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The Labyrinth


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A sword sung as it rendered the air. Long blonde hair flew as Tigara turned to swing as more invisible enemies. His hair was half-way down his back now. He swung a dozen more times before just standing there, stripped to the waist. His teachers said he could practice the sword in his own time as long as it didn’t interfere with his other studies. It had taken some convincing that Aes Sedai could not be trusted and a shield would render him useless and a backup was always good. The door flew open with a weave of air, and next thing he knew, he was lunging at the door with his sword. Michael stood in the door. Tigara stopped his motion in half swing. Michael glanced up at the steel hovering above him. “It would do you well to watch where you swing your sword, if you know what’s good for you.”


“Yes, Aurani.” Tigara often called him that to annoy him. Mostly because Tigara had his eyes on another Chosen. He had not met her, but she held him in the palm of her hand. Maybe she didn’t even know it. “Tigara Kazim, you are too follow me, ask no questions, and above all, do not touch the Source.” Tigara quickly dropped his sword on his bed and grabbed up a fresh shirt. As they walked along the Halls, he struggled his white shirt on. They went past the classrooms, and the Traveling room, and other rooms he had never been in. They stopped in front of a very large and ominous wood door. “Every Dreadlord in the service of the Great Lord was passed through this door once. Many others have also passed through, but essentially, they are dead.” Tigara’s eyes widened slightly at the mention. Michael smirked. “To become a true Dreadlord, you must pass through the door and face the challenges before you. Decide now.” Tigara looked at the door, then at Michael, then back at the door, then at the floor, the then door again. Finally he grabbed the door handle and entered the door. No turning back. The Will of the Pattern.


“It’s bloomin’ dark in here!” he said after the door closed behind him. He embraced the Source and made a floating light. Even at his stage, he still didn’t like making lights. The area was illuminated as he noticed he was in a very small corridor. A labyrinth of sorts, perhaps. He walked for a few minutes, then turned right. Walked a bit more, and then right. Always a right turn. Easier to trace steps that way. He turned a corner and stopped abruptly. The floor was gone! He could see the other side, so he figured this was part of the challenge. He took threads of earth and pulled platforms of stone out of the wall on one side, making a path of stairs. He hopped from step to step. Halfway across, he felt goosebumps run across his arms. The same feeling he would get watching the Dreadlady Acolytes practice. Saidar was being used. The stone he was on began to fall out of place. He panicked and scrambled across the rest of the steps. They too fell out of place, but he got enough spring out of them to get across. Finally! Firm ground again.


After several hours had passed, Tigara began to suffer from severe boredom. It was just stone wall after stone wall after stone wall. Goosebumps. He looked around, and saw nothing. He turned around to see a large boulder rolling down the corridor. Blimey! He began to run! He ran until his ribs seemed like they would fall out and his legs would turn into limp noodles. And the rock went around corners! Around each corner he made. There was no running. He turned to face it. Air to stop, water to dry, fire to crack, earth, spirit to shatter. The boulder lurched to a stop and fell into powder. And not a moment too soon. A moment slower and he would have been a Trolloc’s pancake. He continued on.


He was near the end. He could see a door. A fancy door covered in markings and other ornate metal craft. “Well that was easy” he said to himself. He reached for the doorknob and the biggest gust of wind blew him back 40 feet and counting. What was worse was that at the end of the corridor was a pit of spikes. “That wasn’t there before!” she screamed as he tried to stable himself. He wove earth around his boots and stuck them fast to the floor. How useful. Now he couldn’t move. Or could he. He wove more earth and shifted the floor to move him along. He didn’t move very fast, but it was progress. But his luck was not for him. The floor began to fall away behind him and it was moving quickly. He thought quickly. He wove bars of air attached to the wall and he swung from bar to bar. But there were problems with that. For one, he was a very bad climber, so his upper arm strength was failing him fast. Second, he was very weak in Air and making all the bars was very difficult. So he very slowly he swung from one bar to the next, still battling the fierce winds. He couldn’t do it. His grip slipped and he fell. Saidin filled him as he fell down into the dark nothing. The Will of the Pattern.


He fell onto the hard stone floor directly in front of the door. He stared up at a door floating in mid-air. He could see where he had been when he fell. A Gateway. He hadn’t learned to make them yet, but he had seen enough of them to pick it up. Lucky him. He picked himself off the floor and limped to the door. He grabbed the knob and entered.


“Enjoying the floor? Maybe that’s what took you so long. You were there for eleven hours. Nothing special by any means. But you’re alive at least. Well done Tigara Kazim, Adept of the Fortress.”


He looked up at Michael and laughed. The Pattern wasn’t letting him go so soon. Oh no.



Tigara Kazim

Draedlord Adept


OOC: Yes, I did post this as soon as it was February.

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