also the Gaidin.

 

As he felt her through the bond - emotions but not thoughts, excitement but also something else he could not quite define - he tried to get a hold on his own emotions.

 

They were united now in more ways than one.

 

United in a struggle for Life. With vulnerability and strength, with power and weakness. Focused together in a Fight against the Shadow.

 

Together - and Alive.

 

●

 

That word echoed in his mind for a split second almost like a revelation before disappearing in soft echoes but he understood and approved.

 

We fight for Life - and we celebrate that we are Alive.

 

Strong emotions then came through the bond amidst swirls of colour and undefined images and he could have sworn it was.. gratitude. Or something similar. A feeling of thankfulness. He knew from his many previous bonds that Aes Sedai could not read minds (though it sometimes did feel like it.. as he and his brother Warders on occasion had observed with lopsided grins well out of earshot of any Sisters) and could not convey messages by use of the mind (something that would have been very handy indeed), but it almost felt like it this time. For whatever reason, this moved him and he felt grateful in truth.

 

We are One.

 

 ●

 ►▲◄

►▲◄►▲◄

►▲◄►▲◄►▲◄

 ▀ 

 

The thought echoed in his mind and he knew that in a way it was true.

 

“Thank you”, he whispered softly, his voice emotional but steady, his dark eyes sparkling as he met her blue gaze. He smiled and she returned the warm smile.

 

Now that they were bonded he could have pointed to her blindfolded if she had moved away off to the side. It was one of the many benefits of a bond. Another was the added strength he would receive from his bondholder in battle. That added strength could in some situations be the very difference between life and death; that he knew well. It would for certain be beneficial in the battle to come.

 

It made him reflect for a moment on the two of them.

 

We each have scars, he considered thoughtfully. We each have memories and sorrows. Some things that will perhaps never heal. That was true. But together, together we are stronger and this bond shall survive.

 

I will not fail again. On my soul so I swear.

 

“We stand ready, my Aes Sedai!” Elessar said finally in a strong voice, giving her hand a squeeze as the silverlight shone down on the two of them. Her eyes sparkled in approval. “And”, he added with a wink, “woe to anyone who stands in our way!”

 

●

 

As his voice died down, the wind started blowing again, a soft breeze coming to life in the Saldaean night, as the bonded Aes Sedai and Warder remained standing near the two gnarly, old and battered trees, leaning together in unity, brittle but tough, vulnerable but strong, and hardened against the Shadow to the North.

 

●

 

There was a pulchritudinous poem he had once read, called ‘A Mirror of Emotions’, which spoke of life changes.

 

Of decisions. Of choices. Of Fate. Of Faith.

 

And of New Beginnings.

 

Elessar remembered the words well and they whispered in his mind as he stared silently through the window of his second floor room that night.

 

●

 

►▼◄

 

A Mirror of Emotions

 

Look into the Mirror of your Soul

Gaze at the Reflections of the Past

Making good Decisions is your Goal

Finding sound Solutions that will Last

 

Break the Glass of Wisdom if you Must

Do what must be Done, who can Foretell

Fate may guide your Hand and garner Trust

Throw your Darkness into Mirror’s Well

 

Listen to the Echoes in the Night

Borne on Winds of awe-inspiring Grace

Start a New Beginning in the Light

Feel the Peace within your Soul Embrace

 

►▲◄

 

●

 

Echoes of the poem stayed with him as he lay in his bed a little later, too filled with excitement to easily fall asleep.

 

He felt Calia, his new Aes Sedai bondholder, in the neighbouring room - he got the impression through the bond that she was still awake too - and it gave him joy to feel that connection again. For the first time in what felt an Age or so he felt complete.

 

He knew there was much to learn about her, just as there had been much to learn about all his former bondholders, and much for her to learn about him. They each had their scars, they each had their burdens, they each had their histories. There was work before them to share ideas and suggestions, coordinate and synchronise their movements and actions now that they were connected through the bond. And he felt sure they would have to work through some difficult things along the way, that was usually the way of new Warder-Sedai bonds and perhaps even more so in this case. But he was optimistic and hopeful and strong in his belief that they would succeed. The kinship he had felt with her for long and which now was strengthened through the bond gave him confidence.

 

We are One.

 

He smiled looking up at the ceiling - and his dark eyes sparkled joyfully in the darkness of the room.

 

Theirs was a Bond of Faith - and Elessar embraced it to fill his Soul with Light.

 

      ▀▄▀▄ 

[Elessar]

 

.. Reflected in a Colour of Blood ..

►▼◄

 

Nymeria watched the Shadowspawn army assembled in the valley beneath her with scorn.

 

The Trollocs had their use - their strength, ferocity and numbers compensated somewhat for their lack of intelligence - but even so it had always irked her that they had need to make use of such simple creatures in their mission for the Great Lord.

 

Her sapphire-blue eyes drew together and she pursed her lips as she spotted the several Myrddraal walking among the Trolloc fists.

 

●

 

Wearing their black armour with overlapping scales and black cloaks which did not stir in the wind, the Eyeless Ones moved among the Trollocs like spiders inspecting a web. They were more intelligent creatures, Nymeria knew, and very sly. She did not fear any of them, such was her confidence in herself, but one had to tread carefully around them, that was only prudent. She ran her fingers through her long pale golden hair as a soft breeze coming in from the south touched her beautiful face with the lightness of a feather. She wore a long dress that was dark green in colour but with touches of blue at the hem and with a leather band at her waist. Leather also adorned parts of her sleeves in a pattern which was from another time and place. Around her swan-like neck there was an emerald necklace which glinted in the afternoon sunlight with promises of what was to come. And on her left ring finger sat a blue ring shaped like a flame.

 

Gazing down at it lovingly, she smiled mischievously. It was a very powerful Angreal which she had procured many years before, at some cost. It was one of her most priced possessions. Embracing Saidar, she drew as much as she could through the Angreal and felt a euphoria of power envelope her. The sweetness of it was so great and seductive that she had to forcefully stop herself from drawing more or she knew she could end up burning herself out, or worse. It was almost painful to let go of the One Power, she wanted to embrace it at all times, but she had learned the hard way that it was prudent to go without it sometimes.

 

●

 

Quenching the burning flame within her, she focused on the tall Myrddraal standing a dozen feet beneath her on the hillside. They were in a valley north-east of a shabby village called Sirah close to the Plain of Lances. They had been there several days - waiting. And everyone was getting restless. Nymeria had been tempted to move the army further south, since that was where they expected the Lightfools to come from, but she had her orders and did not dare disobey them. She had no intention of making the Great Lord angry with her.

 

At least not yet.

 

The Trollocs were extremely restless though and fights had erupted between the fists. It had taken several Myrddraal besides Nymeria herself to calm things down and cook pots had been filled with captured men from farms in the region to satisfy the Trolloc hunger and need for flesh and blood. The screams that had filled the Saldaean night had not bothered her. Rather she had been tempted to partake in some torture, to make the time fly. She had resisted the temptation though, knowing she would get enough thrills in the slaying of Lightfools in battle later.

 

“Make sure there is no more trouble”, she said facing the Fade. Her voice was icy cold. “I will not tolerate it!”

 

The Eyeless One said nothing in return, his face as pale, expressionless and noncommittal as always, but finally he nodded. She did not like that he always waited a few seconds before nodding. It was almost as if he were mocking her, saying without saying that he was not afraid of her. Which could actually be true. Myrddraal were feared creatures, hard to kill, and she had never been quite certain that they feared her kind. But they obeyed orders they knew were coming - directly or indirectly - from the Great Lord, and that would have to do.

 

●

 

“Good!” she replied after a long moment.

 

Her blue eyes were hard and unyielding. She touched her blue ring and was tempted to open herself to the One Power but she resisted. She looked upon it as a lesson in discipline. And moderation. (neither of which were qualities she was particularly known for).

 

When the Fade left to ride down the hillside to where the army waited, Nymeria’s eyes followed him all the way down. Only when he was gone from sight, did her eyes move to the far horizon. The sky was azure-blue as far as one could see with only the occasional grey cloud spoiling the image of a watery ocean above. And the golden sun shone with brilliance, throwing its rays of light down on the hillside and valley below.

 

Soon the enemy would appear - and Nymeria could not wait to face the so-called Aes Sedai women of this Age.

 

Children playing with fire.

 

Her hand went to the small scar on her left cheek, and she reminded herself that it could be dangerous to underestimate one’s enemies. Even so, she had no doubt they would win this battle. Her spies had told her that the Tar Valon party was small and that it included less than ten Sisters. No help would be coming from the Saldaean army either, she had been assured. Her blue eyes went to the dark-cloaked Dreadlords that stood a little further away on the hillside. They had not either been happy having to wait but they too obeyed.

 

They better, or they will pay the price!

 

Feeling the sun on her face, on her delicate fair skin, bathing in the Light of it, Nymeria opened herself to Saidar and as the magnificent flow of power ran through her veins, making her heart beat strongly with sensational pleasure, she closed her sparkling blue eyes and embraced the Shadow within.

 

●

 

That night Elessar dreamt of Myrrhi.

 

Perhaps it was elation from being bonded again, the thrill of feeling that connection again to an Aes Sedai, a thrill that had stayed with him as he had fallen asleep.

 

Perhaps it was his subconscious bringing memories to the fore, of a time before when he had been bonded to a Sister of the White Tower.

 

For whatever reason, memories from the past swept through his sleep that night.. dreams of another time.. of another Warder-Sedai bond.. of another connection..

 

●

 

Walking across to the small window on the far wall in his room, Elessar stared out into the Ebou Dari morning. The sun was slowly rising in a blue sky that had some patches of clouds here and there. He saw what looked like large ocean-birds in the far horizon.. it was difficult to judge size from such a distance and elevation but they seemed unusually large. With all the strange things he had seen in his many years as a Gaidin, not the least this past year, this was simply another strange addition to a changing world. His hands on the side of the small window, he stared out at the neighbouring buildings and the side-street, which was coming to life, his mind already on the ball they were attending that evening.

 

Increasingly he felt some agitation coming through the bond and finally he decided to go and make sure Myrrhi was alright. He felt pretty certain that she was fine, just caught up in her arduous workout and her pursuit of competence, but it was only prudent to make sure. Stepping out of his room, he entered the corridor behind and stopped outside Myrrhi’s room. He felt her exerting herself inside. Knocking on the door, he waited for a reply.

 

“Come in, Elessar”, he heard her say from behind the door in her almost-out-of-breath voice.

 

Opening the door, he found her in her riding clothes, her cheeks redder than normal, her breath heavy, obviously having finished a sword form. He saw that she had pushed some of the furniture away from the center of the room to have more space for her workout. Seeing that she was indeed alright, as he had suspected, he gave her a grin.

 

●

 

“Still eager to become another Rashima Kerenmosa, I see”, he said with kind amusement, hinting teasingly at the legendary and heavily decorated Sister of the Green, ‘the Soldier Amyrlin’, a true heroine of the White Tower and the symbol of all it means to be a Green Aes Sedai. He closed the door behind him. She gave him a lopsided grin back.

 

“Well, if you keep practicing those sword forms for another hundred years or so”, he added teasingly, “_and_ gain the leadership skills to match, you may succeed one day.”

 

She saw the glint in his eyes, heard the resonance in his voice, and knew him well enough by now to know that he was _not_ mocking her in any way, rather it was _his_ humourous, teasing way of showing approval for her tireless efforts.

 

“Well, when I do”, she replied catching her breath, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement, brushing some sweat from her brow, “I will certainly need to get myself a dozen other Gaidin as well. Nothing less would do in my.. esteemed role.”

 

Her grin widened and she enjoyed seeing his eyes widen ever so slightly for a moment before he returned her grin, swallowed a chuckle and gave her a small bow.

 

“First though”, she said, “I need to get myself cleaned up and have a bath.” Her eyes sparkled anew as she added, “For we have a ball to attend this evening.. and we must look presentable. And that means _you_ too.”

 

She enjoyed the momentary slight squirm in his face at the mention of the ball, knowing full well that he enjoyed such formal events far less than she did. “You better put on your finest, Warder of mine”, she said as her eyes twinkled but also with a serious edge. “We _are_ the White Tower this evening.. and must impress them.”

 

●

 

She wore a simple dark green dress with tight sleeves and made of silk. It was elegant, Elessar thought as he looked her over. He noted that the bodice was ornated by a series of small black orchids embroidered in the fabric. It was a nice touch. He could not recall having seen her wear that dress before. He nodded approvingly as he met her eyes.

 

“Very elegant, my Aes Sedai.” He said with a smile, a glint in his eye. “Very elegant indeed.”

 

Her blue eyes twinkled and she nodded approvingly back at him, pleased at his remark and that he had indeed put on his finest and looked rather dashing in his stylish black attire, she had to admit.

 

“You don’t look so bad yourself”, she replied with a small grin, pretty certain that he would draw the attention of more than a few noblewomen at the ball. “Come on, let’s go and meet this High Lady.”

 

●

 

“Welcome, Myrrhi Aes Sedai”, the old man said as Alyssa was ushered out of the chamber. “I am Kaslan, Master of Ceremonies for House Asnobar.” He gave another small bow. “The High Lady will be most pleased to meet you.” Myrrhi gave a respectful nod back, smiling.

 

Elessar studied the tall staff the Master of Ceremonies held. It looked old and was heavily decorated in what looked like gold though the Warder doubted it was the real thing. It looked imposing, however, and the Ebou Dari man held it with reverence. The Master of Ceremonies turned toward the large double-door behind him. It was also decorated with the blue moons, which they took to be sigils of House Asnobar. He nodded and they followed him toward the huge door. He opened it carefully and swept through. His voice boomed out as Myrrhi stepped into the ballroom, a huge richly decorated chamber, which she now saw was partially filled with nobles in their finest.

 

“Myrrhi Morrigen, Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah!” He announced, hitting the tall staff heavily three times on the floor. All eyes in the ballroom went to the entrance.

 

The Aes Sedai swept past the old Ebou Dari man looking regal and self-assured in her beautiful green dress, as the Master of Ceremonies added her companion’s name and title. Myrrhi glided down the ballroom, head held high, past dozens of nobles who moved aside with swiftness, like a queen in her own palace, with Elessar striking an imposing Warder-figure in black a step behind her.

 

At the end of the ballroom, a small dais had an opulent chair upon which sat an Ebou Dari woman well past her middle age, with long hair and shining eyes, who wore much jewelry, a beautiful dress and a shrewd, calculating face.

 

The High Lady Cyrelle Miriahna Asnobar.

 

●

 

The smile she gave Myrrhi as they neared the dais was one of many undercurrents. Bowing correctly from her seated position but with the barest minimum of decorum towards the Aes Sedai, the High Lady smiled shrewdly and welcomed them to Ebou Dar and these festivities. Myrrhi nodded politely back, but as a queen would to a noble. She _was_ Aes Sedai after all.

 

“I am glad you could accept our invitation. We are honoured by your presence, Myrrhi Aes Sedai”, the High Lady of House Asnobar said smoothly, as the nobles returned to their chatting, mingling and scheming in the ballroom. At least that was how Elessar saw it, standing a little back and to the side.

 

“I hope your coming will be of mutual benefit.” The Ebou Dari woman added, her eyes glinting. “It can serve us both.”

 

Myrrhi’s smile was equally many-faceted. “So do I.”, she said, in a no-nonsense but polite voice. Her blue eyes sparkled. “The White Tower’s time is valuable.”

 

The High Lady’s black eyes glittered in response.

 

●

 

The sun set over the nation of Cairhien.

 

Originally the country had been called Al'cair'rahienallen, which in the old Old Tongue meant "Hill of the Golden Dawn." The city and country were weakened in the Aiel War. Cairhien, like many of the current nations, became sovereign at the end of the War of the Hundred Years. For four hundred years after, it enjoyed a period of unprecedented wealth. This was due primarily to the Aiel, who granted Cairhienen the exclusive right to cross the Aiel Waste and trade for silk in Shara. This prosperity ended when Laman Damodred cut down Avendoraldera, a cutting from the Tree of Life and a gift from the Aiel, and unknowingly sparked the Aiel War. During this war the city of Cairhien was burned and partially destroyed.

 

These days the Cairhienin were perhaps best known for having invented Daes Dae'mar (the Game of Houses), a system of intrigue and clever political plotting. In truth they were only matched - or, as some believed, bettered - by the Servants to All, though most Warders would thread very carefully in front of Aes Sedai if ever that subject came up.

 

●

 

The city of Cairhien was situated on the east bank of the River Alguenya. Once inside the city gates a traveller was met by streets filled with people and buildings and shops and vendors and squares and fountains and smells and sights of all kinds. And several inns. In one of these, called “The Golden Swan”, with a classy sign above the entrance depicting a joyful golden swan in flight, there were many customers this early evening and the mood was boisterous. In a far corner, however, sat a tall and imposing man on his own, bowed over a glass of beer. He wore a thick dark cloak which almost hid his face but from within the hood one could glimpse dark hair and hard dark eyes. A good observer might also have glimpsed the emerald ring he wore on his right hand and the way the man seemed to touch the ring intermittently as if double-checking that it was still there.

 

Samos was brooding and did not have a mind for any of the chatting and singing and joyfulness that permeated this establishment on this fine evening. He was thinking of his mission and how he was to accomplish it. He tried to ignore the mix of anger and fear which always came upon him when he thought of.. her. At least she had let him be for a while now - and for that he was grateful. It was hard enough to find the right way to succeed in his mission without having her criticizing his every move. Taking another sip from his cold beer he then touched his emerald ring another time, as if trying to find inspiration in the cold metal surrounding the gem. The killing-part of the mission was no problem for him. He had killed many times before and would in the future. The question was rather what was the best way of killing the Lord Saididred of the Cairhien House Delovinde.

 

The Nobleman was heavily guarded in his mansion, Samos’ spies had told him, and several guards were always with him when he went out into the city by his horses-drawn coach. The Game of Houses apparently had made him paranoid these last few years - and as a result an assassination would need more planning. Samos had only been told that this High Lord apparently was in a position of favour with the Cairhienin Queen and that it would serve their interests to remove that personal link. He did not need to know anymore. He had to decide on how to carry out the deed though.

 

●

 

Sipping more from his drink, he went over in his mind what he had seen of the mansion. There were high stone walls on all sides and inside a large garden before the immense building itself. The gate was always guarded by several men who looked hardened in Samos’ opinion and all in all getting into the mansion and killing the High Lord seemed difficult.

 

No, it’s better to do it when he is out in the city. I just have to seize the opportunity.

 

Samos did not like to depend on others on his missions, the worthless bunch back in Caemlyn were a good example why, but this time he would probably need some help. Nodding to himself, a plan gradually building in his head, he drank the last of the beer and got up and left the inn, shutting the entrance door behind him.

 

The sound of the gleeman telling a story of war and remembrance drifted into the dark night as the door closed and Samos walked up the street in the direction of another establishment a little further into the city.

 

He did not sense the blue eyes watching him shrewdly.

 

  ●

 

Argam smiled as he held his beloved daughter in his arms. She buried her face in his chest, feeling the warmth and protection of his embrace. Her eyes were still wide and her breath was short.

 

“But Papa, I did see the shadowy woman”, she mumbled into his chest. “I swear, she was there.. and then she was not.”

 

“So so, Sandana.” He replied in a soothing voice. “I checked and there is no one about.” He ruffled her brown hair lovingly.

 

The almost surreal episode with the axe several weeks before had shaken him to the core, but as the days had passed the memory had gradually dwindled and he had almost convinced himself that he had imagined it all. Nothing untoward had happened since.. until the occurrence earlier this day.

 

If it had happened at all.

 

His daughter’s imagination was vivid and perhaps the axe episode had rattled her more than he had thought. Even so, he had checked the grounds around their home several times to make sure no one was about. He had seen nothing and no one.

 

“You are safe here”, he said reassuringly, holding onto his daughter tightly.

 

  ●

 

“I love you, Papa.”

 

Her soft, loving voice made his heart full.

 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

 

She held onto him for long moments but then slipped out of his embrace and down to the floor. He saw her still wide eyes glance quickly at the door, but then she turned and went to pick up something from the cupboard. It was a hand-sized circular object made of a strange dark material and it was one of her most prized possessions. She caressed it affectionately and her fingers traced the unusual symbols in its middle with curiosity and excitement.

 

Seeing the fear gradually disappear from his daughter’s eyes, replaced by a child’s wonder, warmed him, and the way she held onto the object which he had given her made him happy. It was a family heirloom of sorts, passed down in his family over generations. He did not in fact know what it was exactly, his mother had never told him. All she had said was to keep it in the family - and well hidden. It was apparently valuable. His daughter had taken to it quickly; it meant much to her.

 

His smiling eyes shifted to one of the windows and he stared long in that direction, light from the outside streaming into the room, before moving towards the door. His face grew more somber.

 

My imagination is getting the better of me too, he thought with some disapproval as he opened the door and went outside.

 

Sweeping his gaze over the grounds - the trees and bushes, the small garden near the house which Sandana was overseeing, the wooden table with chairs he had made the previous year, the huge stones that stood as sentinels guarding the place - he registered that everything was as it should be.

 

The sun overhead was clear in a sapphire-blue sky as far as the eye could see, but there was a slight chill in the air coming from the north.

 

Nodding to himself, pleased that he had been right in that there was no danger about, he was just turning back toward the house when..

 

..a different chill made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

 

A shiver ran down his spine as a shadowy figure suddenly -out of nowhere- appeared beside him!

 

The figure was almost transparent.

 

  ●

 

Eyes wide as saucers, he stared at the figure in near disbelief.. and then his eyes fixed on the figure’s face.. and he caught his breath!

 

It was Indrina!!

 

IT CANNOT BE!!

 

His darling wife’s face stared back at him, translucent but her facial features were so familiar. She smiled lovingly at him, a smile that would burn itself into his memory.

 

Stunned, his breath caught in his throat and he was unable to move!

 

HOW!!?

 

The love he had felt for her brought tears to his eyes - but now his eyes were also filled with fear..

 

   ●

 

~ The moment seemed to last forever.. as if time had stopped ~

 

  ●

 

 

Sharing a silent loving gaze, their eyes were united, their souls joined for an endless moment..

 

..but then her eyes closed - and it was as if time started again.

 

And she reached out for him.. ready for a final embrace.. but passed right through him like air.

 

And then she was gone.

 

  ●

 

WHAT HAPPENED!!?

 

Running his fingers through his short dark hair, Argam let out his breath, his eyes still wide and unbelieving, tears running down his cheeks.

 

The apparition was gone.. but it had been Idrina. Her spirit. Of that he was certain.

 

My darling Idrina.

 

He did not know what was going on with the world; everything was upside down, impossible things happening.

 

Something was wrong though - and he sensed that some kind of change was coming.

 

And it frightened him.

 

  ●

 

Qariahna removed a petal from the Red rose she was holding in her hand and it floated to the marble floor in a dance of light.

 

It shimmered slightly, like everything else in this place, almost as if switching between existence and non-existence, its Blood-Red colour deepening as it settled on the white marble.

 

Removing a second petal, it too floated downwards in tiny spirals to join its sister.

 

Qariahna’s mind was elsewhere, thinking about the latest episode with the Saldaean Queen. She had been strangely unwilling to listen to her advisor and Qariahna had had to use much Compulsion to make her see reason. The Queen was becoming more difficult to handle and Qariahna wondered why that was so.

 

A third petal floated to the marble floor as Qariahna’s dark eyes tightened.

 

What is she up to?

 

The Queen had also seemed somewhat secretive of late and Qariahna did not like that she was keeping secrets from her, or rather from her royal advisor Arihna Gharam. Qariahna grinned thinking about the woman she was impersonating with the Queen. Even so, this matter irritated her. She needed to be in control of events and she did not like unanswered questions.

 

She plucked a fourth petal from the red rose absent-mindedly and let it fall to the floor.

 

Gazing at the white wall at the other end of the spacious sparsely furnished room her mind drifted to the meeting today. He was coming - and she did not look forward to it. But she had been ordered to attend, and so she was here.

 

  ●

 

A crystal cup filled with Red wine stood on the table before her and an empty cup by the chair on the other side. A crystal goblet filled with wine stood between them. Otherwise the exquisite table was empty. Shifting her gaze to the intricate patterns drawn across the top of the marble table her mood improved. She had always loved the table. It half flickered in this place, a reflection of its near-being. Touching it lovingly with her right hand, she brushed her fingers across its smooth surface.

 

This special marble table has a history, just like I do.

 

A fifth petal fell from the red rose, dancing downwards in spirals to the floor.

 

At just that moment a chime sounded, slightly startling the dark-haired, darked-eyed beautiful woman. She had been deep in thought and as she settled in her chair, gathering her equilibrium, she noted the drops of blood falling onto the marble floor, Blood-Red drops from where she had cut her finger on the rose’s thorns.

 

Casting the rose away with some annoyance, she thought the drops on the floor were becoming a deeper red even as she watched. They glinted as well, almost as if admonishing her for her foolishness. Ridding herself of such idle thoughts, she focused her mind on the matter at hand.

 

  ●

 

The oak door at the end of the room opened and a dark-cloaked, hooded figure entered confidently.

 

It always amused Qariahna that he kept his hood down in all their meetings since she knew very well who he was and what he looked like, but it was something he stuck by and it did not really matter to her. Closing the door behind him, the man walked slowly toward the table and sat down in the empty chair, giving her a slight nod.

 

He reached for the goblet and poured himself some wine. Taking a quick sip, he then placed the cup on the table before him and gazed down at the strange patterns depicted in the marble.

 

“You always did like this table, didn’t you - Qariahna?” He said with some amusement. His voice was deep and with what she had always felt was a condescending edge.

 

“Yes”, she replied smoothly. “Unlike some.. it is quite dependable - and constant.”

 

The man chuckled and though she could not see his face she knew he was grinning darkly.

 

“Tables also do as they are told”. His voice was hard. “As do all who serve the Great Lord.”

 

“You have no claim on me”, she responded, some heat in her voice. “I have done as I was ordered.”

 

“Yes, you have.” The man replied smoothly. “To some.. extent at least..”

 

There was a long pause and Qariahna knew a ‘but’ was coming. Her dark eyes tightened. She had never been good at taking criticism. From Anyone. Anywhere. And she hated being talked down to.

 

“But”, the cloaked figure added finally, a harsh edge now to his voice, “you were never given permission to use the Khi’dara!”

 

  ●

 

Qariahna froze. How did he know about that!? It was a secret she had sworn to carry to her grave. He was not supposed to know about it. He could not know about it!!

 

Keeping her facial features smooth, taking a moment to compose her voice, she then replied innocently. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 

Her voice was even which pleased her. Inside though her heart was beating hard. If the Great Lord learned that she was using the Khi’dara without permission, she would be punished. And punished hard.

 

“You do not fool me, Qariahna.” The man said pointedly, lifting his hidden face slightly. “And neither do you fool the Great Lord.”

 

The strange patterns on the marble table seemed to shift slightly and Qariahna knew that he was using the One Power. She too was filled with the One Power, Saidar flowing through her veins. She knew that he was more powerful than her, that she had no chance against him if he opposed her, but filled with Saidar she was confident she would be strong enough to survive an attack and escape - and survival was what mattered.

 

“Desist. That is an order!” It was a voice used to command. He sipped again from the red wine and then placed the cup back on the table. The patterns stopped shifting and Qariahna knew it had been a hint, a strong hint that she should never forget who the real power was.

 

  ●

 

“I will”, she lied. She tried to make her voice humble but doubted she was much successful. Humility had never been one of her strong points.

 

“Good!” The man’s voice took on a lighter tone. Whether he actually believed her or not was impossible to tell. As long as he did not press the issue, she did not care. “Now then”, he added smoothly, “to the main purpose of this visit.”

 

The man’s gaze shifted momentarily to the marble floor, noticing the deep-red drops of blood and the fallen rose petals.

 

His face was still hidden but Qariahna swore his grin widened.

 

His hands rested on the table and the sleeves on his dark cloak suddenly changed texture before her eyes, unfamiliar symbols in light becoming visible running down the sleeves all the way to the cuffs. That Qariahna had not seen before and as with all new things her eyes widened slightly in wonder. Then the symbols were gone, disappearing as swiftly as they had appeared, and the sleeves were dark again, mirroring the soul of this very dangerous man.

 

  ●

 

“A red rose, Qariahna?” The man’s voice was very amused now. “From a secret admirer, perhaps?”

 

Her mouth tightened, her dark eyes drawing together. She was not amused.

 

“Blood-Red is always.. suitable” the man added in a smooth voice. “Perhaps it will fit you better than that pale blue dress you so often wear?” His hand indicated the dress she was wearing.

 

Qariahna touched the scar on her left cheek and it seemed to be burning at that very moment. Removing her fingers, she pursed her lips. Taking a long sip from her red wine, she tried to curb her impatience. Why wouldn’t he just get to the point.

 

“As for.. Saldaea.” He said after a long moment’s silence. “There are some.. additional orders for you. Make sure you carry them out correctly.. this time.”

 

His voice was condescending and judgmental again and she hated it. She kept her face smooth though and deferential (to the extent she managed) but inside she cursed and looked forward to the day she would no longer have to take orders from this arrogant, despicable man.

 

  ●

 

When he finally left, she remained seated silently by the marble table for a long while. Then the rage within her erupted and she threw the cup of wine at the nearest white wall and it shattered into a hundred small crystal pieces falling to the marble floor.

 

Wine the Colour of Blood stained the white wall, starting to flow in small rivulets downwards toward the floor.

 

Her cheeks reddening, she tried to regain her composure but she was not ready to let go of her anger yet. Getting up from her chair, she stared down at the beloved table but now the sight did not please her. She shoved the chair back hard against the table, throwing a harsh glance at the red rose laying on the floor.

 

Shaking her head, cursing inside in anger, her dark eyes murderous, she headed toward the door which was still open after his departure. With a final look over her shoulder at the Blood-Red wall, she left the partially-flickering room and its objects behind and soon Tel'ahran'rhiod, the World of Dreams, as well.

 

      ▀▄ 

[Cass]

The wind had stopped. High above the silent grasses of the fenced-off field, the few yellowing leaves remaining on the two gnarled, old trees hung motionless from their branches, basking in the moonlight's soft silver glow, breathless, clinging to life.

 

"Thank you."

 

Elessar's whispered words were soft, but the surge of emotion accompanying them through every fibre of the bond was immense. Calia braced herself, caught by the flood of feelings and the sense and strength of the gratitude the gaidin was sending her way. She directed her mind to the surface and drew a breath. She focused her consciousness, adjusting her awareness to accept and account for Elessar's input as the connection between them grew - and grew.

 

The link and wave of input from the Warder's end was strong.

 

Much stronger than those of her last bonded partner.

 

Calia had expected that this bond with Elessar Telcontar was going to be different. She had expected that the Warrior Poet's feelings to be passed on with a good deal of intensity, and she had even expected the link between them to be strong. But as she opened herself up to the bond, deeper and deeper still, Calia found it was more than the strength of feelings and the bond itself that took her breath away. 

 

Somehow, there was a relative dearth of adjustment required from her end, despite the obvious flow of emotion, and Elessar's 'presence' truly did not seem to be an intrusion of any sort. Somehow this bond, with a man she barely knew, felt familiar.  

 

Not distracting.

 

Not overwhelming.

 

Not concerning.

 

Familiar. 

 

And she had not really expected that at all.

 

It was not 'familiar' in the way that the bonds with Joesh, Shem and Aaran's had been familiar - extensions of their previous deep relationships and understandings of one another. Nor was it akin to the way the last bond she'd held had felt 'familiar' in the practical similarities of knowing, learning and working with a bond just as she had done before. It was not just the previously-experienced sense of sharing across the space of a link, knowing a gaidin's physical direction and proximity.

 

For a moment she stood transfixed, caught between caution and curiosity. And then Calia opened her awareness completely to the new bond and dug deeper, trying to understand what, exactly, was so different about the Warder-Sedai connection this time around. What she found both rocked and somehow ... stabilised... her to the core. Calia had known Elessar and herself had a certain kinship in their histories, scars and service to the Light. She had enjoyed his company, intellect and conversation during the days of travel and rest. She had appreciated his presence, respected his ability and dedication in the skirmishes they'd so far faced. She had hoped - and even somewhat believed - that they would be compatible and competent paired together in a bond - but she had not expected it to feel like this.

 

This was familiar in the sense that, below the flow of immediate feelings coming from Elessar, Calia simply felt... stronger and more stabilised. There was a swell in the deep sense of strength, and the dedication to duty, the desire for Life - but there were almost no definite rifts breaking across the sense of base intentions, almost no telling where Calia's undercurrents ended and Elessar's began.

 

Beyond that, Calia realised, the feelings coming through the bond were far clearer than she would have expected so early on in her and Elessar's acquaintance and sharing of the bond. And there was no mistaking it - she could make out several nuanced levels in the awe and gratitude being shared. The feelings of gratitude flowing her way were clearly connected to a sense of completeness for Elessar.

 

Relief washed over her. 

 

The impression that Elessar's feeling of completeness was linked to presence of both the Aes Sedai and the bond itself in the Warder's awareness felt so strong, so unmistakable to Calia that she was left with no doubt that it was true. 

 

Tears welled in her eyes as she returned her gaidin's deep, dark gaze. A smile trembled on her lips. Despite having had intentions to maintain a full semblance of self-composure and control, Calia did not force the feelings down, did not turn her face away or keep her expression as cool as stone. She looked warmly at her new Warder,  eyes still wet and bright with unshed tears, and opened the bond completely.

 

This bond was, without question, wanted - and blissfully received - by the man in front of her. 

 

It was steady.

 

And it was strong - so strong, so clear.

 

They were complete, despite the holes from their past.

 

And they were One.

 

The thought echoed around in her mind, strengthened by the second in a kaleidoscope of commonalities and connections that stabilised her from the very core.

 

"We stand ready, my Aes Sedai!" Elessar declared, and the Calia couldn't help but smile wider at the truth of it all. The words were a perfect fit for the sense of shared determination flowing back and forth between them. 

 

"And woe to anyone who stands in our way!"

 

The Aes Sedai laughed outright then, with a feeling of lightness in her heart that she hadn't truly felt in years. The combination of their independent determinations was so pure, so strong, so absolutely irrefutable - and so full of faith despite their previous battle-scars, that she had just been thinking the exact same thing. Together, the two of them were somehow stronger, steadier, more complete than before - old scars and future shadows be burned, she was confident they would live.

 

A fresh breath of wind caught her laughter and carried it through the darkness of the night. Across the field the happy sound swept, stirring up whispers in the grass before swirling through the branches of the two gnarly old trees.

 

High above the field, the yellowing leaves wiggled to and fro on the breeze like a garland of Nature's flags, celebrating Life itself. The wind left them there, and continued through the darkness and shadows of night towards the North.

 

 

~  *  ~  *  ~  * ~

 

 

 

Calia stood in front of the looking glass attached to the dressing table, body still, mind studying every detail of the reflection therein.

 

What had caught her attention? 

 

A silver glow of moonlight was alight on the windowsill and spilling out over the floorboards of her room, but she barely noticed the beauty of it, or the specks of shining dust dancing in the night breeze therein. The edges of the light curtains, drawn back from the open window, fluttered softly as the wind's fresh chill and the echoes of the night floated past them. She paid the subtle movement there little mind - it was not what had caught her attention, and besides - her wards were in place, the charm at her neck was body-temperature, and there was no sense of threat, disturbance, danger or alarm through the bond. 

 

Eyeing her own reflection in the mirror more closely, she turned her head first this way and then that, checking again that each of the small braids she'd worked into her hair moments ago were complete, appropriately placed and tightly secured. Again, she found that they were. The completed hairstyle looked exactly as it always did. She hadn't really believed that it would look otherwise - the pattern for it was an old and very familiar one for her hands to complete - a favourite of Aaran's that she still frequently employed. And there was not a hair out of place, as far as she could tell - So what then was the difference she'd just half-sensed in passing her reflection?

 

My face! she suddenly realised. There was a difference - and it was not a difference she had expected to see, but it was there all the same. Though the rest of her expression remained relaxed and comfortable, effortlessly smooth, there was a curve to her lips and something of a brighter twinkle in her eyes. Unmistakably there, on her face as she went about her simple, matter-of-fact evening routine - was a blossoming smile of peace, and utter contentment. The revelation made her want to laugh, like she had at Elessar's words, back at the fence by the trees.

 

A Mirror of Emotions, she thought, recalling the old poem out of seemingly nowhere.

 

Well, she was looking into the mirror now, and they'd definitely started a new beginning in the Light tonight! This bond was a proving a formidable force, already - in more ways than one. Calia could sense the Warder close by in the next room on her right, his feeling of joy at the connection and completeness they now shared still as strong as it had been earlier. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering at the twists of the Pattern that had set Elessar and herself on this path together. Their sense of duty and commitment to standing ready was so well aligned it seemed the old poem's lines about Fate and Trust might have been onto something after all. It was almost as if they were One. She could not deny she had faith in this bond - not even to herself. With the smile still settled on her face, she dimmed the lantern and slipped into bed to sleep. 

 

●~●~●

 

The bay mare skipped to the side and shook her head impatiently under the reins for the thousandth time since they'd left town that morning. Cal patted her neck soothingly and tried to convey a sense of calm to the beast even as Emine and Neve's mounts moved effortlessly to the side. Also for the thousandth time, the half-raised eyebrows and slight grins on the faces of her Saldaean Sisters were not missed. Beside Emine, she heard Mikael chuckle.

 

"Oh, stop it, you lot - you're not exactly helping!" Cal admonished them all with a smile of her own that she didn't quite supress. 

 

Wishing she could give the poor beast her head and let her gallop out the excitement  that was giving her the prances this morning, Cal decided on a slight compromise and nudged the mare forward at a faster pace, breaking into a canter to catch up with Elessar up ahead. The Warders had been taking turns scouting and riding in escort around the Aes Sedai, but the morning hadn't offered much opportunity for conversation between her and her newly bonded Gaidin - and she didn't know how long it would be until he was the one sent out forward scouting. Though she had ascertained her mare was more skittish from excitement than anything else so far this morning, Cal knew the further North they went, the more unexpected trouble there might be. Liss hadn't reported anything additional when they'd all broken fast, and none of the scouting Warders had come galloping back in a frenzy since then - but Calia was experienced enough to know that even just the whispers she'd heard to date about the stirring Shadow in the North meant that this kind of idyllic peace was not bound to last.

 

So she cantered on toward Elessar, knowing he would sense her approach long before she got there - and she half suspected he had already identified her intent to move before she'd been on her way. The sense of him certainly grew stronger within the bond at her end as she drew closer, a fact that was still making her smile.

 

"What news if any, Warder mine?" She asked as she caught up and slowed the bay beside him. Her Aes Sedai face was smooth, but her eyes were shining as blue as the cloudless sky above, her smile still reflecting her satisfaction with the completeness of the bond they shared. 

 

They were one. They were in it for the right reasons - and they were on the road, ready for whatever lay ahead.

 

~  *  ~ 

[Elessar]

 

..In the Line of Fire and Storm ..

►▼◄

 

A Wall of Air SLAMMED into Elessar, flinging him twenty feet backwards on the battlefield!

 

He landed hard on his back, tumbling over in pain and confusion, the wind knocked out of him. Sounds of battle echoed in his mind but whether it was from far off or close by he could not say. It took several moments before his lungs worked again and he was able to breathe. He took some ragged breaths and tried to get to his feet but was unable. He felt great concern through the bond from Calia but was still dazed and was unable to determine how close she was. They had been fighting side by side but somehow had gotten separated. Trying to ignore the pain in his chest and back, the Warder tried a second time to rise. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Trolloc come towards him battle-axe raised and his instincts took over.

 

Brushing aside his pain he rolled away from the beast and with a great effort found his feet. Just then one of his fellow Gaidin shouted to him and threw him a sword. Grabbing it in mid-air he swung it towards the charging beast and deflected an overhead swing. Adrenaline now helped him overcome the dizziness. He thought he heard someone shout his name and Calia seemed to get closer to him but he had all his focus on the bull-horned beast trying to kill him. Swinging his blade upward but then twisting to the side at the last moment, a surprising and proficient move, it slammed into the Trolloc’s abdomen making the beast curse in pain. As the moments passed Elessar felt his head clear more and more and he was able to make use of his advanced sword forms.

 

He was cloaked now in the Flame and the Void, the sword a part of him as he leapt to strike, bent to defend, went high and then low, slicing into the beast before him. With every slice the Trolloc cursed in fury, blood flowing from his wounds. Low Wind Rising, a diagonal slash which began low and rose cleanly, followed by The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, a vertical slash starting high and which in this case altered course in mid-swing, paired with Tower of Morning, a vertical slash but this time beginning low and ending high. It was too much for the beast and it fell mortally wounded to the ground as Elessar’s blade struck hard into its neck.

 

  ●

 

Only then did the mayhem and loud noise of battle register in his mind. Having time to look around for a moment he saw Calia running toward him and even from a distance he saw the concern on her face. He felt it through the bond as well. On his other side the Warder who had thrown him the blade was fighting another brute beast, his sword running through the Trolloc even as he watched. Further away nearer the hill he saw several Sedai and Warders fight what looked like two Myrddraal and almost a fist of Trollocs.

 

Sweeping his gaze up past them on an elevation he saw a woman with long golden hair and hands raised throw fire around her in what was a very powerful display. Even as he watched she created a kind of transparent dome around herself and appeared to grow in size. Twice as tall as a Trolloc. Three times as tall. Four times as tall. It was Illusion by use of the One Power, Elessar guessed from what Leandreen had strongly hinted at years ago, but even so very impressive! The huge-seeming figure turned its large eye on him for a split second and he could have sworn the woman grinned darkly at him.

 

It was HER. I am sure of it!

 

The moment passed..

 

..and he swung his eyes back toward his bondholder who came to a breathless stop right before him. She touched his arm, her blue eyes concerned as she looked into his. Was he ok? He gave her what he thought was a comforting smile, underplaying some of the pain, but just then a shadow moved toward them, out of the shadows to the side, and stopped what he was going to say.

 

When it came closer, he saw that it was a Fade! The Myrddraal moved slowly but confidently, its black cloak, which did not stir in the slight northern breeze, shrouding the beast beneath, its Eyeless stare fixed on the two of them. When it was ten or so feet away it stopped. It raised a black sword, a soft hiss coming from its opened mouth, the jagged teeth glistening in the late afternoon light.

 

Elessar met its Eyeless stare with a deadly one, feeling strength and belief coming through the bond from an equally determined Calia - and then he attacked!

 

  ●

 

Several days before, they had left the village of Renajhar in early morning, riding northwards under a light blue sky. There had been a chill in the air but they had ignored it as they had kept riding with a few Warder scouts somewhere ahead. At one point Calia had caught up with Elessar on her bay mare and had asked him if he had any news.

 

"What news if any, Warder mine?"

 

He had felt her coming nearer through the bond and had turned his warhorse Stormbreaker to meet her, enjoying the way she greeted him. Atop her mount her blue eyes had sparkled or at least that had been his impression and she had given him a smile which he had returned. He had greeted her back in a similar fashion, feeling the Oneness between them and revelling in it, but then had added that there was no news so far. More would be known further north. They had ridden together for a distance, chatting a little, and then she had ridden back to the main party following some distance behind.

 

Late that same day they had arrived at the small Saldaean village of Sirah, a place equally desolate, and had bedded down in the village’s only inn. Warder scouts had been sent further north and had arrived later with news of a Shadowspawn army waiting less than a quarter day’s march away.

 

The following morning they had awakened rested and plans had been made as to strategy now that they were only a few miles away from the battlefield. The scouts had said that the enemy army was larger than theirs and were camped in a valley before a small hill. The platoon of Kandori soldiers had arrived also and had camped a quarter mile east of the village. The Captain-General of the Green Ajah who led this Tar Valon party together with the Head Gaidin had met with the platoon commander and had agreed on a plan of attack. Two Sisters and three Warders had accompanied the Kandori war party and they had joined their brethren from the White Tower as they prepared for what was to come.

 

Calia and Elessar had not had much time to talk since the bonding but had taken the opportunity  afforded in Sirah. They had worked well together so far but connected through the bond their coordinated work would make them even more efficient in the face of the enemy. They had shared confidence and had felt they were ready for whatever lay ahead.

 

The whole war party of the Light - from Tar Valon and also Kandor - had set off a few hours before midday, confident in their ability to face - and conquer - this Army of the Shadow!

 

  ●

 

The Shadow of the Night cloaked the Saldaean Capital of Maradon.

 

In the Cordamora Palace the Queen of Saldaea remained seated on her throne as the last petitioner left the Royal Hall. She sighed heavily, tired of petitions and citizens always complaining about this, that or whatever. Sweeping her fingers over her face, she then closed her eyes.

 

It is my duty as their sovereign. I must be more patient. This is not becoming of me.

 

Shaking her head, she turned to look at her advisor Arihna Gharam who stood close by, eyes staring at the opposite wall. Arihna was a paradox to her. Sometimes she seemed so understanding and helpful while at other times she seemed so distant. And why was it that sometimes she, the Queen, wanted so much to please her? She was only an advisor, after all. Arihna was wearing a dress of pale blue colour this evening with silver threads on the shoulders and sides. As usual she wore a necklace to match. The woman confused her, and the Queen did not like to be confused.

 

To make a point she had been more stubborn with her advisor recently, ensuring that Arihna knew that she, the Queen, decided matters and she would take advice or not depending on each case. Arihna had not said anything but she could see it in the blond woman’s blue eyes that she was not pleased.

 

Her advisor noticed the Queen watching her and turned toward her with a feigned smile. “I think you handled that last petition well, Your Highness.” It had been a local farmer complaining about dozens of sheep being taken by animals or beasts of some kind. She had compensated him somewhat but also demanded that he improve the fences surrounding his farmland.

 

  ●

 

Arihna had started to call her “Your Highness” of a sudden which pleased her but also made her wonder if it was said with some mockery. Why have I started to doubt her? “I think we are done for the night”, she said smoothly, nodding softly to her advisor. “Thank you for your advice, as always.” She tried to make her smile seem genuine.

 

“I am always ready to serve, Your Highness” Arihna replied smoothly, smiling back in a way she hoped was appropriate. She then gave a slight curtsy and headed down the aisle toward the huge oak doors at the end of the chamber. One of the guards standing there opened the door to let her through and then closed the door behind her.

 

Alone in the Royal Hall besides the guards, the Queen remained seated for a long while, her thoughts far away. She was thinking how simple life had seemed when she had first become Queen many years before. She had been instructed in her duties by her father, the King over several years and had early on learned to handle the scheming and intrigues of the Saldaean Noble families. Their version of Game of Houses was rather pitiful compared to that in Cairhien but even so Nobles everywhere would scheme and fight for power and prestige.

 

Now, however there was talk of Shadowspawn everywhere, of wars and upcoming strife, even rumours of the Last Battle approaching and though the Queen believed little of it she kept receiving conflicting reports and in her heart of hearts wondered if Arihna was telling her the whole truth. Were things under as much control as her advisor was trying to indicate? She wanted to believe her, her advisor seemed to know many things, but some small doubt still lingered.

 

Shaking her head, she rose from her throne and walked out of the Royal Hall, the guards bowing to her as she left, and headed for her bedroom. It was a ways down the opposite hallway but finally she reached her room. Another guard stood outside her door and opened it for her to enter, then closed it behind her. Walking slowly across her bedroom she sat down in front of a large mirror. It was decorated in Saldaean style and she was very fond of it. Looking at her reflection in the glass she noted the grey strands at the end of the brown hair, the large oval brown eyes, the prominent nose, the strong chin, the long neck. The beautiful pale green dress of the finest silk. And the beautiful gem-filled tiara on her head matched by sapphire earrings. She looked stately, she thought. She looked a queen. But I am getting old. She could not escape the ravages of time.

 

  ●

 

Arihna entered her personal quarters and almost slammed the door behind her. She was angry with the Queen. And also with herself. Why has she become so stubborn of late? Seating herself at her desk she retrieved a quill and paper. Dipping her quill in ink, Qariahna started writing, the sentences coming to life in beautiful flowing script. She was not pleased with her new orders, far from it, but she had to obey them.

 

When the letter was written, she placed it in an envelope and ensured it would be delivered to the correct recipient. Putting the quill back in its place she sat back in her chair and remained seated for a long while. Her eyes drew together as she considered the situation. Her fists clenched in anger. She could continue to use Compulsion on the Queen but extended use sometimes affected the person strongly and Qariahna did not want an irrational ruler on her hands. It was much better if subtle ‘nudges’ and encouragement did the job. ‘Subtle’ was not Qariahna’s strongest character trait, though, so it was a balance she struggled somewhat to achieve.

 

Finally she got up from her chair and went to her wardrobe. Finding a simpler dress which was suitable for riding, she put it on as well as riding boots. She also put on a travelling cloak. Stepping out of her room Arihna walked along the hallway, nodded to a pair of guards at the entrance and then departed the palace, heading for the royal stables nearby. Soon she was atop a black stallion which carried her away into the night.

 

  ●

 

Iraya Vandelehn, Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah, walked hurriedly through the Tar Valon Library. Her eyes were expressionless, her face smooth to the degree of coldness. All feeling and passion had been driven out of her by the Turning; all that remained was a total focus on completing her mission for the Shadow.

 

Which was to break the Blue Ajah from within.

 

She had killed two Sisters already from her former Ajah - bodies that lay hidden in graves miles out of Tar Valon - but had not yet been able to dispatch of the Ajah Head. She was sure she would succeed though, and without having to involve others of the Black Ajah in the Tower. Her determination was as strong as ever and she always succeeded with tasks she set her mind to.

 

  ●

 

Passing another Blue Sister, a tall brown-haired woman with green eyes and delicate features, leafing through an ancient book by some shelves she nodded perfunctorily but walked on without a word. The other Sedai frowned momentarily but shrugged, having become used to Iraya’s cold attitude ever since she had returned from her mission. Instead she shared a few words with a Brown Sister, Denya Sedai, a short woman with almost white hair, piercing blue eyes and prominent cheek bones, who had stopped near her. Sisters from different Ajahs often avoided one another in the White Tower but Amandha Sedai had never cared for such customs. She was a positive, smiling person and enjoyed talking to all Sisters in the White Tower. The Brown Sedai grinned, her eyes friendly, when Amandha mentioned that the book the other was holding perhaps was more appropriate for a Green.

 

“Ah, but this is a topic worthy of some serious research”, Denya said with a wink. “We all know what men can be like.” Amandha had to stifle a non-Aes Sedai like chuckle and her grin made the one hundred eighty five year old Brown Sedai grin back. “You are probably right”, Amandha said as she looked down at the book the other was holding.

 

“Did you find anything of special interest?” She enquired, trying to wipe the grin off her face but not with any success. She had always been fond of men and some of her Ajah Sisters on more than one occasion had said she should have chosen Green. “Well”, the Brown Sister replied with a lopsided grin, “here is a part you might find interesting.”

 

She opened the book and found the section she was looking for. It was an excerpt on the difference between men and women by a scholar called Paitr Dulain. Handing the book to the Blue Sister with a kind smile, she watched in silence as Amandha read the old excerpt. Denya thanked the Great Lord that she had not lost interest in men once she had chosen the Brown Ajah many, many years ago. Men would always be interesting for her. Men of history but also men of.. flesh. There was always something new to discover. Her eyes glittered in rememberance.

 

  ●

 

An excerpt from the book “Men and women: a Difference in Perspective”

 

by Paitr Dulain, Scholar

 

Mindea, Murandy

The Third Age

-------------------------------

 

..One of the first lessons a man learns (or rather is supposed to learn) when he reaches a certain age, is that when in the company of a woman there is a time to speak - and a time to stay silent.

 

This is a very interesting lesson because there is seemingly no definite as to when one should speak in a lady’s company and when one should remain silent. It depends much on the man and the woman. On culture and local customs. And on the situation itself. And perhaps also on other, more basic, factors.

 

Seeing as men are very simple beings (no hiding that fact however much they may protest such a description in public), men are extremely good at missing the nuances and hints and intricacy of this matter and therefore more often than not manage in a spectacular fashion to do the wrong thing, i.e. to speak when they should not, or to stay silent when they should speak.

 

Some believe this is a gene that men are born with, though scholars across the continent have found no definite proof of this as of yet. There is great speculation, however, that such a gene probably exists because one cannot escape the fact that a surprisingly large amount of male members of society - whether highborn or lowborn, from the North or the South, the East or the West, whether  fat or slim, shy or extrovert, dim-witted or intelligent, sly or honest - they all seem to share this fascinating, extraordinary ability.

 

It seems improbable to most scholars that all males around the world should learn this ‘ability’ to such an impressive degree in childhood or through adolescence, regardless of culture, national traditions, local customs and so on. It seems more a kind of ‘inborn’ instinct - and one which on countless occasions throughout history has landed men in trouble to the great amusement - and sometimes painful frustration - of their female counterparts.

 

It must be admitted that _some_ men do learn some of these intricacies through frequent interaction with wives, mistresses and other females in society over a long period of time and after much, much practice (and countless failures), but it is highly doubtful if any man will ever truly excel in this (for him) instinctively highly unnatural endeavour.

 

More research will definitely have to be done on this matter - and fortunately (for us scholars) there is an unending supply of test-subjects for our use..

 

  ●

 

The dagger stood out of High Lord Saididred’s throat and blood flowed readily onto his white embroidered shirt. His eyes were bereft of light as they stared endlessly into the void. By the time the Head of House Delovinde was found by passersby in the Cairhien side street, Samos was long gone.

 

The assassination had gone exactly as planned and Samos was very pleased. With the help of two other men they had stopped the horse-drawn coach just in the right place that evening, the darkness hiding much. They had dispatched of the guards on and inside the coach and finally the High Lord himself. He had begged for his life like some commoner, wetting his breeches in fear, but Samos had shown no mercy. Stabbing the man in the throat to make sure he was killed he had grinned darkly, relishing the murder, before leaving hastily along with the others.

 

Later that night, laying in his bed in the safe house in the northern part of the city, he smiled smugly. He would only get praise this time. For once. The thought pleased him. He deserved to get accolades for his work for the Great Lord. He had succeeded in this mission and even she had to be pleased. He could not fathom anything else.

 

Licking the blood from his fingers, not having bothered to wash his hands after he got back, he relished the taste of death.

 

When a few moments later a shadow rose from the shadows in the corner of his room and a large, rough hand soon pressed down hard on his face, blue eyes somehow sparkling in the near-darkness, Samos hardly had time to react. He reached for the knife he always kept at his bed side table but did not know if it would be too late.

 

  ●

 

The SKIES were on FIRE.

 

Red and orange and yellow in a terrifying blend - and bolts of lightning battered the battlefield!

 

Thunder rolled across the heavens and the blood of war littered the ground. Blasts upon blasts as Aes Sedai fought Dreadlords with Fire and Air and Water in cascading waves.

 

The air sang with Power, Saidar burning with Flames of intensity, as the Forces of Good and Evil fought on that battlefield near the Plain of Lances that day.

 

And Death Surrounded them all.

 

Trollocs fought Warders, brute strength pitched against excellence with sword and blade, and blood flowed in streams. Myrddraal glided like Shadows among the combatants, Dancing along dark paths only they could see, while arrows in their hundreds flew over their heads from Kandori archers at the back.

 

Aes Sedai stood strong with their valiant Warders at their side, fighting like warrior poets in the face of Shadow and Death. Their arms raised, lightning bolts flew from their hands and spiralling whirlwinds shot across the battleground to fall upon the enemy.

 

It was a World of Chaos.

 

And then….

 

..unseen by most of those fighting..

 

.. a little further along the battlefield, a figure suddenly came into view. The figure was cloaked in black and with the hood down so no one could see its face.

 

It stopped, however, and remained standing for a few seconds as if reviewing the battlefield. Then it raised a tall staff it had been carrying. The staff was Black as Night with ancient, unfamiliar letters and symbols running down its length. At one end was a small crystal ball which was sizzling with power.

 

A Sa'angreal from another time and place.

 

  ●

 

Time seemed to Stop for a moment.. and all sound and activity Ceased across the battlefield, leaving an eerie Silence.

 

  ●

 

 

And then, Raising the staff high with both hands, Shouting commands in a language never heard in this place for millennia, he hammered the staff into the ground!

 

C A R A I   A N   S I D A M A!!

 

The ground shivered in pain, shaking - and a BLAST of Power shot forward like an avalanche of Air!

 

A Storm spreading out and SLAMMING into most of those battling it out along the valley.

 

And roaring Thunder followed in its wake.

 

A Storm of Saidin also blew inside the powerful black cloaked hooded figure, strengthened by the ancient Sa'angreal - but it was a storm he relished and embraced!

 

A figure of Darkness, a figure of Power, Amaranth was one with the Storm.

 

     ▀▄ 

[Cass]

A BOOM! of absolute POWER exploded through the red and orange glow of the air and charged across and through the field. 

 

It hit Calia from behind. 

 

The Earth convulsed beneath her, propelling her forwards with a bucking mass of trampled grass, rock and soil. A blast of wind and rain reached her in the same instant, slamming her violently to the jolted ground. A razor-sharp weave of Air and Spirit shot forth, racing towards the oncoming shadows as she fell. 

 

She hoped to Light that the white and yellow threads would find their mark.  

 

A hurricane of debris surged in the wake of whatever had shattered earth and sky, pinning her in the prone position. Sticks and dirt assailed every inch of her body, stinging her skin through leather and green silk alike. Several tight braids tore loose of the bun at the nape of her neck and whipped wildly around her head in the wind. The onslaught of air, rain and dust invaded her mouth and nostrils forcefully, smothering any opportunity to breathe.  

 

Amidst the maelstrom, Calia kept her head down and her eyes closed, rapidly working threads of Air and Spirit together into ahf’n’aetha - a stormwind shield - just as the Aiel Wise Ones had taught her. As the transparent layers took shape, she drew them up, over and around her entire form in angles that deflected the maximum amount of wind with the minimum amount of effort.

 

The sensation of being battered suddenly ceased. Her eyes flew open, scanning the chaos of the situation around her with a growing sense of urgency. She spat dirt from her tongue, coughing and sucking clean air in turns. 

 

Where was the myrddraal? 

 

She was certain that was what she had seen in the instant before the blast – a second Eyeless shadowspawn, following the path of the first, shifting viper-like through the shadows with impossible speed, making directly for Elessar and herself. 

 

And now the world beyond her shield was a wild frenzy of wind, rain, hurtling debris and flickering shadows - Perfect camouflage for a Fade.  

 

Elessar was off somewhere to her side, according to the thrumming in the Bond. The same thrum assured her he remained alive and relatively well, but she couldn’t see him - and she knew he couldn’t see her. 

 

And it was entirely possible that the blasted myrddraal was also still alive and unseen - about to strike from the shroud of surrounding chaos in one foul, tainted swoop.  

 

That was not something she would take lying down.

 

Calia pressed her palms hard to the ground, and coiled her energy to stand. Drawing a long knife from her belt with one hand as she stood, she took a steadying breath and  adopted a ‘ready’ stance automatically.

 

She knew -knew-!  Elessar was better than ‘good’ as a gaidin. She also knew that, bonded, he would be even better - on so many levels.  But in a fight such as this, if he couldn’t see the Eyeless? She also knew stabs in the dark would most likely end up serving the Shadow.  

 

She expanded the stormwind shield up and outwards as quickly as she was able. Hoping it would find him, protect him from the brunt of the wind and debris and help him stand ready against both the storm and shadow, she sent it speeding towards the sense of her gaidin.

 

● 

 

Almost as one, Calia and her Sisters on the field wove Fire, Air and Spirit into balls of light, casting and tying them off as high as possible for maximum Light. Together, they surveyed the state of the battle - the enormous pull and pour of One Power from the golden-haired woman capturing all of their attention. More than one battle Sister, including herself, Calia noted, checked the positioning of angreal about her person, feeling the tug of saidar, knowing the power they could wield without such aids would never be enough.

 

In unspoken unity, each of them drew deep, deeper still - and prepared to link. 

● 

 

An abrupt spike of alertness and  sudden pang of alarm from Elessar’s direction snapped Calia’s immediate attention. 

 

The Myrddraal! 

 

She was out of time!

 

Her warder was racing towards her, and she could sense the desperation coursing through Elessar and the bond. Such movements would only mean one thing. She released her second orb of light, and whirled around, blending strands of Earth and Fire into a molten mass that crystalised on contact with the stormshield into a solid aetha. 

 

The shield solidified not a moment too soon. A midnight-black blade struck the crystal edge, whirling in a lightning-fast blur, searching again and again for any weakness to exploit. There was none.

 

Calia sensed Elessar's arrival at her side and spared him a brief grin of appreciation and determination. Then, knowing that together they stood more than ready, she dropped barrier between them and the myrddraal completely.

 

The Fade lunged, black blade whirling, the folds of his black cloak hanging perfectly still.

 

Elessar parried the strike. The myrddraal spun blade and body around him, ready to attack! But a second series of razor-sharp blends of Spirit and Air SNAPPED into place, just ahead of the unnatural twist in the shadows - and this time they did not miss. This time there was no question of survival for the Fade. Momentum carried it's ghastly form forward, until it was several paces past the end of the weave. 

 

A cheer of triumph and surprise erupted amongst the soldiers nearby as the bodies of almost one hundred trollocs collapsed in a tangle of beaks, tusks, claws and talons - all suddenly lifeless mid-run, mid-roar, mid-swing.   

 

The myrddraal collapsed in pieces over the weave. Calia shared a grin with Elessar, hoping it was not premature as she ignored the way the eyeless head slid, in slow-motion, from the waxy-white neck on a slick of acidic blood. 

 

As she switched her attention back to a survey of the battlefield and current situation, Calia felt a strong pull of saidar weaving threads of Earth, Air and Spirit. She turned her mind back for an instant toward the myrddraal's location and smiled approval at Emine. Light Bless that woman, she was putting her talent with Earth to immediate good use and packing up the trash!

 

The myrddral's leather-clad limbs lay jerking under scraps of black cloak that were still unnaturally still, and the impossibly sharp, dark fingernails of one hand dug into the dirt beside the spot where the wretched black-bladed sword lay just out of reach. But cracks were opening beneath both the body and blade, sinking them into the ground itself, and barriers of dirt and rocks barricaded all the moving parts in place. Not having quite the talent with Earth that Emine had, Calia appreciated the assistance. It was always gratifying to know that tainted weapons and the pieces of the shadowspawn that had wielded them were contained. Especially when the blades had been wrought in Thakan’dar. Those were as much an abomination and insult to the Light as the shadowspawn were themselves - and there was great satisfaction in knowing that now neither of the blighted things could easily claim more life before sunset and the final stilling of the Fade’s jerking limbs.

 

● 

 

Even if the Earth had settled somewhat, the air and general feel of chaos on the battlefield had not. Thunder bellowed across the darkening sky at a volume that was frankly unsettling. Flashes of lightning and swirls of storm snapped and crackled and clashed across the battlefield from both sides. There was an intensity to the situation that made her skin crawl and her hair stand on end like never before.

 

Mist was rising over the lower, darker patches of the plain. It obscured vision and somehow made the troops jumpy enough to jump and stab at shifting shadows amongst the ranks. The soldiers who had regained their feet appeared to be fighting off a pincer manoeuvre from a fresh fist of trollocs which had surged from the hill alongside the hurricane of debris. The Kandoris were already surrounded on two sides.

 

Enormous snakes of Fire harassed the group, darting through the shadows of the storm to terrorise the troops and their mounts.  Calia watched as one snake stretched and blazed into a giant wall, and others separated ranks of archers or infantry, or boxed them off completely. Another drifted almost lazily, trapping and then consuming individual soldiers, seemingly at whim.

 

Calia cast a blast of Water and Spirit at the Fire-beasts, but it did no good. She tried the same thing aimed squarely at the fire-framed woman on the rise. Her weave rebounded immediately. 

 

Cal gritted her teeth and tried to catch Lissinda’s eye to let her know the plan was not going well. 

 

Between them, the tattered remains of a Kandori banner tumbled through the air of the storm - a scrappy tangle of blood-stained of rags that would never again dance proudly on the wind, showcasing the fine, red horse rearing on field of pale green as it had earlier that day.  

 

The Captain-General caught Calia's look, and signed the directions they’d all known would be coming. Indicating understanding with a sharp nod, Calia opened herself deeper to the source, feeling Light and Life flood through her and each of her nearby Sisters to a greater and greater degree. The collection of angreals shared amongst them emphasised the depth and intensity of saidar at their disposal - and still Calia found herself wondering if it would be enough. She shook off the pessimism and drew more - as much as she was able to wield without burning herself out. One by one the Aes Sedai of the White Tower, scattered across the field, linked. Together with their Warders, the party of the Light stood in the warm glow of Saidar - ready and resolute against the army of Shadow and the oncoming storm.

[Elessar]

.. The Deceiver of Hope ..

►▼◄

 

Prologue

 

SCREAMS of Terror run through the streets of the burning city of Comelle Adanzan like a Whirlwind borne of Shadow.

 

“All hope is lost!” “Death has come upon us!” “Death!”

 

The screams echo down one street and up another, mingling with explosions and fires in buildings just destroyed. A frail brown-haired young man, blood pouring down his face and with his one arm hanging limp at his side, his eyes horror-stricken from having seen too much death and destruction, cries out to nobody.

 

“He has betrayed us! The General has betrayed us!”

 

He stumbles and falls face first onto the dusty and bloodied cobblestones, nearly breaking his nose and bruising his cheeks. Slightly dazed and with some effort he climbs to his feet but is almost trampled by the mass of frantic people running in panic from the gates. He stares back for a long moment and in the distance sees the guards fighting for their lives before the main gates to the city.

 

“Oh Light, we have no chance now!” His breath catches in his throat as he sees the gates finally come crashing down, armoured beasts streaming into the city followed by legions of men. He cannot see the General but he knows he is there.

 

The Traitor.

 

  ●

 

“Run!!” He screams desperately to a couple of tear-stricken children who stand with torn clothes and bruised faces before a half-destroyed blacksmith shop off to the side. There is panic in their eyes, shock in their faces, and they are too stunned to move.

 

“Run, children. Run!” His voice is near hysterical as he screams at them to escape. Finally they are brought out of their state of shock. They take one tentative step, then another.. and then they disappear around a corner hand in hand. The young man brushes tears from his eyes, hoping against hope that they will make it.

 

  ●

 

Blood fills the street and the stench of death fills the air as the minions of the Shadow crush all opposition on their inevitable surge toward the centre of the city. A platoon of city guards fight the beasts valiantly but, disorganized and leaderless, they are no match for the intruders. Further back an armoured black-cloaked figure walks slowly, confidently, imperiously along the street and then suddenly stops, gazing westward.

 

The General - and former Commander of the city garrison - Amir Tavaneh Vendahlin - feels weaves of Saidin being channelled but some way off. He nods to himself, knowing what it means. He takes in the scene before him. Dead bodies lie everywhere, citizens and people now bereft of life. Blood flowing in streams, mingling with the dirt and the dust. Buildings barely standing on both sides of the street. Destruction everywhere.

 

Nodding contentedly he starts off again, but only fifty or so steps later is stopped by a small noise. He turns sidewise and suddenly spots a little scruffy girl with long brown hair and bloodied legs who is holding hard onto her doll. She is crying and her big brown eyes stare fearfully at him as he bends down to look her in the eye.

 

She shivers with fear, feeling wetness on her leg, as his hand touches her cheek. An unreadable look passes across his face, then he says, with passion in his voice, passion mingled with harshness,

 

“Little one, this is a day of Death. You should be long gone.”

 

The little girl looks back at his hard face, her eyes wider than before, and starts sobbing even louder. Finally she speaks, but in such a soft tone of voice that the General almost does not hear. He leans down and hears the words.

 

“My bb-rother is dead. They tt-took him. There is no more hh-hope” she says , her eyes watering. “No hope at all.”

 

For you that is true, the General thinks. For those Lightfools too. Yes, this is the beginning of the end.

 

Great Lord, it is begun.

 

The man who the angered citizens had named Amaranth, the Deceiver of Hope, stares intensely into the smoke-filled distance, eyes pensive and intense, as the child crumples to the ground before him.

 

It is begun.

 

  ●

 

The dark-cloaked man continues walking down the burning street, ignoring the carnage and the clouds of smoke rising from countless buildings. People flee when they see him, screams of horror and death in their wake. He ignores it all as he heads toward a half-standing building on the right side of what had been a central city street. Pushing a half-destroyed door inwards he enters the remnants of the building and stops.

 

In the adjoining room he hears voices and heads in that direction. Inside the large room, behind an overturned desk and a damaged shelf that had fallen from the wall, he finds two figures; a shabby-looking man in a dusty grey travelling cloak with greasy brown hair, dark eyes and several scars on his cheeks, looking down at an older woman on the floor who is simply dressed with short blond hair -now streaked red with blood- and a plump face.

 

“She has broken her Oath, Great Master.” The man says angrily as he kneels before the General, facing downwards. “She admits as much. Two of our people were arrested by the city watch three days ago. One of them was executed yesterday.”

 

The General looks down at the woman for a long time, his face twisted in fury. Finally Amaranth speaks, his voice emotionless.

 

“She will be silenced.”

 

  ●

 

The young Friend of the Dark nods, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

 

“Oathbreakers are traitors to the Shadow”, Amaranth adds coldly. “The Great Lord will feast on their souls.”

 

Commanding the young man to stand, the other does so but averts his eyes.

 

“Look at me.” The General orders.

 

The young man’s eyes turn slowly to stare into the older man’s. He swallows hard.

 

What he sees before him is a very tall man in his forties with short black hair, a beak of a nose and dark brown eyes that are intense and bespeak of power and intelligence. Those eyes meet his now in a no-nonsense manner. He swallows again.

 

Had the General not used the Mask of Mirrors, a spell of Illusion, upon his servant, what the other would have seen was a very handsome man in his early thirties, medium tall with piercing violet eyes, high cheekbones and neck-long blond-brown hair.

 

As it is, the Friend of the Dark stares into those dark eyes of his Master only for a few seconds before shifting his gaze slightly.

 

“Are you loyal, young man?” Amaranth’s voice is hard.

 

“Yes, Great Master!” He replies in a strong voice. “You never have to doubt my loyalty”.

 

 

The General nods once. Then he looks down at the crouching woman.

 

“You broke your Oath to the Great Lord”, he says in a voice as cold as death. “You informed on your brothers to the authorities. “

 

“I have returned to the Light.” She whimpers, her hands twitching. “I can no longer live with betrayal of the Light. Dear Creator, help me!”

 

“Traitors such as you deserve death.” Amaranth’s voice is now deadly. “The Great Lord will have you.”

 

Without ceremony he bends down and touches her forehead, Saidin at his fingertips, and sends a tiny stream of Fire right into her brain.

 

A small stream of blood runs from the deadly head wound; the old Friend of the Dark woman is dead before her head hits the floor.

 

Turning back to face the young man, he indicates the dead body. “This is what happens to traitors to the Shadow. Let our brethren know the price of betrayal.”

 

It is a command and the young man bends the knee again before the General, nodding his understanding. “Yes, Great Master.”

 

  ●

 

Once he is alone in the room, Amaranth remains standing in silence for a while.

 

Traitors. Betrayers.

 

He clenches his fists in anger and pushes the overturned desk further out of his way with the One Power.

 

We cannot have such cowards in our midst.

 

Then his eyes move to the fireplace at the other end of the room. Logs are stacked inside the fireplace for use and he channels to get the fire blazing. Standing before the orange-red flames, listening to the fire now crackling, he notices the wood soon broken like twigs in a storm.

 

That Storm mirrors the storm without, the storm within, and the Storm of war and destruction in this city and all other cities where the fight against the Light has recently begun.

 

His thoughts turn inwards as he remembers the accusations levelled at him.

 

“Deceiver of Hope!”

“Traitor!”

 

They named me well, those Lightfools, and I embraced the name they gave me. For I did deceive the citizens of this once so proud city, I did carry the Shadow into the heart of it. Oh yes. And I would do the same again. For Immortality and Glory.

 

Fire

 

Did they think I didn’t know what I was doing? Oh I knew - and I conquered!

 

Storm

 

Those others, those self-glorified arrogant men and women in their precious Hall of Servants, they always thought they knew best; they never listened to voices of dissent telling the truth of the decay of our society, voices of reason, voices of respect, voices of power, but now they will feel our wrath.

 

My wrath!

 

Chaos

 

Hope has blossomed in the world as the Wheel has Turned, but I will Deceive all Hope, my naming will be true. That I promise!

 

The intense and hateful look in Amaranth’s now violet eyes would have given even the staunchest warrior pause. There was intelligence there, brilliance of strategy, and an inner fire of purpose and determination.

 

And the Fire in the World blazed on in what historians would later call the War of Power; the Past and Present blending in a Moment of Epiphany.

 

  ●

 

Chapter

 

A Wall of Air and Fire SLAMMED into Nymeria’s shield-dome and almost destroyed it, flinging her twenty feet backwards on the rise.

 

All breath knocked out of her, strands of her smudged golden hair hiding the bruises on her cheek, she took several moments before she was able to get her bearings. Lying on her side, her back aching from hitting the rocks behind, dirt stinging her skin, she ignored the pain. Anger was building inside her, an avalanche of fury rising at this.. this humiliation.

 

Climbing slowly to her feet, steadying herself, her dark eyes swivelled in the direction of the Aes Sedai on the battlefield below and shot daggers at the women standing in line.

 

Cursed Aes Sedai! They linked in a circle! That is the only way they could manage this. None of them are as strong in the One Power as I. Not even near.

 

The thoughts rushed through her head as she gathered herself, brushing the strands of hair away from her face but ignoring her now dirtied dress. She drew on Saidar, using her powerful Angreal for added strength, and hardened the shield-dome with added touches of Air and Fire. One of the Dreadlords came hurriedly toward her on the rise, black cloak swerving around her in the soft breeze, but Nymeria waved her away impatiently.

 

She would deal with this on her own!

 

Drawing as much of the One Power as she could without burning herself out, Flames of Saidar running through her mind in Rivers of power, Nymeria - once called Sirahna Mar Devirahn, of Emar Dal - raised her arms to the Heavens and Death followed in its wake.

 

  ●

 

Samos fought for his life.

 

The rough hand pressing down hard on his face made it hard for him to breathe. And to think. His survival instinct took over and he reached desperately for the knife he kept at his bed side table.

 

He could not reach it!

 

With his other arm he tried to push at the face of the shadow above him but the figure was large and strong. The blue eyes of his would-be killed sparkled again in the near-darkness. Samos tried again to push him away, his fingers clawing at the other man’s face, but the man was too strong. Panic entered Samos’s eyes, his vision was becoming blurred, and he felt his lungs about to burst from lack of air.

 

He kicked out with his feet and managed to get the figure slightly off balance. The hand over his face slipped for a moment and Samos sucked in welcome air and then took the opportunity afforded him to grab the bed-side knife and stab the attacking man in the side with it.

 

The large man grunted in pain and Samos thrust the knife inwards, kicking out at the man again, cursing inside. Taking large breaths, his vision soon returned to normal. He pushed again at the man above him and managed to dislodge himself and rolled out of the bed, slumping onto the floor. Crawling away from the bed before the attacker was able to grab him again, Samos found the second knife that he hid in his clothes and threw it at the man by the bed. Either his aim was excellent or luck was with him, for the knife embedded itself in the large man’s right blue eye which did not sparkle anymore. He slumped onto the bed, dead.

 

  ●

 

Samos caught his breath and his pulse gradually slowed. His eyes were still wide though as he looked through the near-darkness for any additional enemies though he somehow knew there would be none.

 

Climbing to his feet he walked slowly toward the bed, lit a lamp and looked down at the body, turning it over. The assassin looked ordinary in every way with the kind of face and features that would fit in any crowd. Perhaps that was what made him the perfect assassin.

 

Samos spat at him, angry at this near-assassination.

 

Who had sent this man to kill him? Who would dare!?

 

Samos would find out if it were the last thing he ever did!

 

  ●

 

Qariahna touched the Khi’dara reverently.

 

It was a three-dimensional crystal object triangular in shape with swirling colours of blue and violet. It was warm to the touch and it gave her thrills just touching it. Staring into its colourful depths she felt she was floating.. and like many times before she felt the object was.. reaching for her. She could not explain it any other way. It was.. calling to her. And the One Power responded. Embracing Saidar always made the.. pull stronger.

 

It was an ancient Ter’angreal brought from another time and place - and she had been ordered not to use it. But she could not resist the temptation to learn what its function was. All she knew was that it was somehow connected to dreams and Tel’aran’rhiod. Anything having to do with the World of Dreams had always fascinated her and so she found it worth it to take this risk though she knew she was walking a very dangerous path.

 

Placing the object carefully on the huge marble table before her, she gazed at it excitedly, almost lovingly, only daring to touch it as she held onto the One Power. She had used it once, but she still could not remember how she had done it. She had tried a few weaves of Saidar and suddenly the object had responded, in a brilliant flash of light with a humming sound, bridging the real world and Tel’aran’rhiod in less than a second. But it had not been the World of Dreams as she knew it, rather an alternate, different version of it. Which she did not think should be possible.

 

Almost as soon as she had been transported into this new reality, she had been brought back, falling dazed to the floor. And not remembering what exactly she had done to.. activate the object. Amaranth had somehow learned of this episode though and had berated her. Thankfully the Great Lord had not sensed it, though that seemed surprising to Qariahna since he was touching the world more and more with every month.

 

She was tempted to give it another try but changed her mind, the swirling colours within the Khi’dara making her think twice. Picking up the crystal object delicately she placed it in a silk covering and then carried it to the closet where she kept it well hidden. Using weaves of Saidar akin to Illusion she then hid the entire closet from sight and only when she was done did she breathe normally again.

 

Later that afternoon, under an azure-blue sky, she left her house in the outskirts of Maradon - the home she kept secret from everyone and even the Queen - and rode back to the Cordamora Palace to continue her duties as Arihna Gharam, Aes Sedai advisor to the Queen of Saldaea.

 

On the way she murdered the Queen’s second cousin, a High Lady of seeming no importance, but she did as she had been ordered, leaving the body headless and mutilated.

 

  ●

 

When THUNDER roared both above and below ground, the Blast of Power starting from the end of the valley and whirling forwards like a Storm threw Elessar backwards on the battlefield and he crashed to the ground amidst some Kandori soldiers.

 

The Fade he had been fighting was gone from sight. As was Calia.

 

The roaring sound seemed to go on forever - but finally it stopped. In the deadening silence that followed the Gaidin tried to find his bearings. He was lying on his back, stones, rocks and other debris digging into his muscles. The heavens were still orange-red and even yellow in places but silent now. Elessar shook his head and tried to climb to his feet. Through the bond he felt Calia some way off. How had they been separated? She seemed relatively fine was his impression - and alive. That was what counted the most!

 

He finally staggered to his feet and looked for the enemy. A little off to the side Trollocs were gaining their feet too, as were several Fades. He saw three Aes Sedai standing close to one another and a few Warders too. He could not see Calia but dust and smog now filled much of the valley floor, in a shroud of surrounding chaos, and it was difficult to see anything beyond twenty feet or so.

 

For long moments it was as if waking in a dream of dust and desolation.

 

  ●

 

Balls of light then lit up the battlefield, streaming through the smog and dust, and Elessar was able to get a better idea of the situation. He saw the Trollocs gathering under the command of the Myrddraal some way off to this right while up on the rise the golden-haired woman he had seen earlier, still enlarged by Illusion, stared balefully down at the battlefield. Soon she threw fire down on the troops, deadly streams of orange and red, and the Warder sensed intuitively that she was mighty powerful with the One Power. Several Aes Sedai were gathering off to his left, and some of them seemed to be staring at the golden-haired channeler in the distance, and he felt Calia in that direction too though he could still not see her.

 

Suddenly he felt danger approaching from behind, his Warder instincts alerting him, and turned just in time to avoid the Myrddraal’s deadly blade! Bringing up his sword, he parried the Fade’s swings and then smoothly entered his sword forms, forms that were as much a part of him as his blade. The Fade hissed through its jagged teeth as Elessar attacked it again and again. And then of a sudden a boar-tusked Trolloc appeared out of nowhere on his left, saliva running from its snarling mouth, and attacked with its huge war-axe!

 

It took all of Elessar’s skill and experience to defend proficiently against both these enemies at the same time.

 

He entered a Dance of Death.

 

Attack. Block. Move. Swing. Deflect. Attack. Deflect. Counterblow.

 

Again and again.

 

  ●

 

He tried to ignore the growing tiredness, and pain from his earlier wounds, as he parried slashes and thrusts and kept out of the Shadowspawn’s reach but was tiring gradually and understood he would struggle to keep this up for long. He hoped Calia was nearby and would feel his predicament through the bond. Sidestepping out of the way of an incoming strike the Gaidin swept his blade in low and blocked an attack, then counter-attacked. Coming inside the Trolloc’s guard he slashed hard and felt his blade bite into the beast’s side, then he quickly moved out of its retaliation range, pleased to see the huge beast staggering. Facing the Myrddraal now Elessar tried a few tentative moves, back and forth, mostly trying to conserve his energy.

 

But then of a sudden he quickly reversed his grip on his sword, his blade snapping back in a way that was previously impossible. He ducked low and spun underneath the Fade’s black blade, thrusting into its side, and got back on his feet in one fluid motion. It was an improvised move which only highly skilled swordsmen would be able to execute, but Elessar knew he needed his dynamic proficient skill to survive this battle now that he was weakened.

 

Back and forth their dance flowed, thrusting and parrying, attacking and spinning out of range and moving swiftly from stance to stance, two opponents locked in combat. In the Flame and the Void he felt detached from the world around him but even so he felt a tug through the bond from Calia and started to move in her direction. The hissing Fade followed, its black cloak not stirring in the wind, while the Trolloc crashed to the ground after another lethal strike from Elessar. His strength was abating and so he decided to head towards Calia so they could fight together side by side. Catching the Myrddraal off balance, the Gaidin struck with a clever move which seemed to wound the Shadowspawn and then he raced off towards where he felt his bondholder was.

 

  ●

 

He arrived at her side just as a Shadow appeared almost between them, readily seen from the light of the orb Calia had created. Her brief grin of appreciation and determination to see him was returned by a similar grin from him but it was all they had time for.

 

●

 

She had erected a solid shield of power and a midnight-black blade struck the crystal edge, whirling in a lightning-fast blur, searching again and again for any weakness to exploit. Then, knowing that together they stood more than ready, she dropped the barrier between them and the Myrddraal completely.

 

The Fade lunged, black blade whirling, the folds of his black cloak hanging perfectly still. Elessar parried the strike deftly. The Myrddraal then spun blade and body around him, ready to attack again! The Gaidin stood ready - but then a second series of razor-sharp blends of Spirit and Air SNAPPED into place, just ahead of the unnatural twist in the Shadows - and this time they did not miss. This time there was no question of survival for the Fade. Momentum carried its ghastly form forward, until it was several paces past the end of the weave. 

 

●

 

Across the battlefield cheers of triumph and evident surprise sounded as the bodies of a whole legion of Trollocs collapsed in mid-run, mid-roar and mid-swing.

 

Bound to the Fade in a mental link they were stronger and more united in battle, but if the Fade was killed then they would all lose their lives. It was a risk the Shadow was willing to take.

 

  ●

 

Elessar shared a triumphant grin with Calia as the Myrddraal started dying. Fades always took a long time to die but this one was well on its way though its limbs were still jerking. Gazing down at the Shadowspawn he moved aside as the still moving corpse was handled by another Sister of the White Tower. The Fade was slowly being dragged into the ground itself by the One Power, as was its deadly and evil, tainted black blade wrought in Thakan’dar. Soon dirt, rocks and stones covered the place where the Shadowspawn and the abomination of its blade had been.

 

Thunder bellowed across the heavens and the sky was darkening.

 

Flashes of lightning, huge whirls of blazing fire snaking its way among the defenders, and the winds of storm were crashing across the battlefield, ensuring that chaos still reigned.

 

A fresh fist of Trollocs rushed down the hillside and though they had suffered a setback with the death of the Fade linked to the legion of Shadowspawn this Army of the Shadow had not given up. Dreadlords fought Aes Sedai, the golden-haired woman on the rise sent fireball after fireball at the valiant soldiers fighting below, and further up the alley the unknown threat waited patiently for the outcome.

 

  ●

 

Mist was rising over the lower, darker patches of the plain and battle had resumed everywhere.

 

Elessar took stock of the situation, still ignoring the pain from his wounds, knowing none of them were lethal and could be Healed later once this battle was ended. He shared another look with Calia, seeing her slight concern since she would feel his exhaustion through the bond, then nodded with a small smile that he would cope.

 

Drawing strength from her beside him, both physically and mentally, and determined that they would survive this together, he stood proudly by her side as she lined up with some of her other Sisters and - as he understood it - linked with them with Saidar.

 

Together, Aes Sedai and Warders, valiant Kandori fighters, as one they stood in the warm Glow of the Light as they readied their Final Stand against the Shadow.

 

        ▀▄ 

[Cass]

Elessar was hurting. Calia could tell that much without looking. Pain and fatigue weighed on the bond between them. Despite knowing, intuitively, that the level of discomfort was not life-threatening, the Aes Sedai turned her head and made a quick study of the warder at her side. 

 

The man she had bonded stood tall and unwavering, his resilience mirroring the unyielding tempest that surrounded them all. Strands of dark hair and billowing folds of fancloak waved and snapped around him in the  winds of the gathering storm. Blood, not his, covered the blade of his sword - a macabre paint of crimson that extended to his hands, wrists and forearms. Patches of clothing and exposed skin elsewhere evidenced either underlying wounds, or perhaps simply rough contact with earth and debris. In any case, those stains weren't rapidly spreading, and the warder was neither pale nor unsteady in his stance.

 

He met her gaze with a small smile and nod, almost as if to acknowledge her glancing assessment and say "I'll cope". That was all the verification and bond-calibration Calia needed. Giving a return nod, she directed a sense of strength and stamina through the connection between them, and turned her attention back to the battle at hand.

 

●

 

Thunder PoUnDeD relentlessly across the plain alongside a chaotic symphony of roars and screeches of shadowspawn, CrACks of lightning and screams of men. Flashes of fire streaked against the backdrop of broiling, too-dark clouds and rising fog, highlighting each of the deadly dances taking place across the field in eerie flickers. Through the mists and oncoming shadows, a wave of trollocs surged. Gust after turbulent gust of wind battered everything in its way.

 

Each and every battle is a thread...

 

Calia stood ready, braids whipping wildly across her face, the silk folds of her breeches snapping and waving like crazed banners amidst the chaos of the unnatural storm. Scattered in various positions across the field, the other Aes Sedai also stood ready, their gazes steady and resolute, the shimmering glow of Saidar embracing and linking them all as one. Calia found her hope renewed as she kept herself open to the flow and swell of the One Power connecting her and each of her Sisters to the other. The collective force of power they held hummed through the air and every cell of her being. She smiled, reveling in the shared strength and the beacon of hope amidst the darkness that might yet engulf them all. She opened wider to the source, surrendering  everything she could channel into the link. 

 

The wall of Air and Fire SLAMMED into the shield-dome erected around the mystery woman on the rise and destroyed it, flinging her twenty feet backwards in the process. 

 

Calia and her Sisters watched as the woman climbed slowly to her feet and steadied herself. A Dreadlord hurried towards the woman but was waved off with impatience. With the enhanced clarity afforded by saidar it was easy to see, even with the distance between them, that the woman had a temper - and it was now directed their way. She brushed dirt-streaked blonde hair away from her face, her dark gaze shooting daggers in the Aes Sedai's direction.

 

Calia returned the look squarely, her own expression and demeanor demonstrating a calm that belied the wariness she felt. 

 

The woman drew deep on Saidar, weaves of Air and Fire returning to position in a hardened shield-dome around her person. Her eyes blazed and she drew more and more of the One Power, until Calia was certain that the woman also had an angreal in her possession - and a powerful one at that.

 

Between them, the battlefield was an ever-shifting canvas, each stroke of sword or swipe of shadow, each weave of the One Power, a stroke upon its surface. Calia felt the pulse of the link, the collective force of her Sisters resonating within her. With a determined smile, she surrendered herself to the torrent of Saidar, amplifying their combined strength.

 

The woman raised her arms. Every Sister present felt Rivers of  Power being condensed around the channeler on the rise. Calia felt the command of the circle shift in her direction. And then Flames of Saidar tore towards them in a torrent of Power and Fire.

 

Saidar responded to Cal's call through the circle, a river of pure energy surging forth from her Sisters to cascade over and through her. Opening herself wide to the flow and commanding with practiced precision, she wove a replica of the woman's own shield-dome as a barrier against the impending torrent of Fire. At the same time she SLAMMED a solid weave into the woman's defenses again - this time with Water and Spirit added to the mix of Air to counter the additional Air and Fire the woman had added. 

 

The clash of weaves reverberated across the plain. The woman on the rise, apparently undeterred by the initial failure of her river of Fire, renewed her onslaught. Flames of Saidar surged forth, a torrential cascade of power and destruction.

 

The dome above them strained against the relentless assault, and Calia could feel the pressure building. She gritted her teeth, holding the weave together and fortifying it with unwavering focus, digging deeper into the circle of Saidar as the Fire threatened to breach their defenses. 

 

Around her, the other Aes Sedai stood resolute, their faces illuminated by the shimmering glow of Saidar. The bond that connected them was a pulsing flow of power, each Sister channeling her strength into the collective defense. The circle responded to her call with a surge of energy that resonated through her very core.

 

With a burst of determination, she again fortified the shield-dome, reinforcing it with threads of Air, Earth, and Spirit. The weave became an impregnable fortress, holding back the inferno. The woman's fiery onslaught persisted, but Calia and the rest of her Sisters stood unwavering. Around them, Warders faced the storm and fresh wave of trollocs with stoic resolve.

 

In the midst of the relentless assault, a sudden rupture echoed through the air. For an instant everything quivered as if suspended in the grip of an unseen force. Calia's eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty betraying her usual calm. Elessar's response flowed through the bond, an echo of her own.

 

Light!

 

A tremor rippled through the link between herself and her Sisters, but the circle held.

 

Flames of Saidar intensified from both sides, tearing at the barriers of each shield with renewed ferocity. Swords slashed at shadows and beasts, whirling in the hands of Warders and Kandori soldiers alike. Horns, claws and impossibly sharp nails stabbed and tore at human flesh. Shadows and Light each flared in direct opposition of the other. Power built again and again to crescendo, exploded in attack after attack. The tempest continued wreaking havoc across the field, the sole combatant to remain unchallenged. Lightning slashed through the sky, illuminating the chaos below with strobing effect. The plain echoed with the relentless percussion of thunder, the dark drumbeat still driving the cacophony of battle - and the balance of everything hung in the tumultuous grey spaces between thunder and lightning, triumph and impending doom.

[Elessar]

.. A Symbol of Shadow  ..

►▼◄

 

Prologue

 

The BLAZING sun overhead in the azure-blue sky made for a scorching day.

 

“What is Shara, Mama?” the little dark-skinned, short black curly-haired girl of five years asked as she brushed some sweat from her face.

 

Her olive-shaped curious brown eyes stared at her mother wonderingly. She had heard the name in the market a little earlier when her mother had been buying groceries and like most children she was curious about most things.

 

“It is what outlanders call our country, Radhia”, her mother said explaining, speaking over her shoulder as she walked.

 

She was used to her daughter’s many daily questions and always tried to be patient with her answers. She was not always successful, she had to admit, but then again she guessed few mothers were.

 

They passed a crowd of people on their way home. The little girl held onto her mother’s hand tightly while at the same time studying all the other people with great curiosity.

 

“But why, Mama?” She added, when they reached a square with a large stone fountain statue of a cloaked woman holding a globe in her hands, and were free of the tight crowd. Her mother knelt down beside her and smiled.

 

“They don’t know any better”, she replied with a wink. “If they did, they would know that our country, the greatest nation in the world, is Co'dansin, land of the glorious people.”

 

●

 

Radhia grinned mischievously at her mother’s tone of voice - it was the voice she used when she thought someone -  usually Radhia - ought to know better - and then followed her out of the square smiling, past several men and women clad in local attire - some silent, some whispering, some grumbling - who carried their wares and groceries steadfastly from market.

 

Some way ahead a new crowd of people had gathered. Suddenly there was a shout in the street and the people in front moved aside as a group of women in strict rows of three came walking confidently down the street. They wore brown travelling clothes of unusual style and fabric and were all tattooed on their faces and, to many but not all, thereby recognizable as members of the Ayyad. It was not common to see the Ayyad in town, the mother knew, far from it, but things were changing and this was not the first time these women had been seen here lately.

 

Murmurs of respect but also some uncertainty followed them as they walked past the ordinary people, their eyes facing forwards, their faces determined, and soon disappeared down the street leaving whispers from some bystanders in their wake.

 

Radhia stared after them long after they were gone, not understanding who or what they were but fascinated with their tattooed faces and, had she been able to explain it, their mysterious aura of power.

 

●

 

The Amo’hra, in the guise of Khraa’malia, grinned inside as she saw the looks of the common people that they passed down the street. Weaves of Saidar made her feel cool even in this burning heat and it was something she appreciated mightily.

 

A little girl looked at her as she passed, her child’s eyes filled with curiosity and wonder, while the adults were more guarded, respectful but also a little wary. As they should be, she thought haughtily as the group of Ayyad women she led continued down the street.

 

Traditionally the Ayyad stayed separate from the common people, remaining in their towns and rarely venturing outside. But times are changing - and more than they know, the false Leader of the Ayyad thought to herself with dark amusement, her almost black eyes glittering, as they rounded a corner and headed toward a rugged-looking low concrete building in the near distance.

 

The door to the building opened as they approached and another tattooed woman, dark of skin, dark of eyes, welcomed them in, giving the Amo’hra a nod of respect as she entered.

 

Seating herself in the high-backed chair at the end of the long table, the Amo’hra looked at each of the Ayyad women in turn. They were all channelers and they were all weaker in the One Power than her. Holding onto Saidar a woman could sense the strength in another female channeler though it was something seldom spoken of. The Amo’hra had masked some of her strength in the One Power since her task here in Shara had begun, so she was even more powerful than they ever knew.

 

Glorying in that knowledge, and enjoying the wickedness of this necessary charade, it made her think back on her murder of the real Amo’hra months before.

 

●

 

The woman’s dark eyes had widened in shock, her whole body going rigid as she had felt a thin but lethal weave of Saidar slice through her; her heart had constricted, internal bleeding beginning and respiration had stopped. A moment later her incredulous eyes had rolled up into her head and she had fallen dead to the ground.

 

The false Amo’hra had cremated the body of the real ruler of the Ayyad and had taken her place. Using the Mirror of Mists, or Illusion - weaves of Saidar that gave her the exact same appearance - she had ‘lived’ and led as the Leader of the Ayyad, the society of female channelers in Shara, ever since. And no one suspected a thing, something which amused this woman greatly.

 

●

 

The other assembled women, of different ages and sizes and temperaments, but all with short dark curly hair, dark eyes and the traditional facial tattoos, looked back at their leader with respect but also caution. She had a reputation for being fair but demanding (more so lately) and any dissention in the ranks would be hit hard.

 

“As you all know, our glorious leader, our Sh'boan was assassinated recently”, she began. Her voice was hard but tinged with sadness. “We are deeply pained”, she lied.

 

“Enemies of our nation are behind this atrocious act.” She added, hiding the real truth. “And this also means that the mission of the Ayyad has.. changed.”

 

She looked at each woman around the table in turn, maintaining eye contact for a time, ensuring they were paying close attention. One of the women, an elderly lady with a scarred cheek and a blind eye, seemed about to say something but seeing the Amo’hra’s piercing stare she clamped her mouth shut.

 

 

“We need to aid more directly in the protection of our glorious land”, the false Amo’hra proclaimed.

 

“We will avenge this murder!” Her voice became louder, more emphatic. “No matter the cost.”

 

“Our enemies will feel our Wrath!” Her dark eyes now blazed with fury. “And they will pay with blood!”

 

A roar of approval! erupted from the seated women of the Ayyad.

 

And they spoke as one!

 

●

 

Gazing at her own reflection in the tall decorated mirror in her private chamber in the building a little later, the woman who to everyone appeared to be the Amo’hra, glorious Leader of the Ayyad, smiled with great amusement as she watched her face slowly, gradually change from that of Khraa’malia into.. someone else entirely.

 

Short brown curly hair turned into long golden-brown hair falling around her shoulders in waves. Her eyes turned green the colour of emerald and her face became paler with a fair complexion. Her nose narrowed and her cheekbones became more prominent. She admired the face of the woman in her late twenties that now stared back at her as the weaves of the Mask of Mirrors dissipated. It was a beautiful face with few imperfections and one that certainly would stand out in crowds. And it had.

 

Thinking back, the woman who had once been called Nemani Eradhil Dilmate, of Jalanda wondered at the long journey she had made. That time, that Age - oh how beautiful had been the colourful orchards of Stei’ha outside the suburbs of M'Jinn! - stayed in her mind even as she followed her orders in this new place which would never feel like home to her.

 

Even so, she had important work to do for the Great Lord and the Shadow - and she had always prided herself on completing her given tasks. 

 

Their enemies would indeed pay in blood!

 

Her green eyes sparkled like crystal emeralds - and the woman who long ago had named herself Silvahria laughed wickedly inside.

 

  ●

 

Chapter

 

Qariahna entered through the Mists on the hillside above the valley clad all in black, her long dark hair Shadowing the path behind her, the black painted stripes on her cheeks burning, her sparkling dark eyes Mirroring the Darkness slowly filling the valley floor.

 

 

The thick fog, filled with substance but at the same time not, organic in its vastness and all-encompassing, was ominous as it spread its wings over beast and human alike, an unnatural smog that was almost impenetrable and which moved like an animal of prey low across the battlefield.

 

 

She could see Nymeria on the opposing hillside, standing inside her shield-dome which shone like crystal ice, throwing Fire and Lightning down on the defenders below, intermittently seen in-between gaps in the darkness of the smog. Frowning as she did whenever she saw or thought of this woman, she swept her dark gaze over the valley and then focused on her task.

 

 

Using Air and Earth, with a touch of Spirit she drove the Darkness forward, like a Storm of Shadow, Saidar blazing inside her as she fashioned the complex weaves.

 

●

 

Wave upon wave.. Light meeting Darkness..

 

Fire burning the Skies as small threads are snipped from the Great Pattern..

 

And then..

 

 

Forming ancient weaves, long forgotten in this Time and Age, Qariahna, once called Caitriona Sandher Neidhar, of V’saine, throws a masked - invisible - spinning pillar of Saidar, a force on its own, at the defenders below, reveling in the hum of power it leaves behind, glorying in its unseen descent on the enemy, knowing it will stun.

 

And destroy.

 

●

 

Nymeria felt the strong weaves of Saidar from the other hillside, pushing into the unnatural smog that was slowly floating across the valley floor, and understood that Qariahna had arrived. She had been suspicious when Amaranth had informed her beforehand that Qariahna would be joining them today, but orders were orders and she did not dare question them. Yet.

 

She frowned as she stared across the valley toward the woman dressed all in black on the other hillside. She had never felt that Qariahna was her equal, more a bothersome woman aiming above her skill level. A schemer who could disrupt Nymeria’s plans. And therefore someone she had to keep an eye on.

 

Her attention returned to the valley below and the Aes Sedai defenders she could view through small gaps in the black smog. They were resilient, much more so than she had expected! Keeping her shield-dome intact, reveling in the Flames of Saidar running through her mind, she hurled more Fire and Lightning in their direction, drawing on the One Power through her ancient Angreal.

 

●

 

Drawing more power through her ancient purple hairpin Angreal, triumphant in her perceived might, Qariahna almost approached the level where she would burn herself out. With great reluctance she stopped just in time, but the amount of Saidar she held unaided was only matched by that of Nymeria in this Age, of that she was pretty certain. The Angreal amplified her power satisfyingly though not for the first time she regretted not having her hands on the Meluahra.

 

 

Through the small gaps in the deadly smog, the Aes Sedai in the valley below suddenly became aware of this new powerful channeling woman on the other hillside and felt through the link of Saidar that she was the one pushing the deadly fog across the valley floor.

 

 

Splitting the circle into two parts, adjusting the shield-dome accordingly, several Battle Ajah Sedai kept throwing Fireballs at the powerful blond channeling woman on the hillside while the second group of Sisters focused on the new threat of the dark-haired channeling woman on the other side, throwing series of Lightning in her direction.

 

 

Qariahna had built a shield-wall of Saidar around her, filled with Spirit and Air, making it harder than steel and several times as sturdy, and kept on channeling into the blackness in the valley, focusing her energy and thereby feeding that sliding ‘animal’ of death.

 

●

 

Elessar kept on fighting valiantly until all strength was gone.

 

Sidestepping thrusts and slashes, by axe and sword alike - deadly blades created in the dark forges of Thakan’dar and steel blades almost equally sharp and lethal - the Gaidin from Kandor moved in a fluent dance of the blade. He continued taking strength - both physical and mental - from his bondholder Calia as he disposed of several Trollocs and one Fade under the canopy of red-burning skies.

 

Time almost seemed to stand still for him as he went through the unending motions, in varying combinations, imprinted in him over the years

 

Swing. Move. Deflect. Attack. Move. Block. Swing. Deflect. Counterblow.

 

his body acting almost of its own volition, keeping it up way past normal endurance, standing by Calia’s side and protecting her as she channeled the combined power and might of the circle of Aes Sedai.

 

The black deadly unnatural smog came closer and closer, inching forwards on its lethal path, Shadows hiding within Shadows, but Aes Sedai managed to fight the darkness with light and the defenders cheered as white flame burned through the black mist in patches. Not everywhere and not at the same time, but even so it gave the defenders hope.

 

Fire covered the sky with lightning bolts streaming in all directions as the defenders threw their combined might against the deadly smog and the powerful Shadow channelers up on the hillsides. The second woman on the opposite hillside had taken the Aes Sedai by surprise and now they had divided their attention toward both these powerful wielders of the One Power.

 

Elessar had kept Calia’s back free of oncoming beasts and other threats so she could focus on channeling the might of her circle, and had tried to stay close to her. The shield-dome they had built of Saidar to withstand the Fireball- and Lightning attacks had nearly broken on several occasions but incredibly had held, a testament to the skill of these brave and valiant Aes Sedai.

 

●

 

A soft southern wind made the banners on top of the city gates in Tar Valon ripple. Silver light from the moon high above shone down on the White Tower this midnight, breaking the darkness.

 

Inside the White Tower, the corridors were silent. Sisters, Accepted and Novices were fast asleep in their beds. A few lights were still turned on in rooms where Sisters slept, for one reason or another, but for the most part all was dark.

 

Not everyone had gone to sleep though.

 

Far down in the hidden cellars beneath the Tower, in a small dusty chamber sparsely lit, the two young Aes Sedai stared at the White Tower Oath Rod as if looking at a viper.

 

Their eyes were fearful and their souls cried out, but they knew they had no other choice. If they declined the ‘offer’ to join the Black Ajah and forswear their Oaths to the Light, they would be killed. There had been no doubt about that. Even so, the choice was IMPOSSIBLE and neither managed to meet the eyes of the four Black Sisters present.

 

“It is time”, said the oldest of the four, a stern woman with some grey in her hair, showing her great age for an Aes Sedai, her voice harsh. She wore a red shawl around her shoulders and was a Red Sitter. “Swear your new Oaths”.

 

●

 

She handed the Oath Rod to the youngest of the two, an Aes Sedai of only ten years.

 

The rod was one of two in the White Tower, a Ter’angreal created millennia ago in the Age of Legends, smooth, ivory-white cylinder shaped, a foot long and wrist-thick with odd, cursive script carved on one flat end. It felt almost like glass, cool to the touch. Like its twin it was activated by a thin thread of Spirit added to the numeral that was carved into it. It was used when raising Accepted to Aes Sedai, upon which they were required to swear the Three Oaths, making them binding.

 

Unbeknownst to most, the Black Ajah had found a way to break the Three Oaths, to remove them, and to swear new Oaths to the Shadow. This they could do while retaining the ageless Aes Sedai faces, a great benefit in their secret work to undermine and overturn the work of the White Tower.

 

“Come on, then”, the Black Sister urged. There was clear impatience in her tone. Though it was unlikely anyone would come upon them down here, this was dangerous business and they did not want to linger here and risk getting caught.

 

Tears were assembling in the White Sister’s eyes as she stared long at the Oath Rod in her hands, viewing it as if it were a deadly viper. All her Aes Sedai composure was gone. Her hands started shaking.

 

“I CANNOT!”

 

“I CANNOT BETRAY THE LIGHT!”

 

Her screams were desperate and tears were flowing now. Her Soul cried out in pain.

 

“CREATOR, PLEASE HELP ME!!”

 

“Stop whining like a child!” This from another of the Black Sisters. “Behave like an Aes Sedai. And do what you came here to do.”

 

The young Aes Sedai sat with her face in her hands for a while until she dried her eyes and met their gazes again. Breathing hard, still trembling slightly, she tried to regain Aes Sedai calm. Her eyes though were still those of a cornered animal. She knew deep inside that she had no choice, a harsh truth, and in the end she accepted her fate.

 

She hated herself for doing it, her Soul crying out in anguish, but she finally spoke the words that bound her to the Dark One, her new Great Lord of the Dark.

 

●

 

Her voice was barely a whisper but the words she spoke were binding. With each word she felt her Soul shrivel, felt the Darkness consuming her until she was empty of emotion, almost a Dead shell.

 

 

“I will not betray the Great Lord and will keep my secrets until the hour of my death.”

 

“I will not betray the identity of any Sister of the Shadow, or else slay me down in death.”

 

“I will not kill or harm any Sister of the Shadow and will obey all commands by the Great Lord.”

 

●

 

A soft resonance or vibration came from the Oath Rod as her old Oaths were removed from her being and replaced by her new binding Oaths to the Shadow. She felt the change in her body and soul and knew it was done.

 

Looking down at the stone floor beneath her, her eyes lost their passion and life.

 

“Good, it is done”, said the oldest Black Sister. “We welcome, you, Sister.” Her eyes glittered dangerously though not unkindly.

 

“Now you”, she indicated the slightly older Green Sister, an Aes Sedai of twenty years, handing her the Oath Rod.

 

This woman seemed just as reluctant, almost losing her grip on the Oath Rod, but having seen the other Sister’s plight and seeing the stone-hard look on the Black Sisters’ faces she quickly lost the will to fight and she too accepted her new destiny, swearing the new Oaths, part of her dying inside.

 

The older Black Sisters nodded and she too was welcomed into their midst.

 

When it was done, they all left the chamber behind, taking the Oath Rod with them. It was to be placed back in the artefact-chamber several levels up. The Amyrlin must never know that it had been removed, and certainly not that it was being used to swear new Oaths to the Shadow.

 

Faint Echoes of Darkness were all that remained when they were gone.

 

●

 

Twilight was close, with darkness slowly descending over southern Saldaea, as Argam closed the door to their farmhouse and went inside to find his daughter. Sandana had been kind of quiet lately, thoughtful, which was not normal for her. Picking her up he held her close as she buried her face in his chest.

 

“I love you Papa”, she mumbled into his shirt and he ruffled her hair lovingly. “I love you too, sweetheart”, he replied and the words as always burned themselves into his memory.

 

She held onto him for long moments, as she always did, and then slipped out of his embrace and down to the floor. He smiled as he watched her head across to the cupboard for some of her toys. She had recently turned seven years but was still the lovable young child he had always loved more than life itself. Now, though, he thought something troubled her but it was something she did not want to talk about.

 

How was he to make her tell him what was the matter?

 

She could be stubborn when she wanted to and then no coaxing or persuasion would make her speak. It was not in him to be disciplinary with her. She was a kind child and an honest one.

 

“Sweetheart”, he began softly. “Is something bothering you?”

“No, Papa”, she replied equally softly.

“Are you sure?” he added carefully

“Yes, Papa.”

 

Wondering what next step to take, he waited for a while before speaking again.

 

“Sweetheart”, he started. “Is there then something you are wondering about?”

 

This time Sandana did not reply straight away and her father took notice of it.

 

“Can I help you explain something perhaps?”

 

●

 

Now Sandana turned toward him, put her toys aside. Tears started flowing in her eyes and Argam hurriedly walked across to her and picked her up.

 

“Sweetheart”, he mumbled, “what is the problem? Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

 

Holding her tight, he made her feel safe and gradually the tears stopped. When she was calmer he put her down on the floor and sat down beside her.

 

“Please tell me what the problem is and I will help. I promise.”

 

His voice was kind and loving and she held onto his arm for courage. Finally she spoke and her voice was almost a whisper.

 

“Papa, make the symbol-thing stop hurting me.”

 

“Symbol-thing? What do you mean, sweetheart.”

 

She saw the puzzled look in her father’s eyes and whispered some more.

 

“Please talk to me. What is troubling you, Sandana?”

 

“The symbol-thing.” She pointed at a hand-sized circular object made of a strange dark material on the cupboard. “It hurts me.”

 

●

 

Argam stared at the object in confusion.

 

It was Sandana’s favourite object in the whole world. A family heirloom, passed down in his family over generations. They did not know what it was exactly or its function but his mother had told him to keep it safe, believing it was of value. He had often wondered what the strange symbols meant but had never found any answers.

 

How could the object hurt his daughter? Was this one of her fantasies?

 

“How can it hurt you, sweetheart?” He added carefully. “It is your favourite thing after all.”

 

“Not anymore, Papa.” Her voice was soft as a whisper but he heard her. “Not anymore.”

 

Giving his daughter a big hug, telling her again how much he loved her, he stepped across the room and picked up the object from the cupboard. Holding it in his hands, he studied the mysterious symbols again and they made no more sense to him now than before. How could this object in any way be dangerous?

 

Taking the object with him he sat down in his chair and ran his fingers across its dark brown surface. The surface was rugged in places, smooth in places and there was no way to open it in case there was anything inside. He shook it but heard no sound. Frowning as he stared down at the object, his gaze shifted back to his daughter.

 

“How did it hurt you, sweetheart?” He asked. He did not know if she would answer but she did.

 

“I was just holding it, Papa”, Sandana said in a somber voice. “And then suddenly something happened.. and it burned me.”

 

●

 

Looking more closely at the object, turning it around he studied the strange symbols that ran all around its circumference. He tried pressing various parts but nothing happened.

 

Perhaps it is her imagination after all, he thought to himself, as he continued pressing

 

but just then..

 

 

suddenly, he felt a burning sensation in his hand

 

and then the circular object started glowing!

 

 

A silvery white glow surrounded it and there was a humming sound in the air.

 

 

Sandana turned to look at the object with wide children’s eyes, half afraid, half curious..

 

While her gob smacked father dropped the object and stared at it in disbelief!

 

WHAT IS HAPPENING!?

 

●

 

The object rolled a little on the floor and then stopped.

 

As they both stared it at, fascinated but also a little fearfully, the silver glow surrounding it slowly dissipated until it was gone altogether.

 

 

Argam waited for a full minute to be safe that nothing more would happen, but then,

 

 

Carefully picking the object up, he studied it anew in great detail before placing it on the table before him.

 

“What is it, Papa?” Sandana finally asked, her voice soft and a little uncertain, eying the object carefully.

 

“I don’t know, sweetheart” he replied honestly. “I really don’t know.”

 

But there is certainly more to it than we have ever guessed, he added to himself.

 

That was for certain.

 

What is this, that my family has kept hidden for generations?

 

 

Darkness filled the region, everything cloaked by Night, by the time Argam stopped staring at the mysterious object he had inherited and finally went to bed, enjoying a dreamless sleep.

 

●

 

In the battle near the Plain of Lances, south of the barren Blight, Light and Darkness struggled for victory.

 

At one point, in the midst of the relentless assault, a sudden rupture echoed through the air. For an instant everything quivered as if suspended in the grip of an unseen force.

 

Elessar felt a moment of uncertainty and surprise coming through the bond from Calia, echoing his own.

 

What is this!? Light!

 

●

 

At a later point, Elessar was thrown back as a powerful and deadly weave SLAMMED into the protective shield. This time he was unable to get to his feet again, exhausted and aching. Fumbling for his sword, his bloodied fancloak crushed beneath him, he lay in a daze as explosions continued around him, feeling Calia close by but any emotion from the bond was drowned in the chaos of war.

 

The throb of pain in his side made him wince but he tried to ignore it as he attempted to drag himself to safety. Finally he managed to do so - or did someone drag him? He could not quite say.. - and opened his eyes to the world. Strands of dark hair covered his bloodied cheeks and his right hand was broken or so he thought. Dust was everywhere, dust and the stench of death. He thought he heard someone speak his name, it seemed from afar, but he could not be certain. His thoughts were foggy and nothing seemed real. It seemed the explosions had stopped and a deadly silence now lay over the battlefield but it could be that it was only his imagination.

 

When he finally saw a familiar face lean over him and hold him close, he recognized Calia’s blue eyes and concerned face and a small smile came upon his lips - she was alive and well! Soon though he felt dizziness grabbing him, he started drifting and finally lost consciousness, descending into a well of blackness.

 

●

 

Amaranth watched - and waited.

 

In the distance Lightning danced across the sky, Fireballs slashing through the smog and mist that covered much of the valley. He saw Nymeria in her crystal ice shield-dome on one hillside, and Qariahna in a darker shield-dome on the other. Both were sending deadly weaves down upon the Aes Sedai, Warders and Kandori fighters on the valley floor.

 

The defenders had survived much longer than Amaranth had anticipated, and though he would never admit it to anyone, they had underestimated the power of Aes Sedai circles. These.. children.. were craftier than had been expected.

 

It was a lesson learned. Never underestimate your opponents.

 

He had known as much back in what he always had thought of as his real world.. in that different Age of which this one was only a poor reflection.. but here, in this time, in this place, it was so easy to underestimate.

 

How can I not do so, in this place where nothing and no one is the same as it once were?

 

Staring at the enveloping blackness swallowing the air and light, a Wall of Shadow pressing against their enemy, his violet eyes tightened.

 

These.. children.. know nothing of what we could do, what we could create, what we could accomplish! What we did accomplish! They know nothing.

 

Holding onto the powerful black Sa’angreal staff, feeling the torrent that was Saidin inside him - the Storm that was his essence, his Soul - he rejoiced in the feeling of power and near invincibility but at the same time held a tight grip on the One Power, the avalanche that always threatened to overpower him. It was a question of control and release; embracing the Storm but at the same time fighting it.

 

 

I am the Storm.

 

And now he had to keep the storm at bay.

 

 

For he had his orders. And this battle was not important enough to disclose the full power of the Shadow. He had been ordered not to play a further part in this battle with the Aes Sedai and the Kandori. Just to be a bystander. And though he yearned to crush the remaining forces of Light in this valley, he held back and let Qariahna and Nymeria throw their combined power at the defenders.

 

●

 

The black poisonous smog crept further along the valley floor, like a deadly predator on the prowl, fed by Qariahna’s powerful weaves of Saidar, while Nymeria attacked the Aes Sedai ferociously from the other side, throwing avalanches of Fire and Lightning at them.

 

The Valley was reflected in Dancing Shadows.

 

●

 

Nymeria was tiring though and realized she would not be able to keep it up much longer. Cursing inside at the combined linked power of these so-called Aes Sedai, she tried to alter some of her battle-weaves but somehow the shield-wall these.. these.. children.. had managed to create stopped her Fire and Lightning.

 

It was humiliating.

 

She was tempted to draw even more of the One Power through the Angreal, surrendering to that glorious ocean within that was Saidar, but stopped herself. I will burn myself out! I cannot let that happen!

 

Her blue eyes shot daggers at the defenders in the valley below.

 

Light suddenly flared above her!

 

And Lightning SLAMMED into her shield-dome, making it crackle with power, but it held as on so many occasions before.

 

●

 

Taking a moment to solidify the shield-dome, she adjusted her weaves. Increasing Spirit and adding Earth and Air, she tied it off and breathed easier.

 

Blasted Aes Sedai!

 

Gathering herself, she drew on Saidar as much as she could, and then using a combination of ancient weaves forgotten in this Age she formed a sapphire-glowing sphere that kept growing in size until it almost was the size of her dome. The sphere pulsated with power and Nymeria tied off the weaves. Smiling darkly to herself, with her last strength she directed the glowing sphere toward the Aes Sedai below with all her might!

 

She was pleased to see it EXPLODE into the defences below - YES! - , killing several dozen brave Kandori archers and seriously wounding a few Warders, as well as partially shattering the shield-dome though it still somehow stood.

 

The effort had taken most of her remaining strength, though, and she fell to her knees with a loud sigh, holding onto the shield with the last of her power and strength.

 

●

 

Several Dreadlords in black cloaks came running to her aid now and this time she accepted their help. They added their strength to hers, weaves of Saidar burning, and kept the shield-dome as strong as ever.

 

One of the women, of prominent age with some silver in her hair despite her smooth Aes Sedai-features who was wearing a Brown shawl tucked in beneath her cloak, looked worriedly at her, knowing that Nymeria had pressed herself too far. She needed time to gather her strength.

 

“Great Mistress”, she spoke with reverence. “You need to withdraw and regain your strength.” Nymeria started to object but the older woman held up her hand. “You will have greater battles to fight for the Great Lord.”

 

And Nymeria knew it to be true, however bitter it felt.

 

Climbing slowly to her feet, leaning on the Brown Sister’s shoulder, she stared down into the valley and saw that the black smog had dispersed in places and so parts of the valley floor were visible now. Even as she watched she saw weaves of Light burn through Dark patches, White flames conquering the Black fog. In other places the smog was too powerful to be overcome and drove the defenders backwards on the ground.

 

It came to her then. This was a stalemate, a battle neither side would win. That was the truth. A bitter truth but truth nonetheless.

 

More important battles awaited as the Last Battle loomed in the distance.

 

●

 

Qariahna kept throwing Lightning at the Aes Sedai shield, at the same time pouring power into the black smog.

 

Her own shield shook as powerful weaves SLAMMED into it from below, the circle of Aes Sedai now fighting on two fronts, but it held. Even so, she was surprised at the combined power of these Aes Sedai women though deep inside she was highly uncertain if they were even worthy of the name.

 

She remembered her life in that other place, that other Age, that had been her home.. It felt a lifetime ago. Those Aes Sedai women had been powerful! They had been worthy of grudging respect however much she had despised them at the end. These were but a poor reflection. Even so, they were craftier than she had expected, or perhaps luckier, and it was clear to her that this was not a battle easily won.

 

She felt as much as saw the black smog weakening in places, white flames conquering the darkness, and pushed as much of her energy as possible into the living darkness to keep it alive.

 

She saw Kandori soldiers falling to their deaths below the deadly fog which now snaked forwards only five or so feet above ground, saw Warders struggle to stay free of it while Aes Sedai threw battle-weaves at it. Lightning broke through the blackness and fire streamed above it in a chaos of death and destruction.

 

Another Fireball SLAMMED into her shield and almost broke through, throwing Qariahna backwards several feet. Blast! Picking herself up, her dark eyes blazing with anger, she maintained the shield and added some new weaves to strengthen it.

 

Combining weaves in a complex fashion, she threw a huge Fireball at one group of the Aes Sedai and was triumphant to see it SLAM into their shield, throwing several Sisters to the ground.

 

Take that, blasted Aes Sedai!

 

●

 

The battle of power between the forces of Light and Shadow in this valley in north-eastern Saldaea continued for a long time that day before silence finally cloaked the battlefield and the surrounding region.

 

It was a deadly silence, a silence born of futility and of realization. For it became clear for all that neither side would be able to conquer this day.

 

●

 

When the Shadowspawn started retreating from the battlefield, Trollocs following Myrddraal in what can be best described as a semi-orderly fashion, the remaining Kandori fighters cheered as if victory had been achieved. The Aes Sedai and Warders, however, knew better.

 

Elessar, still feeling as if a mountain had fallen on top of him but at least awake again and feeling better after some Healing and tender care and attention by his bondholder Calia, was just glad the battle was over. It had been the hardest battle of his life. And most importantly, they had survived.

 

This battle had ended a stalemate, a draw with neither side winning. He knew it was so and so did Calia. So did also the other Aes Sedai who also knew that linking their power in a circle was what had saved them this day. Individually, with no more Sisters than were present, they would have stood no chance against these very powerful Darkfriend channelers.

 

More battles would be fought before the Last Battle, the one to end them all, and everyone needed to be ready for that. But for now they had survived and had fought the Shadow as hard and valiantly as possible.

 

There had been losses though, grave losses, as was sadly always the case in war, especially of brave Kandori soldiers and archers of whom only a handful were left alive. Those few, however would return proudly to their homeland, knowing they had sacrificed everything for the Light.

 

●

 

Soon the enemy channelers up on the hillsides were gone from sight too, withdrawing into the Mists like Shadow phantoms. The Watcher with the staff also disappeared in the distance, becoming one with the surrounding Dust. And finally the last of the Shadowspawn were no longer in sight.

 

All that was left were small areas of the valley floor still darkened by parts of deadly smog slowly dissipating, and the smell and stink of death that covered the entire valley.

 

Some Aes Sedai had been removing corpses for a while, burying them beneath the soil and dirt and earth, and so the valley was no longer littered with flesh and blood though the stink still remained. Elessar was pretty certain that this patch of land would not give way to any growth any time soon, however.

 

This place had seen too much death. And blood.

 

●

 

Before leaving the battleground that day, all the survivors gathered to pay tribute to the Fallen.

 

The Captain-General of the Battle Ajah spoke warmly of honour and duty to the assembled Kandori soldiers, Aes Sedai and Warders watching silently, heads bowed.

 

The names of the Fallen would be remembered, she promised - those valiant and brave men and women who had given their lives in the Fight against the Shadow.

 

“We honour you”, she said in a proud, strong voice as the tribute was coming to an end.

 

“May you Shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the Last Embrace of the Mother Welcome you Home.”

 

●

 

“So why did we withdraw?” Qariahna enquired again a little angrily.

 

She looked at Amaranth across the marble table, an impatient look in her dark eyes. She had removed the black stripes down her chin (“war paint” as Amaranth teasingly called it) and had changed into clean clothes. Her dress was emerald-green and showed a fair amount of cleavage and she wore one of her favourite necklaces.

 

“This is not the major battle”, Amaranth replied coldly, running a hand through his neck-long blond hair. “We must preserve our strength for what is to come.”

 

He sipped from his wine while meeting Qariahna’s angry stare. He glanced at her cleavage and grinned inside. She had always enjoyed exposing herself. And he had always enjoyed looking at her. She finally looked away but he could see that her anger was still present, her cheeks reddening.

 

Nymeria frowned though she had agreed with the decision. She had been ready to withdraw on her own, out of necessity, when Amaranth’s order had arrived. Even so, she was displeased.

 

“So this was all a.. test of sorts, is that right?”

 

Her voice was cold too and disapproving and her blue eyes narrowed. She had not touched the wine glass before her, wanting to be clear-headed this day. She was still feeling somewhat drained from the battle-exertions and hating that she still felt tired.

 

She smoothed her blue silk dress beneath the table, savouring the feeling of silk beneath her fingers. Then she touched the sapphire ring on her right ring finger affectionately. It was special to her, in more ways than one - and brought back ancient memories.

 

Of Emar Dal.

 

“If you wish to think of it that way”, Amaranth replied smoothly, his violet eyes sparkling, “then do so.”

 

●

 

He met her gaze as he placed his wine glass carefully back on the table.

 

“We do as the Great Lord orders. Here and elsewhere.” His voice was cold again. “He is satisfied with the deaths we provided this day. And the lessons we learned.”

 

Lessons, yes!

 

Qariahna stared silently at Amaranth for a long moment, trying to hide her dislike for this man. He appeared calm but she was certain he would be holding onto Saidin. She wondered if he ever let go of it. Then her gaze shifted slowly to Nymeria. She weighed them both in her mind, wondering which one she would have to kill one day to become the First Servant of the Great Lord.

 

It will be him. Always him.

 

Nymeria saw Qariahna’s glare from across the table and glared back, flushing angrily. Keep your fingers off my schemes, slut! She held onto Saidar and sensed the other woman was doing the same. There was no trust there - and never would be.

 

What kept them from each other’s throats was Amaranth who smiled with mild amusement as he watched these two very dangerous women glowering at each other.

 

Taking another long sip from his red wine - a poor reflection of the magnificent wines from the orchards of Co’isanne that he remembered fondly from his distant youth - he wondered which of the two was the most cunning. The most powerful. The most lethal.

 

Perhaps one day he would find out.

 

They both had their uses. For now. And the Great Lord was pleased with their work. For now.

 

●

 

“There are new orders for us all.” Amaranth added after a while. Both women eyed him closely now, noticing the slight change in his voice.

 

Symbols in gold ran down the sleeves of his black cloak and the symbols changed even as they watched. He held his hands out before him, palms up as he rose from the high-backed chair.

 

 

“The Day of Return is soon upon us!”

 

 

There was passion in his voice now, passion and hard determination. Tiny threads of Saidin danced on his palms like minuscule streams of blue Lightning and his violet eyes shone as he added in a loud, exultant voice, spreading his arms wide

 

 

!C A R A I   A N   S I D A M A!

 

 

The chamber reverberated with power and energy, echoes of thunder in the distance.

 

Qariahna and Nymeria rose from their high-backed chairs and, ignoring their mutual animosity for a moment, they moved to stand beside Amaranth. Their eyes were blazing, their expressions enraptured in expectant Triumph.

 

Amaranth smiled broadly - and then, with a quick glance at each of the other two Chosen - for CHOSEN they were to Rule the World Forever - he embraced the True Power, the source of energy that came directly from the Great Lord of the Dark and which could only be wielded with the Great Lord’s permission. Glorying in the euphoric power he now had at his disposal, he kept a tight control on it, knowing that carelessness could be very dangerous.

 

 

!K I S E R A I!

 

 

Speaking words in a language that had not been spoken for millennia, the First Servant of the Great Lord, the First among the Chosen, Amaranth channeled the True Power - dark weaves forming in intricate patterns as the runes on the marble table started changing - and a dark Mist slowly materialized before them as their eyes widened in elation.

 

It was 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

 

 

Under this Symbol shall He Conquer

In Fire and Flame

Strength in Shadows!

 

Burning His way to Victory

Feasting on Blood

Glory in Shadows!

 

Walking the path Foreordained

Screaming in Souls

Triumph in Shadows!

 

Bow before the Great Lord!

Rejoice in His Power

Beg for your Salvation!

 

 

From

 

The Prophecies of the Shadow

302 NE, the 3rd Age

Author unknown

 

        ▀▄ 

[Cass]

Lightning cracked through the roiling, black clouds. Bright-burning weaves exploded outwards from the Aes Sedai again and again, slicing through the seething, jumping mess of shadows before them on the field. And yet, the urgent sense of darkness pressing in from both above and below remained - and intensified...

 

A patch of the plain studded with granite boulders and surrounded by a growing mist caught Calia's eye in the same instant that blood erupted from every Kandori body therein - with the force of over-fermented wine escaping exploded barrel staves.

 

●

 

Wave upon wave... Light meeting Darkness...

 

Fire burning the skies...

 

Threads of Life and Death, hanging on the dances of claws, teeth, soldiers' swords and tainted blades; each step a desperate response to the relentless turning of the Wheel - every victory, every stumble a new stitch in the unfolding tapestry of the Age's pattern.

 

●

 

Cal could weave with accomplished dexterity and speed - but she could not save them all, not even close, not today.

 

And she knew that it was futile to try. 

 

But by Light, she would continue to fight - harder than she ever had before, doing everything she could to make every single hit and buffer against Life's enemy count.

 

She drafted the one power through simple, flat cuffs of gold on each wrist, and continued to direct the enormous river of saidar flowing from the circle of Sisters as fast as she was able, drawing as much power as the angreal allowed, her urgency pressing against the inbuilt buffer for more, and still more. Rope sized threads wove up, down, over and around each other in alternating blurs of glowing yellow and white, red, blue, green: Air and Spirit streaked upwards into thick layers of re-enforcement for the shield that stood between the sedai and avalanches of enemy Fire and Lightning, or tumbled together into balls of light that sliced the shadows on the field; Rings of Fire encircled the snakes and walls of flame harassing the Kandoris, nets of Water, Spirit and Earth following close behind to smother them to ground until they choked out to nothing but scorched earth with soot and ash tumbling wildly on the stormy winds.

 

It was exhausting, relentless work. Success and failure followed each other in turns, on both sides. In the face of it all, waves of warmth and strength flowed through Calia from the circle of her Sisters, the links between them and the sharing of the One Power reinforcing the sense of support and determination she felt in the face of the chaos before them. And behind her, Elessar guarded the rear, the thrum in the bond between them assuring her he held his own against the onslaught, fighting for Life and Light with skill and a fire of his own.

 

●●

 

 

Lightning struck, crashing into the surface of the dome above their heads with a frenetic dance of raw, dark power: once again the dome was damaged, but held. Cal was responding to the damage with a flurry of Spirit and preparing an attack against the channeler responsible - the blasted blonde woman on the hill - when saidar suddenly surged, blooming to an immense wave of channeling in the near northwest.

 

She did not need to look in that direction to know that level of power meant serious trouble. Instead she turned her head rapidly toward her Captain General, glad to have her on the field - by custom the woman should never have been here, but in practice she had always absolutely more than earned her choice and rights. The decision was as quick as expected, communicated clearly by the position and movement of two fists, starting together at chest height with the left suddenly moving straight up, and the right circling anti-clockwise at level before stopping rapidly in its original position.

 

Nobody needed to be told twice.

 

Calia released the links to three of the attached sisters; who instantly joined in a new circle with Liss at the lead, Air and Spirit flowing once again into layers of protection for the overhead dome.

 

Bracing against the pull and undertow of power, Cal turned her attention northeast, drawing saidar furiously through the twin angreals at her wrist. The new woman on this rise stood in stark contrast to the blonde with the crystal-ice dome on the other hill. This one was clad in black - a darker dome of power swirling around her in a web-like bubble that shimmered around her black hair, and somehow made the painted black stripes on her face all the more evident and disconcerting.

 

At her feet, the black mist thickened and rose, thickened and rose - and then it slid swiftly outwards, slinking low across the field like a hound on the hunt...

 

●

 

Weave after weave, in patterns and combinations long-imprinted in her mind and muscle memory, flew from herself, the circle, the source - until Calia was not sure how long any of them could go on.

 

Bodies too, flew and fell. Again and again.

 

Some rose again to fight. Others remained where they were.

 

The shadow kept on.

 

The light pressed back.

 

Elessar was by her side.

 

●

 

Until he wasn't.

 

The protective shield was SLAMMED. 

 

And then PAIN, exhaustion and bluntness suddenly smothered the clarity of the bond: the sense of the gaidin slipped - still in existence, but muffled.

 

Dust was everywhere, and nobody was on their feet, but Elessar's location was still pinpoint clear. Cal forced herself to an unsteady crouch, ears ringing, and lurched in that direction. The man lay covered in a cloud of dust and layers of dirt, blood and tangled fancloak... yet he still managed to curve his lips into a small smile to see her alive, and the bond resonated with relief.

 

Calia returned the smile as well as she was able, her own relief speaking for itself.

 

Carefully, she slipped thin strands of Fire, Spirit, Air and Water around him in an aetha cocoon and eased him to sleep. 

 

And then, somehow, she stood, though she was sure all strength must be gone. 

 

●●●

 

 

It was over.

 

For now.

 

In the stunned silence that persisted long after the battle, bloating with a fragile awareness that it was just the beginning, the boy nursed a stump at the elbow where his non-dominant hand used to be.

 

Sand-coloured hair stuck out every which way, for once free of the leather thong that always held it back from his deeply serious brown eyes. Eyes that were framed by lashes that were longer than any man's had a right to be - and famed amongst the Novices and Accepted, and some of the Aes Sedai, for exactly that.

 

Cal swayed as she stood, the effort of stemming the blood-flow and drawing remaining tissue and skin into some sort of order from the mess it had been suddenly taking its toll.

 

For all those sincere brown eyes were now somewhat blank of expression, there was strength in Breydan still. It did not surprise her - the boy had always been strong, and determined; as had the girl who sat by his side. But the loss would be sorely felt for some time yet. By both of them.

 

Smothering a sigh, Calia looked at the pair, each of them pale under the smears of dust and blood stuck to their skin. Squeezing his good shoulder in silent support and nodding somberly to Alyse - who she still couldn't help but think of as his 'new', or 'awaited' Sedai - Calia turned and let the two of them be. 

 

She kept her face smooth, but her eyes burned; smoke, ash and dust rising from the charred ground and bloody remains added to the sting as she turned away.

 

She might have been somewhat battle-hardened at her 118 years of life, with the majority of that time being spent serving the battle Ajah, and she may not have been bonded to the boy any longer, nor able to distinctly feel his pain - but evidently that didn't mean the situation didn't hurt.

 

●

 

 

Too much death.

 

Too much waste.

 

And yet, she knew it was less than it could have been. 

 

The sight of the impossible channelers simply -disappearing- from the hills, as trollocs and myrddraal turned and shuffled from the field, had been almost utterly unfathomable. 

 

Only a handful of the Kandori soldiers and archers had survived. 

 

Every single Sedai and Warder that remained had been hollow-eyed and injured to some extent by the time they were sure the battle was done.

 

When the healing work was finally complete, Cal stood leaning shoulder-to-shoulder with Emine for some time, the two of them supporting each other as much physically as in silent solidarity and combined recovery.

 

And then they went their separate ways, Calia rejoining Elessar - beyond grateful for his service and that he had survived, as the Captain-General spoke in tribute of those that had not been as skillful or as lucky.

 

"We honour you," she said. "May you Shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the Last Embrace of the Mother Welcome you Home."

 

She could not name each of the fallen, but she felt their loss in the pattern.

 

Bowing her head, Calia finished the tribute in her mind, the way she and others like her had always done - and always would do when Shadows threatened to conquer in fire and flame - 'The LIGHT shine on you, all.'  

 

After all, it wasn't quite an end, in a sense - in reality, it was only just the beginning.

 

  ▀▄ 

[Elessar]

.. The Light of Tar Valon ..

►▼◄

 

The Sun was Shining..

 

in a beautiful ocean-blue afternoon sky, with a soft breeze coming out of the far west, as Elessar Gaidin of Kandor and Calia Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah came in sight of the Shining Walls of Tar Valon.

 

The Tar Valon party returning from the battle with the Shadow north in Saldaea were glad again to see the city that over the years had become their home. It had been a long journey in varying weather conditions and general weariness prevailed among its members. Riding near the front aside his bondholder Calia, Elessar studied the people they passed, as always vigilant and focused.

 

Most of the people were local farmers and business folk heading to and from the city with the odd foreigner and wanderer among them. They all looked respectfully at the Sisters of the White Tower as they rode passed, giving the Gaidin looks of respect too. One little boy, blond-haired, scruffy-looking and gaunt but stronger than he looked, perhaps six or so of age, looked wide-eyed at the tall and strong-looking armed Warders riding by, and dreamed of one day becoming a Warder-hero himself.

 

Soon they all rode slowly, in orderly columns, across one of the many magnificent arching bridges over the River Erinin connecting the island city to the mainland. Elessar’s dark eyes glinted and turning in his saddle to Calia he thought he recognized a small sparkle in her blue eyes too. Stormbreaker, his valiant black warhorse, pricked up its ears as they crossed the bridge, as if sensing that this journey was nearing its end.

 

Fabled Dragonmount rose in the distance, a place of history and legend, and on the city walls high above them the proud banners of Tar Valon - wonderous city of the Aes Sedai -  rippled strongly in the wind, as if welcoming them home.

 

●

 

“Mariahna Arinahl, come with me!”

 

The Mistress of Novices met the young blond woman’s eyes with a firm but kind stare and recognized the mixed emotions in the Novice’s eyes; exhilaration mixed with some fear.

 

Mariahna caught her breath, having known for a while that this moment was coming but even so now that it was here she felt.. unprepared. She had been a Novice for twelve years, ever since she was brought to the White Tower at sixteen, and had shown average progress throughout her time in the Tower. Some of the girls who had started with her had been Accepted a couple of years but there also were a few who it seemed were nowhere near being Raised.

 

Curtsying to the Sister, the young woman from Murandy followed her through the corridors of the Tower, going over in her mind everything she had been told and taught about the Test for Accepted.

 

She remembered her Aes Sedai teacher, a strict elderly Cairhienin woman of the Brown Ajah, going methodically on about the Test and why it was so important. “It is a test”, the Aes Sedai had said facing the class of expectant Novices, “that forces you to face your greatest fears about what has happened in your past life, what might be happening in the present-day, and what might happen in your future”.

 

In order to become Accepted, she had emphasized, the Novice 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.

 

I really want this, Mariahna thought as they passed several Aes Sedai in one corridor, the Sisters hardly noticing her. I have always wanted this, ever since they found the spark in me.

 

●

 

Her teacher’s voice echoed in her mind as they entered a doorway heading down into the basements of the White Tower to the room where she was to be tested.

 

A Novice may refuse to take the Accepted Test twice. If she refuses a third time, however, she is put out of the Tower.

 

What a woman sees during her Testing for Accepted is not required to be shared with anyone, as a woman’s fears are her own.

 

Mariahna remembered her teacher’s description of the Ter’angreal used for the Accepted Test. It was in the shape of three round, silver arches that stood on a silver ring, with their edges touching each other. The arches were just tall enough for someone to walk beneath them. During the Test, an Aes Sedai sat in front of the Ter'angreal at each place where an arch touches the ring, activating the Ter'angreal.

 

“The Ter’angreal”, the Brown Sister had said in her lecturing voice, “forces the candidate for Acceptance to enter three different visions, or alternate realities (it is not known which), where she must face her fears. While within the Ter'angreal, she is not supposed to be able to remember who she is, where she has come from, or that she has the ability to channel. An arch will eventually appear in the vision/reality and the candidate will remember that she must go through it.”

 

“Remember”, she had emphasized, “the way back will only appear once. You will be tempted to stay and be distracted.. you must show character and strength.”

 

●

 

The words echoed in her consciousness as they descended the final steps to the chamber below. They were far below the White Tower. Looking tentatively around, Mariahna saw that the room was carved out of the bedrock of the island and had a domed shape. The walls were pale, smooth stone. The floor was bare stone. The Ter’angreal sat in the center of the room, and light from tall stand-lamps flickered oddly on it; she could not see what lay inside. She also saw a plain table near the Ter'angreal holding three large silver chalices which were filled with clear water. An Aes Sedai stood beside the table. It was all as it had been described to her, but seeing it was still a different experience. She felt her heart beat faster and tried to compose her thoughts as she had been taught. She was only partly successful.

 

Three Aes Sedai sat around the Ter’angreal where the arches touched the ring. They did not look up as Garihna Semendhei, the Mistress of Novices, and the Novice to be Tested entered. Garihna stopped just inside the room and faced the young woman.

 

“Mariahna Arinhal, are you ready to face your fears?” she asked, beginning the formal ceremony.

 

“Yes.”

 

Mariahna’s voice seemed a little weak to her as she responded but she was steadfast as she faced the Mistress of Novices.

 

“You will now be told two things that no woman hears before reaching this point”, Gahrina Sedai said, meeting the Novice’s eyes.

 

“If the candidate for Acceptance fails to complete the Test once she has begun, she will be put out of the Tower without enough silver to last her a year, and she will never be allowed to return.”

 

“Also, take note. The Test is dangerous. Some women have never returned from the Silver Arches.. we do not know what became of them.. you must be steadfast.”

 

Mariahna nodded silently, trying to quench the butterflies in her stomach.

 

●

 

“You are now given one more chance to refuse to take the Test.” The Mistress of Novices looked pointedly at the Novice. She had seen Novices lose their nerve at this point before.

 

“I will not refuse”. Mariahna replied determinedly. “I am ready to face my fears.”

 

The Mistress of Novices nodded, her blue eyes glinting in satisfaction, and then they walked a few more steps into the chamber. They were now addressed by the Blue Sister who was beside the table with the chalices.

 

 

Aes Sedai: Whom do you bring with you, Sister?

 

Mistress of Novices: One who comes as a candidate for Acceptance, Sister.

 

Aes Sedai: Is she ready?

 

Mistress of Novices: She is ready to leave behind what she was, and, passing through her fears, gain Acceptance.

 

Aes Sedai: Does she know her fears?

 

Mistress of Novices: She has never faced them, but now is willing.

 

Aes Sedai: Then let her face what she fears.

 

 

Mariahna knew she was now required to undress and she removed her Novice dress and her undergarments until she stood stark naked before the other women. She focused on what was to come and did not bother covering herself. Nakedness was the least of her worries here. She needed to be totally focused on the tasks ahead to succeed.

 

Before she entered the first arch, the Mistress of Novices told her: “The first time is for what was. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

●

 

Walking through the arch, she did not know what she would face, but she soon found out.

 

There was her sick father, begging her to stay and care for him. There was the man who had tried to rape her at age fourteen in a back alley of her town and she struggled to get out of his grip again. And there were the salivating vicious dogs that had attacked her and almost killed her at the meadow she had walked across when she was a young girl. On and on it went and she faced her fears the best she could, tears running down her cheeks, her mind tiring slowly.

 

And when after a long time she saw an arch appear fourty paces or so off to her right, glowing with a silver radiance, she ran towards it and entered, stepping back through the arch to return to the chamber below the White Tower. Her pulse was racing, the tears only now stopping and she had to catch her breath. It took a moment for her to gather herself and she brushed the remaining tears unashamedly from her face as she faced the Sisters present.

 

The Aes Sedai standing beside the table poured one of the chalices of water over her and told her: “You are washed clean of what sin you may have done and of those done against you. You are washed clean of what crime you may have committed, and of those committed against you. You come to us washed clean and pure, in heart and soul.”

 

Mariahna registered the words spoken but her eyes were fastened on the second arch. After a moment’s hestiation she entered it after the Mistress of Novices said: “The second time is for what is. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

The second arch was worse and Mariahna had to face her worst fears of what was happening in the present, not the least the greatest fear of all that she would fail as an Accepted and later fail to become an Aes Sedai and would have to live with the shame for the rest of her life. Sisters of all colours stared at her in disappointment and great disapproval as she walked naked through the halls of the White Tower in shame, as an example to others. She came upon a few young Warders walking beside their Aes Sedai and they stared lewdly at her nude body which shamed her even further. When she emerged from the Ter’angreal this time, tears were flowing even stronger down her deep-red cheeks and she felt exhausted, physically and especially mentally.

 

The Sister standing beside the table poured the second chalice of water over her and said: “You are washed clean of false pride. You are washed clean of false ambition. You come to us washed clean, in heart and soul.”

 

Mariahna had to pull herself together to regain the needed courage to enter the third arch. She bit her lip resolutely. First the Mistress of Novices told her: “The third time is for what will be. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

●

 

She knew the third arch would be the worst of them all, facing her fears about the future, but even so she was taken aback by the harsh trials she faced. She was an Aes Sedai but she did not have the time to revel in the joy, before an avalanche of Darkness swept her away. On the battlefield facing Myrddraal and other vile Shadowspawn clawing at her with bloodied hands. Seeing her Warder crushed beneath the onslaught and feeling her soul cry out in utter anguish as the bond snapped. Failing in missions for the White Tower. Betraying trust. Betraying promises. And worse. Much worse.

 

She was drenched physically and emotionally as she staggered through the shining archway and into the White Tower chamber. Her face was stricken, her eyes pools of tears, her face in agony, and she felt her knees give way. She was caught by the Mistress of Novices who smiled proudly at the young woman and held her for a moment in her arms before helping her stand steady on the stone floor.

 

Mariahna was full of swirling emotions as she gradually got her bearings and her head cleared. Echoes of what she had been through remained in her mind but she pushed them aside as best she could and focused on the present. At what mattered.

 

She had passed the Accepted Test.

 

●

 

Relief and happiness replaced the memories as she dried the tears from her eyes. Once her eyes were clear of water and she was able to take a better look around the chamber she saw that the Amyrlin Seat and one Sister from each Ajah, formally garbed in their shawls and arranged to either side of the Amyrlin, now occupied the room as well.

 

Mariahna knelt before Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat who poured the third chalice of water over her.

 

The Amyrlin told her: “You are washed clean of Mariahna Arinahl from Arad Doman. You are washed clean of all ties that bind you to the world. You come to us washed clean, in heart and soul. You are Mariahna Arinahl, Accepted of the White Tower. You are Sealed to us now.”

 

The Amyrlin smiled as she presented the new Accepted with a Great Serpent Ring. Mariahna felt tears coming again, thrills of achievement running through her entire body.

 

Pulling the new Accepted to her feet, she said: “Welcome, Daughter,” kissing her on the cheek.

 

The other Aes Sedai present smiled as well, the Red Sitter’s eyes glinting as she looked at the new Accepted, and Mariahna was quickly helped into an Accepted’s banded dress.

 

Her smile was radiant.

 

She was Accepted.

 

●

 

Denya Aes Sedai studied the man bound by threads of Saidar on the table before her almost as she would a fascinating insect.

 

There was always something interesting to learn, a new discovery to make.

 

For instance, why would he scream so much when she poked at his privates with a burning iron? Why did the nerves connect to his brain and then to his voice? Why did the blood flow so readily when she cut off one of his fingers? And why was he so terrified when she poked at his eyeball with a needle?

 

So many questions. And so few answers.

 

A short woman with almost white hair, piercing blue eyes and prominent cheek bones, Denya had always wanted answers to her questions - and she had never questioned her.. affinity for extreme measures. Or necessary investigation as she liked to call it. She was Brown to the soul, enjoying every little discovery however insignificant. The thought made her touch the Brown shawl around her shoulders without thinking as she studied the blood and sweat covering the man on the table.

 

I will always be a Brown, she thought with pride and determination. It’s just my allegiance that has changed. She frowned. My methods will never be understood by my Brown Sisters.

 

●

 

Moans came from the near unconscious twenty-five year old Andoran, blood coming from his lips. She considered what to try next. If she were to press.. there.. she thought it would increase his pain and she was right. She noted it down in her notebook for future use and documentation, then walked across to the other side of the man and poked some more at him with the burning iron.

 

Interesting, she thought to herself, as his moans turned to near-screams. The armpits were a sensitive area as well just as she had predicted. She noted it down and then picked up a book from another table in her quarters. “The World of Anatomy” by the famed southern scholar Gheras Vanider. She leafed through the pages until she found the one she was looking for. Nodding in satisfaction, she noted down some more, then put the book aside and touched the almost broken man’s cheeks affectionately. She had always liked men and they had always been a subject of fascination for her.

 

"There, there".. she muttered softly. "Your pain will soon be gone, my boy - and you will rest in the welcoming arms of the Great Lord."

 

No one outside her personal quarters in the Brown wing of the White Tower heard anything as she worked, her having Warded the room, and she continued to discover new fascinating things about pain and endurance until late in the evening.

 

Finally all that was left was Darkness and Silence.

 

And Death.

 

●

 

Lyanna Tirahl, originally from Cairhien, was a Sitter for the White in the Hall of the Tower. She had been a Sitter for more than twenty-five years and the hints of grey in her dark hair spoke of her 114 years on this earth. Most of these she had spent in Tar Valon, as a Novice, Accepted and finally Aes Sedai of the White Ajah. Like most if not all her Sisters she based her life on logic; on logical explanations, reason and sense. She disregarded all foolishness. So it had always been and so it would always be for her.

 

Rumours floating around the White Tower that something was.. amiss.. she took as pure speculation. There were always rumours.. and more often than not they were unsubstantiated and not worth even thinking about.

 

Her friend in the Green Ajah, however, was not so certain. Seated opposite the White Sister, the Green Aes Sedai repeated what she had heard. Taurin Delehsan was a dozen or so years older than Lyanna, a Sitter for the Green, and what she in the White Sister’s opinion lacked in logical reasoning she more than made up in energy and enthusiasm. A blond-haired woman with a sharp nose and a friendly smile, she leaned over the table which stood in the middle of her own quarters and her azure-blue eyes glinted as she spoke.

 

“They say the Amyrlin is hesitant.” She raised an eyebrow. “Some say.. frightened.”

 

Lyanna shook her head. “The Amyrlin is frightened of nothing” said she. “This is just silly rumours.” She sighed. “I don’t know why you even speak of them.”

 

Taurin sniffed loudly, in the way only Aes Sedai could do, but did not retort. She just studied her friend’s face closely, wondering what really went on in that logical mind of hers.

 

“But what if the rumours are.. true?” Taurin said at last in a speculative voice.

 

“The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills..” Lyana replied, using the old Aes Sedai saying. “But I think this is just nonsense. It is not logical at all and I for one don’t believe the rumours.”

 

●

 

Taurin leaned back in her chair and studied her old Novice-friend closely.

 

They were so different, personality-wise and philosophically, Lyanna and she, that it was a wonder that they had become close friends when they were Novices. They had kept the friendship in the years they were Accepted in the Tower, and though they were no longer as close as in those days past they still were as friendly as Sisters in different Ajahs could be, keeping in touch when both were in the White Tower.

 

Taurin had always liked Lyanna, and remembered with fondness their erotic pillow-fun when they were young, but she had to admit that the White Sister was naïve and there were so many things she did not understand.

 

Her eyes took on a new gleam as she looked at Lyanna’s dark grey dress. It was very conservative, high-necked, with a few subtle decorations and some frills down the side.

 

Staring down at her Great Serpent Ring for a moment, Taurin thought of her many years in the Tower. The golden ring fashioned into the shape of a serpent biting its own tail, was an ancient symbol of eternity and time itself.

 

Time.

 

Time eternal.

 

Turning her gaze to her friend opposite her, she took a sip of tea from the cup before her, then said smoothly, “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills indeed. By the way, I like your red dress, Lyanna.”

 

It took a moment to register, then Lyanna’s eyes and mouth opened wide.. and a Scream began to form in her Soul!

 

●

 

Elessar and Calia were seated opposite one another across a small table in the Leisure Room. So it was called, at least among the Sisters in the Tower, a small room adjacent to the White Tower Library that was used for ‘private talks’. It was sparsely furnished with only a few chairs, a couple of tables and some bookshelves filled with books, maps and some figurines of different shapes and sizes. A pair of huge windows at the end of the chamber let in some light, added to several lamps on the walls.

 

Calia had placed Wards on the room, just in case. She wanted privacy for their talk.

 

“We underestimated that Shadow army”. Elessar repeated, meeting his bondholder’s gaze. His voice was soft but Calia heard the undercurrent. He was not pleased and, in truth, neither was she.

 

“White Tower intelligence was lacking.” He added. “As simple as.”

 

Calia did not reply, thinking her own thoughts.

 

The leader of the Tar Valon-party that had gone north, the Captain-General of the Green Ajah, had shared no evaluations upon their return that he had heard, neither had the leader of the Gaidin. He therefore presumed any evaluations had been done in a private setting and were confidential. Even so, there could, in his mind, be no doubt about this issue.

 

“We were lucky to survive that onslaught”, the Gaidin added after a while, his eyes tightening. “The next time we might not be as lucky.”

 

●

 

They had talked for several hours about their experiences and how they had worked together on the battlefield. It was their first battle as a bonded couple, as a team, and they needed to learn from any mistakes made.

 

They had spoken of the valiant fight of Warders and Sedai and Kandori, and of the brave Fallen, but also of the Shadow army they had faced, a mightier force than expected. And of the powerful Darkfriend channelers up on the hillsides. Whoever they were, they were dangerous foes indeed.

 

Their discussions had evolved into a talk about preparations and what to learn from this battle. And about a lack of intelligence about their enemy.

 

Elessar was concerned, as he had made clear, but he knew none of it was Calia’s fault and so he did not push the issue further. Calia saw his worried frown and knew that there was sense in what he was saying.

 

She knew from her own experience that there was always something to learn from every battle. Whether people took learned wisdom to heart, now that was quite another matter.

 

This is only the beginning, she was thinking again.

 

●

 

Samos walked the streets of Tar Valon like a lost soul.

 

In the weeks since he had returned from Cairhien he had used all his resources to try and discover who it was that had tried to kill him. And the result? Nothing! Blasted nothing! He had found no clues anywhere and this had annoyed him even more. Roaming the streets, talking with his informants, the days had passed quickly but not pleasently. Cursing at everything and everyone in sight he strode down one of the city’s main streets and almost ran into a parked carriage. Throwing curses at the horses who just returned a dumb look he continued towards his destination, a butcher’s shop in a back-alley not far away.

 

Turning a corner he at last entered that alley and headed for the butcher at the end. Entering the shop, he walked straight to the back and opened a door to a small room. Passing the butcher, a middle-aged man wearing a bloodied apron, he only nodded slightly before closing the door behind him.

 

The room was lit by a small lamp and was an office of sorts. Papers covered a desk and several books too in addition to some parchments. There was blood many places, a result of his several interrogations. None of the men had talked though and Samos had slit their throats in anger after torturing them for a good while. The butcher had been unhappy but had stopped his complaints when Samos had reminded him of his loyalties. Thinking back on it now he thought he should have been less lenient. Next time the man complained he would break his arms.

 

Seating himself in the chair by the desk, he closed his eyes and considered his most secret and dangerous of thoughts: that it was.. her who was trying to have him killed. Perhaps she wanted to do away with him after his disappointing work, as she saw it. Clenching his fists he felt his cheeks redden in anger. But then he reconsidered and calmed down. She could kill him any time if she wanted. And she would have no need of an assassin. No, it was not .. her. But who then? Who could it be that wanted him dead?

 

●

 

Opening his eyes, he looked at one of the parchments on the desk, it was a map he saw, and started studying it closely. A map of Tar Valon from what he could see. Someone had drawn lines and symbols on the map and he wondered what they could mean..

 

just as

 

the door FLEW open and a BLAST of Air threw him -and the chair- back toward the wall!!

 

Everything was a blur as he tried to regain his feet. Disentangling himself from the chair, holding onto the wall, he steadied himself and then rose slowly from the floor, his back aching, his head ringing.

 

Gazing toward the door he saw.. something.. it was a kind of haze.. but then came recogniton and his eyes widened.

 

Samos froze, and uttered in bewilderment and shock

 

"You? No!"

 

●

 

“Oh, shut that gaping mouth of yours, Lyanna”, said Taurin with an exasperated sigh. “You look like a gasping fish on land.”

 

Lyanna slowly closed her mouth but her eyes remained wide and her face haggard as she looked at her old friend. She was unable to utter a word, stunned. It was all soo illogical. A lie.. how..?

 

All so.. impossible.

 

“Oh relax, Lyanna”, the Green Sister added smoothly as she removed her Great Serpent Ring and placed it in her other hand. “If I wanted you dead, you would have been dead already.”

 

Lyanna’s eyes widened even further if possible! Only her long Aes Sedai training and experience of many, many years kept her from screaming aloud.

 

In fear and frustration. And shock.

 

How could her friend of ages be…. a Black Sister..

 

Impossible!

 

“Dead!?” Lyanna finally stuttered, watching her old friend as if she had never seen her before.

 

“Oh, take it easy, Lyanna”, Taurin said as her hand closed around her Aes Sedai ring. “We all do as we must.” Her eyes turned to her friend’s still shaken face. “As will you.” Her eyes hardened and her smile became tighter.

 

They both held onto Saidar and Taurin felt her greater strength in the One Power. Lyanna felt it also and knew she would not be able to overcome her ‘friend’ if it came down to it.

 

Opening her closed hand again the Green Sister gazed at the Great Serpent Ring for a long moment, as if considering all that it stood for, before placing it anew on her finger.

 

●

 

“We all do as we must”, she repeated and her eyes hardened as they fastened on the White Sister seated opposite her in the chamber. “It is time to consider your allegiance, Lyanna”.

 

She nodded to herself seeing the fear in the other woman’s eyes. A strong woman in more ways than one, the White Sister did not scare easily, but now she was scared. And panicking.

 

Cold shivers ran down Lyanna’s back and she tightened her hold on Saidar.

 

“It is time for you to Serve in the.. right way”, Taurin said, her eyes glinting darkly. “I am sure you have much service to give.”

 

A Shadow passed before Lyanna’s startled eyes for a moment, but she could not tell whether or not it was just her imagination or her fear manifesting itself.

 

 

Another Scream began deep down in her Soul,

the Light trapped inside her.

 

Oh, Dear Creator. NO!!

 

 

●

 

A Darkness in The White Tower.

 

A Darkness of Tar Valon.

 

●

 

That evening, some hours after their long talk, as Twilight was settling over Tar Valon, Calia and Elessar entered the “White Flame” inn and found a table at the back of the establishment. The innkeeper Taman waved at Elessar and smiled broadly when he saw Calia. He exchanged a few words with her off to the side, before she seated herself opposite her Gaidin.

 

She wore a green dress and a matching silk blouse this evening while he wore his black shirt and pants, his most informal attire if truth be told. The inn was quite full that night with a mix of locals, travellers, Sedai and Warders, seated and mingling, and they both recognized several faces among those present.

 

And there was a gleeman.

 

Which always brought a grin to Elessar’s often serious face.

 

The man, wearing the cloak of his profession, was in his middling years, brown-haired and tall. He had the kind of eyes that always sparkled as if amused by something and during one of his stories those green-grey eyes fastened on Elessar who stared back at him in the same way.

 

There was.. something in the gleeman’s eyes and, in Elessar’s view, false smile that made the Warder study him closely for the rest of the retelling. He could not say what it was but his instincts told him something was.. off. He did not say anything to Calia though, perhaps it was his imagination after all, but the feeling stayed with him throughout the evening.

 

It did not damage his enjoyment of the epic story told later that night, however. “The Light of Tar Valon” was a poem and story Elessar had heard on occasion through the years (and usually in this grand city) but it was not very common. And the inn’s guests listened attentively and with great enjoyment and enthusiasm, sipping to their drinks and some also banging their tables, as the gleeman spun his historic tale of the Aes Sedai and this fabled island city of Tar Valon.

 

 

●

 

►▼◄

 

’The Light of Tar Valon’

 

The Light of Tar Valon, shines Vibrant and Pure

The Heart of this Island beats Strongly for Sure

For Ages and Time, a Stronghold for Truth

And Governed by Sisters of Power in Sooth

 

Construction of the City near a Century Began

After the Breaking, and in Time’s true Span

When Elisane Tishar the Amyrlin Became

Protector of the Seals, Defender of the Flame

 

Ogier Stonemasons, Masters of their Craft

Created wonders, they Laboured and they Laughed

As Marvels Arose, bridges, buildings, towers Shone

With Aes Sedai help, they Sculpted Walls and Throne

 

A Glorious Sight, it was a Wonder to Behold

A Hundred Years to Build, striving hard, we are Told

And Central to all was the White Tower Bright

The Pinnacle of Skill, and the Power of Light

 

Under Attack, in the Trolloc Wars it Came

The Shining Walls stood against Shadowspawn and Flame

The Forces pressed hard, Defenders tried to Stall

But Rashima Kerenmosa, she Prevented its Fall

 

A Thousand years later, after Covenant and Pact

As a False Dragon’s army, the City Attacked

Seizing two great Bridges when Victory was Set

But Hawkwing’s Army, it destroyed the Threat

 

Later the High King turned Foe, and in Pain

Besieged it for Years as they Struggled in Vain

But finally as Hawkwing passed on Did they Sway

The Siege was lifted and the Troops went Away

 

Queen Ishara of Andor played a Part in this All

Convincing the Commander of the Siege of its Fall

No Damage was sustained in the City in the End

And Tar Valon and Andor became Allies and Friend

 

As the Site of the Battle of the Shining Walls

Tar Valon felt threatened by Aiel Battle-Calls

As they hunted King Laman of Cairhien, by Decree

In Vengeance, for destroying the Avendoraldera Tree

 

A Center of Power, the Island Prevailed

For Leadership and Courage, the Battle-waves Sailed

And Gathered the Nations, through Ages and Might

To Stand against Darkness, the Shadow to Fight

 

The Light of Tar Valon, burns Brightly and True

In lee of Dragonmount, the Erinin in View

As a Beacon of Hope, the City Will Stand

With Aes Sedai in Strength, Protecting the Land

 

►▲◄

 

▀▄

Edited January 1 by Elessar

[Elessar]

.. A New Quest Begins: The Seal of Forbidding  ..

►▼◄

 

This I attest, in the Light

 

According to our ancient historic records, Seven cuendillar discs, each bearing the Ancient Symbol of the Aes Sedai (a white teardrop and a black teardrop conjoined) were created at the end of the Age of Legends as focus points, or anchors, to Seal and hold the Dark One in his prison.

 

The discs themselves are not Seals but have in common usage been referred to as Seals over the generations, or the Great Seals. They are believed to be the size of a man's hand and should be unbreakable, but after extensive research I do believe there is a distinct possibility that the entropic influence of the Dark One could cause them to weaken to such an extent that they could shatter from a fall to the ground or being struck by a man with a hammer. No certain knowledge of this exists anywhere but it is, I believe, prudent to keep in mind this possible eventuality and not count on the Seals staying unbroken for all time.

 

The secret location of these Seals has, I believe, been unknown since the Trolloc Wars. Before that time our historic records indicate that the Amyrlin Seat knew, hence her historic title “Watcher of the Seals”. The knowledge was, unfortunately, lost in time, and no Seals have so far as I know been found and searches by the White Tower have been unsuccessful.  

 

Despite the clear and evident inherent danger, since it is certain that the Shadow will hunt for them also and, in their case, certainly to destroy them to free their Great Lord, it is of utmost importance that the White Tower find and recover several of these Seals to keep them safe and protected from the Shadow until Tarmon Gai’don, the Last Battle is upon us.

 

We must sacrifice what must be sacrificed to achieve this goal, of that there is no doubt.

 

They are Seals of Forbidding. They are our Salvation.

 

 

Added Note

 

to

“The History of the White Tower”

Chapter 77, part 14d

 

571 NE, the 3rd Age

Evahlia Semerehn Sedai

Brown Ajah

 

●

 

 

It was a moonlit Night and the bright Stars spread out across the far horizons like burning gems on a canvas of deep blackness. Rays of silver from the shining moon rained down on the Aryth Ocean making it almost glitter in reflections as the Sea Folk Raker sped through the ocean waves borne on Winds of Providence.

 

Carah din Toral Rising Wave, a tall dark-skinned woman with grey streaked hair, a grave face and with four rings - of good quality metal - in each ear, one of them being connected to her nose by a chain, a sign of her higher rank, stood proudly on the Quarterdeck of her ship gazing into the far horizon. The Raker, which was named Oceanfold, was a large vessel with multiple decks, easily a hundred paces long, with three towering masts amidships, and one shorter one on the raised sterndeck. It had large triangular as well as somewhat smaller white squared sails, and a very narrow body, as was common in such ships, that made for great speed across oceans.

 

She had begun aboard a ship as a deckhand many many years before, in the Atha'an Miere tradition, and had worked herself gradually up through the ranks. She had finally fulfilled her life-long ambition and gained the honoured rank of Sailmistress with her own vessel - and she felt as protective of her ship as she would of a child.

 

●  

 

She shifted her gaze from the dark horizon to the front of the ship where her Windfinder of many years, Morin din Rubai Blue Wing, stood directing the ship’s course through the soft wind and currents. Morin was a handful years younger than Carah but just as experienced on the seas. Her dark skin and hair gave her a handsome look rather than beautiful and like many of her Sisters she wore tattoos on her hands of stars and seabirds surrounded by the curls and whirls of stylized waves.

 

She was very accomplished at Weaving the Winds, strong in the One Power and especially at channeling Air and Water, thick weaves that never failed to impress her sister Windfinders, and she had served her Sailmistress faithfully for many years. In some ways she felt this was her ship too, and she felt very protective of it.

 

The Sailmistress shifted her gaze back to the blue-black horizon, standing there for several minutes in silence, feeling the soft breeze on her cheeks and tasting the salt in the air. The Sea had always been her Home, holding her in its cold but oh so familiar and shielded Embrace.

 

She should have gone to bed to get a few hours sleep but she was too excited to rest. The orders she had received from her Wavemistress, leader of her Clan, several days earlier had thrilled her.

 

Head southwards. Our oceans are no longer quiet. The Time of Reckoning could be upon us.

 

She had waited for years for a chance to battle the Shadow. Now she might get her chance; she felt it in her bones. For who else would send fleets of ships eastward on the Aryth Ocean?

 

Her dark eyes glinted in fierce anticipation.

 

●  

 

It was early morning, the sun just rising in the far horizon, as Elessar Telcontar Gaidin of Kandor walked across the Warder’s Yard in Tar Valon and readied himself for his training session.

 

A few fellow Warders were also up and about but most of the Yard was empty. Later it would be filled with Warder trainees going through the motions under the guidance of Warder tutors, and gawking Accepted watching from the sideline, but now there was plenty of space for Elessar to find a spot and he selected one on the yard’s north end.

 

There was no wind for a change (the almost perpetual soft breeze that seemed to hang over Tar Valon was momentarily gone..) and he ignored the small chill in the air as he removed his shirt and readied himself.

 

Unfolding the Fan, the opening move, which flowed into Low Wind Rising, a diagonal slash which began low and rose cleanly, followed by The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, a vertical slash starting high and which in this case altered course in mid-swing, paired with Tower of Morning, a vertical slash but this time beginning low and ending high.

 

In the Flame and the Void he felt complete calmness and truly felt one with his sword, a participant in a never-ending dance of motion. A few pearls of sweat beaded on his bare chest, arms and forehead after a while as he moved efficiently through the forms, his focus all on his imagined opponent before him. The Falling Leaf and then straight into The River Undercuts the Bank. He then improvised in a fashion only highly skilled swordsmen were able and moved dynamically from one sword form into another, combining forms creatively, flowing smoothly from stance to stance.

 

He kept on going for quite some time until at last he ended the session with Folding the Fan, sheathing his blade. The sword was smoothly swung around from guard stance and sheathed, all in one motion. He breathed a little heavily, but that was to be expected after this exertion, and he dried himself with the towel he had brought.

 

●  

 

Gazing across the Yard, Elessar waved to another Gaidin who had just finished his forms some way off and received a friendly wave in return. He then grabbed his things and started walking towards the building that housed the Warders quarters. As he walked his mind turned to what Calia, his Aes Sedai bondholder, had told him the evening before.

 

They were going on a new journey, or ‘adventure’ as she had teasingly named it with a gleam in her sparkling blue eyes.

 

To be frank, Elessar was happy with the news. He did not yet know what kind of mission they were going on this time but after a couple months in the White Tower after their return from Saldaea he was becoming restless and felt the urge to get out on the road again.

 

It had been good to get back to Tar Valon and to rest and heal properly after the battle in the north, but for the past few weeks Calia had seen his increasing uneasiness, Elessar unable to hide his restlessness. Now that they were being sent on a new mission, and a very important one at that, she thought they would be able to kill two birds with one stone.

 

●  

 

“This place is just an echo of what was.” Qariahna mumbled to herself as she stared pensively at the buildings that crowded the Inner City of Caemlyn. “Nothing more than an echo.”

 

She appreciated the quality of the Ogier stonework - the Alantin had always been skilled - but this city was still a poor reflection of the amazing cities she had seen back in her home world, in what these people now called the Age of Legends.

 

Gazing upwards into the semi-clouded blue sky she travelled in her mind - and remembered.

 

V'saine, her home city.  A city of many wonders. A city of unsurpassed beauty.

 

 

..with the Collam Daan, its perhaps most famous wonder, a great university of silver and blue domes whose architecture was overshadowed only by the Sharom that floated overhead. The S’idhan, the magnificent colourful gardens that flowed and streamed across the meadow of Kehliar in wondrous winding spirals that never seemed to end. The marble palaces of V'saine, filled with bridges and walkways of such grandeur and beauty and ingenuity that architects travelled all the way from Jalanda and Mar Ruois to experience them. And of course the Ja’ahl in the sky, that incredible monument to mankind’s achievements..

 

She remembered it all as if it were yesterday and not thousands of years ago.

 

And it was all destroyed in the war. The war that never seemed to end. The war they should have won.

 

We should have conquered! She thought angrily. And preserved that beauty and wonder of a thousand years!

 

●  

 

Her dark eyes tightened and she pushed some strands of hair away from her eyes in irritation. Such incredible beauty and magnificence destroyed. Never to be seen again. Never to be copied. Only to be reflected in a few moments, here and there, in this very imperfect world.

 

Suppressing her anger, she shifted her gaze to the majestic Royal Palace in the distance, there it sat on a hill dominating the Andoran capital. A mischievous grin came upon the Chosen’s face for a fleeting moment before it became smooth again. Her long dark hair flowed down her back, over the green-blue blouse and travelling dress she was wearing this day. She touched the purple hairpin she often wore, a powerful Angreal, and also the ring she wore on her right ringfinger. It seemed to be a simple ring of steel but she knew better. She was not holding onto the One Power, she had in fact masked her ability to channel so as to stay hidden from.. inquiring parties.. but it felt good to have these objects at hand. For when they become necessary.

 

An elegant carriage Andoran in style drawn by four black horses passed by in the street, the driver giving the beasts a taste of the whip to hurry them along. It was probably some local Nobleman or other, the Chosen thought to herself with little interest. She also ignored all the sounds and smells and bustle of the city around her as people hurried past on private errands and official errands and loud eager shopkeepers kept selling their produce and wares to enquiring customers. Her interest grew, however, as two middle-aged seeming women, one tall and one shorter but both striding confidently in tandem, passed close by where she was standing at a street corner. They paid her no mind, engaged in conversation as they were, but the scar on Qariahna’s left cheek started burning. She had recognized their smooth Aes Sedai-features straight away even without the accompanying Warders and as often when she thought of Aes Sedai anger rose in her.

 

High and mighty Sisters. They betrayed us!

 

That she had once been Aes Sedai herself she had almost wiped from her mind. As far as she was concerned, it had never happened. She had always been better, always been Chosen. In her heart.

 

Watching the Sisters of the White Tower head almost imperiously up the hill towards the Royal Palace, people moving quickly out of their way, Qariahna calmed herself again and focused anew on her new orders.

 

One of these days, I will be the one giving orders, not taking them!

 

Her dark eyes burned with black intensity, as the air seemed to ripple momentarily.

 

A shadow passed over the sun for a moment, momentarily darkening the afternoon and bringing with it a sudden chill, or at least so it seemed to many of the city’s surprised and wide-eyed citizens.

 

●  

 

Rays of gold reflected in the marble domes towering over the Imperial Seanchan Capital of Seandar.

 

The Deathwatch Guard stood at attention in the late morning sun.

 

They were the elite Seanchan personal guards to the Seanchan Empress, Ilahna Erem Sani Paendrag blessed of her name. The Deathwatch Guard, an elite division that was particularly honoured and valued, was made up of both men and Ogier Gardeners, but the main force was Warrior Ogier, resplendent in their famous armour which was lacquered red and green, the latter colour so dark that it was commonly thought of as black, the colour of death. The humans were da'covale - slaves -  and were the private property of the Empress.

 

The ranks in the Deathwatch Guard stood a half step above those in the Ever Victorious Army, the Seanchan military forces. They were the elite, the best, trusted for protection and missions not given to others. But since they were the elite, more was expected of them - and if they failed they were more heavily punished. It was well known that if a person the Deathwatch Guard was protecting died, the remaining human guards were executed.

 

Samak Therade, the tall dark-skinned, shrewd-eyed General and Commander of the Deathwatch Guard, watched his troops with pride. Row upon row they stood at attention with weapons at the ready, their armour shining as a strong breeze drifted in from the Aryth Ocean. He started his inspection round, going from soldier to soldier, checking details on uniforms, speaking a few words to a soldier here and then, his manner gruff but professional as he went through the ranks. Finally he stepped to the front of the ranks and shouted the ancient Seanchan battle cry.

 

“For the Empress!”

 

He shouted, raising his right arm -  and the battle cry was echoed along the huge plaza before the Crystal Throne, the seat of the Empress at the Court of the Nine Moons.

 

Then every single member of the Deathwatch Guard as one bowed to their seasoned Commander, on one knee in the sun.

 

●

 

Watching from a building and a balcony above the plaza, opposite to the Royal Imperial Palace, Delerihn Lehndre, a medium tall, heavy set man of dark complexion with short black hair and deep brown eyes, nodded to himself. The Deathwatch Guard was indeed impressive.

 

As was the Ever Victorious Army.

 

His dark eyes shifted to the blue skies above and he spotted a Raken flying northwards. They were, he knew, creatures with a body considerably longer than a horse and about equal in girth, with leathery grey skin and large powerful wings much like those of a bat. Ideal mounts for scouting and/or sending messages, as the Raken could fly at around three to four times the speed of a running horse. They were, he also knew, ridden by morat'raken, special Seanchan fliers of which three out of five were women.

 

A shadow atop the Raken indicated the person flying though he could not see from this far distance whether it was a woman or a man. Not that it mattered.

 

What mattered was, he thought slyly with a black gleam in his eyes, his hands on the balcony railing, the blue gemstone on his left ring finger sparkling: the Seanchan were going to War!

 

●

 

Silvahria woke abruptly from the dream and for a moment was not sure where she was. Then she remembered - and breathed more slowly, gathering her thoughts.

 

It was the dream. The one she kept having far too often. The one that always started at the moment of the betrayal.

 

The betrayal of her, her work and her significant research. In her dream she was re-enacting the murder of her co-worker and assistant at the laboratory, the young man Senath, with the bloodied knife sticking out of his throat. Senath who had betrayed her, who had in fact stolen her research. Oh they had praised her in the beginning, showing their pride that one of their own - and a woman to boot! - had solved the obstacles they had faced with regards to practical use of accelerated particle division in the production of high-tech wind power. But then Senath had begun taking credit for some of the work, gradually whispering in ears and convincing the entire Ver Salidh science facility that she was a fraud and they had all turned on her.

 

In rage and humiliation she had confronted her devious assistant who had only laughed in her face, calling her a liar, a naïve woman, and saying that no one believed her anymore and that she would be sacked soon for the despicable fraud she was. The way he had laughed spitefully at her had made her mad with rage and in a psychotic moment she had grabbed the knife before knowing what she did and soon it had stood out from his throat, blood flowing onto the floor amid his endless screams. Finally only silence had remained as blood had continued flowing in streams across the white sterile facility floor.

 

 ●

 

She had fled the science facility in panic and had hidden in the home of a friend from her school days until she discovered that she was being hunted by the Aes Sedai authorities for murder. She knew she would never get a fair trial and the penalty would either be death or Severing, cutting her off from the One Power, and either way it would be the death of her, she felt. Her only way of surviving, her only protection as she saw it, was to join those rebels who had renounced the Aes Sedai and the Light and given new Oaths to the Dark One and the Shadow. The thought made her sick to the bone, but she had no other choice as she saw it, and in desperation for survival and anger at what had been done to her, she escaped and eventually found her way to Shayol Ghul where she knelt before the Great Lord of the Dark in desperation, pledging her Soul to the Shadow in return for the promise of safety and immortality.

 

 

In the War of Power, as it came to be known, as one of Those Chosen To Rule The World Forever, she did what she could in service of the Great Lord, using her specialist knowledge of wind power machination combined with the One Power to make a fearsome weapon that was used with great success in several battles. She was respected now, she was appreciated for her eminent skill, not cheated out of her glory as had been the case at the science facility and any doubts of her purpose in life and her dark allegiance were gradually removed. Coldness, pride and hatred found its place in her heart, hatred against all who had wronged her and especially against her former Aes Sedai brethren. Even the word ‘Aes Sedai’ left a foul taste in her mouth as she joined the forces of the Shadow in the war. Forsaken they had called her and her new brethren, and she had embraced the name in glee and rid herself of her original three names in a dark cleansing of the soul.

 

She would forever more be known as Silvahria.

 

●  

 

Riding beside his bondholder Calia Aes Sedai across the magnificent arching bridge over the River Erinin which connected the island city of Tar Valon with the mainland, Elessar Gaidin thought about the long journey that awaited them to Ebou Dar in the far south.

 

He had been there several times in the past, on missions with different Sedai bondholders, and he knew the journey south well. The main road would take them first to Caemlyn in Andor, then to Lugard in Murandy, before entering north-eastern Altara. Ebou Dar, the Capital, lay on the southern coast, straddling the River Eldar. A beautiful city in many ways, a place of many reflections, but also a place where danger could lurk in Shadows, as he had experienced all to well. One would have to stay alert at all times. And he intended to.

 

●  

 

He had always been happiest when on the road, on missions for the White Tower with his Sedais, fighting the Shadow in ways big and small, and he had been on many quests over the years. Even so, each journey was different and each became a valuable learning experience. On this journey he thought he and Calia would get to know one another better too. They had worked well together in Saldaea but there was still much to learn for each of them. Looking sideways at Calia upon her mare, her green travelling cloak flowing behind her, he could not read her mood but he thought he saw a sparkle in her blue eyes as she gazed forwards toward the mainland in the distance.

 

Stormbreaker, his valiant black warhorse, seemed happy to be on the road as well and whinnied enthusiastically every few minutes for the first half mile which brought a smile to Elessar’s lips. People on the bridge moved to the side as they rode past and, as always, many gave them looks of reverence. Some did not, of course, but Elessar was used to people being ambivalent about the White Tower and the Aes Sedai. So it would always be, even this close to their domain.

 

One man, of middling years wearing the dusty worn attire of a seasoned traveller, walking beside his horse, stared angrily at the Warder and Sedai from underneath his lowered hood as they rode past him and disappeared further down the mile-long bridge. He stared after them long after they were gone from sight, his one blind eye twitching nervously.

 

●  

 

As they finally reached the end of the tall bridge, passing the last of the magnificent arches as the clear waters of the Erinin far below kept streaming southwards, the Sun climbed high in the cloudless sapphire-blue sky and Elessar felt those golden Rays from above warming his face.

 

It was a good sign, he thought silently to himself, as they left the Shining Walls behind in the distance, a good omen for the start of a New journey for him and Calia.

 

There are neither Beginnings nor Endings to the Wheel of Time. But it was A Beginning.

 

▀▄

[Cass]

Deep in the White Tower Library, beyond the depositories open to the public, it seemed that only silence and the scent of ancient manuscripts prevailed between the book-lined walls and heavily-laden shelves. And yet in one small, tucked-away office, a quiet conversation between Calia and another Sedai was well underway.

 

"A staff? And that one likely male and cloaked all in black?"

 

The intensity of interest behind the other Sister's blue eyes was bright, and piercing. 

 

"Indeed," Calia confirmed, her own expression still as serious as it was curious. She was sure of these recent memories, at least... Observations of those three particular opponents would certainly not be vanishing from her mind any time soon. 

 

The older woman peered down at her notes and underlined a section with considerable precision before returning her gaze to Calia with an air of barely-suppressed excitement.

 

"Very interesting!" 

Calia repressed the twist of a smile and made a dedicated effort to keep her eyebrows in a neutral line. 'Interesting' was most definitely not the first adjective her own mind associated with the facts she'd just finished sharing - and it was dread and concern that filled her whenever she considered the  possibilities of the three identities they'd encountered, not excitement. And the other Sisters who had been present had all shared similar suspicions and a quiet, steadfast horror at the potential implications.

 

"Browns," Cal thought to herself, that one word explaining everything to perfection.

 

Similar thoughts and reactions had been had many, many times before in the company of this Brown and other Sisters of her Ajah, and Cal could trace them all the way back to the days where this woman had taught her as a very young Accepted. Unbidden memories made her smile, momentarily at least. It had always been evident that this woman loved the challenge of a mystery to the extremes.

 

The contrast between their focus and reactions might be startling sometimes, Cal acknowledged, but it was rather comforting to realise that - even now - some things would never change.

 

"...I'll have to delve into some of the archives, of course, to see if any historical accounts match the descriptions you provide," the woman was saying, "... we could hypothesise, but it wouldn't do to go jumping to conclusions without evidence..." wisps of almost-white hair shifted as she cocked her head to the side, watching Calia closely, eyes still bright.

Calia nodded, ever so slightly, and offered her appreciation as she turned for the door. Evidence over hypothesis was, after all, why she had come here seeking answers. She wanted - needed - to be sure, needed to be informed. And now the cues to let this Sedai get down to business were more than clear.  

 

"Thank you, Sister," she began, "The more we know, the better we can prepare for any future meetings." A sense of determination grew in her voice. 

 

"Knowledge is, after all, our greatest weapon - as you taught us."

 

A grin shifted on the Sister's lips in response to the reference, and the faintest of wrinkles crinkled above her prominent cheekbones.

 

"That it is, Calia," Denya Sedai replied, her words following the Green through the door, "That it most certainly is."

 

●

 

Cal looked at Lissinda in astonishment, and then closed her eyes momentarily as the Captain General passed her and took her seat behind her desk.

 

"She'll have to consider a formal sitting?" she knew she'd heard Liss correctly, and that there was no real benefit to echoing what had been said, but still she felt a need to repeat that detail in disbelief. 

 

Liss nodded and rubbed at her temples.

 

Calia paced toward the window and then turned back slowly, outwardly calm, but with a voice still edged with frustration. 

 

"But - Light and rolling barrels, why?" Her eyes bored into Lissinda's, beseeching.

 

Her friend and comrade stared back at her pointedly, eyebrows lifted, and 
raised her hands in a shrug that combined a sense of exasperation and blank defense.

 

"We're talking about a possible Seal to the Dark One's prison - This isn't the time for debate and deliberation! She knows the potential implications of what we faced back there, South of Saldaea - the potential complications if those suspicions are correct... If we wait for the Hall to convene...!"

 

Lissinda sighed, her gaze meeting Calia's with a shared understanding of the urgency.

 

"Cal, I did emphasise that fact to the Amyrlin - and in return, she emphasised that it would take time and that she was bound handle the politics and follow the expected protocols - however bureaucratic, cautious, overblown and extended the deliberations might be."

 

Calia studied Liss' expression carefully, and then she crossed the remaining distance to the desk, and calmly took the seat opposite her friend and Captain.  

 

"Protocol be burned then, Liss," she said, leaning back in her seat and adjusting to the weight of realisation and acceptance creeping through her mind. "You've seen the signs as well as I have - and you know as well as I that 'we must sacrifice what must be sacrificed to achieve this goal' - we can't wait for the politics to catch up, not when we know just how much of the Shadow is on the move. If they get their hands on that Seal..."

 

Lissinda cut her off with a lift of her chin. 

 

The two women locked eyes, agreement passing between them as directly and as silently as the acknowledgement of the fears they both shared.

'We were lucky to survive that onslaught... The next time we might not be as lucky...' Elessar's words shortly after the party had returned to the Tower echoed in Cal's mind.
 

"We can try," Calia promised her Captain. She stood to depart and inform her gaidin that they would need to pack, and she felt her determination flare. 

 

"I know Elessar has been just as keen as I have for our next 'adventure'." She said, only half-forcing the grin that followed.

 

●

 

Ebou Dar. It was going to be a long journey, Calia thought as they crossed over the River Erinin and onto the mainland.

 

First to Caemlyn, and then on to Lugard before crossing Altara to Ebou Dar. And, Calia considered, between those first two major cities would be Four Kings. Her original home, she mused, wondering what it might be like to stop there at the outset of this new 'adventure' with her new Warder. 

 

She caught the gaidin looking sideways at her upon her mare - a dappled grey this time - and she grinned, happy as ever to be on the road and path to chasing Shadows. The bond between the two of them had proven as strong as ever since returning from Saldaea, and they had learned more of each other with every passing day  - but there were still many unspoken truths between them, and still much to share, she hoped, with many leagues, and hopefully many more successful missions still ahead.

 

She laughed softly as Stormbreaker pranced and whinnied enthusiastically for the upteenth time, the dappled mare echoing his actions an instant later. The two animals were well-matched, it appeared, and both happy to be back on the road. Just like Elessar and herself. In fact, the enthusiasm amongst them all was almost palpable. Whatever the road ahead might bring, it was clear that each of them was keen to make the most of it. And, Calia knew, if and when Shadows crossed their path, Elessar and herself would stand ready. Whatever the Wheel willed, they would fight together with combined determination and strength, for every thread of Light they could secure to the pattern.

 

Because even if there were no beginnings nor endings to the Wheel of Time, every journey of Light had to start somewhere and the road ahead was, at least for them, a new beginning.

 

▀▄

[Elessar]

 

.. In the Shadow of Shayol Ghul  ..

►▼◄

 

Amaranth, the leader of the Chosen, walked silently onto the black slopes of Shayol Ghul.

 

His black cloak with the now black symbols running down the sleeves mirrored the Darkness of this place. Black clouds almost hid the sky and the mountain’s peak was cloaked in mist and black night. Releasing the One Power quickly, since it was dangerous to hold onto Saidin this close to the Pit of Doom, he started walking toward the opening in the rock some way in the distance. Thunder rolled as it always seemed to do in this place and flashes of lightning came from several directions at once in a way which should normally not have been possible. This place was, however, different, as he had experienced on his several visits. The ordinary laws of nature did not apply here. Striding through the deepening mists he tried to prepare himself for what was to come. He knew he would not be prepared, however. He would be overwhelmed. He was only mortal, after all. At least as far as this place was concerned.

 

The Myrddraal standing guard did not acknowledge him a he passed between them into the mountain proper. Black armoured with overlapping scales and with eyeless faces, they looked like any Fades though somehow they seemed a bit taller but that could just be this place altering his senses. Walking past he sensed, as always was the case, the air becoming a bit warmer, and the further he walked the warmer it became. After a while he felt the heat from ahead and tried to calm his senses knowing what awaited. The path slanted gradually downwards, the tunnel floor marked by the passage of feet over time. A dim light shone from crystals and minerals in the walls but Amaranth ignored them as he followed the downward-sloping corridor. As he neared his destination, the heat increased and jagged spikes hung down from the ceiling like pillars of warning, giving the impression that one was walking into a dangerous predator’s forbidden lair. The tunnel opened at last onto a wide ledge which stood above a lake of molten stone with dancing flames. Upward there was only a great hole that reached up the mountain into.. elsewhere ..

 

This was the Pit of Doom.

 

●

 

He felt the same awe that he had felt every single time he had been here, ever since that first time when he had pledged his soul to the Shadow and had taken the unbreakable Oath to his Great Lord. And fear, though he would not admit it to anyone. Here he sensed the Bore, the hole that had been drilled through to the Great Lord’s prison all those many years ago. Here he felt the Great Lord’s closeness to the world and beads of sweat now ran down his forehead and chin, and it was not only from the heat. He could not stop himself.

 

There was as always a soft hum in the air but he had never been able to pin point where it came from. It seemed to come from the rock itself. Time passed but he could not say how much. He ran a hand through his blond hair trying to calm himself but he could not keep the combination of excitement and fear away.

 

Suddenly the air around him.. shifted. There was no wind but reality altered if only slightly and the hairs on his back rose, goosebumps running down his arms.

 

His eyes widened, his stomach clenched and his mouth became as dry as dust..

 

Tears came unbidden to his eyes.. and he caught his breath..

 

AMARANTH

 

●

 

Pain and ecstasy co-mingled in his brain and it was like an explosion of awareness and emotion as the voice crashed through his head like an avalanche.

 

Every single hair on his body now stood on end and he did not know whether to shout endlessly in exultation or scream in horror.

 

ARE YOU LOYAL, AMARANTH.

 

With the almost cataclysmic emotions crashing through him, he was unable to breathe, never mind answer!

 

He was lost for a long moment.. but then with the greatest of effort he was able to partially collect himself to the extent that he was able to breathe again and see..

 

He fell to his knees, however and bowed his head in submission.

 

Tears ran unashamedly down his cheeks but a small flame of fire came to his eyes. Burning pools of red that slowly diminished.

 

“I am as ever your loyal Servant, Great Lord!” Amaranth said truthfully and with fervour. “You need never doubt my loyalty and work in Your honour!”

 

YES. YOU HAVE SERVED ME WELL. SO FAR.

 

Each word the Great Lord spoke struck him like a hammer blow but tinged with sweetness in that impossible combination which, however, reflected this place.

 

He could not keep the tears from flowing.

 

WHAT OF THE OTHERS, AMARANTH.

 

The Chosen gasped as pain struck him again, unable to look up from his crouching position on the rock.

 

“They are following their orders, Great Lord!” Amaranth replied, gasping, believing it for true. “So far they have shown they are to be trusted. They know the price of betrayal.”

 

●  

 

A long moment passed, an eternity for the Chosen.

 

He felt added pressure in his mind.. a pressure that increased as he started to scream..

 

..but then after a while it eased up, and Amaranth, hands trembling like leaves in wind, panted in relief.

 

He hated being this weak.

 

YES. THEY DO. WATCH THEM CAREFULLY, AMARANTH. I ENCOURAGE AMBITION IN MY CHOSEN AS YOU WELL KNOW, I VALUE STRENGTH AND INITIATIVE, BUT BETRAYAL WILL NEVER BE ACCEPTED.

 

The Chosen, almost lost in pain, tried to brush tears from his chin but his arms now felt too heavy, as if something was pinning them down. Breathing heavily now, he felt he was close to losing consciousness.

 

CHAOS MUST REIGN AS MY ENEMY GATHERS HIS FORCES. THIS WILL BE YOUR MAIN RESPONSIBILITY, AMARANTH. BE AN AGENT OF CHAOS.

 

“I will, my Great Lord!” Amaranth replied fervently, his voice almost a scream. “I will bring the world into Darkness as You command.”

 

A never-ending tempest, a storm of Ice and Fire, pain mixed with ecstasy, ran throughout his body and mind for that final second before he lost consciousness and blacked out.

 

●  

 

Delerihn Lehndre stood watching the plaza until the last soldiers had departed.

 

He saw another Raken in flight and also two To’raken, the larger cousins of the Raken who were not as fast or agile but stronger and could fly much longer distances without rest and carry heavier loads. Their primary purpose, he knew, was transportation of troops or cargo. These creatures were not native of Seanchan and he had his strong suspicions from where they originally came.

 

They had been a part of Seanchan fauna for as long as anyone could remember, however, the same as other animals like Grolm (large bear-like creatures of weight at least 300 pounds with three eyes), Lopar (the main combat animal of the Seanchan, large creatures of weight at least 1500 pounds with six toes on both front and rear paws, all with large retractable claws), and Torm (a cross between a horse-sized cat and a lizard, with bronze scales, six-clawed feet that can grip stones in a road, and three eyes; an intelligent creature). The Torm was the animal that impressed Delerihn the most. It was bright and could, it was said, come close to human levels in certain areas of problem solving, such as maze tests. It was fiercely loyal as well to the extent that it would only accept one rider and would not allow any other to mount.

 

Such loyalty should be rewarded, he thought with some amusement as he turned away from the plaza and re-entered his lavish apartment.

 

●  

 

Well inside he poured himself a drink and seated himself in his comfortable high-backed armchair. He had always preferred red wine and though this vintage was rather poor in his opinion it would have to do. Sipping from the wine glass he gazed at the parchments and maps which filled his desk and considered the information therein. The map of the large continent to the East interested him the most. Studying it carefully his mind drifted. Finally he set the wine glass aside. Glancing fondly at the figures and small marble statues on the shelves around his living room, many very rare items, he smiled. There was always something new to discover. Rising from the armchair he walked across to the tall mirror on the wall, the one that was heavily decorated with hawks in flight top and bottom, gazed at his reflection and then left closing the door behind him.

 

As he entered the Imperial Palace, walking between massive pillars of pure marble, up countless steps he came across several Sul’dam (Leash Holders) and Damane (Leashed Ones). Seanchan had long believed that women who could channel were far too dangerous to roam free in society. He had always found the practice of leashing women who could channel.. interesting. Amusing even. He was well familiar with the practice. Sul'dam controlled the Damane through the use of an a'dam, a special Ter'angreal that looked like a silver leash and bracelet. Using the a'dam, the Sul'dam could sense the thoughts and feelings of the Damane and also inflict pain or pleasure. If Damane tried to escape their a'dam, they would undergo severe pain and headaches that vanished when they stopped thinking of escaping. Most Damane were terrified of roaming free, having been brought up as leashed women which they found safe, and even the thought of Marath'damane - “those who must be leashed” - a term used in Seanchan for any woman who was able to channel the One Power but had not yet been leashed by an a'dam - terrified them.

 

Looking at the Damane walking behind the Sul’dam like a timid dog on a leash, Delerihn kept his opinions to himself though he was not entirely able to lose the small grin on his lips.

 

When he entered the first Hall of Visitors, the guards in their resplendent uniforms nodded to him out of respect.

 

For he was the man the Empress turned to for Truth in Seandar. He was a Soe'feia, a Truthspeaker, a so'jhin - an upper and particularly valued servant of the Empress - who served Seanchan Royalty by telling them the absolute truth of a situation as they saw it, no matter how painful or humiliating it might be. While many of the Blood called their Voice "Truthspeaker," few understood how much power they truly held. Since those owned by the Blood were so'jhin they could be punished, but a true Truthspeaker was required to tell the absolute truth and may not be punished for it. There were many truths to tell Ilahna Erem Sani Paendrag blessed of her name, the ruler of this proud and great nation. Also truths she may not be so happy to hear.

 

●  

 

The Imperial Palace was an enormous building built by Ogier stonemasons on several levels and it took him a long time to get to the Royal Reception Hall. More guards waited outside that huge chamber, these armed heavily and fiercer of eye, and he had to wait for permission to enter. Finally he was let through and was soon face to face with the Empress herself.

 

She was seated on the Crystal Throne which was, in fact, a great Ter'angreal that caused anyone who approached it to feel immense awe and wonder. Very few indeed were aware of this fact but Delerihn was one of the few who knew. It amused him, though he never let the Empress know that he had the knowledge.

 

“Delerihn, there you are”, said the Seanchan ruler as he bowed low before her. She was a short woman of dark complexion with large brown eyes and a bald shaved head in the ancient tradition of the Seanchan Imperial Family. All her fingernails were also lacquered which furthermore showed her high station. She wore three huge earrings in each ear and a necklace with a diamond sapphire of prominent size. Her eyes were those of a hawk.

 

“Empress”, he responded smoothly as he always did, “I am Yours to command.”

 

She gave him a shrewd look as she added, as she did every time they met, “And what truth do you have for me today?”

 

●  

 

Seating himself in the provided chair on a level below the Empress, the Truthspeaker smiled. His eyes glinted.

 

“Some truths come when least expected, Empress. Some truths will not find favour.”

 

“I know this, Truthspeaker”, the Seanchan ruler replied a little impatiently, her eyes narrowing. “Speak your mind.”

 

“The truth has come to me.” He said, looking slightly past her as was custom. “The decision to broaden your Empire was a wise one, Empress.” He waited a few seconds before adding, “The Star and Moon smile upon you in favour.”

 

“Oh really?” She replied, her mouth not smiling. “Do you see any more let’s say practical truths?”

 

“Empress, truths must be interpreted.” His voice was serious though his eyes had a shrewd edge now. “I can say though that the Winds do favour an all-out strike in the East.”

 

“Thank you, Truthspeaker”, the Empress finally replied, eying him in that way she often did, with appreciation but also with some suspicion that he was not telling the whole truth.

 

He bowed from his seated position but showed no inclination to leave.

 

The Empress’ eyebrows rose questioningly. “You have more truths for me?” It was not a question.

 

“Yes, Empress.” The Truthspeaker replied. He seemed to hestitate before speaking on but finally he did. “I am sorry to say, but one of your Generals in the East will betray you.”

 

“Is that so?” said the Empress, her look even shrewder. “And who may this.. untrustworthy General be?”

 

●  

 

When he left the Empress and the Imperial Palace behind, Delerihn Lehndre headed back to his apartment, walking quickly across the plaza, into the adjacent building and up to his room.

 

Closing the door behind him, he stopped for a moment to gaze at the huge painting on the wall. He had often studied that painting with interest. It depicted a defining moment in Seanchan history or, as some thought, myth and legend, when Luthair Paendrag Mondwin, the son of the infamous Artur Hawkwing (or Artur Paendrag Tanreall as was his real name, who created an Empire in the East) came ashore to this land in the West in his resplendent ship at the head of a fleet sent by his father. They unified the continent and created the Seanchan Empire, in time, through conquest (called ‘The Conquest’ or ‘The Consolidation’ by the Seanchan people).

 

What is truth and what is not? That is always the question, Delerihn thought with great amusement.

 

Gazing down at the blue gemstone on his ring finger, he grinned widely. As he embraced the One Power, feeling the glory of the avalanche that was Saidin rushing through him, amplified by the Angreal that was the ancient gemstone, the false Truthspeaker of the Seanchan felt the Fire within.

 

Channeling Saidin, through the weave known in the Age of Legends as the Mask of Mirrors, his face changed gradually in the reflection of the mirror on the wall, from a middle-aged Seanchan man, a so'jhin with the half-shaved head but otherwise ordinary looking, to a medium tall, heavy-set man of dark complexion with short black hair and deep brown eyes in his late twenties. Looking at his real image reflected he nodded in satisfaction.

 

Turning away from the mirror, he sat down in his armchair and closed his eyes. All was proceeding nicely. All was going according to plan. The real Delerihn Lehndre had departed this earth many months before, killed and buried where he would never be found. And the Seanchan were off to war in the East; his whispers in the Empress’ ears over several weeks had convinced her of the soundness and wisdom of his suggestions.

 

Now he had also planted a seed of doubt and confusion with his false accusation of one of the Seanchan Generals on the fleet heading eastward, adding some chaos to the coming war.

 

The Great Lord would be pleased.

 

The Chosen who had once been called Ildahr Nenth Rinahmon smiled broadly. He had taken a new name during the War of Power, a name borne of Change and Glory.

 

Kalessin

 

●  

 

The proud and stately banner of Andor, with a resplendent White Lion rampant on a Field of Red, rippled strongly in the wind above the city-gates of Caemlyn, as Calia and Elessar passed through the gates and rode into the Andoran Capital.

 

Stormbreaker whinnied happily as he stepped onto the cobblestone streets of the city and started prancing. Elessar almost laughed, grinning widely, as he gave the stallion an affectionate pat on the back, whispering words of encouragement. They were valiant companions on the road and in war, the two of them, and had been for many years. They understood one another perfectly.

 

It was late in the afternoon and clouds had blanketed the sky from early dawn. They had ridden many miles through Andor and now had begun to feel saddle soreness and aching backs and so were looking forward to a few days’ respite in Caemlyn. They needed a refill of provisions and some rest.

 

As they rode slowly along the city-streets among the buzzing crowds, passing merchants and shops, local folk and travellers as well as city-guards patrolling the streets, Elessar was reminded of his previous visits to this city and of Andor’s colourful past. Andor was, in fact, one of the oldest nations in the world, founded during the War of the Hundred Years. Many of Andor's traditions were established during those early years. Unlike many nobles of the time, Queen Ishara, Andor's first ruler, had realized that no one ruler would be able to take control of Hawkwing's entire empire. Instead, she had focused on controlling only what she could. As a result, Andor began only with the Capital city of Caemlyn and the small surrounding villages. Cautious expansion had marked the reigns of the early queens of Andor.

 

Caemlyn

 

A majestic city, second in beauty only to Tar Valon in many people’s eyes. Elessar could not disagree. He had been here several times in the past on White Tower missions with his former bondholders and the city had never failed to impress him. Historically Caemlyn had been made up of two cities; the New City and the Inner City. The New City, less than two thousand years old, had been constructed by men, surrounding but largely to the north of the Inner City. The ancient Inner City, however, in which sat the magnificent Andoran Royal Palace, seat of government for Andor, had been constructed by Ogier - expert stonemasons - much earlier on the hills.

 

Thick walls had encircled Caemlyn for years beyond knowing, keeping intruders and enemies out, protecting its denizens and its interests. Power in Andor lay in its Capital. Whoever held Caemlyn ruled Andor. And only Queens rule this great nation, the Warder thought to himself, recalling Andoran tradition. Only a woman, a Queen, may sit on the Lion Throne.

 

●  

 

The Sea Folk Raker sped through the blue-green Seas of the Aryth Ocean.

 

They were on a southward course but were still some ways north-west of the mainland which locals called Falme. Carah din Toral Rising Wave, Sailmistress of the Oceanfold, studied the sea charts in front of her wondering how far south they were supposed to go. She was alone in her cabin and the sun had set outside.

 

Go south, they tell me. But how far south?

 

She had been as far south as Tanchico on the south-western part of the mainland once but it was not very common for Sea Folk ships to be that far south. Would she be asked to go that far? The enemy would be coming from the west so she did not want to place her ship too far away from the centre of battle. But she had to follow orders, and so they were speeding south as quickly as possible.

 

Putting the charts aside, she got up and went out on deck, closing the door to her cabin behind her. The wind had picked up in the last hour or two but it came from the south and so the ship faced headwind for the next stretch of their journey. Her Windfinder needed to use more force to keep them running smoothly in the water but she was experienced, the Sailmistress knew, and would act accordingly. She watched with satisfaction as the other sailors moved ably and efficiently around on deck doing their duties. She had always run a tight ship, in every way - and her crew knew it well.

 

●  

 

Taeda din Varede Four Moons, the Mistress of the Ships and ruler of the Atha’an Miere, stared forcefully at the Sailmistress. Carah did not frighten easily, but this woman made her weary. It had always been so. Taeda had 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.

 

Forceful, was indeed the word most Wavemistresses and Sailmistresses used to describe her.

 

And she had embraced it to the fullest.

 

“You are to sail to Tanchico.” Taeda din Varede Four Moons repeated in a cold voice. “And stay there!”

 

The command was clear but it left a sour aftertaste in the Sailmistress’ mouth. Stationed that far south, and in dock, she would miss all the action!! She had said as much, trying to be polite but her anger shining through. The Mistress of the Ships was not amused.

 

“Follow my orders, Carah”, she said, her voice hard, beginning to lose patience, “or I will string you up like the deckhand you once were and strip you of all your titles!”

 

The Sailmistress blanched, her face going an unnatural pale, but even so her eyes remained fierce.

 

“Just as long as I get to fight the enemy on the open seas.” She replied at last, her voice meek-ish. “I am no good to anyone on land like a flaming Ranoya; none of us are.”

 

The Mistress of the Ships stared long and hard at her Sailmistress before she answered. Carah was one of the most capable Sailmistresses around, she knew; one who might one day become a Wavemistress. But she could be stubborn and could not be allowed to disobey orders. Seated across from her in the Sailmistress’ cabin, the leader of the Atha’an Miere tapped her fingers on the small table while she was thinking, her fingernails making a distinct sound on the wood. Finally she made up her mind.

 

“Fine”. She said, her voice still cold, though her eyes lost their hard edge. “You will get into the action when it comes, I promise. But for now, sail straight for Tanchico and stay there until further orders.”

 

The Sailmistress bowed in acknowledgement and obeisance, her hand touching her lips in their traditional fashion. Inside, a small smile was slowly blossoming.

 

The Mistress of the Ships sighed inwardly, wishing she could divulge more information,  and thought, what must be, must be.

 

●  

 

The nation of Ghealdan stretched from the Great Blackwood, along the southern banks of the River Manetherendrelle, to the River Eldar in the south, and from the Mountains of Mist in the west to the immense ridge known as Garen's Wall in the east. Its Capital city was Jehannah, located on the banks of the River Boern. Ghealdan was a land of mountains and foothills in the west, the rocky lands along the ridge in the east, and large swathes of forest in between, such as the Dhallin Forest. Though one of the smallest Kingdoms, Ghealdan was a proud one and none more so than its current ruler and King, Anthard Ramat Legarin.

 

He was advised by the Crown High Council, which consisted of lords and merchants, at least formally, but in truth he made most decisions on his own, at least most of the time, aided by his close advisors. He thought it only right. He was the King after all. And those old fools on the Crown High Council were just interested in intrigues and political gain anyway, they did not care much for ruling the nation.

 

King Anthard was in his early fifties and his once dark brown hair had streaks of grey now. His physical strength was weaker and his body fatter than it had once been as well and his face more worn. Even so he had a warm smile that won over any doubters and he had a good head on his shoulders. At least he was convinced of that himself. He chuckled as he walked down the corridor to his private chambers in the Royal Palace. He had had a great idea which he knew would infuriate the Council. He would triple the size of the Legion of the Wall! His grin grew as he anticipated the lords’ and merchants’ reaction to this bold new move.

 

Oh they will hate it, for sure! he thought with glee.

 

●

 

As a small country, Ghealdan did not possess a substantial standing army. Instead it had a small, professional force - the Legion - which protected the borders, policed Jehannah, and protected the ruler. In times of war the Legion formed the core of the Ghealdanin war effort and trained new levies to support its operations. In recent years the Legion had become less and less effective, however, since the Council in their endless wisdom had decided that the money could be better spent elsewhere in these peaceful times and the King though opposed had been advised to not push the matter.

 

Now chaos was erupting many places according to the secret reports he received from his agents domestically and abroad and there would be need for a bigger Legion. He did not feel confident the Council would agree though, he knew they would call it  unsubstantiated rumours and would argue and stall the whole matter for months if they had their way, and so he was taking matters into his own hands. The thought excited him. Finally he would take the initiative and damn them if they didn’t like it!

 

Stepping into his private chambers, he immediately sensed that he was not alone. He did not see anyone there as he closed the door behind him but he felt eyes on him. Turning full circle his eyes searched for the intruder. His good mood was slowly evaporating but he did not feel any fear. No one who would want to harm the King would be allowed into the Palace, never mind his private room. It was probably his boy, Prince Kynric, who was hiding somewhere in the chamber. He had been told many times that he was not allowed in here, but telling a boy of eight such a thing only made him even more eager to try.

 

●

 

Sighing to himself, he looked more closely toward the wardrobe at the end of the room by the southern wall, thinking that that was the most probable hiding place for the boy.

 

“Alright Kynric”, he finally said with exasperation. “How many times have I told you not to come in here?”

 

His statement was met with dead silence.

 

“Alright, come out now”, the King demanded in a louder voice, tired of playing this game.

 

Still there was only silence.

 

Behind him though he suddenly sensed.. something.. there was no sound but more a feeling..

 

..turning ever so slowly, the hairs on his neck rising, now sensing true danger for the first time, he just had a moment to realize that there was a creature of great size by the huge writing table on the left side of the room before the Darkhound, darker than night, eyes shining silver, and double the size of a wolf, leapt at him and sank its poisonous corrosive saliva-dripping jaws into his neck, ripping out his throat in a pool of blood and gore!

 

The King’s last bewildered thought before he descended into eternal blackness was that now he would never be able to increase the size of the Legion of the Wall after all.

 

●  

 

Sandana looked up at her Papa and pouted. “Why can’t I play with it anymore?”

 

She sat beside his armchair playing with her beautiful blonde-haired doll. The one her father had bought for her in a market some years before. The one she had treasured ever since.

 

“You cannot, sweetheart.” Argam replied, smiling down at his beautiful daughter. He knew exactly what “it” she was referring to. “It is too dangerous.”

 

Sandana had been afraid of the strange object, her former favourite, since it had started to glow and become warm some weeks before. But as time had gone by her curiosity, the great curiosity of a child, had returned and hear fear had been overcome. She wanted to play with it again.. to make it shine.

 

“Yes, but Papa…” she began.

 

“No, sweetheart.” He said, his voice kind but firm. “We don’t know what it is or what harm it can do. Play with your doll and your other toys.”

 

Miffed, such as a 7-year old can be given the right circumstances (and this must be experienced), she looked away, a frown on her face, and thought how unfair the world was.

 

●  

 

It was the following early evening, just as the sun was setting, that there came a knock on their door.

 

Argam looked with surprise toward the door since they did not expect any visitors. Nor was it common for anyone to visit them here at their farm. Could it be their neighbour, for a change? He did not live near but was the closest in this region. Telling his daughter to retreat to her room, he went carefully toward the door and opened it slowly.

 

Outside stood an old woman in a slightly bent posture with grey hair, a wrinkled face and crooked front teeth. She wore a thick hooded cloak and carried a sack on her back which was filled with wood.

 

“I have come as you called”, she said in an old and somewhat feeble voice. Her eyes were grey-green but intense, he noticed. He looked strangely back at her, his eyes questioning.

 

“Called?” He enquired with a frown. “I have not called you, old lady.”

 

“Lady, huh?” She chuckled. “No one has called me that for a long time.” Her eyes lit up. “But you did call me - and here I am.”

 

A baffled expression came upon the man’s face as he looked outside to see if anyone else was about. The old woman seemed to be alone though.

 

“Are you selling wood?” He tried, staring at what she was carrying.

 

“Oh this?” She replied with an almost toothless grin. “No, this is for you. As payment.”

 

“Payment?” Argam shook his head. Was this old woman out of her mind? “Payment for what?”

 

“Payment for the Karanth, of course.” She grinned and there was a gleam in her eyes.

 

“Karanth?” Argam had no idea what she was talking about and was going to ask her to leave when, to his great surprise, he instead asked her to join him inside. The old lady thanked him and followed him.

 

Well inside, she turned toward him and set the sack of wood aside.

 

“Yes, the Karanth you have kept in your family for generations.” She explained. “You have kept it honourably and safely for this day when I come to collect.”

 

Argam was still baffled. He half-turned toward his daughter’s bedroom but quickly turned back. This was all so confusing. Who was the old lady!? Was this all real? Then suddenly an idea took root. The object! Did she mean the strange object? Was she here to take it away?

 

Before he was able to consider his options, he found that he had fetched the object from where it had been hidden, the family heirloom, and had handed it to the old lady. What surprised him even more, was that he felt grateful that she would take this object and lift the burden from him.

 

He was so pleased.

 

●  

 

“Papa”, Sandana whispered as she closed her bedroom door and walked softly toward him. “Is everything alright?”

 

She looked wide-eyed up at the old lady, curiosity mixed with fear. Holding safely onto her father, she stared at the circular object which the old lady was now holding.

 

The old woman saw her gaze and with a small smile produced a big Red apple from her sack. “Child, here is something for you.” She handed her the apple which looked very delicious.

 

Argam smiled at the graciousness of this strange old lady who even showed kindness toward a child she did not know. Sandana took the big red apple carefully in her small hands, looking at it fondly, knowing it would be very tasty.

 

When the old lady focused on the strange hand-sized circular object again, touching reverently its symbols and dark brown surface, Argam felt obliged to talk about it.

 

“Do you know what it is?” He asked questioningly. “We have no idea. It suddenly started glowing a few weeks back and became warm to the touch. It frightened my daughter.”

 

“My family has kept it safe for generations”, he added proudly, “not knowing what it was but understanding it has value.”

 

“Oh yes, it has value for certain”, the old lady replied, her eyes glittering “And your family deserves gratitude for keeping it safe all these years.”

 

The gratitude increased his happiness and he felt a tear run down his chin.

 

“I will take it with me”, the old lady said kindly, “and keep it safe from now on. You no longer have to be its caretakers. The burden passes to me.”

 

●  

 

Argam thanked her several times, happy at last to be rid of the burden. Holding Sandana’s hand tightly, he watched as she walked away, the object now placed in her empty sack, and was soon lost from sight.

 

It was only much later that night when he gradually came out of his daze, as he later came to think of it, that he wondered why he had so easily let the strange old lady take his family heirloom away, the object which he no longer could recall the name of, and why he had been so grateful to her for doing so.

 

●

 

Just before going to bed that night, with the Moonlight shining down on her in silver slivers through the bedroom window, and with the howling of wolves in the far distance mingled with echoes of subtle laughter, Sandana took a big bite out of the big delicious-looking Red apple!

 

●  

 

Elessar had suggested they stay at the “White Lion inn” in central Caemlyn and Calia had agreed. He had stayed there on previous visits and it was a clean and decent inn with friendly-to-Aes Sedai owners. They were heading in that direction, passing one of the city’s plazas with several great monuments and beautiful fountains, when Elessar noticed a dark-haired woman standing at a street corner. He did not know why she in particular caught his eye, there was nothing extraordinary about her or the way she was dressed, but he did notice her and the image stayed in his mind as they rode onwards. She is probably some Noblewoman or other, he thought to himself, but she sure had been strikingly beautiful.

 

When they finally arrived outside the establishment, they dismounted and the Warder brought their horses to the stable behind the inn. A lanky young stable boy, blond of hair with a face that perpetually grinned, smiled broadly when Elessar threw him a copper coin and told him to take very good care of their horses. Stormbreaker was still a little frisky and so Elessar whispered some calming words in his ear. He did not expect his mount to bite the stable boy, the black war horse was usually even-tempered, but the horse sometimes became a bit excited, it had been bred for war after all, and for strangers it could be prudent to stay alert.

 

Joining his bondholder near the front entrance to the inn, beneath a hanging sign which depicted a white lion in stride, he followed her inside, carrying all their saddle bags. They were quickly met by a beaming innkeeper, a local man with a big smile and a large girth wearing an apron who claimed to remember Elessar from previous visits (which might be true or not true but either way pleased the Warder) and they were swiftly shown to their rooms up on the second floor.

 

The Gaidin made sure his Aes Sedai was well settled in her room and then went to his own room, slightly smaller, next door and closed the door behind him. He placed the saddle bag in the corner, took off his travelling cloak and travelling boots, and then lay down on the bed closing his eyes for a moment.

 

●  

 

That evening they met up for a meal in the Common Room.

 

It was nearly full but they found an available table near the back. Sitting opposite Calia, Elessar’s gaze swept over the room and took notice of every single detail in the way of alert Warders. The pretty and voluptuous redhead serving girl off to the side flirting with a grinning customer, the innkeeper running around between guests while trying to keep an eye on everything, the locals sipping wine and ale near the stage where a gleeman was playing the flute, the foreign travellers by the look of them gathered further back drinking quite heavily and chatting amicably, and the two bouncers standing beside the entrance, heavy set muscled no-nonsense guys ready to intervene at any sign of trouble. Elessar did not think there would be trouble this night though some of the guests present were quite loud, but things could get out of hand so it was wise to be prepared.

 

They ordered some food and drink and waited until the pretty redhead serving girl returned. She winked at Elessar before she left. Sipping to his ale, the Gaidin listened to the gleeman, a short man in his late thirties with blond hair and a decent voice, tell the amusing tale of a lustful court bard who had an eye for married women. It seemed to be a local favourite because he got lots of applause when he was finished, many near the front banging their tables in appreciation. As he ate his meal, enjoying a steak with roasted potatoes, gravy and some local vegetables, Elessar thought about his previous visits to this city. Last time with Myrrhi, his former bondholder. And he thought about Old Celter. He would have to tell Calia about him some day. The story would for sure make her smile.

 

When they had finished their meal, they talked a little about their journey from Tar Valon. They had not talked much while riding hard, wanting to get to Caemlyn as soon as possible, and had only rested when absolutely necessary. They were quite weary and looked forward to the couple of days here in the Andoran Capital before moving on southwards.

 

First though, Elessar wanted to enjoy another poem and song by this gleeman, and when the blond man a little later spun his tale of a Lost Prince and a Maiden, the Warder listened eagerly and attentively with a smile on his face.

 

Elessar was soon lost in the echoes of Legends and Fairytales.

 

 

●  

 

►▼◄

 

‘Ballad of the Lost Prince’

 

A Prince he Was, with duties Clear

In Castle Great, there was no Fear

He would not follow King’s Decree

Or from the Land could swiftly Flee

 

For our dear Prince a Love had Found

A Maiden sweet, not Royal-Bound

And so abscond, seemed only Choice

He left his Life, Love oh ’Rejoice!

 

The King sent soldiers, searching Far

But found no Prince, ‘neath Heaven or Star

Where could he be? The Prince was Lost

In Land and Time, and borders Crossed

 

But then Afar, a rumour Grew

That Prince and Maiden, people Knew

Were living in a village Small

There hidden from the Royal Call

 

The King sent soldiers there to Find

His Son and Heir, his Oath to Bind

The Prince, however, ran Anew

Was Lost again, where? no one Knew

 

Years they passed, no Prince was Seen

As if the Heir had never Been

The King gave up, the Queen’s tears Flowed

Duty to King and country was Owed

 

But then one day, a visitor Came

He looked familiar, but said not his Name

A farmer of Trade, he had Produce to Sell

And insisted the King should buy as Well

 

And lo and behold, it was their Son!

Come back from Beyond, their eyes to Stun

Embraced he had, new Life and Love

Forsaking his Past, taking solace from Above

 

The King and Queen were shocked but in Joy

Their son was alive, now a man, not a Boy

Forgiven was the Past, now a time to be Glad

And meeting his Wife, a new family to be Had

 

►▲◄

 

▀▄

[Cass]

'How many years has it been since I first saw Caemlyn?' Calia wondered as her nation's shining capital came into view, bright against the clouds that had blanketed the sky from early dawn. 'One hundred? A little more?'

 

'Definitely more,' she thought with the twist of a smile, gazing ahead intently at the sparkling white stone walls of the Inner City. The glittering domes and towers that crowned the hill tugged at her heartstrings, as they always did, drawing her mind back to that earliest core memory, that first adventure into the city with her father and brothers...

 

"Happy name-day, and in you get, little Cali-scamp!" her Da's beard had tickled her cheek as he'd swung her up to kiss her forehead and set her gently into the back of the empty ale wagon.

 

Joesh and Shem waited in their usual places near the front, mirror images of each other rugged up under the large, green, woolen blanket Ma's Ma had spun the year before, blue eyes wide, their breath making little clouds in the morning air in front of them as they waited for her. Grinning from ear-to-ear at her arrival, they opened up the blanket and welcomed her into the warmth of its folds. Joesh ruffled the top of her head for good measure as she wriggled excitedly into place between them, ecstatic to finally be old enough to tag along...

 

It had seemed to take forever and a day to reach the great city, but before she knew it, she was kneeling on the bench seat and staring wide-eyed at that city landscape that shone like nothing she'd seen before, and like everything she'd ever heard in the gleemen's tales - the gleaming white wall and towers shining crisp and majestic in the cold, mid-morning blue of the pre-Winter sky.

 

"You're going to catch flies if you keep your mouth wide open like that, lil' Cal!" Shem had joked at her gaping - but she didn't care, and she didn't stop to hide her awe! She had never seen anything so beautiful! Until, of course, the name-day gift her father presented her with from the markets there later that day...

 

Absently, Calia toyed with the small silver charm at her wrist, the twist of a smile spreading properly over her lips now, her blue eyes sparkling in her ageless face. 'Yes, a hundred years and then a few,' she thought, '- and I doubt I'll ever forget!'

 

●  

 

 

Stormbreaker whinnied and pranced as he finally stepped onto the cobbled streets of the capital, and Cal's dappled grey followed suit moments later with a dance and a whinny of her own. Calia smiled and spared a grin for Elessar, who was in the middle of giving his stallion an affectionate pat. She couldn't help but share the horses' exuberance - Caemlyn was a city of vibrant energy and bustling streets, of blended human and Ogier craftsmanship and a tapestry of people, traditions and histories that always drew her in - the resplendent White Lion waving on flags of red here and there, and the Royal Palace shining above them all.

 

●  

 

The 'White Lion' stood where it always had, a short distance past a central city plaza bustling with a mix of people, fountains and monuments. Calia watched in appreciation as Elessar handled both of their bags, and the large innkeeper who had a smile that nearly matched his wide girth. Her gaidin handled all of the tasks with the easy grace of a seasoned traveller and warrior, and for that, Calia was grateful. 

 

She was tired. Their 'adventure' was serious enough that neither Elessar nor herself had wanted to slow down for those first couple of days, but the gravity of the situation sat in Calia's belly like sour stomped grapes, and had kept her mind racing at night. She didn't know if it was exhilaration of a new mission or the gravity of the task itself that had kept her awake, but she knew they had to find the seal first. They had to. 

 

The first thing Calia did on arrival to her rooms was to strip off her travel clothes and send them for cleaning. The second was to soak her own skin in a blessedly hot tub. The third was to take a nap.

 

She awoke to the long-ago familiar seeping of bustling, busy, dinner-time common room sounds up through the floorboards and grinned, remembering the many, many evenings her and Kaylan had waited for just that level of noise to make their entries into the Common Room of Da's Inn and wreak their mischief. Smothering her grin, she checked her hair in the looking glass, dressed herself appropriately, as befit an Aes Sedai, in a green silk blouse and breeches, and headed downstairs to eat dinner with her gaidin.

 

Calia watched Elessar's face as he ate his steak, potatoes, vegetables and gravy. She wondered at the tweak to the corners of his mouth at times, trying to decipher if he was thinking a current thought, retrieving a memory or enjoying the Gleeman's tale, as she was. She smiled to herself as she finished up the last of her meal, and enjoyed their comfortable silence for a while before talking some about the trip from Tar Valon. Despite the travel weariness upon her, and the gravity of the task ahead, Calia enjoyed discussing these thoughts with her Warder.

 

For a moment she wondered if they would spend part of their stay here talking about the rest of their plans forward. Would they pass through Four Kings? Did she want to go? How much did Elessar know - or want to know - about her past? The thoughts floated by idly in her mind. And then, as she watched her Gaidin's face light up attentively as the Gleeman spun a tale of the Lost Prince, her own thoughts slipped into the Legends and Fairytales of the 'Ballad of the Lost Prince' too - Light willing, they would have plenty of time to talk about anything and everything tomorrow and over the next couple of days; for now though, she was simply glad to have her bonded, enjoying Life, by her side. 

 

 

▀▄

Edited February 6 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. The Daughter of the Nine Moons  ..

►▼◄

 

Keyraa Erem Sani ne Paendrag, the Daughter of the Nine Moons and heiress to the glorious Seanchan Empire, stood with feet planted steadily on deck as the Seanchan warship flew across the waves of the Aryth Ocean into the East.

 

She was a woman of below medium height, slim of figure, but bore herself with authority. Her personal banner with three golden leopards harnessed to an ancient war-cart stood beside her, gently moving in the sea breeze.

 

Behind the war vessel came the rest of the ships in this massive fleet, a hundred vessels or so, and high above in the sapphire-blue sky Raken and To’raken flew parallel with the fleet. A strong wind blew steadily in her face as she studied the horizon for land. She knew it was days yet before they would make landfall, but she watched expectantly even so, curious to see the lands stolen from her ancestors.

 

Like all Seanchan nobility she believed those lands had been stolen from Artur Hawkwing’s descendants and now they were going to reclaim them. The Corenne, the ‘Return’, the Empress had called this vital war-mission, and it was led by the Daughter of the Nine Moons and, under her, Captain-General Meiahl Kereb. He was a tall man with his white hair in a crest, its tail plaited to his shoulders. He had a creased face and green eyes, stern features and his fingernails were lacquered black. He was a brilliant battle-commander of many years and he was utterly loyal to the Royal Family.

 

Keyraa shifted her gaze to her Captain-General and wondered if he would react badly to the additional orders she would give him later. Any battle commander needed to be able to improvise whenever necessary but she knew that Meiahl was ‘old school’ and liked to follow the strategy he had devised and gotten approval for. He will have to cope, she thought to herself as she walked down to the lower deck, passing dozen upon dozen of armed soldiers and their platoon leaders whose watchful eyes noticed everything, to stand beside one of the Sul’dam.

 

●

 

The dark-haired woman was of average height and with high cheekbones in a face which was handsome rather than beautiful. Her eyes were light brown with a touch of grey in them and they were smiling now. The Damane prostrated herself on the deck, face down and arms stretched out, in respect of the Leader of The Corenne. Keyraa looked down at the short-haired woman, dressed in the traditional clothes of the Leashed Ones, and frowned. Commanding her to stand up she waited as the Damane got to her feet with a frightened look.

 

“Don’t be afraid, Lolla”, her Sul’dam said kindly patting her on the head as if she were a pet. “You will not be harmed.” The woman nodded though her pale blue eyes still looked terrified. “Indeed”, the Daughter of the Nine Moons said earnestly. Her shaved bald head nodded softly as she studied the Damane. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

 

Her right hand touched the woman’s cheek tenderly, her red-lacquered fingernails glinting in the afternoon sunlight. The colour of her eyes had always been a matter of some discussion in Royalty Circles in Seanchan. For while her right eye was dark brown, her left was green the colour of emerald. It gave her an exotic look, something unique which most believed befitted a future Empress of Seanchan. The Sul’dam preferred not to look at those eyes and focused on a point some place to the left of the Daughter of the Nine Moon’s face. The Damane looked anywhere but at Keyraa’s face. “You are pretty if the dirt is removed from your face”, Keyraa mumbled, then faced the Sul’dam again. “You are ensuring Lolla is well fed?” She did not wait for an answer. “It is important that she has her strength when we go ashore.” Her eyes intensified. “We are sure to meet some resistance.”

 

“She will be ready, I promise, Highness”, the Sul’dam responded, trying to keep the fear she felt from her voice. She always felt uncomfortable before this powerful woman with the strange eyes. “You need have no doubt.” Keyraa stared at her for a long moment before nodding softly. “For your sake”, she added in a colder voice, “it better be true.” The Sul’dam bowed low in the Seanchan fashion and the Damane prostrated herself on the deck as before.

 

Shifting her gaze to the twelve other Sul’dam-Damane pairs on board this war vessel who stood assembled together in one corner of the lower deck, the Daughter of the Nine Moons smiled cunningly inside. Though the lowest of the low in Seanchan society, ranked below even common house slaves and, in reality, akin to animals, these.. creatures are what’s going to win us this war, Keyraa thought to herself with confidence as she walked determinedly up to the deck above and across to the Captain-General. He bowed low to her and avoided her face, gazing instead at her colourful dress in many different patterns which was of the most expensive silk. The Sei’jin necklace she wore was worth more than he would earn in a lifetime, he knew, but it did not really bother him. It was the natural order of things.

 

“We have a matter to discuss, Captain-General”, said the Daughter of the Nine Moons smoothly. Her eyes glittered, the dark brown and emerald green colours blending almost as if in revelation.

 

●

 

Serehstra Aes Sedai, dressed in a pale red dress with a crimson overcoat and a Red shawl, walked the busy streets of Ebou Dar on a late morning, almost gliding along in the way of women of the White Tower, her face smooth but her emotions on fire. People moved out of her way, seeing the hardness in her blue eyes even if her ageless face, framed by her light brown long hair, showed nothing. They wanted nothing to do with Aes Sedai or their business. This suited Serehstra well, and it cleared her path whenever she had business in the city.

 

She had arrived in the Altaran Capital several days earlier, on secret Ajah business, and had settled in an inn near the harbour that was run by a woman. Gazing through the room window on the second floor of the Southern Queen inn she had observed the many ships assembling in the Ebou Dari harbour. Her contact had not arrived yet but that did not trouble her. The woman would be here soon, of that the Aes Sedai had no doubt. No, what troubled her was something else entirely.

 

And so she was now on her way to see the Eyes and Ears for the Red Ajah in the city because she needed to know if the rumours she had heard were true. That Darkfriends had infiltrated several Noble Houses in her homeland Cairhien! She had not been there for decades, her work as a Sister taking up all her time, but the thought that filthy followers of the Dark One could be spreading their evil filth there made her stomach turn. And that blasted Voreyna!, the Tower’s representative in the Tarasin Palace, had told her nothing, staring coldly at her when she had asked if she knew anything. Too proud that one, she thought frowning, then dismissed the Gray Sister, thirty years her junior and far less able, from her mind.

 

Now she hoped the Red Ajah network had ‘sussed out’ something of what was going on. Passing a local merchant man in Ebou Dari attire, strong of build but clearly simple of mind, who stared at her a little too long for her comfort and who got a very icy look back, she entered a flower shop and shut the door behind her. Stepping up to the empty counter she rang a bell and waited. Flowers of all kinds and all colours were assembled around the room and her eyes fastened on some red tulips high in the shop window. Then she turned as the shopkeeper arrived. A middle-aged Ebou Dari woman, somewhat stout, dark-haired with deep brown eyes and a somewhat pouty mouth, she bowed respectfully when she saw that her customer was an Aes Sedai.

 

“How may I be of assistance, Aes Sedai?” The Shopkeeper inquired politely. She glanced quickly at the Red shawl around the Sister’s shoulders and then back at her ageless face.

 

“I am looking for a particular flower”, the Red Sister said smoothly, her eyes glittering. “It is not easy to get hold of, but I hoped you might be able to help me.”

 

“It is called Alstroemeria.”                                                                                              

 

  ●

 

Carah din Toral Rising Wave stood on the Quarterdeck of her vessel Oceanfold gazing into the far horizon. The sun had just set but there were still echoes of fire-red in the sky. Her Windfinder, Morin din Rubai Blue Wing, turned for a moment to stare upwards at her Sailmistress. She had served this woman for many years and intended to do so for many more, presuming they survived this season of war. For war was coming. Morin could feel it in her bones.

 

Turning back to stare at the blue-green ocean waves, framed in reflections of pale red far ahead, she adjusted some of her Saidar-wrought weaves so the ship would flow more smoothly through the sea. Her tattooed hands moved softly in the air as she channeled, as if in a dance, the painted stars and seabirds seeming to flow through the curls and whirls of the stylized waves. She was humming as well, a song she always remembered from her childhood, a lullaby from a past long gone. The large triangular sail carried the wind as they flew through the waves, flapping slightly in tune with the ship’s movement. The smaller white squared sails mimicked the movement, making a swishing sound in the air.

 

The Windfinder smiled inside. They were making good time and Carah would be pleased.

 

  ●

 

When she had the dream the first time, Morin did not pay it any heed. She had often thought of her now dead mother - blessed be her soul - in the ten or so years since she had passed on, so it was not strange at all that she would appear in the Windfinder’s dream. But when it happened four nights in a row, Morin wondered.

 

What also struck her as strange, was that though her mother looked the same, she acted.. differently than she had in real life. Weaker. More filled with doubt. Morin had had dreams before of friends who acted strangely too, but somehow she believed her mother would be as she remembered her also in dreams. A strong character. A defiant one. Meeting her mother therefore became an ambivalent experience, filled with joy but also with some weariness.

 

Was this her mind twisting her memory of her mother?

 

Every time she woke after one of these dreams, she was sweating and felt an ache in her head, and it always took some time before her body settled.

 

What made her very uncertain and weary was also the message her mother always had.

 

Do not trust anyone. You are being deceived. The Coramoor will bring our people Doom.

 

Morin had always believed in Omens. And this was a very troubling one.

 

  ●

 

The Stone of Tear was an immense fortress, believed to be mankind's oldest surviving stronghold and indeed oldest existing structure, having been erected shortly after, or during, the Breaking of the World. It was built by Aes Sedai using the One Power: Earth, Air, and Fire fusing stones together without joint or mortar. The Stone resembled a great mountain and towered over the city of Tear. Only the White Tower was taller.

 

The Defenders of the Stone were the elite military group used specifically to guard the Stone. Only Tairens were accepted into the Defenders, selected at great care, and officers were usually of Noble birth.

 

The Stone had its own docks, and was an essentially self-sufficient citadel. The inside of the fortress was intentionally complex with multiple hallways joining at odd intersections in order to confuse invaders and provide defenders with even more of a territorial advantage. Arrow slits were the only sizable windows, and any attempt to reach them would only succeed if the person trying was not spotted by the towers (the arrow slits were a later modification, when the kind of warfare was less advanced than the time when the Stone was initially built).

 

The Stone of Tear housed many secrets, for those who had such knowledge, but for most commoners it was simply a grand structure of historical value.

 

The Stone had never fallen and this was something of which its Defenders were very proud.

 

●

 

Staring up at the Stone from a level below, Tiragh Rendiana, Captain of the Stone - his Captain’s insignia on his golden uniform’s shoulders glinting in the afternoon sun - felt some of that pride as his gaze swept over the magnificent structure.

 

As leader and Commander of the Defenders of the Stone it was his responsibility to keep the Stone safe and secure. He was a handsome Tairen man of average height with short dark hair, a light-brown complexion, and kind grey-green eyes, a minor Noble, in his early forties and his military uniform fit him well. He was a lifelong soldier, and keenly aware that he had had to struggle to get where he was. He was intense, fastidious and meticulous of nature and he was a respected and competent Commander. He took his duties very seriously and it was his life’s mission to ensure no enemy of any kind ever took the Stone.

 

When he walked up the levels to one of the Stone’s several Gates, he saw several of his guards in resplendent uniforms standing watch beside the Gate. They came at attention when they saw him, and he nodded with pride as he passed by on his way into one of the many stone tunnels leading inwards.

 

The Stone was his.

 

●

 

The white marble walls flickered in that slightly off-hand fashion they always did in this place.

 

Slivers of light from the sun streamed through the windows and touched the marble making it almost sparkle but not quite. The tall blonde-haired woman dressed all in white almost see-through silk walked down the hall and opened a door at the end. Her sapphire-blue eyes tightened and there was a frown on her otherwise beautiful face as if she were displeased about something. Walking into another room, marble-white in all its splendour, she shut the door hard behind her and lay down in the luxurious white settee. The white table beside the settee flickered slightly as well, as if echoing the flickers on the walls, but Nymeria ignored it, her thoughts somewhere else entirely.

 

She was used to these aspects of Tel’aran’rhiod, aspects which they had never understood fully even back in her own world, the time that today they called the Age of Legends. Oh, the World of Dreams had been studied extensively at the Collam Daan ever since it had been discovered, by chance as it turned out, during a world-wide study of atoms reflected through bent streams of acceptor-positrons. And what a discovery it had been! But it had been kept secret from the general populace, of course! There would have been world-wide panic if people had learned that it was now possible to affect people’s dreams, even to enter those dreams in a parallel reality. The Aes Sedai had kept the secret - and a select few had been given permission to study it further and gain expertise on how the World of Dreams functioned in all its apparent glory.

 

Nymeria had been one of a dozen researchers who had been given this chance and she had leapt at the opportunity. Several years of study had given her much skill and competence, some of which she had shared with the others. Some she had kept all to herself, of course. That was only prudent. Even so, though she had learned much, there were many things about Tel’aran’rhiod she never would understand - and still did not. It was a reflection of the real world, a mirror-image in a way, and Nymeria guessed that was also why it flickered, as if attempting to gain the stability and solidity of the real world.

 

She had always been interested in puzzles, finding answers to difficult questions, finding truths where there were none. And above all she had been fascinated by the human mind. And dreams. Why do people dream at all? Do all people dream? Can secrets be found in dreams? Why do some people have weak minds and others strong? Her studies at the Collam Daan had taught her many things and afterwards she had had a successful career as a medical practitioner and clinical psychiatrist in a private practice in Emar Dal. Her prowess and accomplishments in her academic field had made her famous, among scholars and other Aes Sedai, but she had kept her new studies secret since she knew many in her profession would disagree with the lengths she would go to in order to increase her skill and knowledge. For she wanted to learn how much pain a mind could cope with, and used her clients to test out her theories.

 

●

 

As the years went by she realized that she also enjoyed giving pain and seeing the reactions, it gave her a thrill and a satisfaction that she did not question in her eagerness. Using Compulsion, which was frowned upon by society, she was fascinated to see how humans changed their behaviour with a few nudges here, a few nudges there, and through experience she became extremely skilled at it. That she killed some of her clients during her experimentation did not faze her. Some sacrifice needed to be done in the pursuit of science, as she thought of it. That her own mind was darkening, her ethics weakening she would not have admitted to anyone. She was only following her passion after all, excelling in a field that few had truly excelled in.

 

One day it all ended, as a trusted assistant betrayed her to the authorities. Accused of murder and illegal practices, she was to be arrested and have to stand trial before the Aes Sedai hierarchy!

 

Forewarned by a trusted friend, she was able to escape before being captured and hid for a while in a small village several miles from the great city. Hearing of the rebels who had found an other power to serve, she decided to join them, thinking pragmatically. She wanted to continue her research into the human mind and dreams and with these rebels she would be able to do so without restrictions. That was all that mattered to her. That they served some other higher power was of less interest to her. She would do what she had to do to survive - and to excel. Turning to the Shadow was therefore a practical matter for her. And a few weeks later she found herself bowing before her new Great Lord, as One of Those Chosen to Rule the World Forever.

 

Laying on the settee now, she tried to calm herself. Why had the man’s mind broken so easily? She had used delicate weaves of Compulsion on the young Borderlander, probing into his mind, into his dreams, touching the nerve-centres ever so slightly.. but it had caused a seizure and he had blacked out and soon after died. Damn! She was certain that she had been careful enough, her weave precise, but clearly not. That he had died did not upset her. It was rather that she had failed.. again.. in her procedure. Why are their minds so weak?

 

Closing her blue eyes, she travelled in her mind back to that time when she had practiced her skill on captured humans. It had been back in the War of Power, as it came to be known, when they had tried to plant fake memories in people’s minds to make them perfect assassins. There had been some successes.. but also many failures. Minds broken, cases of permanent insanity. And subsequent death. Most people are simply too weak, thought the Chosen now as her eyes opened again and she stared silently, determinedly, at the flickering ceiling above. Too weak by far.

 

●

 

The Red apple was just as delicious as Sandana had anticipated!

 

The sweet juices ran into her mouth and also down her cheeks and she happily took another big bite as slivers of silver Moonlight pierced her bedroom window. It was the best apple she had ever eaten - and she was about to give a shout of joy to her father in the bedroom next door when she suddenly felt a tingling in her fingers..

 

Something was happening!

 

The tingling spread to her arms and legs and her eyes widened..

 

..as a globe of shining light suddenly appeared above her bed, floating in the air..

 

She was so amazed that she almost dropped the apple!

 

..and then she started to laugh joyously..

 

This was the most fantastic thing!!

 

●

 

The shining globe moved slowly downward toward her face and she caught her breath.

 

It was so beautiful!!

 

She started to reach for it with her empty hand, her excitement unstoppable, but then, inside the globe of light, she suddenly saw her own face reflected.

 

The eyes were of a different colour than hers, the cheekbones a little more prominent, but it was unmistakably her!

 

The reflection was smiling!

 

Sandana gasped in amazement!

 

And then the reflection whispered to her.

 

The voice was not hers but it resembled it closely. The voice drew her in - and her face moved close to the shining globe.

 

Her eyes widened even further, if that were possible, her mouth agape, when the child’s voice said softly:

 

“Do not be afraid, Child. The Winds hear your Voice.”

 

When after a few moments the child’s voice spoke again, whispered words that lingered in the air, the globe’s brilliance seeming to draw light even from the Moon’s silver outside, Sandana dropped the Red apple in pure astonishment.

 

●

 

Elessar and Calia sat together in the White Lion inn’s small library in Caemlyn sipping to some tea and kaf. It was hardly a library in the general sense, only a small room with several shelves filled with books and maps and some interesting objects of history, but it functioned as a small library for guests in the inn and a place to sit and rest, read or talk.

 

Elessar had picked up several books of interest (not seeing Calia’s smile at his eagerness) and had leafed through them in the few hours they had been sitting there. Now he put the last book away, it was a summarized history of Andor by a local author that he had found interesting. It had also reminded him that he wanted to tell Calia the story of Old Celter. That charming old man he had met here in Caemlyn years before on another journey South.

 

“There is a story I want to share with you”, said the Warder as Calia put aside the book she had been studying. She smiled and asked him what it was about. “It is about an old man I met here in Caemlyn years ago”, Elessar replied. “My bondholder Carys Aes Sedai and I were travelling South just like we are now. And one day, on a stop here in Caemlyn, we entered an antiques shop. That is where we met this charming old character”. He smiled with fond memories.

 

“This is how it happened..” said Elessar, and using his near photographic memory he recited in detail how it had taken place..

 

●

 

“We were walking along the city streets”, the Warder began, “Carys and I when she suddenly stopped next to an antiques shop with the tagline that mentioned that it specialized in local, Caemlyn history...”

 

Knowing Elessar’s special interest in history, and saying that she bet this shop had even more detailed local information than perhaps even the White Tower library, she had entered the shop without waiting for a response, knowing that he - with his passion for history - would eagerly follow.

 

A tiny bell had sounded as the door had clicked shut. Carys had looked around, her nose twitching at the dust in the air. Apparently this was not a shop often entered, she had thought. There were objects on tables all around, small plaques in front describing why they were important. Paintings had hung on nearly every inch of wall space, making the small shop seem even smaller. The Aes Sedai had begun speaking, and then the shopkeeper had come upon them. He had been whistling a tune, unknown to Elessar, and now he stared at them with wide eyes, holding tightly onto a plate of steaming food, his words drifting away like whispers..

 

“My ...Lady.” the old shopkeeper had said rapidly. “To what do I owe this visit?”

 

He was a very old man, Elessar now explained, wearing a woolen shirt which had once been colourful but where the colours had faded over time, and trousers which had not been in fashion for over a century. He had a prestigious girth, and a wrinkled old face, grey hair, crystal blue eyes with bushy eyebrows, big ears and a large nose. He wore ancient glasses and he looked positively shocked to see them there!

 

Elessar and Carys exchanged a quick look and the Warder tried for the second time that morning not entirely successfully to hide a grin. Light, the man looks like an ancient scholar! he thought with kind amusement. He must be as old as some of the books in here! Carys met the old man’s eyes and answered him that they were visiting the city and had seen his shop as they were walking by. “We’re students of history, my good man” Elessar added, his gaze eagerly taking in the room with all its objects of great age. “We’re interested in Andoran history and traditions”, the Aes Sedai said and smiled.

 

●

 

The old Andoran scrutinized them, noticing the woman’s fair skin and complexion, then nodded to himself, murmuring under his breath. “History and traditions you say?” he said and a wide grin came upon his lips. “Well then, come in, come in strangers”, he said as he started to walk back in the shop, bidding them to follow. “Old Celter will give you some of our history”. He chuckled a little, then added: ”Come now. Hardly anyone visits my shop nowadays anyway, so little chance we will be disturbed. Come follow me. Follow me to the back. Follow old Celter.” They exchanged a quick glance, shrugged, and followed the old man to the back of the shop.

 

He placed the plate of steaming food on a shelf in the back room and it was soon forgotten as he motioned for the two of them to sit down in a pair of heavily decorated brown wooden chairs that looked as old as the Trolloc Wars. The ancient chairs creaked slightly as they seated themselves and Carys and Elessar exchanged a silent glance which read: please, let these antiques carry our weight! “Traditions... yes”, the old man mumbled to himself as he ran a finger down the side of his chair. “I don’t often get visitors”, he said and he pushed up his glasses that had fallen down on his nose.

 

“History is all about us here”, he said, “but no one seems to care.” He shrugged. There was regret in his voice, but then, as if a switch had been turned, his eyes lit up and he studied them closely again. “But you do, strangers”, he said and a playful grin came upon his lips. “So all hope is not lost.” He smiled in a strange way but Elessar was charmed by this old man, who, he somehow felt, was more than your everyday shopkeeper and antiques-dealer.

 

What is your history, old man, I wonder? the Warder thought to himself. I bet you have seen many things in your long life.

 

“History and traditions, yes” the old Andoran mumbled and looked them each in the eye with a fixed stare. “Here is an old tradition for you”, he began. “Perhaps the oldest and most well known tradition in Andor: The Succession.” The Warder nodded, smiling inside since he had read about this Andoran tradition just that same morning. Carys also seemed interested and they sat back to listen, leaning backwards in their chairs ever so carefully so as to not put too much strain on them.

 

●

 

“The most widely known tradition of Andor”, the old man began, “is - as you have probably heard - that only a queen may sit upon the Lion Throne and wear the Rose Crown, never a king.” The old man paused for slight dramatic effect. “But you might not know that it was not so in the beginning”, he said. “Or rather, it was not meant to be so from the beginning. The tradition, in fact, arose when none of the royal sons survived the War of the Hundred Years.”

 

He mumbled something under his breath about sons always going off to war only to get killed, what a waste.. what a waste.. but his words were not clear. Then, in a stronger voice, he continued. “The First Queen, revered Ishara, only had a daughter left alive after her sons died and so she became her heir. She in turn also was left with only a daughter many years later and so her throne was passed to another woman and queen. In time this became Andoran law, and ever since only Queens have ruled Andor.”

 

Elessar listened, captivated. Always interested in history, it was special to hear about it in such an old and history-oriented establishment and especially from a very old man who seemed to have lived through some of that history himself.

 

“Now then”, the old Andoran continued, “as I am sure you know” - he said this last bit with a quick look at the Aes Sedai - “the eldest daughter is named Daughter-Heir and is by law sent to the White Tower to study, then ascends the throne upon her mother’s death or retirement.” Elessar nodded to himself, recalling the description in the book he had read. Carys listened knowingly. “Her eldest brother”, the old man went on, “who is styled First Prince of the Sword, is sworn to protect and defend his sister with his life. He is trained from childhood, and later in Tar Valon,” - he gave the Warder a quick look - “to command the Queen’s armies in times of war and to be her military advisor. If the Queen has no surviving brother, she appoints the First Prince.”

 

He mumbled to himself for a moment.. about Daughter-Heirs and First Princes not always living up to their promise.. and then reached out behind him, removing an ancient parchment from the shelf. “Now then”, he said, coughing slightly, “what happens when there is no surviving daughter? Ah well, that is when we often get.. the disturbances.. ah what Outlanders often call.. Andoran Wars of Succession.” He added the last part with slight disdain, refusing - as did all Andorans - to acknowledge that their system for selecting an heir could possibly lead to war.

 

●

 

He chuckled and a broad grin came upon his face. “Ah yes, the Great Houses - there are nineteen of them, you know - come into the playing field”, said the old man, his finger softly brushing the parchment that he held, “out they come to.. play.” His eyes seemed to go far away for a moment, as if in old rememberance. Then they fixed back on the two attentive listeners and his eyes widened, almost as if shocked that they were still there with him. Soon though his face relaxed and he seemed to recall why they were there. He pushed his glasses back up from his nose and ran a hand through his hair. Then he spoke. “Where was I? Oh yes, the Succession.” He handed the parchment to Carys who opened it reverently - Elessar leaning over to have a look - and saw that it was a list of all the Great Noble Houses of Andor, resplendent with House-sigils and honours.

 

The old Andoran chuckled a little to himself again before he went on. “Yes, when there is no Daughter-Heir, the throne is given to the nearest female blood relative. But succession is based not only on close relation to the former Queen, you see, but also on the degree of blood in a line of female descent from Ishara, our first Queen. As you can surmise, this makes things very.. intricate.. and interesting.” He seemed to be enjoying himself now, like an old tutor lecturing in front of his favourite students.

 

“Ah yes, matters of lineage have become quite complex, since all the Great Houses are related after years of intermarriage. There have been political reasons for this practice, of course, sons and daughters marrying for the benefit of the House.. Families craving power and influence.. always power and influence..” Again he seemed to drift away, lost in thoughts.. but he caught himself and fixed his gaze on them once more. “And so the question of succession”, he said, “has led to intrigue, plotting and often bloodshed” - he sighed - “when the Houses do not agree.” Another chuckle escaped the old man’s lips and his right hand clenched. “Ah, they are like children.. who act before they think.. who want it all, never mind the consequences.. but so it has always been.. always..”

 

The old man shook his head resignedly and his eyes seemed to drift.. to go back.. into lost memories. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap, weariness embracing his features.

 

“As Carys and I watched in rapt silence”, said Elessar now, smiling in fond rememberance, “the old man’s eyelids gradually became heavier and heavier and finally his eyes closed, his head leaned back on the top rail of his chair to rest, and he drifted slowly, ever so slowly into blissful sleep.”

 

●

 

Daros Guhlen was getting tired of cutting the tall grass on his piece of land a mile or so outside the town of Trustair in north-western Murandy. A tall brown-haired man with bushy eyebrows and a long beard, he had been using the scythe ever since morning. His workman’s clothes were dirty and sweaty and his back ached, and his temper was now getting the better of him.

 

It was late afternoon, the blue sky filled with patches of grey clouds, and for some unimaginable reason! his field appeared almost as filled with tall grass as when he had started even though he had been cutting the grass for hours on end.

 

It was impossible!!

 

Putting the scythe aside, he looked at it questioningly. It was an ordinary tool with a long, sharp, curved blade and a long handle held in two hands. Nothing special about it. Picking it up again he touched the curved blade for the umpteenth time and it was just as sharp as it should be. A drop of blood assembled on his fingertip just to prove that it was indeed sharp enough.

 

Cursing inside, he wondered what his dear wife Jhenda would say when he told her something weird was going on. She would probably say, he was off his rocker again.

 

Shaking his head, grumbling to himself, he could imagine her disapproving frown. Casting the scythe another very dark look, he was just about to head back to the farmhouse when out of the corner of his eye, he saw the scythe move on its own in the grass!

 

What the heck!!?

 

As he half-turned, his eyes widening and his mouth now agape, the scythe came alive, rising into the air with the dangerous curved blade pointed toward him.

 

Before he was able to move, the scythe flew straight at him!

 

Screaming aloud in shock, he just managed to twist aside and avoided being struck in the face by the animated tool. Whisps of his long beard were sliced right off though!

 

The scythe flew at him again, and again, the blood-sharp blade making a swooshing sound as it hacked at him continuously - chasing him all the way back through the field to the farmhouse!

 

▀▄

[Cass]

Elessar finished his tale with an expression of fond amusement settling over his face and creeping through the bond. Calia laughed quietly, blue eyes sparkling with joy.

 

"That's a delightful story, Elessar!"

 

It was heartwarming to see her gaidin so relaxed in his pleasant memories of this city, and the obviously charming character he'd found in old Celter. She was impressed with the amount of detail in his recall, too.

 

"I've always loved Caemlyn," she sighed, "Ever since I was a little girl out on my first adventure!" She toyed idly with the tiny winged charm on the bracelet at her wrist, a smile still alight on her ageless face.

 

"The way the Inner City and the New City stand out and shine like a crown on the hills... I thought it was like a magical royal realm from all of the Gleemen's tales, the first time I saw it. Truth be told, I still think the same each and every time I see the white wall and towers coming into view!"

 

"There's just... something about this place, isn't there? The way the Ancient City and New City stand apart and yet together, the changes in the architecture, and the way things, over the years, continue to intertwine!"

 

Cal picked up her teacup and saucer from the table in front of her, and settled back into her chair holding them neatly in her lap. 

 

"It's easy to believe in ancient myths and magic here."

 

She let the words settle softly into the silence around the two of them, and then she leaned forward, still smiling, the charm on her wrist now dancing subtly on it's simple chain.

 

"Especially after you've managed to catch a dragon-animal near the palace before you've even learned you can channel!" She grinned at the memory, at such words passing the lips of a three-oaths-sworn Aes Sedai, and at the expression that lit on Elessar's face.

 

"It's true!" She took a sip of tea and grinned in false bewilderment towards him, gesturing at the ring on her finger, "I let the poor creature go, so obviously I haven't any proof, but you know I cannot lie!

 

"Events became a bit of a tight-lipped secret, actually, but I think I'll share...

 

"It was my fifth name-day, the first time I visited this city," she began, "and I was so very full of wonder being here. I was with my father and my brothers. Da was here, as usual, to collect supplies and new ales for the inn. Shem and Joesh came with him, as usual, to see how much help and mischief they could get up to all at once. And, as they told me in no uncertain terms on the journey here in the back of the cart, to teach me to do the same - and, as they told me later, when we dared to scamper for adventures in a crossing run while Da spoke with Merchant Mas - to protect me from everything scary and dangerous in a big city - even dragons, 'just like big brother's should'!

 

"I laughed at them, but of course I was pleased. I was here to see The Palace. And, as everyone knows at that age, castles like that are where Dragons often like to hide... so brave big brothers being with me in the cart were an obvious bonus."

 

"I tell you Elessar, Da had promised me we could see the Palace as close as we could get, as soon as he'd finished his work - and for five-year-old me, that took forever. But I was on my best behaviour. And I loved everything I saw! The people! The bustle! The buildings! The shining walls and the flags! I couldn't stop gaping at it all! My brothers even teased me about the risk of catching flies!" she chuckled, enjoying the memory before bringing the tea to her lips for another drink.

 

"Finally, finally it was time to go and see the Palace. Up and up the streets we rolled, me straining over the front of the wagon as far as I could go without falling out, trying to see everything all at once.

 

"We reached the outer wall of the palace. It was magnificent. Everything about it awed me, the shining stone, the sheer size of it, the divine smells floating over the wall from the gardens. It was as magical as I had ever dreamed it. I imagined, right then and there, all manner of amazing and perfect instances that must surely happen in such a place! 

 

"And then, I heard it!

 

 "Dragon!" Joesh called, pointing up towards some blue in the sky over the wall.

 

"And, there it was! Obviously far off in the distance, because it looked very small and I knew dragons were really, really big - but there it was! I even thought I saw a hint of green flash for just a second.

 

"I gaped, the boys grinned and laughed and pointed at the winged creature shining in the air. Even Da chuckled to see it. I turned to him as he did so, probably as wide-eyed and open-mouthed as he'd ever seen me, but I can still see the look on his face as looked at me in that moment. It was marvelous. Absolutely incredible!

 

"I turned back quickly towards where I'd last seen the dragon - and - ended up catching it in my open mouth!

 

"Light, after I'd been saved - as promised, by the closest brother - from choking on it, I learned that what I'd seen was actually a beautiful, shiny-winged, sparkling green dragon-fly, adventuring over the wrong side of the garden wall! While the two of us recovered from the shock of it all, I remember watching those tiny gossamer wings, and that magical, shiny-green-scaled body, and thinking I'd still never seen anything so beautiful in all my life! 

 

"Though, truthfully, that was the moment I believe, that I first learned how much I love adventures - as well as to gape a good deal more subtly, and maybe even when I learned that there are times where it's just worth keeping my mouth shut for a little while!

 

Cal winked at her warder as she took another sip of tea.

 

"... perhaps."

 

She set the empty cup and saucer back down on the table with a smile, the charm at her wrist fluttering to and fro in a small flash of silver, and the tiniest, brightest little sparkle of green.

▀▄

Edited March 7 by Cass

[Elessar]

..  Existence is All there Is ..

►▼◄

 

A curl of smoke was rising from the stone chimney. A vagrant gust of wind made the leaves on the surrounding trees tremble in the darkness of the night. Light streamed through the windows of the cottage, slivers of white-yellow breaking the shadows without.

 

Inside, the lone figure of a woman dressed in a multi-coloured silk outfit leaned across a wood table gazing excitedly at an object which hovered a few inches above the table top. The strange hand-sized circular object had mysterious symbols running down its side and a dark brown surface. A shining light surrounded the Karanth and there was a soft buzzing sound in the air.

 

The woman reached eagerly for the object with both hands, whispering words that were hardly audible.. and as they touched the Karanth, a brilliant light shone forth in every direction! She gasped, feeling euphoria as the radiance streamed into her mind and body - and the object drew her into its warm embrace!

 

Colours of all kinds swirled inside her mind like raging storms and she forgot to breathe in her thrilling excitement. The beautiful, almost otherworldly moment seemed to last forever.. until finally her vision cleared.

 

A coastal plain now stood before her and she could hear waves crashing against the rocks far below. She brushed the tears that had come unbidden to her eyes and gazed upward at a sky that was not normal. It was green the colour of emerald and with no sun.. and small flashes of silver light were seen intermittently.

 

Shifting her gaze to the plain again, she blinked.. and then saw the door standing twenty or so paces before her.

 

It was black as midnight with a golden door handle.

 

●

 

She could not pull her eyes away from the door.

 

It beckoned.

 

When she suddenly stood before the door - had it moved to stand before her? - her eyes widened in wonder.

 

Holding her breath, she carefully reached for the golden door handle. Just as her fingertip touched the handle a wind seemed to rise out of nowhere. She hesitated and drew her hand back, casting a cautious glance around. Nothing seemed to have changed except for the wind.

 

Turning back to face the door again she reached for the door handle for the second time but something made her stop.

 

Taking a step back, she studied the door intently for several moments, hands resting at her side.

 

When a silver light suddenly tore through the blackness of the door, she gasped out loud!

 

●

 

Serehstra Sedai walked purposefully into the Tarasin Palace. The light shone on the marble floor as she glided past the two royal guards hardly giving them a glance. She looked regal in her pale red dress with the crimson overcoat and a Red shawl and her ageless face was smooth showing no emotion. Inside she was far from calm though. The Eyes and Ears had confirmed the rumours that Darkfriends had taken over a couple Noble Houses in her homeland Cairhien and it infuriated her! She had wanted to fight the Shadow ever since she had become an Aes Sedai, almost choosing the Green Ajah at her raising but selecting the Red instead to ensure men who could channel would be taken care of before they break the world and do the Shadow’s errand. That the Shadow was spreading, of that there was no doubt in her mind.

 

Besides that, she was still angry at Voreyna’s lack of help. The Gray Sister, the Tower’s representative in Ebou Dar, had been unenthusiastic to say the least when Serehstra had approached her several days before. Her manner had been haughty and she had seemed annoyed that Serehstra was there at all. Relations between Ajahs had always been somewhat strained in the White Tower, each faction feeling superior to the others and Sisters seldom mingling with Sedai from other Ajahs (though there were some exceptions). Away from the White Tower, however, Serehstra had always believed Aes Sedai should try to be helpful to one another. It was a matter of respect and integrity. They were Aes Sedai, after all.

 

Walking down the corridor, ignoring the expensive art on the walls and the marble statues in the corners, she considered how to deal with the Gray Sister this time. There were also dangerous rumours to consider, the ones which spoke of dangers from across the sea. Serehstra had dismissed those rumours but her Eyes and Ears had indicated that something was amiss in the Aryth Ocean. Voreyna had to have more news in this regard and Serehstra intended to press her on the issue until she was told. Touching her Red shawl, she turned a corner and stopped before a door on the left. It was the Gray Sister’s chamber in the palace. Making sure her face was Aes Sedai smooth, she knocked softly. There was a shuffling of feet inside and then the door opened. A tall woman, brown of hair and with almost black eyes, high cheekbones and a pouty mouth stared back at the Red Sister.

 

●

 

“Serehstra”, she said cooly with little kindness. Her eyes were piercing and her whole demenaour condescending.

 

“Voreyna”, the Red responded in the same manner. She took in the Gray Sedai’s beige long sleeved dress which had a high neckline and, in Serehstra’s view, a rather dull look. Voreyna saw her disapproving look and her eyes hardened. Opening the door so the Red Sister could enter, she shut it behind her and turned to face the other woman.

 

“You asked to meet me”, Voreyna said, her voice cold. “I don’t know what you think you will accomplish after our last conversation, but I will not have it said that I am hostile.” There was a touch of irony in her voice at the last part, her eyes looking very hostile indeed.

 

“I am glad you took time away from your.. important duties to talk to me again”, Serehstra responded, her voice equally cold. Her eyes glittered. “These are dangerous times..”, she added smoothly, “and.. friends must stick together.”

 

“Friends?” Voreyna said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Colleagues then”, Serehstra amended. “And Aes Sedai.” She moved across the room and pretended to be interested in an ancient painting on one wall. It showed two armies facing one another on a battlefield of old.

 

“What exactly do you want, Serehstra?” The Gray Sister said, watching the other Sister speculatively.

 

●

 

Turning at last, the Red Sister’s eyes met the other Aes Sedai’s.

 

“The matter we spoke of last time.. I have gotten the information I needed.” She refrained from adding, no thanks to you. “But there is another matter I wish to speak of.” Serehstra’s eyes tightened.

 

“There are rumours of a danger coming from the west.” Her voice was smooth but she stared fixedly at the other woman’s face to see if there was any reaction. “Across the Aryth Ocean.”

 

She pursed her lips.

 

“I wondered if you could confirm any such rumours.” Serehstra said. “Being stationed here in the far South, I am sure you would be informed if there is any credence to such rumours.”

 

The Gray Sister stared cooly back at the other Aesa Sedai. “And why would I share any such information with you?” She replied. “If there was any information to be shared, that is.”

 

“Is there? Or isn’t’ there?” Serehstra responded calmly but with a hint of impatience.

 

A very haughty look came over the Gray Sister’s face. “I report to the Amyrlin.” She said, her voice even colder than before. “Not to some upstart Red who is out of her depth.”

 

Serehstra’s eyes glittered dangerously but she kept her Aes Sedai calm. She was not going to let the other woman provoke her. At the same time, however, Serehstra had never been a weakling and she knew how to deal with impudent Sisters.

 

“I understand”, she replied cooly. “I will find the answers myself.” She paused for a moment, a small grin coming on her lips. “But Voreyna”, she added almost as an afterthought, “you do know that the Amyrlin sent you here, as far as possible from the Tower, because she deemed you useless and best kept away from where true power and important decisions are?”

 

Enjoying the way the Gray Sister’s mouth twitched in clear irritation at the barb and remark, Serehstra bid her a good day, her grin broadening, and left the chamber, heading resolutely down the corridors of the Tarasin Palace and then out into the Ebou Dari afternoon.

 

●

 

The Oceanfold was safely moored to the dock at Tanchico.

 

Carah din Toral Rising Wave, the Sea Folk Raker’s Sailmistress, stared at the buildings along the quay and wondered for the hundredth time when they would be able to leave. Like most Sea Folk she felt uneasy on land, having been born and bred to be on the seas, and moored like this felt just as bad. She had not walked onto the dock since their arrival several days before and had no intention to do so. Some of her crew had done so though, to get some supplies and to gather information.

 

The ship’s Cargomaster, Khoram, had gone ashore to oversee things. He was a heavy-shouldered man with greyish hair and green eyes. With four gold rings in each ear, he was a hard man but fair. He was in charge of the defence of the ship, as well as all trade, and even the Sailmistress was hard pushed to overrule him in matters of negotiations and combat. They worked well together though, also because he was her husband of many years, her trusted life companion. Just don’t go ahead and get yourself killed among these stone dwellers, thought the Sailmistress, eyes tightening, as her gaze fell on the activity on the dock. She had never trusted people who lived their lives on land, stone dwellers as she called them, and hoped her husband would be back aboard ship soon.

 

●

 

On the lower deck, Morin din Rubai Blue Wing, Windfinder of this proud Atha’an Miere vessel, stared outward at the sea, longing to be back among the blue-green waves and currents of the Aryth Ocean. Moored like this made her restless and she kept walking back and forth on deck several times a day trying to stay patient. What added to her uneasiness were the dreams. The strange dreams she had had far too often of late. The dreams that almost felt like they were not real.. even though she knew they had to be. The dreams and her mother. The mother who had been dead for years. Why was she haunted by memories and the strangest dreams? And by bad omens?

 

Brushing her hand through her short dark hair, she closed her dark eyes and tried to push the images from her mind. Unsuccessfully as always. Placing her hands on the ship’s rail, she stared at the muddy water below and calmed herself. Embracing Saidar, feeling the glow of the One Power build inside her, she enjoyed the feeling of completeness that she always felt when holding onto the female part of the true Source. The calm within her increased and her worried frown disappeared. Channeling just so, combining weaves as she had been taught long ago, a small flame danced in her palm and the sight made her smile.

 

As long as there was life, there was hope. And as long as she had the One Power inside her, she would always believe.

 

●

 

Calia and Elessar visited several vendors in Caemlyn the next day to replenish their supplies.

 

There was a chill in the air, cold northern winds brushing against their travelling cloaks as they made their way through the busy city streets. Shops had awnings out front sheltering tables covered with goods and the cloth-covering rippled in tune with the gusts. Vendors stood by their market stalls hawking their wares but several wore warmer coats than they normally would have this time of year. People hurried along the streets, intent on completing their errands as fast as possible, and one youngster, a scruffy-looking boy of twelve or so, blundered into people as he hurried through the crowd, earning hard looks and angry comments from some. Elessar glanced at the young boy as he hurried past, then shifted his attention to the crowd ahead.

 

A stately carriage drawn by four black horses passed them near the central plaza, the carriage driver urging the beasts onward. For a quick moment the Warder glimpsed the passenger in the carriage, a beautiful lady wearing a large hat and an expensive-looking dress. A Noblewoman, without doubt. Then she was gone from sight, the carriage heading up the street, but he could not shake the feeling that there was something familiar about her.

 

Shifting his thoughts to the errands they had yet to complete, he continued walking with Calia at his side as they approached a blacksmith’s shop. He wanted to get a new knife since his old one was tired and worn. Gazing admiringly at the weapons displayed beside the forge, Elessar spotted a knife which would do very nicely. The blacksmith, a huge Andoran fellow with blond hair, a beard, kind blue eyes and arms the size of logs, grinned when he saw the Warder approach. Gaidin-customers would always appreciate quality work and would always know the true value of craftmanship.

 

●

 

Later that day they sat and talked for a while at a bench in one of Caemlyn’s central parks. The green grass and trees surrounded by colourful flower beds made for a peaceful place. Birds of different colours and sizes chirped happily in the trees - sparrows, finches and hummingbirds - and the sun’s warmth drove away part of the northern chill.

 

Gazing at one of the little hummingbirds on a thin branch, a green-black bird with long, narrow bills and small, saber-like wings, it made Elessar think of the sparkling green dragon-fly that Calia had spoken of in her sweet story from her childhood. It was after he had finished his re-telling of Old Celter, a story which Calia too had found delightful.

 

She had spoken of how she had always loved Caemlyn ever since she was a little girl. The Warder had smiled warmly when she had told her story of a child’s wonder and how it indeed was easy to believe in ancient myths and magic here in the Andoran Capital.

 

"Especially”, she had added, leaning forward, her blue eyes sparkling, “after you've managed to catch a dragon-animal near the palace before you've even learned you can channel!"

 

●

 

He had been unable to hide the surprise and wonder in his eyes. A dragon?! It was a mythical creature and he had told her before how much he enjoyed myths, legends, stories and history. He was very curious to hear the rest of this story and had been captivated as she had explained in detail. He enjoyed seeing her blue eyes sparkle as she spoke. This was a cherished memory for her from her family’s visit to Caemlyn, that was clear, and he enjoyed having her tell him a story this time.

 

“We reached the outer wall of the palace.” She said. “It was magnificent. Everything about it awed me, the shining stone, the sheer size of it, the divine smells floating over the wall from the gardens. It was as magical as I had ever dreamed it. I imagined, right then and there, all manner of amazing and perfect instances that must surely happen in such a place!”

 

He could hear the child-like wonder and enthusiasm of her voice in his mind, smiling anew at the memory.

 

The dragon in the sky.. observed by a child’s eager eyes.. which had turned out to be a tiny dragon-fly of some beauty.

 

Calia’s ‘dragon’, no less wonderful and mesmerizing because of its small size, had stayed in her mind and memory for over a century, one of those moments that stay with you forever. And it had sparked a joy in adventures which had eventually led to her becoming a Battle Ajah Sister of the White Tower. An Aes Sedai, perhaps the greatest adventure of all!

 

Smiling at the beautiful hummingbird, the green in its feathers glinting to his eye, somehow made him think of the charm at Calia’s wrist which sometimes fluttered in a small flash of silver, and the tiniest, brightest little sparkle of green.

 

There was beauty in a sometimes dark and Shadowy world.

 

●

 

They talked some more about the journey ahead into the South. He knew from the little she had told him about her background that she came from Four Kings, a village west of Caemlyn located at the junction of the Caemlyn Road leading southwards to Lugard. It was an historic village and one which the Warder had visited before. It would be a suitable stopover place for the next part of their journey if she approved.

 

They agreed that they would continue their journey the next day, leaving early in the morning.

 

Heading back to the inn, walking side by side along the busy, bustling city streets of Caemlyn, they did not notice the pair of eyes watching them intently from a distance.

 

●

 

The sun was just setting over the Seanchan Capital of Seandar.

 

Kalessin sat in his living room sipping to some red wine. He was in a reflective mood. After a while he picked up the old book he had been reading earlier that day and leafed through the pages. He had read it countless times before but it never ceased to amuse him. The book title was “The Inevitability of Delusion” and it was one of the few objects he had been able to bring with him from his former life. Before the Long Sleep, as he had come to think of it. The author had been one of the most famous in the Age of Legends, an old scholar from Jalanda, and being a scholar himself, Kalessin had read all his works.

 

As a Philosopher of renown, Kalessin had always been interested in learning, in books and theories and thoughts. And being a scholar he had always remained neutral, objective in all circumstances and debates. Right and wrong did not matter to him, all that mattered was the possibilities and how things could be interpreted. What was up and what was down, depended on one’s perspective. Thought itself was a matter of intellect but also reason and deliberation. Everyone was a product of one’s limitations. Everything was possible - as long as there were no restrictions to evolution or development. To higher thinking. To becoming.. more.

 

●

 

For years he had lectured at higher institutions in V’saine and Emar Dal, speaking to students and teachers and scholars, debating various philosophical questions with vigour and logic, and he had been listened to and even respected. Those had been the good years. The years that followed had been more troublesome. His methods to understand human behaviour had been criticized, his insistence that human evolution needed a culling of the weak had been deplored. His statement and subsequent thesis that good and evil did not exist, that intent and consequence was all that mattered, that morals and ethics were excuses conjured by weak minds, resulted in him being sacked from his university positions and shunned by the scholarly community. He continued giving advice in philosophical matters on a private client basis, as well as private counselling, but he had lost much of his income and prestige and understood that changes soon needed to be made.

 

Around that time as society was slowly breaking apart, the utopia of the world showing cracks in its foundations, he heard of the rebels who were fighting against the hierarchy and failing traditions. The rebels were called evil by many, and denounced by the Aes Sedai, but being one who neither believed in evil nor in good, just in what was and what could be, Kalessin had no problems approaching them. The promise of immortality and thereby the opportunity to study life and behaviour, thought and evolution, in all its million facets for generations to come was seductive, as was the chance to do so in an environment where his methods and theories would not be criticized or demeaned.

 

And so he joined the rebels and left the Aes Sedai, kneeling before the Great Lord of the Dark in Shayol Ghul and promising him eternal service. To him there was no Shadow or Light, just Existence and he would serve in whatever capacity needed, with whatever tools at his disposal, to continue that existence for ages to come.

 

As one of Those Chosen to Rule the World Forever.

 

●

 

The Wind blew in her face, a strong breeze that spoke of Revelation, as Sandana stood alone on the rocky hilltop half a mile north of her home in Saldaea. She was only wearing her night clothes and her feet were bare. Something had urged her to come to this strange place, a feeling, an emotion, and though it was not logical she did not question it.

 

The sun was setting in the west, twilight gradually cloaking the surrounding area and shadows waiting in the north. Her eyes were wide with wonder and her hair streamed behind her as she stared into the far horizon.

 

Whispers came in her mind, soft words that she could almost but not quite understand. They were foreign, spoken in a language she did not know but felt she ought to know, and she was filled with excitement.

 

Child. Remember!

 

Suddenly

 

..the air rippled before her, as if a wave of air was pushing forwards, and she was lifted upright twelve inches from the rocky ground, arms outstretched!

 

She giggled in childish wonder, screaming in delight as she was lifted even higher into the air, carried on the wave, feeling like a bird on the wind; light as a feather, soft as a petal, free to soar! Her eyes shone, as her vision was breaking up into a million specks of light.

 

You are one of us.

 

When after a while she sank back to the ground, the air around her softening, the wind slackening, the light from the sun almost gone, she had a feeling of loss but her excitement remained.

 

Running hurriedly back through the terrain, not minding the stones, rocks and twigs she tread on, and the low tree branches she had to evade in the near-dark, she threw the door to their house open and gasping for air looked delightedly at her father.

 

“Papa, papa!” She laughed with tears of joy. Her thrill and exuberance were such that Argam could only stare at his daughter in wide-eyed wonder. “I am going to be a Vayasha!”

 

▀▄

[Cass]

.. Living Memory, Waking Dreams  ..

►▼◄

 

Fire crackled through the logs in the hearth. Flames rose towards the stone mantle and the red banner proudly pinned in place above it. Light and warmth spread through the open heart of the common-room, diffusing chill draughts and defying the darkness of the night outside.

 

The cloth of the red banner rippled, constantly caught in the competing swirls of warm updraft and chill, sneaking wind ceaselessly tugging at its hems. As light from the flames danced brighter through the room, the White Lion that gave the inn its name stood rampant on the wavering field of red, battling tirelessly against each of the remaining shadows...

Calia sat, sipping her post-dinner tea at a table set off to the side of the crowded common room. Settling back in her chair, she crossed her ankles neatly under the dark green silk of her new 'skirts' and thanked the Light again for the day she'd first befriended Nona Allande. The woman was undoubtedly the country's greatest seamstress, and she could still work magic with her silk and threads better than Calia could combine Air and Water in a weave. That she also still had as sharp an eye for spotting trends in rumour, politics and general mood as well as fashion, and gathered Caemlyn gossip with quick wit, good ears and a gentle tongue that kept people talking was an added bonus. The information she'd passed to Calia that afternoon had not made a lot of sense, but the Sedai had learned to take note of what the seamstress offered during her collections over the years - the woman's intuition and ability to check and combine trickles of information from more than one angle on any subject had kept her abreast and prepared for 'sudden' winds of change several times. Including the preparations that fool of a Cairhienian King had made over a decade ago, to seat himself on a throne made of Avendoraldera. Today Nona had spoken of new, reportedly dramatic movements on the seas to the South, and though Calia couldn't yet piece together what the stream of information indicated, she was keeping it in mind.

 

Times were changing; the Wheel was turning towards things both old and new - that much she was sure of. Cal turned her attention slowly away from the fireplace and the flag of her homeland to studying the gaidin opposite her once again. She smiled to herself at the variety of expressions crossing Elessar's features in time with the Gleeman's tale.

 

She had heard the story on offer many times, many years ago, and though she wasn't paying the Gleeman close attention - the room was too busy and her mind was too distracted with the events of the day - she followed along enough to know that the man was leading the crowd exceptionally well, and she was glad that they could lose themselves so completely in such delight for a while.

 

She had decided, no matter how frightening or bleak the prospects of their mission might prove, watching Elessar's face light up with the joy of such a performance, and feeling the sparks of emotion he shared freely through the bond when watching such talent was simply further evidence of the importance of the Light side of life while the Wheel turned on and on. These  moments of fleeting, yet somehow preserved and shared joy and wonder were what they were all fighting for, after all. To that end, Cal was glad to have Elessar by her side. The man shared her passions, both for the fight against the Dark, and for reveling in the Light. And she intended to try and ensure they got as much of the latter whilst they could. It was always touching to see the warrior making the most of life's treasurable moments, and sometimes, like tonight, when he was rapt in the delights of history and performance, it gave her the chance to feel the old stories as if they were new.

 

She'd known this evening's entertainment would be a treat for Elessar the instant the two of them had returned from errands to find customers already filling up the common room. But now, the White Lion was as busy as she'd ever seen it, and she was doubly glad to have ensured that the innkeeper had reserved them a table such as this - one where they could be both entertained by Gleeman, and keep an easy eye over the whole room. Whatever troubles might be brewing further South, there were advantages to being Aes Sedai in Andor still, she reasoned.

 

She surveyed the room again, her gaze sweeping the over-full benches and tables, the bustling staff winding their ways between patrons to deposit a meal here, an ale there. Like each scan of the room before, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. 

 

'Packed like the apple press - with occupants just as green or rosy and ready for ale!'

 

The thought tumbled through her mind in her Da's old, cheery voice, as clearly as if he stood next to her - as if a century of time had not passed since she'd last heard those words from him for real.

 

And so it was. Calia took another sip of tea, blue eyes sparkling a little, the tilt of the cup hiding the way the left corner of her mouth quirked up around the rim in a mischievous grin. At this point of the Gleeman's tale, that grin would have seemed especially unusual on the face of an otherwise poised and relaxed-looking Aes Sedai. She let the smile grow nonetheless, cherishing the memory while it lingered.

 

How many times had she and Kaylan heard that saying of Da's and just known the end of the night would be a later one than usual, but with a larger collection of tips and slipped-out coins? She wouldn't have been able to count them all, even if it hadn't been so long ago!

 

But so it had been, and so it was ... and would-be now, she knew.

 

She watched as a buxom serving maid with ginger-coloured hair winked at a ruddy-faced, and aptly apple-shaped patron who had just slid her an extra silver penny, not for the first time. Calia didn't worry for the girl - she'd seen her easily escape a closed grip around her wrist with a simple movement of the arm as she'd set down a customer's third jug of ale earlier in the evening, all while smiling and laughing as if she'd meant no more than to put the jug in place; the girl knew what she was doing. The man, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the danger his senses and pockets were in. From everything Cal had already observed, the maid could have been herself or Kaylan a century ago.

 

Even as she watched the crowd, the weight of their mission heavy in her thoughts and clutching at her heart, it was harder than it should have been to keep her focus to the inn she actually occupied, rather than the one she had conjured up in memories of Four Kings. And harder still to keep the image of the man she'd glimpsed in the markets earlier out of her mind.
 

●
 

The cold northern winds blew fresh, tussling the cloaks and coats of the marketplace crowds with gusto. Vendors called their wares in voices that were getting used to being blown about and lost amongst the tables, as easily as falling leaves and gusts of wind.

 

Calia had caught Elessar glancing at a scruffy young boy of about twelve, blundering his way through the throng of people toward their general direction. She'd smiled to herself as her gaidin watched the boy pass and then shifted his attention back to the crowd ahead. She didn't think the urchin would have dared to try and slip a hand into either of their pockets - or try anything worse - but she appreciated her gaidin watching their backs.

 

And then as they crossed to the central plaza, an ale cart being drawn by a single large horse up ahead caught her eye. There was something about the great height of that horse in this town, the shape of the spokes on those wheels... the barrels in the tray of the cart...

 

The driver turned to look behind him at a stately carriage that was being drawn by four black horses in his direction. 

 

Calia's breath caught in her throat and her heart drummed several quickened, dancing beats in her chest.

 

The beard. The bushy brows and merry eyes -

 

And then the driver of the ale-cart turned his head back to encourage the placid-looking beast in front of him further down the road. Cal's mind caught up and calculated everything back to a more logical reality; leaving her with simply the memories of the bushy brows and merry eyes she'd known, intertwining with glimpses of sand-coloured hair peeking out from under the back of a cap as drove away, her heart quietly yearning after him, for even the slightest glimpse of the face she'd almost thought she'd seen.
 

●

 

The crowd at the White Lion erupted in applause. Tankards clanged on tables and benches scraped back across the wooden floor as the patrons stood and cheered, Calia and Elessar clapping and standing along with them.

 

Cal grinned at the expression on Elessar's face, and the buzz she felt through the bond. Just past him, she saw a young boy of about five, bouncing energetically at his father's side, staring wide-eyed and utterly captivated at the bowing Gleeman who was making dramatic, multi-coloured flourishes with the tail of his cape. 

 

The father of the boy chuckled and patted a hand on the bouncing shoulder.

 

Behind them, the ginger-haired server tumbled expertly into the side of the standing apple-man.

 

Light, she loved Caemlyn. 

 

This, Calia thought with a smile as she watched the boy bounce some more, the father tousle the boy's hair affectionately and the serving girl set herself to rights with a quick curtsey and a grin.

 

Tomorrow Elessar and herself would leave with the dawn of a new day and travel in the hopes of stopping Shadows and nightmares - they'd travel together towards pieces of her past, backwards along the path that had led her to this very spot...

 

And this, she thought as Elessar caught her smile and the Gleeman started flinging merry notes around the room on a flute so that the patrons could dance - This was what living was for. What becoming Aes Sedai and serving in the Battle Ajah was for - for the moments and memories that would continue to light up minds, fill hearts and nurture even the oldest, wildest and youngest of dreams.

 

▀▄

Edited April 4 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. A World of Colours   ..

►▼◄

 

A scream ripped the darkness.

 

A second scream.

 

A ripple in the air, as if the air was turning in on itself, a reflection of deep darkness as a Shadow materialized where nothing had been before.

 

As if answering a call, the Draghkar shrieked in the sky.

 

It cast back and forth in very long arcs leaving little doubt that it was hunting. Another shriek that sent shivers down the running woman’s spine. Her blue eyes were wide with terror, her shoulders sagging wearily, her torn and bloodied dress covering a torn and bloodied body as she ran frantically among the trees in this inhospitable dark forest.

 

Death was calling for her - she felt it in her bones and in her soul - and she was trying desperately to evade it.

 

●

 

She ducked down under a low branch which seemed to grab for her, swept around a tree trunk that stood ominously in her way, almost stumbled as she came upon a huge solitary rock among the undergrowth but kept going, fleeing for her life.

 

Suddenly the air shimmered a few paces ahead of her, the darkness becoming denser and a Shadow appearing.

 

She came to an abrupt stop, sinking to her knees on the hard ground, her elbow slamming painfully into some sharp twigs, as her face turned upward in terror.

 

Amaranth stared coldly down at the bloodied woman, the traitor. His dark cloak with the symbols running down the sleeves glimmered slightly but almost became one with the surrounding darkness. His violet eyes gleamed harshly and in them the woman saw her death.

 

“Great Master”, she stuttered, gasping for breath, fear making her wet herself, “please forgive me!”

 

But there was no forgiveness for betrayal of the Great Lord.

 

The Chosen looked down at her only with scorn.

 

And then he channeled, powerful impeccably controlled minuscule weaves of Saidin, the blood veins in the woman’s body rupturing all at the same time, her harrowing death scream mired in blood and gore, melting slowly into the darkness of the night.

 

●

 

Stormbreaker tossed his head with a soft whicker, nearly pulling the reins from Elessar’s hands as an arrow flew past the horse’s head within an inch of hitting.

 

The warhorse lunged against the Warder’s restraint but then Elessar wheeled the stallion about and shouting to Calia on her grey mare off to his right he headed for the trees in the near distance, pushing Stormbreaker into a fast canter, seeing out of the corner of his eye that his Aes Sedai followed.

 

Another arrow barely missed him, then a third whooshed by and a hundred paces further along he cursed inside as he threw himself from the horse as they came up to the group of trees and drew his sword almost in the same motion. Calia was only a couple seconds behind him as she too dismounted swiftly and crept down beside him.

 

“Any idea who it can be?” She asked calmly though he felt through the bond that she too felt some concern.

 

“No idea”, Elessar replied, a touch of anger in his voice, his gaze sweeping meticulously over the terrain before them. “Damned if I know”.

 

He was mostly angry at himself for not having sensed the danger. The journey west from Caemlyn toward Four Kings which had begun a few days earlier had been uneventful, smooth riding in lovely sunny weather, and he had grown lax. There had been surprisingly few people on the main road, some carriages and farmers and a handful travellers but little else, and he had come to believe there was no danger about - and would be none until they got further south - and so he had skipped riding back the road to check on this leg of the journey as he usually did.

 

A foolish mistake and one not worthy of an experienced Warder.

 

●

 

Trying to keep his anger under wraps, though seeing in Calia’s blue eyes that she felt it through the bond, he studied the small brush and empty field before them scrupulously. Nothing moved and there was only silence except for the chirping of some sparrows and finches in the trees above them.

 

His eyes tightening, the Gaidin kept gazing at the field. The wind slowly began to pick up and ruffled the leaves on the branches above them. Elessar half-turned to ensure their horses remained nearby and was pleased to see that they did. Turning back to the still silent field he considered their options.

 

There were brigands in the forests and hills from the Borderlands in the north to Tear in the south, outlaws who would try their luck with anyone. But the Warder believed this was only one man or two at most. Otherwise he believed they would have followed them into the trees. Did they know that they were trying to rob an Aes Sedai? Not likely, Elessar thought. But then again, what if these were enemies out to get the Warder and Sedai? What if they were Darkfriends who somehow knew of their important mission and intended to make a stop to it? Could that be possible? It did not seem likely to him but he could not disregard any possibility.

 

“There is no one out there”, he whispered to Calia as he kept scrutinizing the field. “Or they are very well hidden and very patient.” His bondholder nodded silently, keeping her thoughts to herself.

 

The seconds passed as they lay in wait. Finally, Elessar whispered anew.

 

“Brigands perhaps..”, he began softly. “Though I don’t think there are many, perhaps only one or two”.

 

He paused before adding, even more softly, “But.. it could also be Darkfriends.”

 

He met Calia’s gaze squarely, his dark eyes hardening. “Has the Shadow learned of our mission? Have we been betrayed?”

 

●

 

The sun was setting in Ebou Dar and the city was enveloped in Twilight.

 

Serehstra Sedai looked at her own reflection in the mirror and sighed. The necklace with the red ruby around her neck which usually made her smile seemed dull now. Her long light-brown hair curled down her back and her blue eyes stared back at her questioningly. Her face looked tired, worn and mirrored what she was feeling deep inside.

 

Disappointment.

 

She had been in Ebou Dar a good while now, the days passing like raindrops, one after another in an endless sequence, and she still had not found the answers she had been looking for. Rumours were spreading through the city of a danger in the Aryth Ocean - some said an enemy fleet was coming, some said the Sea Folk were massing, some said the Panarch of Tarabon was sending warships from Tanchico to intercept illegal traders and pirates, and some even said monsters of the sea were crippling sea vessels - but nothing could be substantiated.

 

The local Red Ajah’s Eyes and Ears knew no more than she. And Voreyna would be of no help, especially after their last meeting and the spiteful words Serehstra had thrown in her face as she was leaving. She half-regretted being so hostile but the Gray Sister’s condescending and unhelpful attitude had ticked her off. Not that it was certain that Voreyna had any more useful information about what was happening in the Aryth Ocean, far from it.

 

I need to find out, she thought as she brushed her long hair for a long while. But how? What must I do?

 

●

 

Half-turning to gaze out the window of her second-floor room, seeing the yellow-orange sun disappearing in the horizon, somehow made her think of the sunsets of her youth, a century and more ago in Cairhien.

 

As a little girl, sunsets had always thrilled her. The beautiful warm sun falling in the sky, ever so slowly, to disappear into what she felt sure must be the ocean far away. For where else could the shining sun go? Her parents had smiled warmly at her words and fascination with the sun, privately amused by their daughter’s infatuation. Years later Serehstra had come face to face with another Sun, one that was within her, its warmth giving her the Light she had always craved for.

 

A small, nostalgic smile came upon her lips at the memory.

 

Putting the hairbrush aside, after a final glance in the mirror she moved to the bedside table in the corner of the room and started writing in the small notebook she always had on her person. It was dark outside by the time she finished.

 

When she went to bed later that night, faint sounds of merriment drifting up from the inn’s Common Room two floors below, she still had no idea what her next step would be.

 

●

 

Serehstra woke abruptly two hours later, with a sharp dagger pressed against her throat!

 

●

 

“Lady Mehrina”, the Royal Advisor to the Queen of Andor beckoned, “Darihna Sedai is ready to meet you now.”

 

An Andoran Noble, the grey in his hair made him look older than he was but he did not mind. Distinguished, was the word his dear wife used when describing the way he looked. He had upturned moustaches, a small nose, somewhat pale skin and there was an almost perpetual smile on his face. Sadhyn Redhan had been Royal Advisor to the Queen for many years and he performed his duties to perfection.

 

The Aes Sedai advisor in Caemlyn, Darihna Sedai of the White Ajah, had the Queen’s ear, he knew, but deep inside he was confident that his advice was followed in most circumstances. Who else knew as much about political intrigue in Andor as he did, after all? None, in his mind. Walking down the corridor on the west wing of the palace, he wondered who this Lady was. As far as he knew, she was not from any of the Andoran Noble families. And she was not an Aes Sedai. He had seen enough Sisters over the years to recognize the ageless face of a Sedai. Even so, Darihna Sedai had agreed to meet her and so he presumed she was of some importance. A beautiful woman, tall, dark haired and with a face women would kill for, she followed his footsteps down the corridor, her pale green dress and regal stance making her glide across the floor.

 

Finally, they arrived at a door near the end of the hallway and the Royal Advisor knocked three times. A voice from inside bade him enter and he pressed the door handle and went inside, indicating that the Lady wait. A few moments later he reappeared and said she could enter. When she had closed the door behind her, Sadhyn headed back to his own chamber in the east wing.

 

“Lady Mehrina”, said the White Sister with feigned politeness, as the regal looking woman entered the chamber and met her gaze. “Darihna Aes Sedai”, replied the lady smoothly giving the barest minimum of a respectful nod. Darihna’s eyes tightened slightly but then her face was Aes Sedai smooth again. “Please do sit”.

 

She indicated the chair opposite her across from the table and Mehrina seated herself, smoothing her skirts. The Aes Sedai studied the woman before her. She had the proud bearing of a Noble Woman, but did not belong to any of the Andoran Noble Houses as far as she knew. The woman had dark long hair and a stunningly beautiful face only marred by a small scar on one cheek. Her dress was beautiful too but showing more cleavage than Darihna thought proper. Merihna stared back at the Sister as if measuring her. Darihna saw strength in those dark eyes, power of resolve, but she had nothing to worry about. This woman could not channel; if she could, the Aes Sedai would have known instantly. So she was not a threat. Darihna had invited her for a talk based on recommendations from some local Nobles, though she could not quite remember who, though that did not matter right now.

 

They each waited, eying each other, to see who would speak first.

 

●

 

Merihna stared back at the Aes Sedai hiding the mischievous smile she felt inside. The Sister had the ageless look of her kind, and the short blonde hair that framed her handsome face suited her. The woman’s eyes were blue-ish in colour with a touch of grey and they were studying her closely.

 

Finally, the Aes Sedai spoke, opening the conversation.

 

“I was told that you had some.. valuable information”, she began smoothly. “Of value to the Queen.”

 

Merihna nodded, a small smile now on her lips. “Yes, there are things I know. Of value.”

 

She said nothing more, waiting for the Sister to ask.

 

The Sister’s eyes tightened slightly. She did not like having to ask again. But finally, she did.

 

“And this information, what exactly is it that you know?”

 

“I know many things..” Mehrina replied. Her stare became shrewd. “For instance, that you keep many secrets from your Queen.”

 

The Aes Sedai’s face betrayed nothing of her thoughts but there was a gleam in her eyes that told Mehrina her guess had been right.

 

“She is not my Queen”, the Sister said smoothly. “I serve at the pleasure of the Amyrlin.” Her eyes tightened further. “If you have no real information”, she added, “I don’t see..”

 

She was interrupted as Mehrina started to chuckle.

 

“Oh Darihna, Darihna..” She began, her face very amused. “I know you do not want me to tell the Queen of your deepest secrets.”

 

“Especially your deepest secret of all.”

 

Mehrina paused momentarily, intrigued by the puzzled but also weary look on the Aes Sedai’s face.

 

“Namely that.. you are Black Ajah, a servant of the Dark One.”

 

●

 

A shocked expression came upon the White Sister’s face and her mouth fell open.

 

“Whaat!!?” Her Aes Sedai composure was gone and she half-raised herself from her chair, stunned.

 

“What lies are you..” she stuttered, trying in vain to regain her composure. Her face was darkening by the second but she was too flabbergasted to complete a full sentence.

 

Lady Merihna looked at the Aes Sedai’s horrified face and grinned wickedly inside. The accusation had been a lie but she had enjoyed the Sister’s reaction.

 

“Oh Darihna”, she said very smoothly, “shut that gaping mouth of yours. There is no reason for panic. I have not told the Queen. Yet.”

 

The Aes Sedai’s mouth would not close and anger now shone in her eyes. Anger and disbelief.

 

She was unable to do anything, however, because just then - impossibly! -  a shield slammed between the One Power inside her and her ability to draw from it!

 

Her eyes almost popped out of her head in utter shock! and all she was able to do was mumble..

 

“Impossible!!”

 

She tried to reach Saidar again but it was as if a wall stood between her and the One Power. She knew she would never be able to breach that wall, never in a hundred years.

 

Slumping in her chair, the White Sister’s face lost all colour as she studied the lady seated opposite her as if watching a deadly viper. Impossible kept echoing in her mind.

 

●

 

Finally, she stuttered. “Those are all lies. The Light of the Creator is in my heart.” A shiver came upon her body and she almost sobbed. “You are Aes Sedai”, she said accusingly. “Somehow you are able to do what you do. At the least I deserve a trial before my peers.”

 

Qariahna stared back at the Sister with dark amusement. Then her eyes hardened. “I am no Aes Sedai”, she spat fiercely.

 

The White Sister’s eyes looked disbelieving. “Then who are you?” She asked finally.

 

The Chosen drew herself up, her face proud in its cold beauty.

 

“I have been known by many names”, she said smoothly, triumphantly. “Most you will not know. But the one you may recognize”, she added, her dark eyes sparkling, “is.. Qariahna.”

 

Darihna’s mouth opened again in complete disbelief and now there was terror in her eyes. One of the Forsaken!!? It could not be.. but there was something about this beautiful woman, her regal bearing, her cold pride, that made her believe her. Even so, ancient doubt lingered..

 

"The Dark One and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul..” she began but stopped as a broad triumphant grin came upon Qariahna’s face.

 

“Were bound..” she replied. “But no longer”, she added with great satisfaction.

 

Touching the purple hairpin she wore, a powerful Angreal, she let the moment linger as the Aes Sedai stared perplexed at her. She had warded the room, inverting the weaves so as to not be detectable, as soon as she had entered so the Sister’s screams would not be heard by anyone. Masking her ability to channel had made this much easier and it was one of the ancient weaves Qariahna had made the best use of over the years. Very, very handy indeed.

 

“This secret, for now, is not well known.” The Chosen said squarely. “Why am I telling you, you might wonder?” She saw the Aes Sedai wet her lips. “Because, my dearest Darihna Aes Sedai of the White Ajah, you will soon be dead. Very soon indeed.”

 

The Sister of the White Tower felt Air pushing in on her from all sides and she was unable to move an inch. The pressure increased on her chest and she found it harder to breathe. Her eyes lost all fight and resistance as well as hope as she waited for death to claim her. A Forsaken! was her last thought, terror running through her in rivulets. When death came, it was swift and almost painless - her heart just stopped beating - for which she was thankful.

 

●

 

Staring at the dead body of Darihna Aes Sedai, Qariahna felt nothing. Except pleasure at having completed the task and mission the Great Lord had given her. Killing this Aes Sedai advisor to the Queen (no need for blood or gore) and thereby spreading Chaos in the land.

 

She had to admit she had taken pleasure also from playing with the White Sister. We all need some amusement in this pale shadow of an Age, she thought to herself with a dark lopsided grin as she left the chamber behind, walked up the corridor and found the Royal Advisor. With practiced skill she placed weaves on his mind so that he would forget all that had happened this day and would even forget having ever met the Lady Mehrina.

 

Leaving the Andoran Royal Palace behind, Qariahna walked gently through the palace gardens and none of those seeing her would ever remember her face. When she finally stepped onto the main street in the Inner City, her expensive and elegant dress making her stand out in the crowd, the large hat once again atop her head, her stance proud and regal, she looked like a Queen.

 

●

 

The Twelve female figures in long white cowled tunics, decorated with strange symbols and paired with belts in shining silver, surrounded the brown-haired little girl in their midst and placed a blindfold over her awed oval eyes. She was wearing a pale blue tunic in the same style as the women but hers had a silver octagon centered on the front and had been woven of fine silk.

 

The palace interior was 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.

 

Leading the little girl forwards, the white-clothed women slowly ascended the steps to the throne above, holding onto the girl carefully to ensure she did not stumble. Several of the women at the back started singing in soft tones, an ancient hymn which somehow seemed so familiar to the little girl.

 

The sound permeated the chamber and 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.

 

They reached the top of the stairs and placed the little girl 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.”

 

Removing the blindfold from the little girl, touching her face caressingly, 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.

 

●

 

Staring awestruck at the light that streamed from the middle of the black door there on the otherworldly plain, the woman hesitated again. With every fibre of her being she wanted to open that door.. reaching for it again in her mind.. but she dared not.

 

She believed she knew what was on the other side. Or at least she suspected for no one knew for certain. And she wanted to see.. so deeply that her hunger for it took her breath away..

 

But something inside her stopped her. Perhaps it was survival instinct. Perhaps something else. But the silent voice of caution broke through her enthralled being and she took a step back.

 

And another step.

 

The wind which had come out of nowhere seemed to recede and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks disappeared almost as if it had never been. The green sky above, unnatural in every way but somehow fitting to this strange place, pressed down on her and the intermittent flashes of silver light became bolder and more ominous.

 

Gazing upward in wonder but also some confusion her eyes were drawn yet another time toward the black door which now seemed farther away. Had she moved? She could not tell. The light coming from the door seemed to gradually recede too until it was all lost in blackness.

 

She did not have time to think, because just then colours of all kinds swirled again inside her mind like raging storms and she was drawn into somewhere else.. another time and place.. in a beautiful moment of transition.

 

●

 

When she opened her eyes again, the radiance of the light gradually disappearing from her vision, she saw that she was back in the cottage, the fire still burning and the lights streaming out of the windows into the darkness without. She was seated by the old oak table and in her hand the Karanth blazed like a star, the soft buzzing sound of before remaining.

 

She stared at the ancient circular object for a long time, her dark eyes wide with wonder. The mysterious symbols running down its side and dark brown surface glinted as if powered from within. She wished she knew how to control it but she did not. It acted on its own, sometimes haphazardly, and however much she willed it to take her back to that plain with the mysterious door it was to no avail.

 

Finally, she gave up and placed the Karanth on the table before her, running a hand through her long brown hair, her eyes tightening. The object soon lost its radiance and the buzzing sound went away. Letting go of Saidar, she felt the loss she always did when not holding onto the One Power. As always she was tempted to hold onto it at all times but she had learned of the dangers long ago and knew that the seduction could destroy her if she was not careful. Even so the loss lingered as she kept staring at the mysterious object for a long time, craving to learn its deepest secrets.

 

Oh, they had studied the Karanth at the Collam Daan in V'saine. She remembered it well. The great university, with its silver and blue domes whose architecture was overshadowed only by the Sharom that floated overhead, had had scholars of brilliance who had spent years studying ancient objects. As had she, the famous University Lecturer and scholar Ariahna Herahl Themen, but often with little success. All they knew about the Karanth was that it was an object from an even earlier Age, with hidden properties, a thing of mystery but of great value. It had been hidden away when war broke out in the world, the Great War which ended in what others would call the Breaking of the World, and certain prophecies had proclaimed that it would be found again in a Time to come.

 

Now the time was here, and she had felt its call - and found it. In this new Time and world. But she was still unable to control it and that frustrated her. This world was a pale shadow of what had once been, as her memories and dreams of the past told her time and again, but it was the world she inhabited and a world she meant to succeed in.

 

The.. others.. had their plans and schemes, of that she was aware. Let them have their power games, she thought to herself for the hundredth time, I will work in the shadows where they cannot see.

 

●

 

As dawn broke over the small cottage in the dense forest in southern Arafel, the sun beginning its long journey toward midday, she prepared herself for her next task. Her multi-coloured dress shimmered now, empowered by the light of Saidar, and it was impossible to see her facial features, the colour of her hair, or any details of her attire. It was just as she wanted it.

 

Cloaking herself in colours.

 

With a small wave of her hand, the air before her shimmered, almost as if in symmetry with her dress. Her dark eyes sparkled with determination. She smiled but it was a wicked smile, one that spoke of danger. One that spoke of a predator.

 

A Chosen, she had been known by many names over the Ages, but the one she had taken for herself pleased her the most.

 

Erandel

 

▀▄

[Cass]

.. Light Only Knows  ..

 

►▼◄

 

 

"Perhaps." 

 

Calia answered Elessar's two questions at once. The hard truth of that one word landed like a boulder in front of them and left a bad taste in her mouth.

 

The sparrows and finches hushed their chattering above.

 

She clenched her jaw and returned her steely blue gaze briefly to the field and road beyond. Still empty.
 

She scanned every opening in the softly-rustling canopy above them.

 

Nothing but sky. 

 

Why were the birds going quiet, all at once? 

 

The light might have been fading in intensity, but it was definitely not yet dark.

 

Her eyes flicked back to the field - dry grass. Taller patches nodding gently in the slight wind. No erratic movements or oddly crushed or stationary areas - other than where Stormbreaker and the bay mare had trampled.

 

The road - void of people, carts and carriages. As far as the eye could see in both directions. Dust swirls, tumbling across the packed dirt here and there in the sections visible beyond the patches of longer field grass.

 

Elessar had said he had no idea who the attacker - or attackers - might be. That in itself gave her some information - he would have sensed if Shadowspawn were involved. 

 

Reluctantly, Cal released her connection to saidar. She felt the current of it slip back towards its source, leaving her less anchored on solid ground, as it always did when she separated herself from its flow.

 

Her skin prickled.

 

There were no more arrows. 

 

No flares of heat or warning on the circlet around her neck - she gritted her teeth with increased pressure, smothering self-annoyance that reared hard again at that thought. 

 

Nothing out of the ordinary, now.

 

As far as she could tell. 

 

But she felt trapped. And there was a foreboding sense of Shadows growing darker; longer. No matter how much Light remained.

 

A flurry of movement and chaotic sound broke the silence in the trees above Elessar and herself. 

Saidar flooded back to Calia's command immediately, her head instinctively whirling and eyes locking on the origin of the sound, the bond informing her of her gaidin's response.

 

A storm of fawn, brown, cream and grey whipped around and past her and her Warder in a violent rush of wind. Tiny feathered torpedoes were erupting from the branches in every direction, aiming directly towards a shadowy patch of leaves close by. In a cacophony of flapping wings and angry-sounding cheeps, the cloud of birds  converged, and began swooping and stabbing and dive-bombing the shadowy patch with such force and aggression that feathers and leaves alike started shearing away and tumbling toward the ground.

 

Most of the feathers were colours she had seen rushing by.

 

But one was much larger, and a glossy, if now much-tattered, midnight-black.

 

Calia tensed, saidar at the ready as a raspy rattling sound joined the frey, then a series of clicks and grating yelps followed by a sudden loud, hoarse CAWW! 

 

A shadow eXpLoDeD! upward from the branch, black wings clutching at the air and a vicious dark beak flinging finches and sparrows away as it lurched away from the trees and towards the open space above the field. 

 

The finches and sparrows were not giving up. They dove and tore en masse at the invader's dark feathers, soft underbelly and eyes.

 

The larger bird struggled on, wing tips occasionally forced to scrape against leaf matter and debris on the ground with the weight of the assault against it. It was  almost, almost clear of the trees.

 

Calia began to weave a net of Air, Fire and Spirit, the stone truth she'd uttered earlier settling in the very pit of her stomach. She couldn't be sure, but she felt she knew.

 

With a burst of speed, the bird from the shadows shot upward from the treeline, wheeling sharply to the side to throw the last sparrow from its back. Large, hooked talons stretched towards the soft fawn fluff, found their mark. And squeezed. Little beady eyes lost their spark, and the ball of fluff went limp.

 

Calia saw it all in great detail, thanks to the clarity of saidar. 

 

Including the very moment when the arrow-tip tore through both birds.

 

She watched, dropping her weave but maintaining her embrace of saidar. The two birds, light and dark pinned fast together in death, fell from the sky. 

 

Calia scanned the field and road again, to no avail.

 

Light only knew where the arrows had come from. Or why. Or whether her suspicions were right about the crow.

 

Her warning ward remained untriggered; the circlet remained neutral in temperature at her neck. 

 

She turned to her gaidin, catching his gaze once again. 

 

Had the Shadow been aware of their mission? Tracking their every move?

 

Had they been betrayed? 

 

And how, or by whom?

 

How much more vileness might have already spread?

 

"Perhaps," she repeated, her heart hardening against the fears it was true. She wished she had a cup full of apple-ale to at least wash the bitter taste of that terrible fact out of her mouth before she had to start to really chew.

 

Light knew, she would have wished for a jug of ale rather than just a cup, but an Aes Sedai had no right to simply try and slosh away these types of thoughts and concerns - not even in her own mind. No matter how much she abhorred what she had little choice but to find herself thinking.

 

Besides, if what they suspected had occurred...? Not enough ale existed in the entire world to even slightly drown out that threat of darkness from one's mind.

 

Because Light knew, as surely they all knew the Wheel was turning, that it didn't really matter what they did - such harsh truths and inevitable realities would never really stay buried entirely out of reach, or properly locked down.

 

▀▄

Edited April 7 by Cass

[Elessar]

.. In the Face of Threats ..

►▼◄

 

“You have been asking questions”. The deep male voice said. “The wrong sort of questions.”

 

Feeling the cold dagger pressed against her throat, Serehstra embraced the One Power immediately and relaxed inside once she felt Saidar warming her.

 

An instant of irritation that she had become overconfident in the belief that no one would dare threaten an Aes Sedai and so had not set any wards around her room, but she left that self-incrimination for later. Now she gazed smoothly up at the manly figure leaning over her bed, his dark green eyes pinned on her face.

 

Knowing she was no longer in any danger, she started grinning which made the man’s eyes tighten.

 

“Do you know who I am!?” the Red Sister said, her voice sharp and her mouth twisting with distaste. “You dare threaten ME!?”

 

As she channeled, the man’s face lost its dark grin and it was replaced by fear.

 

●

 

The dagger started to glow dangerously bright and the man screamed and lost his grip on the weapon which slid down the bedcover and onto the floor. A sparkle of satisfaction blossomed in Serehstra’s blue eyes - and then the big man flew through the air to crash against the wall on the other side!

 

Climbing slowly out of her bed, touching the soft silk of her nightdress as she walked across the room, she stared down at the intruder with harsh eyes. He lay on the side grumbling and was trying to get to his feet. Unsuccessfully.

 

Using Air to pin him down, she stared at him balefully. She had never liked men to be honest, which had probably been the deciding factor against joining the Greens when she was Raised Aes Sedai despite her eagerness to fight the Shadow, but especially bullying men. This man looked ordinary if somewhat scruffy, in his mid-twenties but the many scars across his face told her much. He was the kind of man people would use as enforcers, or assassins.

 

“So, big man”, she said scornfully, “who sent you to threaten an Aes Sedai?”

 

He mumbled something under his breath but she could see from his weary expression that he likely had not been told or had known that she was a Sister of the White Tower.

 

“Ah, so you did not know who I was.” The Red Sister nodded to herself. “Too bad for you.” Her blue eyes glinted. “I am not overly fond of men. Especially”, she added darkly, “your kind.”

 

Channeling again, she moved his body so his back was against the wall and his hands were pinned behind him. His eyes widened and he was unable to close his mouth. It was clear he had never been in the presence of anyone channeling before.

 

“So”, she asked again, her eyes hard. “Who sent you?”

 

●

 

When he showed no inclination to answer, she picked up the dagger he had brought and turned it over in her hand. It was no longer hot to the touch and she found it to be an ordinary dagger, nothing distinguishing it from any other she had seen. It seemed sharp though.

 

Pointing the knife at the man, she said calmly. “If I get no answers from you, big man, we can find out how sharp this dagger is.”

 

It was a weak threat, since she had no intention of using it on him no matter what, but he did not know that. She needed to find out who had sent him though - and why.

 

He still remained silent although he eyed the dagger somewhat warily.

 

She considered her options. Could it be that he did not know who had sent him? Over the years she had learned that some enforcers were hired on a “no know, hidden employer” basis for a single mission while others were part of a guild and hired accordingly.

 

“I ask another time. Who sent you?”

 

The man mumbled something about there being no point in threatening him to which Serehstra’s blue eyed tightened dangerously.

 

The weaves of Saidar holding the enforcer tight hardened somewhat and the man grunted in response.

 

“I am not going to kill you.” Serehstra said truthfully.

 

Not for the first time she wished she was able to lie. She understood the reason for the oath but it would have been very.. convenient.. to be able to lie sometimes. Aes Sedai had, of course, become very proficient at bending the truth.

 

“You may die today though.” This was true. Someone might kill him this day however unlikely it was, or a horse might trample him. Who could say.

 

The man’s eyes widened slightly though his face remained sullen.

 

“This is a sharp dagger”, the Red Sister added after a long, telling moment. Her voice was icy. “I am sure you don’t want me to test its sharpness.”

 

With a sudden flick of her wrist, she hammered the dagger into the floor an inch away from his most priceless eh ‘jewels’. It was a trick with a knife she had learned many many years ago and it made the big man gasp, his mouth hanging open.

 

When she was finally done with him, placing him in the hands of the local city watch, all she had learned were two words but they would have to do.

 

The Swordfish.

 

●

 

"Perhaps." 

 

Calia answered Elessar's two questions at once. The hard truth of that one word landed like a boulder in front of them and left a bad taste in her mouth.

 

His Aes Sedai’s one word response echoed in Elessar’s mind as he kept scanning the field in search of their adversary. Could it really be that the Shadow had learned of their plans and were adamant to thwart them? They had no proof, of course, but instinct told the Gaidin that his hunch had been right. Even if he felt no Shadowspawn close, the Shadow used humans as well in their war. And sometimes Darkfriends could be just as dangerous.

 

They were on a very important mission for the White Tower and though the mission was secret the Shadow was Spreading in the World and they could not be certain that word of it had not somehow slipped to a minion of the Dark One. It was a harsh truth but Elessar had dealt with harsh truths for many years as a Warder and faced it with determination.

 

He could feel Calia studying their surroundings intently, mirroring his intense gaze. Above in the trees birds were chirping, happily unaware of the danger.

 

The moments extended until suddenly the birds went silent.

 

●

 

The Gaidin’s attention increased and he held his breath, staring hard into the dry grass.

 

Dust swirls, tumbling across the packed dirt here and there in the sections visible beyond the patches of longer field grass.

 

A minute went by. Two minutes. And then suddenly a flurry of movement and chaotic sound broke the silence in the trees above Calia and himself. Elessar readied himself, the sword in his hand. Just as Calia’s head whirled and her eyes locked upwards. A storm of birds whipped around and past the two of them and up toward a shadowy patch.

 

They swooped and stabbed at the shadow in a chaotic moment of force. A shadowy creature, dark as midnight, finally tore loose from the storm and lurched away from the trees and all the birds. Elessar recognized the crow and immediately his dark eyes tightened, thinking of crows and shadow creatures. He sensed his Aes Sedai following the large bird intensely with her blue eyes.

 

He was surprised though when an arrow-tip suddenly out of nowhere tore through the crow and a smaller bird at its side. Joined, like in a deadly dance of Light and Shadow, pinned together in an eternal embrace, they fell from the sky.

 

Watching them fall, Elessar’s eyes scanned the field looking for the bowman but still saw nothing lurking in the tall grass. Calia turned to him, catching his gaze again, and he returned the gaze which said, he had not seen their adversary yet and he knew no more than she what was going on. He heard her repeated “Perhaps” and thought to himself that it was probably more certain than either of them would have wished.

 

Not for the first time in the past months, not for the tenth time either, Elessar Telcontar Gaidin of Kandor thought darkly to himself: The Shadow is Rising.

 

●

 

The man had been an assassin in the Thieves’ Guild in Caemlyn for many years, first having been recruited as a pocket-thief in his youth. He had always been very good at what he did and had risen quickly in the guild ranks.

 

What most of his other brothers and sisters there did not know, however, was that he had also sworn new oaths. To the Shadow. A secret hidden inside the deepest wells of his heart, only revealed to two other high-standing Darkfriends inside the guild. His new oaths did not complicate his ordinary duties as he saw it, they only added to them. And so it was that he had been approached by another servant of the Great Lord a week earlier with a very important mission. To kill an Aes Sedai and a Warder. He did not ask why, only named his price. To go up against such dangerous people added to the danger and meant a handsome bonus was expected. He had placed the gold coins in a secret pocked inside his cloak and had left to prepare for what he would have to do. And here he was, hiding in the tall grass with his intended victims some distance away by some trees.

 

And he was gnashing his teeth in anger because he had missed!

 

He had crept up on them from behind, giving him a perfect line of vision for his bow and arrow shot, but just as he was about to let the arrow go, a small gust of wind had ruffled his blond hair, disturbing his concentration for a second, and he had missed, even if only by a whisker. The arrows he had fired shortly after had also gone slightly wide and now he was unable to see the accursed Aes Sedai and Warder though he knew approximately where they hid. Cursing inside another time he stared at the tall grass for any movement.

 

There was no sound except for the birds in the trees, chirping again. In fury at missing his targets he had impulsively fired the arrow at the crow in the sky, wanting to hit something, only afterwards recalling that perhaps it was one of the creatures the Great Lord used in his service.

 

Never mind, it felt good hitting.. one target, he thought to himself as he held onto the bow in his right hand, crouching in the tall grass, and kept gazing at the trees in the distance, his light-blue eyes tightening.

 

●

 

“So, what do we have here?” Elessar said, his knee across the throat of the Andoran man, pinning him to the ground and grass with his strong arms. “Out for a picnic in the countryside, were you?”

 

His voice became harder as he spoke and a few moments later he saw his Aes Sedai arrive out of the corner of his eye. The man remained pinned to the ground even when Elessar removed his knee and got to his feet. Now Calia’s weaves of Air were holding him down and the Gaidin nodded in respect when the Aes Sedai murmured that he had done well.

 

They had finally decided that whoever was out there would wait and wait and so they would need to take the initiative. After considering the various options, Elessar had argued that he would creep carefully through the tall grass and find whoever was hiding out there. But she should remain by the trees. In safety. Calia had not protested though it was impossible for him to read her face or feel through the bond what she really thought. At last, she had nodded, and he had begun a low crawl through the grass, his sword fastened to his side. He could not know exactly where their adversary was, but he used his Warder’s intuition and crept along, stopping at intervals to see if the person out there would make a noise and reveal his position.

 

Finally, he did, a small cough which he did not expect anyone to hear, but Elessar heard. Sneaking up on him, coming at him from the side, he took him unawares and slammed his shoulder into the man’s face, then pinning him to the ground. He gave a small whistle for Calia to hear, their pre-arranged signal for when he had the situation under control, and here she was.

 

Now it was time to interrogate this blond-haired muscled man who stared balefully up at them.

 

“I am thinking we should remove his left eye”, Elessar lied expertly. His smile became very dangerous. “Or perhaps the right?”

 

●

 

It was very convenient - and useful - that Warders were able to lie since Aes Sedai were not, and he had made use of this fact in many interrogations over the years. Some of his Aes Sedai bondholders had at first been surprised at how hard and seemingly brutal he could be in interrogation situations, but they had quickly learned that it was all an act by him.

 

A very convincing act nonetheless.

 

“That is what we do to Darkfriends. And Assassins.” He added, meeting the ice-cold gaze of this man who had tried to kill them with a gaze just as icy.

 

“First though”, he said, indicating the Aes Sedai beside him, “you are to answer some questions from this Aes Sedai.” His smile darkened further.

 

“But if you don’t answer truthfully, or if you are disrespectful to her, then I may use my knife on you”, he added, removing his new knife from its sheath at his side. “Or worse.”

 

The Warder’s dark eyes were deadly.

 

●

 

Denya brushed her almost white hair caressingly as she stared at her own image in the tall decorated mirror. Her piercing blue eyes stared back at her as if silently asking, who are you? Who was she indeed? She stared at her prominent cheekbones and at her delicate nose. Her complexion was pale, a little too pale for some but she thought it suited her well. A moan from the other side of the room broke her chain of thought momentarily but she quickly disregarded it.

 

I am who I was always meant to be.

 

The thought made her smile widely something she rarely did. Oh, she could wear a small smile in public, a smile which put others at ease and which made her appear kind and empathic, an old and sturdy Brown that others could depend on, but the true smile was the grin she felt when she succeeded with her discoveries and ‘projects’.

 

Another moan came from back in the room and she put the brush down and walked across to the bed. The man was almost unrecognizable, face swollen, body bloodied. She had made many cuts in his flesh, probing, trying to understand how touching his nerves gave him so much pain. It was fascinating to her, and there was still so much to learn. “There, there, my dear one”, she said soothingly, her hand on his head. “You will not be in pain for much longer.”

 

●

 

Running her fingers through her newly-brushed hair, then down her brown dress, she thought about the next stage of this.. ‘project’. There was a nerve along the side of his thigh that made him scream when she pressed it with her surgical knife. Interesting. There was also a point at the back of his neck that also seemed particularly sensitive. Hmmm. Pressing a few other nerve points made his moans increase and she noted it down in her book.

 

Just then a small chime sounded and she turned around as a shadow materialized at the other side of the room. A sliver of light which was gone as soon as it had arrived. She immediately went to one knee, placing the surgical knife on the floor beside her.

 

“Great Master”, she said in reverent tones.

 

“Denya”. It was a whisper. The cloaked figure turned its eyes on the man on the bed for a moment. “I see you indulge in your.. amusements.”

 

“I continue with my discoveries”. Denya’s voice was cautious as it always was when this Chosen visited. Which was more often of late.

 

“Yes. You do.” There was amusement in that voice but Denya ignored it.

 

“Have you done as ordered, Denya?” The voice was harsh and unyielding.

 

“I have, Great Master.” She replied truthfully. “They will be dealt with, as ordered. It has been set in motion.”

 

“The Great Lord will be pleased.” She added after a short silence.

 

“For your sake, that better be true.” The cloaked figure said. “The Great Lord does not forgive mistakes.”

 

“And neither do I.”

 

●

 

She felt something pressing against her throat and then she was unable to breathe. Her blue eyes widened in panic, all Aes Sedai composure gone. Trying to get to her feet she found she was unable to.

 

The seconds went by but it felt like minutes to her. Just as it seemed that she was done for, the pressure let up and she gasped as she drew in a welcome breath. She drew in another one and started coughing.

 

“Remember. I will not tolerate any mistakes.” The cloaked figure said, his voice stronger now. “You live to serve.”

 

Then there was a slight sliver of light and the shadow was gone.

 

Few things frightened Denya. She had lived a long life and had survived many dangers. But this man frightened her. And she dared not disobey.

 

Climbing somewhat shakily to her feet, still coughing, she picked up the surgical knife and put it on the small desk beside the bed where her other appliances were stacked. Looking down at the man on the bed as she was regaining her composure, she saw that he had lost consciousness again. A pity.

 

Walking back to the mirror she gazed at her reflection for a second. It seemed somewhat paler than before. Shaking her head, she went and sat down in the rocking chair by the wall. It was dark outside by the time she rose and checked on her ‘patient’ again.

 

●

 

The Banners of Illian, Twelve Golden Bees on a Field of Green, situated atop the Palace called the Great Hall of the Council, rippled on the soft winds that came in off the Sea of Storms. Standing beside a large window in one of the top council rooms, Lord Sandhar, wearing a dark coat with golden fringes, ones that mirrored those in his boots in the Illian style, looked across the Square of Tammaz to the almost identical huge Ogier-built white Palace situated there, the King’s Palace, and grinned smoothly.

 

These two famous Palaces in Illian bore witness to the struggles between the two political powers in this nation: the King and the Council of Twelve. Your Palace may indeed be two feet larger in every measurement, as the stories go, Lord Sandhar thought to himself somewhat smugly, but here is where the true power of Illian resides.

 

There had been a power-struggle in Illian for what seemed forever. The system of having the Sovereign being “advised” by a council of lords - The Council of Twelve - was bad enough for the King of Illian. But in addition to that there was still another “advisory” body known as the Assemblage chosen by and from Illian’s merchants and shop owners. Both of these groups contended with the King for power, with the result that the nation lacked apt leadership. Or so many thought.

 

And that, Lord Sandhar mused, is what I am going to give them. Leadership. But from behind the scenes, of course. That was always the best way, a whisper in the right ear here, a whisper in the right ear there, gaining influence among those with power, but without drawing undue attention, and slowly but surely the master-puppeteer holds the strings of a nation. And then when the time is right.. to strike - and to strike hard!

 

●

 

Stepping back from the window, he walked across his ornate chamber and seated himself in a high-backed chair. On the walls were paintings that depicted battles in Illian’s history. They pleased him, reminding him of his own battles and triumphs of command.

 

Sipping from a crystal glass of red wine, he was lost in thoughts and reflections when there was a knock on his door a little later. “Come in” he said finally, gazing toward the door expectantly.

 

 

A woman entered the room, a stately woman in a luxurious robe. Her hair was long and blonde and her beautiful face radiated sensuality. He stared at her appreciatively and his grin widened when she closed the door and dropped her robe. She was completely naked underneath and her body was glorious to behold.

 

“Do you like what you see, Lord Sandhar?” Her voice was smooth as silk, her green eyes twinkling lustfully.

 

“You are beautiful, Erihna”, the lord replied honestly, his eyes running over her curves with desire. “A continent to be conquered.”

 

His reply made her tingle all the way from her head to her toes, a lascivious smile on her hot-red lips.

 

It was very late in the evening by the time Lord Sandhar was able to focus on the politics of the nation again.

 

●

 

“So, what do you think about the Amyrlin’s proposal, Leihda?” Maras Sedai asked, looking across at the slightly younger Sister in her light green dress.

 

They were sipping to cups of tea in her personal quarters in the Green Wing of the White Tower. Her own dress was of somewhat sturdier material and slightly darker green. Her gaze met the other Sister’s and she smiled softly.

 

Maras and Leihda had been friends ever since their Novice days many decades before. ‘Pillow friends’ some had called their relationship but there had never been anything sexual about it. Just close friendship, best friends. A friendship which had lasted over the decades. Maras had been the strongest of the two, the leader, but Leihda had been the shrewdest. Her cunning had on many an occasion surprised her Sisters.

 

“I think it is a bold proposal, Maras” Leihda responded after a while. Her face was thoughtful though. “It has its risks, but there is little choice, I think.” She met her friend’s gaze and smiled. Then she sipped some more from her tea and finally put the cup down on the saucer.

 

“Some Sisters think she is overreaching”, Maras said with a twinkle in her eye. “But then again, some will always complain.”

 

“That is certainly true”, Leihda replied with a knowing gaze. “It is impossible to make all Ajahs content. Thus, it has been from the beginning.”

 

Her face looked pensive but then it was Aes Sedai-smooth again, unreadable, as if nothing had happened. Maras smiled inside, having seen that look on Leihda’s face many times over the years. It was a way to disarm others, to make her seem much more uncertain and confident than she really was.

 

●

 

“So, have you decided on your 3rd Warder?” Maras said with a broad grin, elegantly changing the subject. It was well known among the Green that Leihda had decided to get another Warder, as if Seldin and Antar were not enough to handle.

 

Leihda gave her a shrewd look and then started chuckling. “Yes, I know the rumour mill is active these days.” Her cheeks reddened slightly but then reassumed their smoothness. “Well, I am looking, yes. But so far, I have not found the right one.”

 

It was also well known among the Green that Leihda was a very picky Sedai when it came to Warders and she would not take just anyone.

 

“I am sure you will find someone.. eventually”, Maras said with another smile, thinking inside that her one Warder, Samir, was enough for her by a long shot. Such a stubborn man.. but also a great Gaidin and friend.

 

“Well, it’s time I get back to my quarters”, Leihda said with a small grin. “I have some.. important matters to deal with.”

 

“Important as in.. Seldin?” Maras asked innocently. Leihda’s cheekbones gained a red colour anew before she was able to control her emotions. “Important.. exercises perhaps?”

 

Maras tried to hide the chuckle but was unsuccessful. Leihda stuck her tongue out at her friend, then got to her feet and faced her. “I enjoyed our time together. Friend.” She smiled and Maras smiled back, just as earnestly, before Leihda closed the door behind her and started down the corridor.

 

Alone at last, with no one around, Leihda Sedai’s smile broadened in a different way, a wicked grin building inside, and colours suddenly swirled around her face and figure, making it impossible to determine who it was.

 

Erandel, the Chosen, headed down the empty corridor, very pleased with how in the guise of the dead Leihda Sedai, whose personality and mannerisms she had studied and learned down to a T, she was influencing events in the White Tower.

 

Commanding the Sisters of the Black Ajah. Carrying out necessary murders. And weakening the Tower by creating small conflicts and strife between the Ajahs. Just as the Great Lord wanted.

 

The Shadow right at the Heart and Bastion of the Light; it was something that appealed to her in more ways than one.

 

●

 

Spread over the steep hills embracing Tanchico Bay at the mouth of the River Andahar, the south-western city of Tanchico had three separate peninsulas jut into the harbour: the Verana to the east, the Maseta in the centre, and the Calpene nearest the sea. These peninsulas were guarded by a dozen fortresses that surrounded the harbour and each peninsula had a "circle" or assembly arena among its buildings.

 

The smallest of these, the Great Circle on the Calpene Peninsula, could hold thousands of people to watch horse races or displays of Illuminations. The largest arena was the King's Circle, located on the Maseta Peninsula. The Panarch's Circle was slightly smaller than the King's Circle and was located on the Verana Peninsula, as was the Panarch's Palace.

 

Khoram, Cargomaster of the Sea Folk vessel Oceanfold, did not spare the local geography and history much thought as he walked through the city’s streets. A heavy-shouldered man with greyish hair and green eyes with four gold rings in each ear, he was never comfortable when on land, missing the gentle roll of the waves. But these things needed be done, the matters dealt with, and so he did them. He turned a street corner near the central plaza and almost bumped into a heavy-set man, somewhat strangely clothed who grumbled in a foreign tongue, slurring his speech, but then he walked on toward the grocery shop where he was to meet the trader.

 

Later he headed toward the docks again, most of his business done, his thoughts on Carah, his dear wife and Sailmistress, foremost in his mind. She always worried when he went ashore, and did not like him walking among the ‘stone dwellers’ as she called them. Well, this time she would be pleased with what he had learned. The enemy forewarned was heading this way, or at least that was what the rumours indicated. Who or what exactly this enemy was no one could say for sure, not even in the couple inns he had visited on his way back, but word was it was heading this way, toward land, and that meant Carah would get the battle she yearned for.

 

When back aboard the Atha’an Miere Raker Oceanfold, he told his wife the news, her grin was as broad as Tanchico Bay.

 

●

 

Evana had just turned seventeen and her family had had a party for her the evening before.

 

They had complimented her on her pretty face and lovely figure, her long brown hair which reached half way down her back, and her heartfelt smiles. She had been the centre of attention as was only proper on such a day.

 

Smiling at all the lovely things she had gotten as presents - several beautiful dresses, a few books and bracelets, and the best present of all, a jewelled necklace with several red rubins that had been her grandmother’s - she had gone to bed more content than ever in her life.

 

All alone in her bedroom, closing her eyes, the soft blanket covering her from head to toe, her fingertips caressing the soft sheets, and with her head comfortably placed on the soft pillow, she thought how wonderful life is.

 

When a pair of arms coming out of the mattress suddenly pulled her down, pulling her long hair painfully, pushing her head and body into the mattress with crushing force and through the bed and.. elsewhere.. she only had time to scream once in utter terror!

 

Blood - and parts of torn hair and skin - remained on the white sheets and on what was left of the bed, dripping onto the floor in red rivulets.

 

The stench of death and blood remained in the bedroom for several days.

 

▀▄

[Elessar]

 

  .. Mirror Mirror, on the Wall ..

►▼◄

 

Mirror Mirror, on the Wall

Will you Rise or Will You Fall

Your Reflection Bright as Light

In the Glass, is Life and Might

 

She whispered the words she had found in the book, that ancient leather book with runes on the front, reaching into the mirror glass, feeling something beyond. It felt like liquid water just thicker, denser - and alive. Her blue eyes widened in excitement, the thrill of the moment running through her entire body.

 

But then

 

It all changed.

 

Something in the mirror was pulling at her hand!

 

She gasped!

 

..and tried to withdraw her hand but was unable. She tried to stay calm, to not panic, but her pulse was rising and her heart beat faster.

 

She tried to pull back her hand again but it was stuck in the mirror. A tear of frustration ran down her cheek as she bit her lip.

 

Come on! Come on! The words ran through her mind as she pulled and pulled but to no avail.

 

She suddenly felt a great pain in her hand! It felt like claws ripping into it - claws and razor-sharp teeth! She screamed but it was a scream that no one heard.

 

“Heeelp me!!” She cried in desperation, frantic with worry. “Pleaaase!!”

 

Something was biting into her fingers in the mirror, the skin of her fingertips being ripped open, and she screamed as pain shot through her arm like needles.

 

Her screams increased as she felt her arm and then her entire body being slowly pulled into the glass of the mirror

 

“NOOOOOOO!!!”

 

A moment of pure terror as her face was drawn into the glass, a final horrifying piercing shriek - and then she blacked out!

 

●

 

Keyraa Erem Sani ne Paendrag, the Daughter of the Nine Moons and heir to the Seanchan Empire, gazed into the far distance as the Seanchan warship danced on the waves of the Aryth Ocean. Her eyes, dark brown and green the colour of emerald, glinted in the late afternoon sun, but her mind was elsewhere.

 

She was back in Seandar, the Imperial Seanchan Capital, on that fateful afternoon eight months earlier when it had happened…

 

Seated in her resplendent divan in her large private chamber in the Palace of the Empress, she had had several so'jhin, personal upper caste slaves, attending her. One had been polishing the heir’s lacquered nails while the other had been fanning her with a large feathery rod of a sort, ensuring the future Empress of Seanchan was comfortable. They had been pretty, young women with half-shaven heads, as befitted their station, their remaining hair plaited into a long braid. They had looked excited at carrying out their duties, excited and appreciative.

 

The Daughter of the Nine Moons herself had been bored….

 

She yawned as she thought of the endless lessons her mother made her attend, her private teachers trying hard to make her learn history, law, customs, languages and all the many many things a future ruler of the Empire ought to be well versed in. None of the subjects interested her; weaponry was more to her taste, to her mother’s disapproval.

 

A knife lay beside her on the divan and as soon as the subservient woman before her finished doing her nails she picked it up and held it in her hand, feeling the sharp edge with her other fingers. It had become a daily routine for her, to her mother’s disgust, and she found it eased her mind. She was very good with knives, having been taught to fight with them from an early age (her mother sick of her daughter’s constant pestering and finally relenting), and she always wore one on her person. Sororicide was not unheard of in Seanchan noble circles and both of her elder sisters, she felt sure, were going to attempt to kill her at some point since they had been passed over for the honour of becoming heir to the Empire.

 

She would make sure she killed them first.

 

●

 

When the attack came a few days later, it was the knife she carried that saved her life!

 

She could find no other explanation.

 

The special crystal-hilted knife was, in fact, an old Ter'angreal which suppressed weaves of Saidin, deflecting them, a secret she had come upon (and had confirmed) years earlier and which she had ordered her servants to keep secret on pain of death. Though she shared the disgust most Seanchan held for Damane and scepticism of the One Power and all the havoc it could cause in the world, she understood the value of the chained - and controlled - Damane in warfare and she also saw the value of artefacts of power. She had held onto the Ter'angreal partly out of curiosity (it was an historic object) but also in part in case it would one day be needed to defend against a man, an enemy, channeling Saidin (it did not protect against Saidar for some reason). It was a horrifying thought of course, but even so a wise precaution, also in view of certain secret Prophecies she had come across, and today it had saved her life.

 

She could not see from where the attack came, but felt the knife at her side go ice-cold and a slight icy burning sensation came in her side as she sprang up from her divan and threw herself to the side before the table beside the divan exploded in a thousand pieces. She screamed a warning to her so'jhin but was unable to see if they managed to get away in time. Staying put, a mixture of anger and fear flowing through her, she waited while fireballs flew above her head lighting up the decorative curtains behind her. Shouts were coming from outside but still some way off. An ancient vase shattered close to her shoulder and the small table upon which it had stood broke and fell to the floor as she lay low, not daring to raise her head to look for her assailant.

 

Screams came from the other side of the room now and more shouts from outside. A moment later several soldiers rushed into the room followed by two Suldam with their Damane, and finding the Daughter of the Nine Moons safe though shaken they breathed a huge sigh of relief as they hurried her out of there to safety. Keyraa cast a quick glance over her shoulder as they ushered her outside and saw one of the women who had attended to her dead, her eyes glazed and blood oozing from her head, and another crying hysterically from pain, one arm gone and part of a shoulder badly damaged, as she was being tended to by one of the Damane.

 

●

 

Two thoughts remained in her head that entire day. One: it had to have been a man channeling the One Power - a man not collared! - who had attacked her, however unlikely that seemed. A man who must be found and leashed - or killed - for the safety of everyone. The Ter'angreal  was not wrong. Could it have been him? The prophesized one? She shivered at the thought. And Two: could her jealous sisters somehow be involved? It seemed unlikely, for how would they get a channeling man to cooperate? But they hated her and would certainly want her dead. Shock replaced fury as day turned into night and she swore on her mother’s life that she would find whoever had attempted the assassination and would have him or them whipped naked through the streets of Seandar before beheading the person(s) publicly in the central square.

 

The Empress, for her part, had the entire military squad patrolling the palace grounds executed for their ineptitude in keeping her daughter and heir safe. She also had a whole division of the Ever Victorious Army, aided by a dozen Suldam and Damane, out hunting the channeling man.

 

The Commander of the Royal Family’s personal guard was demoted to da'covale, a slave of low rank, whipped and paraded around the grounds on his bloodied knees. When the day was over, he wished he were dead.

 

●

 

We never found the channeling man, Keyraa thought to herself now as she stood by the rails of the warship. But whoever he was, I bet he was hired by one of my sisters. For who else would dare to kill the Daughter of the Nine Moons? She had been doubtful at first, but over time she has come to the conclusion that it had to have been one of them.

 

The crystal-hilted knife she always bore on her person was a constant reminder of the threats she faced. Having it close at all times made her feel safer. Especially when travelling into foreign lands.

 

A few more days and they would sight land. And not Falme as had been the original plan. But Tanchico, further south along the coast.

 

The Captain-General, Meiahl Kereb, had been surprised by this revelation, as expected, and had argued against it, as expected. And he had obliged politely, as expected, when she had told him that if he did not obey her order, he would be thrown overboard but would first be stripped naked on deck and receive one hundred fifty lashes from the whip that some of the Suldam carried on their person.

 

The Daughter of the Nine Moons thought he had chosen.. wisely.

 

●

 

Calia studied the blond-haired muscled man closely. So, this was an assassin sent to kill them. A Darkfriend.

 

His icy cold stare told her this was a veteran and someone who would not scare easily. Elessar’s threats, a very convincing act by her Gaidin, had not frightened this man but she had observed that he looked at the Warder as if seeing someone just as dangerous as him. He would be cautious for that reason.

 

She knew that she would not be able to threaten him with things that would be lies and so she needed to be tactful.. What they needed above all was to get confirmation that he had been sent by the Shadow.. and if possible, to learn who he had received his orders from.

 

Calia had experience from interrogations over the years and knew she needed to use some clever tactics to get this assassin to talk. Balancing it all with the truth, of course.

 

Elessar stood a little behind her but she felt through the bond the absolute loyalty he had to her and belief in whatever she was going to do. He had her back and that increased her confidence.

 

“So, big man”, she began smoothly. “We are to believe you are an assassin.” Her eyes looked sceptical. “But what assassin is as mediocre as you with the bow and arrow?” He had missed several times, after all.

 

She saw his eyes widen slightly at the remark but his face remained the same stoic as before.

 

She smiled inside. “Elessar, have you seen little girls showing this weak ability with the bow and arrow?” He replied that he had and, playing along with her line of questioning, he added that surely this man could not be an assassin with such pitiful skills.

 

●

 

The man’s face hardened at the barb and it was just the reaction Calia wanted. She was aiming at hurting his pride. Pride in their craft was something all craftsmen - not the least assassins -  valued highly. And they did not take criticism lightly.

 

“Perhaps you are not an assassin after all”, Calia said smoothly, “and just a poor country boy”, she emphasized the boy, “out to rob travellers on the road.”

 

His mouth twisted at the words but he remained silent, a sullen look on his face.

 

“He is just a child”, Elessar added in the silence that followed. “A pathetic little boy playing at being a brigand. See the tears coming in his eyes. He wants to go home to mama.”

 

The man made a grimace of disgust at this remark and Elessar could see anger building up in him. Calia saw it too and her smile widened inside. Her face was smooth though as she spoke again.

 

“Perhaps we should take him to the next village, Elessar, and let some of the small girls teach him how to use that bow of his.” She smiled openly now. “His poor ability might.. amuse some of the five-year olds.”

 

●

 

The man could not hold his anger anymore. “You pitiful Lightfools”, he shouted. “I am great at what I do!” He glared at them both, his pride hurt mightily. “Why else do you think they sent me to do the Great Lord’s bidding..” He stopped abruptly, realizing the trap he had walked into. His glare intensified.

 

“So, they did send you to kill us.” Calia added, her blue eyes sparkling. “You are not a country boy playing brigand after all.”

 

“You trapped me!” He spat, his whole face going red. “You Tar Valon whore!”

 

In two quick steps Elessar was in front of him and he slapped him so hard that the man’s jaw was almost dislocated. Kneeling down before him, the Warder’s knife pressed against the assassin’s chin and drew a little blood.

 

“I told you”, he said in icy dangerous tones, “no disrespectful remarks aimed at this Aes Sedai.” His eyes darkened. “If you do that again, I will not be as lenient.”

 

Drawing more blood, he then held the knife before the man’s eyes for a long moment before stepping back and moving to the side.

 

“I am sorry for the interruption, Calia Aes Sedai”, he said formally and with much respect. He was smiling darkly. “But I will not listen to such blatant disrespect.”

 

A small smile came upon Calia’s lips but it was gone almost at once. She stared at the assassin again, ready to continue the interrogation. They had confirmation now that the Shadow had sent this man to kill them. They had to try and learn who he had gotten his orders from. And so she continued with her questions, with Elessar adding some dangerous threats intermittently.

 

●

 

Together they goaded him into admitting that someone higher up in the Caemlyn Assassin’s guild had given him the orders but no matter what threats they gave he was unwilling to say anything more. He was a professional in that way and knowing the kind, Elessar was glad they had gotten any information out of him at all.

 

They brought him tied across the back of Elessar’s warhorse, Stormbreaker (who kicked the assassin in the nuts as he was being hoisted up on the horse’s back; something that made the Warder grin inside) to the nearest town where he was delivered into the hands of the town watch with orders to have him subsequently brought under guard to the authorities in Caemlyn.

 

So, the Shadow is after us, Calia thought to herself musingly as they rode along the dusty road in the direction of her hometown. They would arrive there around midday the next day.

 

●

 

Serehstra walked into the noisy inn and looked around. The Common Room was filled to the brim with cheerful and drunk patrons, banging tables and singing lustfully. By the bar most men leaned over their glasses of ale seemingly oblivious of the gleeman’s jaunty tunes while next to the entrance door two bouncers stood like rocks, ready to throw out any troublemakers. They were big, bearded, muscled Ebou Dari men with hard eyes who no one wanted to argue with. And then there was the innkeeper, a heavy set Ebou Dari man with a smooth smile on his lips who wore an apron and seemed to follow every single movement in his establishment. He was now talking to one of the serving girls, a voluptuous red-head with long legs and a short skirt who liked to flirt with the customers.

 

So, this is The Swordfish. Serehstra thought. The roughest inn in Ebou Dar or so the rumours went.

 

It lay in the Rahad, on the other side of the River Eldar. It was locally known as the area of Ebou Dar where the less fortunate in life made their living. The streets in the Rahad were often narrow alleys, with buildings standing as high as five or six stories above the ground. The streets were filled with the refuse of the inhabitants. The Rahad was no doubt a very dangerous place. Not only were duels very frequent there, some adversaries did not even bother with the formalities and simply stabbed their victims in the back.

 

A rough neighbourhood indeed, thought the Red Sister as she walked further into the inn. She was spotted now by the innkeeper who came bustling toward her in quick steps. Gazing into her face and half-nodding to himself, he gave a polite bow and welcomed her to his inn.

 

“We are not used to customers of your high standing, Aes Sedai” he said smoothly though his eyes belied his discomfort. “We are pretty full this evening”, he added, “but I am sure we can find a comfortable room for you.”

 

Serehstra waved the offer aside. Her smile was feigned. “No need, my good innkeeper”, she replied politely. “I don’t need a room for tonight.” Her eyes tightened slightly. “What I do need, however, is some information.”

 

●

 

He glanced at the red shawl she wore atop her light-red dress, at her light-brown hair and finally again at her smooth face which he had learned was that of a Sister of the White Tower. Her piercing sapphire-blue eyes were watching him like a hawk or at least that was his impression and he wet his lips. He had never been comfortable around Aes Sedai. He did not think of them as witches as good folk thought in neighbouring Amadicia, but neither did he enjoy their company. He tried to keep his dismay off his face as he replied.

 

“Information you say.” His eyes took on a shrewd look. “What information did you have in mind?”

 

Serehstra recognized the look in his eyes. She had seen it many times before. It was the look of a man who was thinking about secrets he should not tell but also how much money he might earn if he were to divulge some information. A greedy look but also a cautious one.

 

“Oh, I think it is something we should talk about in private, my good man.”

 

Her tone of voice brooked no nonsense. Seeing her determined gaze, he nodded softly and then led her across the room and through a door to the small office behind. It only had a desk, a couple of chairs and some shelves on which a handful books were stacked. A small window at the back let in some light but otherwise the office was very plain. In a drawer he had his ledger for his business but it was safely locked and only he had the key. When he was comfortably seated behind his desk and she had sat down in the chair opposite, he spoke.

 

His eyes were still shrewd but inside he was feeling weariness. He did indeed know secrets that were very private.

 

“How may I be of assistance”, he said smoothly, his hands resting on the desktop.

 

Serehstra considered the man before her. His black beard covered much of his face. His brown eyes were deep set and there was a scar on his left cheek. His hair was short and greasy. She had seen many such men in the Rahad, often sailors, sometimes not. But very often unsavoury.

 

“I know you are aware of everything that happens in your establishment”, she began. “And so.. you can tell me.. who it was here among you who sent that man to kill me.”

 

The way she said it matter-of-factly disturbed him much though he tried to hide it.

 

Her smile was dangerous and her face hardened.

 

She was not going to leave this room without an answer.

 

●

 

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

 

“I love you too, sweetheart”, he replied lovingly, his hands caressing her hair.

 

Sandana’s face was radiant and she cherished the comfort of her father’s warm embrace.

 

After a long silence she spoke softly.

 

“Papa, what is an Octagon?”

 

Argam seemed surprised by the question and replied that he did not know.

 

Sandana frowned for a quick moment, but then her smile was warm again.

 

She was not sure if the ceremony with the white-robed women had been real or just a dream. It had felt real at the time, very real, but thinking back on it she wondered if it had been just a fantasy, a dream such as girls often had. Of being a princess or a queen on a beautiful throne.

 

It did not matter. It had been magical either way. She had woken in her bed and had felt the love of those women caressing her soul. A tear had flowed down her cheek, perhaps of loss but mostly of wonderful remembrance.

 

“There is beauty in the world, Papa”. She said, her smile widening. “There is beauty in our souls.”

 

All Argam could do was smile warmly in wonder.

 

●

 

Walking along one of the tunnels that led far into the Stone of Tear, Tiragh Rendiana wondered not for the first time what was inside the locked room near the centre of the massive structure. Only the High Lords had the keys to that room and the room was sealed in more ways than one. Rumours had spread over the years what was hidden within but the Captain of the Stone had never put much stock in rumours; he wanted cold facts. When he had approached one of the High Lords with the question, he had only received an empty look in return and so he had let the matter be. It did not mean he stopped wondering though.

 

Coming to a stop at the end of the tunnel, he turned the corner and entered a chamber. In its centre was another mystery. Three huge standing stones made up a triangle and inside was a darkness which could not be penetrated. Gazing into that darkness the Captain could see nothing but he felt sure there was something there hidden from his eyes. To touch the standing stones was forbidden though so he was not able to investigate any further, and so he passed them by as he always did on his rounds, throwing a glance over his shoulder as if expecting something to appear from the dark depths. Nothing ever did.

 

Heading down another tunnel, the stone walls on all sides almost glowing in red granite, he could imagine the footprints of Captains of the Stone embedded into the rock from their countless rounds through this massive structure over the years. And if he stopped and tried to listen ever so carefully, he sometimes thought he could almost hear their whispers flowing along the tunnels and corridors like echoes of times gone by.

 

Turning another corner, he came upon another door. This one was guarded by a Defender of the Stone who came to attention when his commander approached. Giving the Captain a bow of respect he opened the door and let the older man through. Stopping just inside this larger chamber which was lit by a dozen lamps giving ample light, Tiragh Rendiana’s gaze went to the locked granite door. Are the rumours true as to what lies within? Running a hand through his short dark hair, his grey-green eyes widened momentarily at the thought but then he caught himself and shrugged. It did not matter. His job was to guard and protect the Stone regardless and he would do so with his life.

 

Passing the locked granite door, he moved to the end of the chamber where a door led down another corridor. A guard stood outside and he too gave a respectful bow to his commander and much-admired officer. The Captain gave a nod back with a smile and continued down this new tunnel. Some time later he departed the huge structure, walked out into the afternoon sunlight, and headed down to the officers’ barracks.

 

He did not see the woman entering the tunnel he had just left, her dark cloak disappearing into shadows.

 

●

 

Lady Carahna was a Noble Lady and Head of House Lenaga, one of the five big Houses of Kandor. Standing at the castle walls, staring with her deep brown eyes in the direction of the Plain of Lances in the far west, her long dark hair flowing in the cold wind sweeping across the Borderlands that late evening, she thought once again about the battle, and subsequently war, that was coming.

 

It filled her with dread.

 

Kandor was one of the four Borderland nations which lay on the threshold of the Great Blight, sitting between Saldaea to the west and Arafel to the east. The nation was formed early in the War of the Hundred Years when the governors of Hawkwing's five northern provinces met and agreed to form stable nations to preserve the peace and defend against the Blight. Kandor was one of these nations. And Jarel Soukovni had been its first King. Now Kandor was ruled by a Queen. The question was how long she would sit on the throne.

 

A month or so ago the bodies of fallen Kandori soldiers had begun to arrive here in the western town of Ferala. Fallen soldiers from the battle further west. It had been an important fight against the Shadow, she had been told by the Aes Sedai who had stopped in the town before going east to the Capital. The Kandori soldiers had fought with honour, it was said, and it made her proud.

 

It had been just one battle though. The war was coming. Of that she had no doubt.

 

She knew that the town garrison consisted of about eight hundred men of which four hundred would defend the castle, the heart of the city. But against an army of Myrddraal, Trollocs and perhaps worse she did not believe they would stand for long. She had sent word to the Kandori Queen to send additional forces west but had received no reply. This worried her more than she would admit. Oh, she was warrior-bred and hard as steel as everyone around her knew, but she was also a realist and knew when opposition forces would be too strong.

 

Turning her mind away from the inevitable defeat that was echoing in her head, she left the castle roof and walked down the stairs to the level below. There she stumbled across her advisor Sirih, a Borderlander woman of iron and wisdom who had given the Lady much good advice in the past months.

 

“Sirih”, she greeted the slightly younger blonde-haired green-eyed woman. “Walk with me.”

 

The woman called Sirih walked beside the Lady of the Castle along the corridor and down another level. As they walked, the Lady talked.

 

“Advise me”, she began. “An army of Shadowspawn will be outside our gates in perhaps a week or so I am told by our scouts.” Her eyes tightened darkly. “How are we to stand any chance against them?”

 

The other woman thought for a long moment before answering. Her dark eyes had a shrewd look but the Lady did not notice, staring ahead as she did.

 

“The odds are not very good”, she admitted, “but.. I think you should take the fight to them!”

 

●

 

Lady Carahna stopped in her tracks and looked at her advisor, her mouth agape.

 

“You mean, we should.. attack!?” She finally uttered, disbelief in her voice. “They will have overwhelming superiority in numbers if what we surmise is correct. How can we stand a chance attacking them on open ground? And who will defend the castle?”

 

Sirih remained calm as she answered. “Lady, an attack is exactly what they will not expect!” She smiled cleverly. “You will take them by surprise! I think the numbers we hear rumoured are inflated, and even if you don’t succeed in defeating them their forces will be somewhat depleted. They will not be anywhere as strong when they reach the castle here.”

 

It sounded logical the way her advisor described it, but something made her doubtful, as if there were a flaw in that logic. But she trusted her advisor and mulled over what she had heard as they continued along the walkway which led down to her personal quarters. Stopping just outside her door, she turned toward her advisor a final time.

 

“You really think we can take them by surprise?” When Sirih nodded, the Lady added, “And the castle will stand a better chance that way?”

 

“Yes, my Lady, that I believe”, Sirih lied. Her face was smooth. “This way you will save more of your people.”

 

That seemed to make an impression on the Lady of the Castle because she nodded, a small smile appearing on her face.

 

Sirih, the advisor to the Lady, left her standing there by her door and headed up to the level above, passing several Kandori soldiers on the way. Some winked at her but she pretended not to notice. Once she arrived back in her own quarters she quickly moved across to a small cupboard and poured herself a drink.

 

The red wine tasted particularly delicious this day.

 

●

 

Whispers ran through the Dark room like a wraith moving in a dance with Death. Soft laughter seemed to come from within the glass of the tall, heavily decorated mirror that stood alone in the chamber.

 

Like a sentinel.

 

It was close to midnight, the silver moon shining brightly in the night sky, when the whispers became everything.

 

Mirror Mirror, on the Wall

Into Shadow, you may Fall

Step beyond and conquer Fear

Fail and feel the victim’s Tear

 

▀▄

Edited April 26 by Elessar