Coming Home

[Quibby]

~Drea~

 

The sun shone high above the road leading to the towers of Fal Dara but it gave no heat to the barren land of the north. The grass was turning brown and cut short for a mile in all directions, as like all Shienaran cities and the wind blew fiercely at their cloaks. The Mountains of Doom stretched high to the north, looming over the land and cast shadows where the sun never seemed to reach. The Blight was beyond them, burning and desolate home to all the monsters Drea had enough of the last few years. The Spine of the Dragon was to the east, and the Waste beyond them. It was a wonder the sun could be so vacant in Fal Dara, yet the land surrounding blistering and unnatural. The banner of Shienar flew overhead the towers, a swooping black hawk over a field of blue and white stripes. The wind pulled them tight and Drea shielded her eyes with a hand.

 

The conversation since leaving the small farm between Fal Moran and Fal Dara earlier that morning had consisted of basic chit chat of Drea’s childhood. She had felt odd sharing memories at first. One, because she had pushed all that behind her, Have you? You wouldn’t be here now if you had. and two because the fateful day in Andor at Mehrin’s parent’s house. To their demise, Ayrik had beaten them there. The house was still smoldering embers when they arrived, and his parent’s bodies hanging from a tree and swaying in the gentle breeze. Mehrin cut them down and gave them a proper burial, but it took him days before he said more than a couple words to her again. Drea let him be. The only conversation they shared the next day was when Drea begged him to follow her to Fal Dara. It seemed boastful: his parents are murdered, so Drea wants to go see her own? But Mehrin had agreed. He hasn’t gone to complete stone.

 

“I popped him one in the nose for that remark.” Drea laughed, holding her cloak tight as she rode Renly. Like usual, Mehrin was walking next to her, leading Ebony by the reigns. She looked down at him and saw a smile across his lips. He seemed to like hearing about the times she got in trouble as a young girl. Being raised with two older brothers, there were many of them.

 

“I cut my own hair once, too. I was seven.” He looked up at her, eyes begging to know more. “Our neighbor always commented on how beautiful my hair was, but I hated it. Kimal and Ethen didn’t have long curly hair, and I wanted to look like them. So one morning, while my mother did laundry, I took my brother’s belt knife and cut the curls from my hair. When I heard my mother coming in the house, I took honey from the cupboard and tried to stick them back in. My mother found me, sticky, crying and most of the hair stuck to my hands instead of on my huge messy head.” Mehrin chuckled aloud at that one. “My bottom is sore just remembering it.” Drea looked a head, the towers were close. “Or maybe it’s because I’ve been riding so long. We’re almost there.” She dismounted and held Renly by the reigns, walking next to Mehrin.

 

The towers along the wall were as tall as the Mountains of Doom, or seemed that way. The front gates reinforced with iron and guarded by five men heavily armed. Each had two long swords strapped to his back and another weapon of choice at his hip. One with an axe came up to them.

 

“I am here to visit my parents, Ser. Kindly let us through. You’re welcome to get my father, Tone Raylin, if you must. Though we were hoping to surprise-”

 

“Xandrea Raylin? Is that you?” the man with the axe said in surprise and opened the gate to let them in. “Little Xan Xan! It’s me!” The man took off his helmet to reveal a large black top knot on his head and a freshly shaved face. His nose was crooked and misshapen, but not unnatural. He pointed to it and smiled, knowingly.

 

“Marshall?” Drea asked. “Is that really you?” Drea dropped her reigns and hugged the man awkwardly over his heavy armor. “Marshall, this is Mehrin Mahrvon. Mehrin, this is Marshall. He’s the guy I-” Drea made to punch him in the nose again.

 

“Careful, there, young lady. You’re bodyguard here seems well enough to do me in if I fight back.” He put his helmet under his arm and bowed deeply, kissing the top of Drea’s hand.

 

Mehrin winked at Drea. “You have no idea.” He said as he shook Marshall’s hand.

 

“Maybe we’ll have to spar sometime soon. That is, if you think you can take a Boarderland warrior, old timer.” Marshall ignored Mehrin and returned his gaze to Drea. “Light, you’re beauty is still as breathtaking as it was seven years ago. You don’t look a day over 23.” He bent to kiss her hand again and held it against his lips awkwardly. Drea took it away and pulled her cloak tighter, pretending to shiver in the wind.

 

“We really should be on our way. Thank you for your kindness, Marshall. Peace favor your sword, old friend.” Drea turned and walked away before Marshall could interject. “Remember that creepy old man I said I’d have to marry?” Drea nodded backwards. “That’s him.”

 

They made their way though the streets of Fal Dara. Some didn’t hesitate to stare at the odd pair as they strolled among the locals. Mehrin looked the opposite of boarderlandish, and with the claymore on his back, some women pulled their children close. Had Drea been wearing a dress, they might think them Aes Sedai and her warder, but Shienaran’s knew better.

 

Turning the last corner to where her parents had lived when she left, Drea drew a breath, praying it was still there. To her relief it was. The house was small and brown, roof in a high peak all the way to the ground. It was quaint, exactly as she remembered. The yard in the front was smaller than she remembered though, and the swing she had tied to a tree branch on the side yard was gone. In fact, the whole tree was missing. Drea would have pouted, except the adrenaline rushing through her veins denied her that sorrow.

 

They tied the horses to the gate standing knee high and Drea lead him through the front yard to the door. She looked back at him with a nervous smile, sighed and raised her hand to knock but was interrupted by a squeal coming from behind them.

 

“Xandrea?”

 

[Quibby]

~Mehrin~

 

Mile after mile. Silence after uncomfortable silence. Mehrin's mind never seemed to stop long enough to allow him any peace. It had taken almost a month at his and Drea's steady pace to reach that little farm in eastern Andor, the farm that had held so many of Mehrin's memories, all fond. Their conversation had been relatively light; Mehrin sharing what he could remember of them. Now that he was nearing Fal Dara, Mehrin found himself remembering more and more of them. Light, they would have been in their mid-sixties; dad's birthday was today. Walking up the old road to the farm had been a surreal experience. The path hadn't been used in awhile, according to Drea; even Mehrin had been able to see that. It hadn't taken long after that for the smell of char to reach their nostrils. Char and another, more sickly sweet smell. They'd both known that odor. He could remember running when he'd realized what it was. It couldn't be. He couldn't have. Light, what if he had? No battle ,no charge had ever felt so intense, so... He couldn't feel his feet meeting the ground as he walked through the gate. It had to have been quite some time since the farm had burned, but the damage was already done. The farm had been torched, the sheep were gone, and his family...

 

They'd been left hanging in one of the trees, their bodies blackened and burnt beyond recognition, no bonds visible. A sudden breeze had rustled the branches of the tree as he approached, the bodies dropping as if a rope had been cut, charred flesh and bone shattering on impact. Mehrin had buried them himself, underneath that very tree. It hadn't taken that note to tell him who had been responsible, though he couldn't say why; Ayrik hadn't said why he'd done it, either. It had been days before Mehrin had felt as if he could speak again.

 

To say it shortly, it had not been a good week to be Mehrin.

 

Fal Moran to Fal Dara had passed in a blur, Mehrin never really hearing anything that was said for the first day, as regrettable as that was to him, but he couldn't get the sight of his family, dead and dismembered, out of his mind. If Ayrik had done that to them, what had they done to Renalie? It took a moment for him to realize that Drea had dismounted, and was walking next to him. His hand closed around hers, her touch soothing his strained mind. Drea had a strange tendency of doing that.

 

Fal Dara reminded Mehrin of what the vision for the Citadel had been: a fortress. The city had been constructed in order to stave off invading hordes of Trollocs, and its age stood as testament to its success. The five men on duty told the same story. They stood the way that trained soldiers stood. Mehrin could almost feel the sparks striking between the gathered men and women; it was always the same when there were fighting men and women gathered, as if violence were almost inevitable. One of the guards advanced, and it was to him that Drea spoke. “I am here to visit my parents, Ser. Kindly let us through. You’re welcome to get my father, Tone Raylin, if you must. Though we were hoping to surprise-”

 

“Xandrea Raylin? Is that you? Little Xan Xan! It’s me!” The man knew her. Mehrin was surprised; none of the men and women of the village had recognized him, though he'd remembered many of them.

 

“Marshall?” Drea asked. “Is that really you?” So they knew each other? Drea hadn't expected it, obviously, though she reacted well, hugging the man awkwardly around his armor. “Marshall, this is Mehrin Mahrvon. Mehrin, this is Marshall. He’s the guy I-” Drea moved towards the man, making as if she were going to punch him in the nose, jogging Mehrin's memory. Ah, so this is him.

 

“Careful, there, young lady. You’re bodyguard here seems well enough to do me in if I fight back.” The joke had served to break the tension well enough; Mehrin could feel himself relaxing. He didn't feel like fighting anybody for quite some time. “You have no idea,” he said, shaking the man's offered hand.

 

“Maybe we’ll have to spar sometime soon. That is, if you think you can take a Boarderland warrior, old timer.” The man turned his attention back to Drea as soon as he could. “Light, you’re beauty is still as breathtaking as it was seven years ago. You don’t look a day over 23.” It took everything that he could not to roll his eyes.

 

As they made their way through the streets of Fal Dara, Mehrin noticed one thing that made him uneasy; despite being a Borderland nation, the Shienarans here seemed almost fearful of him, as if he were more dangerous than the Blight that sat just outside their city. Some mothers even went as far as to bring their children in closer, hiding them from him. Mehrin shook his head; he doubted that he could ever harm a child.

 

She led him around one more corner, revealing a small brown house, a cozy little home. Tying their horses to the small fence around the yard, Drea opened a small gate, ushering him through into the yard. He hung back a bit, allowing Drea to approach the door. She only looked back once, a nervous smile on her face. Mehrin smiled in reply, feeling as nervous as she did. He could also feel a touch of cold, as if something were off-kilter. It was unsettling, though Mehrin was willing to blame it on the situation. After all, Drea hadn't met his... With a heavy sigh, Mehrin pushed the thought from his mind. He wasn't going to let that memory ruin this meeting.

 

[Quibby]

~Koreen~

 

The grey exterior still held warmth.  It was comforting after a while and, if one mused on it properly, reflected the character and strength of the people the city of Fal Dara actually sheltered.  Grim stone walls, so stern and unforgiving that would ward off anything held a warm heart, full of creativity and love that were suppressed purely by need rather than want.  Koreen gave her tabletop a final dust with the cloth and rested her hands on the edge.  Her husband, Tone, was off somewhere, but Koreen knew he wouldn’t be too far.  If he wasn’t at the forge, he was under her feet when she was trying to clean.  Light, but having such a devoted husband was pleasant!  Koreen thought he would be appreciative of the large kettle of stew she had put on earlier that afternoon; rich rabbit with herb gravy and freshly baked bread.  He might not realise that today was their anniversary, but Koreen would never forget.  There was some newly smoked bacon ready for breakfast, and it would only take a short trip to the shops to fetch some eggs…

 

Smiling, Koreen heard a noise.  Ah, the gate.  Really, she should get around to getting Tone to see to that, but as it was it served to alert her to someone’s arrival.  She did so like to know the local comings and goings.  She tucked the cloth into the apron tied around her waste, a little thicker than it had been as a girl, well, perhaps more than a little – good living was agreeable with her!  Tone always said it was because she was such a good cook, and that she had to test the cooking on someone.  Koreen didn’t mind it being that person.  She smiled.  With a curious expression on her face, she went to door and looked outside, but did not see anyone on her path.  Hmm.  Perhaps they had gone around the side to the fence to tie up their horses – she was sure she had heard hooves on the stones outside.  Patting the errant strands of dark hair that had escaped the braid she wore while kneading the bread dough, Koreen walked to the door that lead out of the back.  Tone had insisted on having a back door put in, just in case of an attack so everyone could get to safety, but Koreen thought it was more to do with the small loft of pigeons he kept.

 

It was odd.  He was stern for most of the time, and Koreen was rarely able to raise a smile from him most days.  His talk in the evenings consisted of smithing techniques and news from the Borders.  She felt the same, trying to ease the furrows that were beginning to appear deeper in his brow.  Life was hard, and the food she had managed to get together was a testament to his skills – his work at the forge was held in such high regard that they could afford to buy such food in these troubled times.  That was why she always made more than she needed, in case there was someone less able to make ends meet.  Besides, Koreen liked to feed things.  She saw two horses tied up on her fence and made her way around to the front door.

 

The shape in front of her was oddly familiar.  The woman before her held herself as a Borderlander, that was unmistakable, and the way she wore her hair and clothes … she had seen this woman before.  It had been a long time, but as the woman turned her head slightly towards her male companion, Koreen gasped in surprise.  The man looked different to how she expected, but as she had said before, times were hard.  She squealed.

 

“Xandrea?”

 

The woman looked around, startled.  It was her – her daughter had returned with her husband … but where was the child?  They had probably left the poor love nearby tended by a nurse until they could return – the Borderlands were dangerous.  “It’s been so long!”  She ran over to her daughter and hugged her tightly, then hugged her again before holding her out at arms length to examine her more closely.

 

“Oh, it is you!  It’s so good to see you, and your husband!  Please, please, come in, come in – don’t stand out here, you must be tired from your journey.”  She raised a hand to forestall any protests.  “I have plenty of food on the stove, come in, come in, and tell me how you both are.”  She put her arm through her daughter’s and steered her into the house.

 

[Quibby]

~Tone~

 

As his gaze swept along the street lined with trees that only made way for one or the other hovel or even farm out here, Tone couldn't help but recognize how much had changed since they had settled down here, since him and a few friends from the area had built their own farm after past missfortunes had taken everything they were to inherit from his parents. He knew how to get up when you were laying on the ground but with times being as they were he prayed the Light wouldn't make them proof those skills again. They were Borderlanders and thus somewhat "used" to hearing stories of Shadowspawn breeding nearby, spreading and raiding as they pleased. Yet no one had ever thought that their numbers would grow so rapidly and they would expand their territory...the Blight to the extend they had until now. Where would they be in five years? Ten? Maybe just one? Who knew what would befall them next in times like these, even if his skills with hammer and anvil were able to provide a good income and life for him and his wife Koreen who had been at his side through all this.

 

He sighed, a small smile crossing his face as he thought of the first time he had laid eyes on her. Sometimes he thought he treasured the sould and spirit of his life much too little, as if he took her for granted after all these years. It stung him to be obliged to admit that she must feel unacknowledged by him sometimes. He inwardly cursed himself for neglecting her for work and the forge all too often and knew even the flowers he held in his hands to surprise her on their anniversary couldn't possibly make up for the mistakes of the past. Mistakes that might never be redeemed and maybe it would be too late one day to tell her how much she meant to him. A shudder rolled down his spine. He hoped this day wouldn't come too soon, that the Blight and its creatures would be kept at bay as long as possible before they could devour them too. Still praying alone didn't prevent things from happening and as their small farmhouse came into view, Tone felt himself tense as he saw the two horses tied out front. He wondered who the visitors were and unconsciously tightened the grip on the hilt of the heavy smithing hammer he carried at a strong belt-loop wherever he went. One couldn't be careful enough...

 

"Xandrea?"

 

All sternness suddenly vanished from his features as he recognized the young woman who was embraced by his wife. So his daughter had come home and apparently she had her husband with her. What interesting news.

 

He had nearly lost count of the years he hadn't seen her home anymore and even though he still frowned on her decision he felt a surge of gladness about her loking well and as healthy as could be when she turned around to him.

 

"So you come to visit your old parents, eh?", he called out to her, a friendly wink in his eyes as he gestured them in after embracing his daughter and shaking her presumed husband's hand. "Light it's been a while...quite a while...so sit down child and tell us how have you and your man been faring? Too bad we couldn't attend the marriage...too bad...", his voice had a reproacheful undertone and yet couldn't conceal his curiosity and delight of seeing her under his roof again. "I bet you two have quite a bunch of news for us?"

 

[Quibby]

~Drea~

 

Husband? Drea barely had time to react to the words before her mother ushered her into the house. A quick glance at Mehrin proved he hadn’t noticed Koreen’s slip and if he had he showed no annoyance by it. It was good to see Mother again, but these questions were going to be harder to explain than she thought, starting with who Mehrin really was. The antiquity of her parent’s morals had slipped through Drea’s mind and she had failed to mention them to Mehrin. She prayed he could use the scout tricks he knew to pick up on that.

 

The sitting room in the front was exactly the same as it had been seven years ago. Two once-overstuffed chairs sat facing the fireplace; her mother’s with a handmade pillow and half finished knitting needles and yarn on the seat, her father’s was larger and more worn from long nights and naps taken on his days off and on it sat a large book he never managed to finish. The walls were covered in shelves stacked with books, paintings, and carvings. An overwhelming scent of fresh baked bread lofted in from the kitchen. Drea’s stomach grumbled and she was reminded of how little food they had eaten on their journey.

 

Mother’s natters were continuous as she left them to sit in the chairs while she went to the kitchen, no doubt to bring them food. One thing her mother always made sure of was that her family was fed and healthy, everything else could come later. Once she was out of the room, Drea glanced in Mehrin’s direction and gave him an apologetic look. Her expression was quickly diminished as the front door opened to reveal her father’s bulky figure through the sunlight. Drea jumped to her feet and swung her arms around his massive shoulders.

 

“So you come to visit your old parents, eh? Light it’s been a while…quite a while…so sit down child and tell us how have you and your man been faring? Too bad we couldn’t attend the marriage…too bad. I bet you two have quite a bunch of news for us?”

 

Drea held back a wince at his mentioning of her “husband” and decided it was time they found out the truth. Looking up at Mehrin, she held a hand out toward her parents. “This is my mother, Koreen; and my father, Tone. Mother, Father, this is Mehrin Marhvon.” Father slapped a hand on Mehrin’s back and Mother reached up to hug him with ease, both talking over each other, exclaiming their happiness for their daughter. “Mehrin isn’t my husband.” Drea said over their voices and waited for the fires.

 

[Quibby]

Wait a second... husband?!  It took everything that Mehrin had not to say anything to that.  Light, they thought that they were married!  As Drea's parents welcomed him with a hearty slap on the back and a warm hug, Mehrin found himself wondering just how many varieties of death there were, and which one was going to be inflicted upon him when they found out the truth.  He knew that there were many who still held to the more traditional beliefs; Mehrin himself was one in most circumstances.  The thought that their daughter could be with a man without marrying him was probably as alien a thought to these two as the Seanchan.  Well, we can always bluff our way around this.  There's no need for them to know that we're not-  Mehrin suddenly became aware of Drea's words as she gestured to her parents.  "...mother, Koreen, and my father, Tone.  Mother, Father, this is Mehrin Mahrvon."  Mehrin barely contained a sigh of relief.  Things were going to work out for the best after all; the two were already expressing their happiness.  "Mehrin isn't my husband."  Umm... well... ah...  So much for that.

 

The temperature in the room seemed to change in an instant.  Mehrin couldn't tell whether it had gotten hotter or colder, though; it changed from moment to moment.  He halfway expected to see the large book on Drea's father's chair burst into flame one moment, and he felt as if he should be frozen to the floor by her mother's reaction the next moment.  This... is going to go over about as well as a fart in the Amyrlin's study.  If anything could be said for Mehrin Mahrvon, it was that he'd been a soldier for a little too long.  Instinctively, Mehrin sought out the closest escape route, a quick hand gesture indicating the window to his right before he could stop himself.  He shot a glance at Drea, his eyes seeking an answer to the most relevant question: how bad was this going to get?

 

The silence stretched out, uncomfortably long in the somewhat crowded room.  Okay, how do we recover from this one?  Tell them that we're engaged?  No, they'll probably insist upon an immediate wedding.  I love her, but I'm not quite ready to take that step this soon.  Run for our lives?  Wouldn't make it out of the city.  Mehrin took the initiative to break the silence.  "Your daughter's told me so much about you two.  It's an honor to finally meet you."  The last trailed off into silence.  Ayep, I'm a dead man.

 

*****************

 

"He is such a dead man," a beggar muttered as he passed by the window.  He didn't have to hear anything said; he knew that look.  It was the same look that had made him the man he was today.

 

*****************

 

"So, that black-garbed man that came in with Xandrea today...  Do you think that's her husband?  You know, the one that Tone and Koreen keep talking about?" one of the guards asked idly to his partner.  They'd both recognized her, and from the way she had smiled and waved, she'd recognized them.

 

"Who, him?  I didn't see a ring on either of their hands.  I don't think they're married."

 

The first man chuckled quietly.  "Aye, he's a dead man, all right."

 

*****************

 

"Master!  Did you see those two going into Tone and Koreen Raylin's place?" a young apprentice asked his master, a farrier with a shop across the street from Tone's forge.

 

The man looked up from his work to the young lad.  "Aye, I did.  That stranger's a big 'un.  I reckon he's probably a dead man, though."

 

*****************

 

From the rooftop, a watcher took in the scene through his looking glass fixed upon a window.  Black silk fluttered in a sudden breeze.  There were tricks of the Power that could allow a person to do the same thing, but he did not have the skill necessary to perform these tricks.  All he could do was use what man's inventive nature had provided him.  Such a worthless endeavor, anyway.  The Great Lord would be free soon, and all these things would be meaningless.  However...  A smile broke slowly across Ayrik's face at the obvious discomfort that his twin felt.  Doubtless, the wench had told her parents how things were between them.  "Heh, I may not have to do anything at all.  He's a dead man."

[Winter Mist]

~Koreen~

 

“He’s … not your husband?  You’re not married?”  Koreen looked around as though she had misheard somehow.  In that one moment, small animals could have scampered over her head and shoulders and she wouldn’t have noticed a thing.  The last message they had received from Drea was that she was married!  Her kitchen suddenly seemed frozen in tableau while her brain tried to reassure itself that it hadn’t heard what she thought it had heard.  Her son in law, no, her daughter’s companion was speaking. 

 

“I’m sorry?”  She said, dumbly.  “I don’t think I heard you quite right.  The man repeated the honour it was to meet her, finally, and Koreen retied her apron.  “Yes, yes,” she said, going to put the kettle on.  She needed a cup of tea, and she didn’t mind admitting it would be better with something stronger.  “Whatever happened to the last one?”  Koreen muttered under her breath and prepared enough tea for all of them, and excused herself for a moment.

 

In the pantry, she had a snifter of the brandy Tone usually kept for cold nights.  It helped; it definitely helped.  A touch restored, she returned to the sound of the kettle boiling over the hearth.

 

She wondered what her husband’s reaction would be to the news.  Koreen fretted for her daughter – something must have happened to the man, something tragic.  She had been so in love.  What would Tone say?  She prepared her tea, and that of her daughter’s and the man’s, as well as her husbands.  “Well, from the sounds of things you two have been friends for quite a while.”  She would have to have quiet words with her daughter.  This was not done!  “Now then, you two!  Stop teasing me!  You really had me going there for a moment!”  Her eyes twinkled and she smiled at her daughter.

 

Their blank faces denied her moment of sanity.  She swallowed, unsure of how to continue.

 

“We have your old room, just as it was, Xandrea love.  I’m not sure where we’ll find room for your friend here, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sleeping in the shed with the pigeons.”

 

[Drea Raylin]

“We’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you think.” Drea lied. Mothers always know. Koreen had told a young Drea when Kimal bedded his first girl at 17. Drea tried to hide the guilty look in her eyes.

 

“Jaem is dead.” That’s right. Play the guilt card, it’s the only weapon you have left. “At least he was.” The words left her mouth before she knew it and a hand quickly covered it, as if that would make the words disappear from their memories. She sighed, frustrated at herself, wondering how she was going to get out of it with as little pain as possible. This had to be the scariest battle she’d ever been in. Trollocs, Seanchan, Darkfriends, even Aes Sedai and the asha’man she’d take any day over her parents and a discussion about her love life. In fact, Drea prayed that a hoard of trollocs would come tearing through the city any minute. She took a drawn out sip of her tea, waiting for the stampede, but alas, it never came. The only thing left to do was explain.

 

“We thought Jaem was killed by a very powerful darkfriend while training one day. I was so distraught, my Captain General sent me to my tent to rest.” She lied. She had nearly killed Cabroci so he put her on house arrest. “I had a miscarriage there, he was still born. The medic told me there was too much stress in my life. ‘Too much sorrow.’ So the creator decided to give me more.” Bitterness bit hard off her tongue. “I buried Mateo myself the next day.” She stopped and sighed. “To make a long story short, I was kidnapped months later, tortured for information on the Band but escaped with half my sanity in tact. I spent almost a year away, but when I found the Band again, Mehrin here, was Commander. With my knowledge on how things were run, I became his advisor. We spent a lot of time together, got to know each other really well and fell in love. Just before we left the Band, Jaem returned. His attacker wounded him badly, but he was not dead. But he had been gone so long and changed so much. There was no hope for us.” She decided to leave a lot more out that might be necessary, none of it would help matters any.

 

Drea had trouble reading her parents faces. Give her a week old trail in a winding wood and she’d be fine, but this was challenging. Everything she told them was true, and though she had moved on, they were hearing all of this for the first time.

 

“And Mehrin will not be sleeping with the pigeons, Mother. He will be staying in the house. Kimal’s room will be sufficient.” She said with force. Drea’s reasoning was that Kimal’s room was closest to hers, but she hoped they’d pick up on the fact that Kimal and Mehrin were very similar in size and his bed would be more than comfortable for him. She was an adult and so help them if her parents treated her like the child they once knew her as. To prove to them you’re an adult know, you have to act like one.

 

 

 

[Quibby]

It was good to see Drea taking a stand; Mehrin found himself reminded of a time when he'd had to obey that voice.  Light, that almost seemed like a different life.  It took him a moment to realize that her parents hadn't said anything in retaliation.  It was as if they were as shocked by this turn of events as he was; had she really just done that?  The silence was once again growing more tense, and Mehrin didn't think he could take the awkwardness anymore.  "Thank you for your hospitality, but I feel the need to get changed and clean up a little bit.  If you'll pardon me..."  He didn't retreat for the stairs to avoid the glares and questions that he knew would be coming.  It was the pure and simple truth.  However, Mehrin didn't breathe easily until he was hidden from their sight.

 

As he stood at the top of the stair, trying to figure out which door led to the room he'd be staying in, Mehrin heard footsteps on the stair behind him, though only barely.  That was as good a tell as anything.  "So... that went well," he said to Drea without even looking over his shoulder.  "Could we have made a mistake coming here?  I feel as if there's... something waiting to happen, and it's not going to be good.  Your father looks like he could do some serious damage to me if he wanted to."

 

***************

 

"A penny is all I'm askin' for, sir."  The beggar's eyes gazed up pleadingly from the ground, his need blinding him to the simple truth.  Ayrik slowed as he approached the man, his hand slipping to his belt as if reaching for his purse.  Meanwhile, weaves of Air slowly began to form themselves near the frail man's arms and legs.  He'd be perfect for the job.  "Sir?  Please?"

 

Ayrik struck.  The man's first reaction was to cry for help, but a gag of Air filled his mouth while Ayrik wove a ward around the two of them, silencing anything that he was going to say.  "I'm not going to kill you, beggar.  I need you.  And don't even think of running off to tell somebody about this meeting, as I'll know."  Lifting his hand from his belt, Ayrik dangled a full purse in front of the beggar's eyes.  "There's enough in this purse to give you two years of comfortable life if you use it properly.  Start a business, buy a home, I don't care.  I need you to do something for me.  Succeed, and this is yours.  Fail, and... well, I know for a fact that the city watch would never know that you had gone."  The beggar's eyes had taken on a hint of wild panic.  Perfect...

 

It was days like this that reminded Ayrik why he loved living.

[Drea Raylin]

Drea watched as Mehrin went out of the room and up the stairs. He was assured in his words and movements; something she had always considered an attractable quality. There was an obvious way out of this mess, but it may end up being more chaotic in the long run. But then again, what fun was life if it wasn’t messy?

 

Grinning at her parents, trying to be polite and reserved but ending up showing her teeth in trepidation instead, she bid them goodnight and started to follow Mehrin up the stairs. Before putting a foot on the first step, Drea turned around and took another look at her parents. “It’s really nice to be home, Mom. Have a good night.” And up she went.

 

Mehrin was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for her. Either waiting for her or confused as to which room to enter. She stopped in front of him, tilted her head to look in his eyes and smiled. She reached down to his hands and wrapped them around her waist and placed her head on his chest. She breathed him in, enjoying his scent. It would be strange sleeping alone again. It had now been months since they left the Citadel, and every night had been spent near or next to his warm body. Now, the north is the last place she wanted to feel cold and empty. The land was already enough of both to suit her needs.

 

"My father wont touch you so long as I tell him not to." She winked playfully and tipped up on her toes at kiss him on the cheek “You’re room will be here. Sleep well, Mehrin.” She opened Kimal’s door to let him in then turned to the opposite door and went in.

 

**

 

Koreen watched with sad eyes as her daughter walked up the stairs after that man. When the bottom of her foot was beyond seeing, she took a longing sip of her tea before turning to her husband. They stared at each other in silence—both thinking the same thing, she knew, what had their daughter come to? The distant whispers weren’t audible enough to make out what was said, but Koreen and her husband knew they were talking. It wasn’t until she heard footsteps going the opposite way and two doors shut that she took another sip from her cup and sat in her chair. She didn’t know how much longer her legs would stay under her.

 

“I can’t believe it, Tone. I just can’t. I thought we raised Xandrea better than this. Maybe we should have kept her here, married her to that nice Marshall gentlemen. He always seemed like such a nice boy and is now a Wall Guard. They could have a child by now, maybe two. She would have been happy, Tone. I know it.” Koreen sighed and thought about taking another sip of the spiked tea, but that would give her husband too much time to interrupt. “But instead, she’s miserable. Her heart has more battle wounds than her body and she wears it on her sleeve like an Andorian. This Band of the Red Hand has made her weak. She is no Boarderlander now, Tone. Not any more. The south has made her soft and weak.” Koreen took a long breath. She didn’t normally banter like this; it must be the alcohol in her tea, it must be.

 

**

 

The night was colder than normal, and the pigeons in their coop cooed gently. Every once in a while, one could be heard fluttering from one side of their cage to another and the rest would coo louder. They seemed restless, and so was Koreen. She felt the muscular body of Tone next to her, but if he were sleeping or not she didn’t know for sure. Koreen had not slept yet this night. Her eyes were heavy and her mouth seemed to be continuously open in the form of a yawn.

 

There was a sudden noise outside that made Koreen sit up in bed. It sounded like it was coming from the backyard, just outside her window. The pigeons were unusually quiet and Koreen even stopped breathing. There it was again, but this time it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the house. Could Drea be outside? Or maybe her friend checking on the horses?

 

Curiosity got the best of her, and Koreen slipped out of bed and into a shift. Slipping house shoes onto her feet, she crept out of the room and down the hall. A large shadow moved past the window and Koreen gasped, jumping against the wall. Instinct told her to wake her husband. He was definately the stronger of the two, but her stubborn Shienaran mind made her take a step forward. She grabbed a knife from the cabinet and held it tightly. The back door opened soundlessly-for a change- and the crisp night air and adrenalline rushing through her body made her shiver in her shift.

 

The shadow had gone around the corner of the house to the front. It couldn't be her daugher's friend, the horses were in the stable behind the pigeons-who's coos were louder outside than they were in. Inch by inch she crept to the corner of the house, dreading what was aorund the other side. Rounding the corner, knife to her shoulder ready to strike, Koreen took a deep breath and looked up at the dark looming figure and screamed. 

 

[Myth]

OOC: sorry for the wait, Drea... i completely forgot.  :-\ so i hope this works for you...

 

It was cold. Very cold, and Forge was bundled up against the freezing temperatures in thick layers of fur. The sudden snow storm that he had been caught in had dumped several feet of white powder on the world, yet he had somewhere to be so stopping was out of the question. Besides, he was headed to the nearest place of shelter he knew about. Stopping would just mean freezing to death. And I’ll get no pie! this thought providing more than enough impetus to keep the 12-foot tall Ogier marching onward through the unseasonable blizzard.

 

I’ll be late, but at least I’ll get there tonight, he vowed silently to himself, his jaws clenched against the bitter cold to keep them from chattering. This would be funny, if it weren’t so blasted dangerous, he mused as he trod onward, his large boots crunching through the hard frozen snow. I’m so miserable, I could bite nails! An abominable snowman, I am! he laughed, as he finally saw the shadowed shapes of his destination come into view.

 

Judging by the stars it was well past midnight, but the snow and the bright, clear sky made walking almost as easy as if it were day. The soft smell of wood smoke, and the gray plumes emanating from chimneys assured him that he would have a warm welcome. At least if I don’t get stabbed before they realize who I am, he thought, laughing at the risk like some crazy Aiel. The cold has stolen my wits!

 

He stumbled crossing what looked like a small rise, but turned out to be a pile of stacked firewood. Barely containing a curse at the pain his cold toes felt, he continued on. Passing behind the barn, he walked around to the front of the house. He doubted if anyone would be awake, but it wouldn’t be seemly to wander about in the darkness. An Ogier could get an arrow in him doing something like that, he chuckled richly at the perilous idea. These Borderlanders were very, very handy with pointy things.

 

He was just reaching out to knock on the front door, when a piercing scream shattered the night’s stillness.

 

He couldn’t help it, he let out a loud bellow as well, sounding like a bull with its tail on fire. “AAAAGGHHH!!!!!!”

 

Trying to reach past all the layers of clothing to pull out an axe and failing miserably, his fingers numb with the cold and the layers proving too formidable to overcome, he whirled around to find the source of the shreak. After a moment, the small shape near him resolved into a face that was familiar...

 

“Koreen?!?! Is that you?”

[Quibby]

Out of all the preferred methods that Mehrin had for being awakened, screams were somewhere near the bottom, right before some foreign object being forced through his skin.  Years of combat experience asserted themselves in a hurry, hurling Mehrin out of bed, into his breeches, and down the stairs, his belt knife in hand.  There was no way in hell that he was going to let anything happen while he was under this roof.  If Drea's parents were going to act the way they were towards him, he would at least extend them the courtesy of not being the same towards them.

 

Koreen was still standing in the open doorway when Mehrin arrived.  Not knowing what was happening, he did what any man would be expected to do: he shoved Koreen out of the way and took her place, knife gripped blade-down in his left hand.  What Mehrin saw in the door, though, was not what he expected.  Trollocs, maybe a Myrddraal, but not a rather poor-looking beggar.  Shock was soon replaced with anger.  "What do you want?"

 

The man looked about wildly, as if he wasn't sure what was going on.  Uh oh, that's not a good sign.  In the silence, Mehrin heard footsteps behind him, almost imperceptible.  That'll be Drea.  "I asked you a question.  Why are you here?"

 

The man licked his cracked lips, eyes wide with panic.  In a gasping voice that was more than tinged with panic, he answered, "He's coming."  That got Mehrin's attention.  Surprise and confusion flashed across his eyes.  "He's... he's coming for you.  You are not safe here.  Not safe anywhere!  Anywhere!"  Clutching his head, the man began moaning softly.  "Not safe!"

 

"Who?  Who's coming?  Answer me!"  Mehrin could see that there was no answer forthcoming, though.  The man's face was contorted with pain, his hands clutching his head as if he was hoping to hold it together.  "Not... safe... not... aaaaaaarrrgh!!"  The last steadily grew in pitch and volume, soon becoming an ear-shattering scream.  The man dropped to his knees, curling up into a ball and tossing himself wildly on the ground, still clutching his head.  There was a muffled tearing sound, almost inaudible over the man's screaming, and his hand came away from the side of his head, a handful of hair coming with it.  Closing his eyes, Mehrin shook his head, his expression a mixture of horror and disgust.  "I'm so sorry," he muttered as he closed the door.  It was a trick, but he managed to ignore the wet pop that still managed to reach his ears.

 

"What did you make of that, Drea?"

[Drea Raylin]

She heard her mother moving around the house long before she heard Mehrin get out of bed. Sure anything could have been going on, but Koreen was known for her lack of sleep and Drea was trying to trust again. But when she heard Mehrin open the front door and a voice that belonged to neither family member, Drea was out of bed and creeping down the stairs.

 

As soon as Koreen saw Drea she ran to the stairs and held her daughter close. The older woman shook with fear. A life of fighting darkfriends and trollocs and this woman was afraid of a beggar? Drea glanced in Mehrin’s direction as he closed the door. She whispered soothing words in her mother’s ear to disguise the sounds from outside, but the woman sobbed harder when she heard the ending.  Drea clutched her mother closer as Mehrin approached the two.

 

“What did you make of that, Drea?”

 

A motion by the kitchen caught Drea’s eyes. Instinctively she reached for her knife but relaxed once realizing the shape was only her father. The big bulky man rubbed his eyes sleepily.

 

“What’s going on her, Xan?” he muttered. “What was that noise?”

 

Drea struggled for a moment between telling them the truth and dismissing it as nothing. A quick glance at Mehrin gave her the answer. “Nothing, Papa. Just go back to bed.” She peeled her mother off her shoulder. “You too, Mama. Get some sleep. It was just a beggar man wanting money. Mehrin and I will take care of everything.”

 

Koreen ran to her husband and followed him into the bedroom. Tone hesitated before turning to leave, glaring at Mehrin, a warning more than anything.

 

Drea waited until they were alone before walking over to Mehrin. She put her head on his chest and sighed heavily. “I don’t know what that was, but I’ve never seen my mother so scared before. She’s a boarderlander. She’s harder than I am.” Drea looked up. “We need to move, don’t we? Somethings going to happen… I can’t let it happen here. Not in front of my parents, Mehrin.”

 

[Quibby]

It took Mehrin's body a moment to remember what it was supposed to do when a woman leaned against it, but that wasn't too surprising.  Comfort wasn't one of his strongest areas.  However, he had soon wrapped his arms around Drea, occasionally stroking her hair.  "Yes, we need to move, and soon.  However, we need to move in daylight, where Ayrik- or whoever it is that's after us- can see.  Leaving now might make things worse for your parents, and I'd rather not let that happen."  What are you thinking?  You've seen the way they treat you! a part of him thought.  Yes, but I joined the Band because I wanted to help those in need.  A dark laugh seemed to echo in his mind.  No, you joined the Band because it was a better idea than having a throat full of steel.  The desire to help didn't come until after Bandar Eban.  At least be honest with yourself.

 

Mehrin hated it when that voice was right.

 

"We can't just leave them, Drea.  You know that, and I know that.  Remember what we found at my family's home?"  Mehrin certainly did.  "I'll go get dressed and sit first watch.  You come and take my place in two hours.  We'll leave tomorrow morning."

 

***************

 

Stepping from darkness into darkness unseen was one of Ayrik's patented tricks.  He allowed the gateway to stay open for a moment, a cool breeze blowing in behind him, a herald to his coming.  Drama had its uses.  Ayrik took a moment to quickly ward the room, ensuring that no sound would escape.  He wanted this to be an object lesson to his brutish brother before he died.  There was nothing he could do to protect anybody he cared about.  No doubt the fool was sitting guard in a vain attempt to stop the inevitable.  More than likely, his wench was with him.  Two birds, one stone.  It was time to put an end to this.  Drawing on saidin Ayrik set every candle in the room aflame, filling the room with light as he did.  The light was not the comforting glow a candle gives; most of the light came from a separate weave, harsh and unsettling.  "Good evening, friends," he said, almost purring.

 

The effect was perfect.  Both Koreen and Tone were looking at him as if he were some force of hell.  They weren't far off.  "Now, I won't bore you with too much talk.  I'm here to kill that bastard Mehrin and his wench."

 

Tone, the ever-faithful father, managed to find his voice at that.  "You'll keep a civil tongue in that Light-forsaken face of your's, little Darkfriend."  In a louder voice, he let out a wordless yell.  Likewise, so did Koreen.  Ayrik did nothing to stop them.

 

When silence finally settled again, Ayrik mockingly lifted a hand to his ear, acting as if he were listening carefully.  After a short time he said, "No-ooo...  No, I still hear nobody coming.  It sounds to me as if your precious daughter has abandoned you for her precious murderer."  The startled looks on their faces were priceless.  "Did you truly expect her to stay?  They came here, a murderer and a seductress, for your approval.  When they didn't get it, they left.  Is it truly so surprising?  You simpletons.  However, I digress."  With that, Ayrik channeled again, pulling Koreen upright in the bed, her skin stretching slightly.  She screamed.  "Relax, it'll all be over soon.  I don't have the time to really torture you."  The pulling was now accompanied by sounds like tearing fabric.  It was too much for Tone, who leaped out of the bed with another wordless yell, teeth bared.  He came up short by a good two feet.  "Ah, I was wondering what it would take to get your blood going," Ayrik said, smiling.

 

He was still smiling when he set to work.

 

*************

 

The house was quiet.  Mehrin sat upright in a chair, his sword laid across his knees.  He hated waiting, knowing that there was somebody out there, somebody close, who wanted him dead.  His watch was almost up, and Drea would be coming down the stairs to relieve him soon.  He knew we were coming.  He had to.  He baited the trap by killing my family, knowing that we'd make our way here.  Part of him didn't quite think that was right, though.  There was no way that this Ayrik person could think ahead that far.  His parents had been dead before Mehrin had even left the Citadel.  That doesn't change anything.  He could have planned this meeting before then.  A thought that, if true, was all the more disturbing.  It meant that this man had taken the time to sit down and plan this.  He would have known what he was going to do, and it would not have bothered him.  Just like it didn't bother you when you planned the deaths of thousands of men and women.  Mehrin really hated the thoughts he had sometimes.  It came with the whole command thing.  He always seemed to see both sides of the coin, and it was getting frustrating.

 

There was a wet thump from the stairs, drawing Mehrin out of his thoughts and back to the real world.  Standing, he held his sword low, ready to rise upward in a swing that would bisect whatever it found.  There was a dark shape at the foot of the stairs that Mehrin prodded with his boot before reaching down to see what it was.  The mass unfolded, revealing...  In disgust and horror, Mehrin dropped the heavy thing that had once been Tone's skin, backing into the open space of the living room.  "I know you're there.  Show yourself!" Mehrin called out.

 

He never expected to hear an oily-smooth voice reply, "As you wish."

 

The shadows seemed to coalesce into something shaped like a man, which became a man with dark eyes and long hair, clad in a black material that seemed to shine, even in the dark.  Silk.  Not much for protection.  Mehrin took a moment to examine the man's features while the man did the same in return.  Finally, he broke the silence, his words oddly warm and cheery: "Mehrin!  It's such a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face!  You look good.  A bit like a weather-worn, beat-up, scarred, tormented copy of myself."

 

"Ayrik," Mehrin replied cooly.  "I never thought to see my face on such a twisted bastard."

 

"Now that was uncalled-for, brother," Ayrik said, and an invisible force of some kind struck Mehrin across the face.  "I'm merely trying to be civil.  After all, I've put so much work into arranging a meeting for the two of us.  Brothers, reunited after over thirty years of not knowing of the other's existence!  This is the very thing that gleemen sing about and poets write about.  We shouldn't be at each other's throats."

 

Mehrin shook his head, spitting out a mouthful of blood from a bitten lip as he stood.  "Maybe if your 'arrangements' hadn't involved my parents, my daughter, and Drea's family, things could have been different!" he shouted.  Drea should hear that.

 

Oddly, Ayrik laughed, a disturbingly pleasant sound.  "The wench's parents tried the same thing before I incinerated her mother right before her father's eyes.  You've already seen what I did to her father.  Would you like me to tell you about what I did to your family?  That'll be a story that lasts for a few hours."

 

With a wordless yell, Mehrin hurled himself at Ayrik, whose eyes widened in surprise as his more muscular brother landed upon him with a speed that he had not expected, a heavy fist crashing into his face.  The two toppled to the floor heavily.  That should be enough noise to get Drea down here!

 

"Again with the yelling, Brother?  You are rather slow-witted, aren't you?  Your precious Drea isn't coming.  She can't hear you.  She's still sleeping peacefully upstairs."  An invisible force seemed to curl around Mehrin's arms, lifting him away from his bleeding brother and stretching him tight.  Mehrin knew better than to fight it.  "Your problem is you just don't think."

 

"Yeah, and you talk too much," Mehrin said defiantly.  "What did you do with Renalie, you sick bastard?!"

 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Ayrik grinned.  "And this right after telling me I talk too much.  I'm certainly not going to tell you now."  Something like an invisible whip- if a whip has ever been constructed out of oakwood and steel- struck Mehrin's back.  He grunted.  "Ah, a tough man.  They told me you were, but you'll scream before the end.  Everybody always does."  Another one struck.  "Everybody always does."

[Drea Raylin]

Drea paced back and forth across the wooden floor. The house was silent except the steady creak of the old planks. A path was already worn, but not only from tonight. She had tried to sleep, but the unsettling thought of what—or who—was out there kept her restlessly awake. Wide awake. Her sleep time was coming to an end, but she knew if she went down early, Mehrin would mutter something under his breath about not getting enough rest, or some protective mumble, which would only lead in guilt and frustration for being guilty. Light! Why couldn’t life be normal? Who was she kidding? This is normal. This will always be normal. Frustrated once again, she threw one of the knives she had been toying with and watched it jam into the wall by the door and waited. The noise would have startled Mehrin, but she didn’t even hear footsteps. Blood and ashes, it was too quiet. Drea threw open the door and snatched the knife from the wall.

 

The first thing she noticed was a ball, a bag of something at the bottom of the stairs. There were shadows, but no sound. A steadier watch proved two shadows, two people. Mehrin obviously one of them, and the other… the other was some shape in the air. Confused, Drea studied harder. No, it wasn’t Mehrin. This man had a cloak on; Mehrin’s cloak was in the bedroom. Which meant the floating figure was-. Drea’s heart beat rapidly as she realized what had to be going on downstairs. The fact that it was silent still haunted her as she snuck silently down the stairs. She wasn’t a genius when it came to men who could wield, but she spent enough time around the band’s asha’man to know they had more than one dirty trick up their sleeves.

 

In what seemed like hours, Drea was at the foot of the stairs, Ayrik’s back to her and the man’s bulky shape blocking Mehrin’s view of her. Good. She couldn’t have him give her away. She still couldn’t hear what was happening, but the shadows showed movement and pain as Mehrin’s body jerked and twisted. Biting her lip, forcing herself to concentrate, Drea drew her knife in a tight fist and flung it toward the dark man’s back. Emotion got the best of her and she let out a small grunt of pain and as quickly she felt a blow of air, hard as a horse, slam her halfway up the stairs. All the same, the knife stuck Ayrik in his right shoulder.  He seemed neither bothered nor hurt as he pulled the knife out and let it drop to the floor, point straight into the wood. Drea tried to back up the stairs, but her feet slipped against the wood. It was a split second before Drea realized they were covered in blood. She watched as Ayrik approached her, nothing but evil in his eyes. He mouthed something, but Drea still could not hear what he was saying. From behind him, she saw Mehrin, bloody and weak, shouting in return.

 

The blood wasn’t hers, she wasn’t hurt. The ball at the end of the stairs, the tan colored-blood stained piece that sagged out a side told it all. The man has a pattern, and if Mehrin was the one he wanted, Drea was next. Swallowing all her tears to savor later and transforming it into rage, Drea’s feet caught a stair and she leapt at the man with a scream. Nearly two feet before she reached his body, she stopped mid-air and dangled in front of Ayrik. He looked her over with a sly grin, similar to one she’s seen on Mehrin, but with completely different implications. Drea snarled and clawed at him, but he ducked out of the way.

 

“Oooh, she’s a feisty one, Brother. Tell me, is she like this in the sack?” His attention was turned back to Drea, she could feel his slimy eyes all over her. “No one likes a boring lay.”

 

Drea’s eyes closed and she breathed in sharply as something brushed against her lips. It continued down her neck, between her breasts and along her stomach. She bit her lip to stop the tears. She would not give this bastard the pleasure of watching her cry. “Is that why you still haven’t gotten any, Ayrik?” A slap of air struck her cheek. “I mean, you’re how old?” Another, a bit harder. Drea moved her jaw around and spit out a gob of blood. “He’s at least had three-” She heard a shout from Mehrin just as the next blow hit her in the side of the head.

 

“There’s at least one, my dear. Maybe two by the end of the evening.” Another brush of air grazed Drea’s cheek. She shook her head as if it were a fly and she the cow. “Your mother was a fantastic lay. All the squirming and screaming.” He made to bite at Drea’s neck. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain. “Definitely not boring. I’ve always found sex before murder exhilarating. Though, I guess it depends on the wench.”  Drea opened her eyes again and found his face directly in front of hers. With their noses touching, Drea could see even more of the resemblance between brothers. “Like mother like daughter?” His voice was a whisper, almost inaudible to her ears, and yet the words slithered across his tongue.

 

With that, Drea’s body fell to the floor with a forceful thud. She lay there for a second, trying to regain any composure she found, and then lifted her head. Ayrik had left her and returned to Mehrin. In her daze, she couldn’t make out definite words, but there were screams of pain she knew weren’t coming from Ayrik. This could be her only chance. Making a difficult decision between love and honor, Drea stumbled to her feet and ran as fast as she could for the stairs. Just as her foot touched the first step, another blow of air struck her in the back of the head. She felt her limbs go numb as her hope turned to black. Drea’s head hit the corner of a step and bounced. When her body was still, fresh blood stained the grain of the wood step and the house was silent again.

 

[Quibby]

Seeing Drea unconscious and unable to do anything to defend herself was enough to hurl a weakened Mehrin against the invisible shackles that were holding him in place, searching for some purchase, some weakness to exploit in the invisible bonds.  However, air was still air, and there was nothing to fight against.  Mehrin again sagged to the floor.  "You miserable Light-forsaken bastard!  If you even think about laying a hand on her, I'll-"

 

"You'll what, Brother?  Beat me within an inch of my life?  Cleave me in two with that ridiculously over-sized sword of yours?"  Ayrik shook his head before striking him again with that damned One Power of his.  "You heroic fools are so predictable.  You'll sit still for hours on end while being tortured, but the first time you see somebody else hurt, you go about screaming things like, 'If you even think about doing this or that.'"  Again with the heavy blows from nothing.  "You're pathetic.  You just sit there, taking it like a stone.  Have you ever considered the possibility that you might be able to break free?"

 

***************

 

There was pain.  Blinding, mind-numbing pain, the likes of which she'd never felt before.  She couldn't remember her name, her age.  She couldn't even remember how to walk.  The only thing she could remember was that face.  A cold, laughing face.  She could remember it with spots of blood spattered over it at random.  He never even blinked.  Then there had been the pain.  Fiery, fierce.  She had thought that she would die.  When the man had left, the pain was still there.

 

Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings.  She was on the floor in a relatively warm room.  There was heat radiating from a... stove, yes, that was the word.  The air was filled with smells that screamed something to her, a word she couldn't remember.  There were strange wooden things across the room from her.  It was a labor of pain, and it was hard not to cry out from it, but she made it.  There was another room open before her.  Two men, one bloody and beaten, sagging against some sort of bonds.  The other stood tall, a shape in black, his face turned away from her.  And along the wall...  a feminine shape on the ground, not moving.  It looked familiar, as did the pile of rags on the floor under her feet.  She inched toward the prone body, trying to see whether the sight could jog her memory.  Then there was sound.

 

"Do you truly think me to be merciful, Brother?  I have every intention to see you broken and dead.  The wench will suffer long before she dies.  I do not idly threaten."  That voice...  Her pain, everything that she couldn't remember... it was his fault!  She pushed herself to her knees, pain now fueling her anger.  It was this bastard!  He'd done this to her!  He'd taken her... her... Tone...  Yes, her Tone!  A memory skittered to the surface of her mind, and her hatred grew even hotter.  He'd skinned her Tone alive!  The bastard had even laughed while doing it!  She found her feet, her hand closing around a bowl that had been a gift from her mother.  Where had that memory come from?  It didn't matter.

 

Her steps were quiet, but still the man had heard them somehow.  Idly he turned, staggering slightly, then looked at her in shock.  "That's right, you bastard," she gasped before swinging the bowl with all her might.  There was a mild resistance, then the look on his face had become even more shocked as the bowl shattered over his head.  Over in the corner, the woman- Drea, her name is Drea- moved.

 

"You're more trouble than you're worth," the man muttered, struggling to his knees, one hand reaching down to grab...  A sudden burning pain across her chest, her belly.  The man was holding a sword that looked like a needle.  Part of her mind found the weapon to be ridiculously puny, even as the ridiculously puny blade knifed through her ribs and out the other side.  As she toppled, her eyes fell again on the girl Drea.  She's my daughter...  My daughter... Drea...  She was too weak to speak, even as she saw her watching and unable to move.  Another movement behind the dark man.  Mehrin.  Protect her... please...  The world slowly faded to gray, then black.  All that was left was sound, and even that was fading...  Protect... her...

 

**********

 

Stubborn wench!  Why couldn't she just stay where she was until I was ready to deal with the- oh, no.  Ayrik couldn't remember why he would be so dizzy.  It wasn't as if he was tired.  But then, he was.  His eye flickered to his brother's wench, now rousing to consciousness, to the knife in the floor.  Then to where he should have still felt his flows of Air holding his brother in place.  All that there was to be found was a man staring him straight in the eyes, those brown eyes so similar to his own now portals into the deepest, hottest pits of hell.  Ayrik never saw the fist that sent him sprawling.  Memories started rising unbidden to his mind.  Ayrik had spoken to men and women who had seen Mehrin fight, and they all told the same tale: nobody wanted to be on Mehrin's bad side.  Stories told of him cutting his way through enemies to get to a man who had scorned him.  They told of feats of inhuman strength and resolve.  They told of a man who refused to die, and who had no hesitancy to kill.

 

A fiery pain in his leg.  That wench Drea's knife was once again protruding from his body, throbbing in time with the wound in his shoulder.  His shoulder!  How much blood had he lost?  How much time until he was too bled-out to fight back?!  He would be Mehrin's prey to do with what he wished, and the stories...  Great Lord, he'd been a fool to do things this way.  The man never ran towards him.  He knew that there was no getting away for the piece of scum beneath his feet.  He was collecting that massive claymore of his.  "Brother!  Would you really kill me?  Your only link to the past?"

 

"You should have thought of that a long time ago, you twisted, evil little thing."

 

Panic.  It was a new emotion to a cold-minded individual, and upon reflection, it was probably the only thing that saved his life that day.  His mind reached out to the only thing it had, and a gateway opened behind him.  Panic motivated his legs to throw him through it, and panic urged the gateway to close faster, leaving him alone in a black void, floating on a cold, stone floor.  He didn't care where he was going to; he knew where he was going from, and that was all that mattered.  "Next time, Brother.  Next time."  Pulling the blade from his leg where it had settled against the bone, Ayrik cried out, his scream fading to nothing in the eternal space between the threads of the Pattern.

 

***************

 

Sheer exhaustion brought Mehrin to his knees.  His back, his front, everything hurt.  And it hurt bad.  There was nothing to say that this was the scene of a battle except for a bit of blood here and there.  And the bodies.  It was all that Mehrin could do to crawl to the cracked and reddened thing that had once been Drea's mother.  "Koreen, can you hear me?  Koreen!"

 

"Yessss..."  The reply was nothing more than a quiet, raspy hiss.  "That is my name.  Thank you for that."

 

Ayrik had left his toothpick of a sword buried to the hilt in her chest, and from where the blade sat, there was no way to avoid the inevitable.  "Koreen, I can't do anything."

 

"I know.  It's so cold, now.  So cold."  He could feel another presence behind him, moving closer.  "Keep her... safe, you hear?"

 

"I hear."  Mehrin could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.  It would be followed by the black oblivion of unconsciousness.  They had to be gone before then.  Ayrik would no doubt have somebody come along soon enough to finish things here, and there was no way he could fight back now.  Laying a comforting hand on Drea's shoulder as she arrived, Mehrin did the only thing he could do: nothing.

[Drea Raylin]

Drea blinked, groggy and bursting with pain. Her hand was the first to move, a slight twitch in front of her eyes. She blinked again, slowly becoming aware of the hard wood jutting into her head, shoulder and the rest of her body. Mentally, she forced her foot to move, and then the other as sound entered her world. The sly, slithery voice stimulated consciousness and a wave of understanding crashed against her. Though her head screamed as she lifted it, and her body ached with each returning thought, Drea sat up in time to see Ayrik disappear through some black door in the middle of the room.

 

Part of her wanted to leap off the stairs and follow him, to take her other knife and stab him until he looked like her father. But the door was gone, the man with it and she was completely drained of energy. Leaning her head against the wall she felt the other side with a shaking hand. The blood had stopped, but her hair was still wet with it and the pounding increased when she touched it. Weakness took over and her eyes became heavy again, but a motion across the floor caught her attention.

 

She watched Mehrin cross the floor and drop to his knees next to a petite shape. Koreen… Mother…  Heavy eyes weren’t enough to keep her still. Drea grit her teeth and crawled down the steps and across the floor.

 

“Keep her safe, you hear?” She whispered as Drea finally reached the two. Her arms shook as they held herself upright and looked into her mother’s tired, red eyes. Drea’s own swelled up with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

 

“I hear” Mehin replied softly and put a hand on her shoulder.

 

Drea’s mouth opened to say something, anything, but no words came as she watched the bit of life drift away in her mother’s eyes. Still the tears would not fall. There were more important things to do than morn. Sorrow and sleep could come later. Drea cleared her throat and looked up to Mehrin. She caught the exhaustion in his eyes and knew how he felt. Without saying a word, she nodded and knew what they needed to do.

 

 

*****

 

The horses were a bit skittish from the flames that engulfed the house that she had grown up in. The only real house she’d ever known, holding more memories than an entire army combined. A house that was more to her than a house, it was supposed to be a sanctuary. A haven. The walls were arms that embraced her tight when she walked through the door. Her father’s pigeons were let loose and one still circled around the black smoke, watching in despair as Drea was. For the first time, Drea saw Mehrin on a horse, awkward and hunched. Renly danced away from the gate once more. It was done. There was nothing left to trace what had happened, or where they were headed. Kicking Renly, Drea lead him down the road and out of the city, to find what was next.