The strong racing pulse under the soft smooth skin of her neck began to slow. Hard callous hands registered the change in speed, a strange warmth growing within as the woman who's throat he gripped began to fight less; resistance becoming uncoordinated with less strength. Finally he would rid the world of this one torment, cleans the lands of one more of those that would seek to harm his kind. The corners of his lips began to curl in an all knowing sneer. The last expression she would see in this age, a man who could channel removing the dangers of an Aes Sedai. For the briefest of moments a thought passed across consciousness, fuzzed the reality he saw and felt with this womans life draining in his hands. Did she know this day she would die? Does she now see the faces of those she has killed haunting her as the faces of the Aes Sedai that hunted him haunt his dreams? Battle sounds began to die down; the world around him fading to black. There was simple her face and his hands around her throat. Nothing else existed. Eyes that had held control, determination, and an air of supremacy now held only raw fear. The expression seemed so strange against her smooth face; at odds with all he had seen and knew of her kind, and it drew him in, his grip loosening slightly. You fear?

A scream filtered on the edge of recognition to his left. Another soldier of the black embraced by death. How many would become one with the dirt when this was all over? How was it they had found him again? This was suppose to be a safe place for him to learn and grow; to understand how to control Saidin and it's lusty call to him. Dull pain laced along his side as the smooth warm skin in his hands seemed to be riped from his grasp. The earthen taste of dust and dirt filled his senses; his body crashing heavily to the ground. Something had happened, had changed while his mind had wandered again. But this time he held his grip on Saidin, clung to it like a new born to it's mother. The blackened spots in his vision seemed to increase with the throb of a battered and leaking side; no longer did the cut at his throat register through the blazing pain that had once been a strong and healthy side.

Pushing himself back to his knee's his head swiveled to find the source of his removal and caught the faint residual still dimming. Saidin, someone had woven Saidin against him and stolen the prize that was to be his own. The snarl that rumbled low from his throat offered death ten fold to the source of this madness while his mind played back the moments that had just ticked by. The scream, he had heard that voice before ... The women he had held and found pleasure and confusion in the pending death at his hands was scrambling across the dirt toward a fallen member of his adopted family. He probed quickly and found his shield still in place over her; she would not be a threat of any magnitude.

With searing pain he slowly rose to his feet and turned toward a scene he had not expected to see. The women held the man's head in her hands and rocked back and forth; sobs wracking her body. It had to be a clever ploy to spare her life until she could figure out a way to once again hold him separated from the pure tormented life flow of Saidin. Staggering, Linten made his way to were she now knelt, his eyes taking the opportunity to sweep across the gruesome battle field. He did not have to count to know that more Black Tower members lay in ruin across the ground then those of the treacherous White. All we want is to be left alone and this .... this is the mighty White Towers answer? They don't even deem us worthy enough to send an army of size. Perhaps when we ship back the heads of their precious little raiding party they will not think us quite so simple a conquest.

Stopping next to the Aes Sedai he looked briefly down in curiosity that she still did not attempt to defend herself. But the thought lasted only a moment before the voice in the shadows of his mind brought him back to the purpose of this time and place. Roughly his right hand closed around an ample hand full of long brown matted hair; wrenching her head all the way back. Death spoke it's promised release in his eyes as her fair complexioned face came up to stare at the monster that would end this insanity. Only where determination, threatened confidence, and even shock had played freely. Her deep brown eyes held loss and acceptance. She no longer resisted him, no longer fought against his movements. It was as if she had given up and was ready to accept the fate he dealt; almost wanted it. But that could not be, Aes Sedai never gave up, never felt anything except the need to kill his kind. Linten's left hand, formed in a tight fist, raised high over head preparing to deliver the blow that would crush her larynx and leave her to a slow and agonizing death. No less then she deserved for the way her kind hunted and tortured men all in the name of safety for the Age and the servitude of the Light.

Why won't you fight me? At least try to save yourself .... Do something, just stop looking at me like that. The bitter evil voice in the dark shouted for his hand to fall with weight, screamed at him to finish the task and seek out more blood. But it remained a buzz in the fogged distance of his confused mind. Aes Sedai never give up, they are ruthless he knew that, thought he had. No ... no it had to be some sick and twisted Aes Sedai plot to undermine the confidence of the Black Tower. A way to add further poison to the people of this Age against men that could touch Saidin, men that could offer hope where none would exist come Tarmon Gai'don. He hated himself that his hand remained frozen, victory was at hand. All he had to do was seize it, but his arm refused. His eyes swept the field once more and noted the weaving of pure spirit; intricate weaves he had not seen before in his training. Perhaps some strange new weapon or method of shielding the witches permanently. Perhaps that was the out he could take, permanently shielded he could use her as he saw fit; an opportunity to further learn of the witches weaknesses.

Deftly he repeated the weave he had watched others make. Pulled the sweet clear threads of spirit into the intricate pattern that modeled that of the others around him and watched it settle on the womens head as the sadistic smile of satisfaction once more curled the edges of his mouth. The weave lay on the the Aes Sedai for a moment and then sunk in, disappearing from sight. Sensations burst like an Illuminator's nightflower into his head, collated into a knot in the back that swept out loss and agony in a broad sweep. Linten's eyes widened in shock as his hands released hair and fist to clutch at his own head. Shock flooded his mind now. But not just his own, the shock of someone else. No!! Dropping to his knee's heavily he stared in disbelief at the face of the other, a face that mirrored each change in sensation that wrought his mind from that bundled knot that had never existed until the weave.

A fondness entered her voice unmasked as she spoke of Sana her mentor. It was refreshing to hear a bond formed between mentor and mentee that would run deep enough for those emotions to surface in conversation. It showed a great deal of respect and understanding on both parties side; something Corin had reveled in with his mentor when he still trained in the yard for the approval of another. In reality he still did but the source of the approval was vastly different now. His eyes took in the movements of Sirayn and Fior from the corner of his vision without pointedly looking to them then brought Aran in from the other corner. A sweep of his hand sent Shara out in a light spin in front of him before drawing back in to his arms again.

It was hard to determine so far from their conversation whether Aran was included in her admiration or just a close thread in a shared patterned tapestry. Either way it appeared she held him in regard and good favor. He would have to watch his conversation from here on to ensure nothing unexpected made it's way back to the scoundrel himself. The smirk after her comment about Aran being charming would have bee in stark contrast to the frown and glower that would have painted Corin's if he would have let the emotion surface. “Yes charming,” there was no edge to his voice but it did not hold the wave of enthusiasm his partner's certainly had. There was a weasel in the hen house and he could due precious little about that for the moment.

He smiled at her words of flattery. Many months of bruising and pain had gone in to learning the fluidity that graced his steps now; years of continued practice to keep and further refine them. Reikan had transformed him in so many ways; Sirayn furthering the refinement. In a way, for a good portion of his trainee years he had two mentors. One assigned by the Tower to teach and build him into a tool to aid the Towers purpose, and one quietly adopted to refine and create the minute details that would make that tool of value to the Tower's occupants. Teachings from the first had ended with the reaching of the cloak, but the teachings of the later had only ended by his own stupidness by falling prey to his own desires. His mind noted the way Sirayn flowed out into a full spin and then returned with perfect easy to Fior.

“For weapons I am much like most in my choice of a sword. The Bastard sword for it's mix of grace and power. The sword had often fascinated me when I was young and seemed like the logical choice when presented with the vast array of weapons when I arrived here. But I also maintain a solid proficiency in the bow. A weapon taught to me by my father and the one comforting feel of home that stayed here with me while I trained.” His voice lightened slightly with the remembrance of home and a youth forgotten. In other circles he would have stamped the emotion as it rose giving it no chance at life. But in the company of Shara he allowed the edges to surface, appearance to keep from sounding cold and distant. “I still enjoy a good day at the bow more then the sword, but the blade has grow on me. As for my mentor ... Reikan was a fine man and a very skilled instructor,” and friend. “I don't know if you have heard of him or not. He left before you would have come to the Tower, a shame to loose someone of such bearing. But we all must find our way as the need inside dictates. He was a great mentor and I was very proud to have trained under him. Perhaps our paths will once more cross in the future.” The corners of his mouth curled slightly as he spoke of Reikan, the one man that had been like a father to him.

“It is good that there is no conflict in training gaols or idea's between Sana and Aran, at least you do not mention any. Sometime the odd issue will arise, but when it does not a person can reap a great benefit from two different views and methods.” As he had from Reikan and Sirayn. “Does Fior train with you or Aran at times as well or is this just a benefit you receive through the past association of a mentor who still has access to his own prior mentor?”

Linten's stomach turned over again, it's voice of unrest not to be ignored. There was still so very much the fair of skin man needed to accomplish. Who knew when the day would be upon them and the Dragon's need for them at hand. Some that trained in these yards did not realize the gravity of their place in the delicate balancing act between Light and Shadow. They were not just pawns in the creator's game. They were pivotal pieces that changed sweeping portions of that game board. The shadow would realize that with time. But first the men of midnight's cloth must learn and grow, and quickly.

His stomach reverberated it's need for nourishment again while Linten spun out a web of small threads. Earth and water created a softening in the ground before him; sporadically in their placement. Fire slipped below the softened soil and heated the rocks and earth; a pocket of pressure below an unmarked point of tender dirt. Each pocket held a different temperature, different level of pressure awaiting it's release. Focusing flows of air Linten lifted a large stone and moved it over to the field he had placed his earlier weaves to. At each point he lowered the rock to the surface applying pressure like the step of a man. The first several pockets did nothing, then a small hiss of escaping steam from the next. Each one the result built until he placed the stone on the final spot of prepared soil. The ground around the stone erupted in a hail of earth and rock debris; a resonating boom shattered the quietness around him followed by the faint thudding of debris shards as they laced into the tree's on the opposite side.

Raking a hand through brown hair damp with exertion Linten let the air shield around him drop and stared at the crater. That was not quite the effect he had been going for. The rock he had been using for weight was no where to be seen. Hmmm ... perhaps a bit too much pressure. But the two prior, they will work nicely indeed. Another annoying growl from his stomach as it turned over again finally brought him to his feet. He had avoided the morning rush to the mess hall but he could avoid it no more. Then again he also needed to meet more people much to his own disappointment. Thus it was a conflicting surprise when he spun to head to the Inn only to find a lone man clad in the Black of the tower members watching him. No pins adored his collar so he was one of the newer and junior of the ranks.

“Good morning, lovely day to blow things up,” dust lay light in patches on his dark curly hair. “Sorry about the mess. Sometimes it's an experiment to see just what will happen. This is the best place to do that. But where are my manners, I am Linten. As nothing adorns your collar I would assume you are some what new here.”

The dreaded heat from a cloudless sky; it's embrace that of scorching and relentless pain washed over Linten as he made his way to the training area and the instruction of an Asha'man that had begun to strike curiosity in him. There were things at work in the Black Tower, agenda's with dark purposes for some of it's members. With Arath, there might be an option. But that was for a later time, for now Linten needed his focus on the light weight of steel strapped to his back. Isha his old mentor had been the first to teach him how to use the blade. Training interrupted when he had abandoned Linten to the nightmares that walked the Borderlands. An thin strip of steel who's edges had preserved life and became the comfort in the dark when tears had fallen from his cheeks; the witches searching the boards above him. Nightmare and more nightmare, all plagued his nights and days when his mind was calm and his thoughts unguarded.

He arrived as Arath began his passage through the group and could feel Saidin filling the other man. Still as the shield settled on him the voice sobbed softly in the corner of his mind. Never would he get use to that separation, knowing how near Saidin was and not being able to touch it. Nothing about that sensation was normal or comforting. Stifling any outward appearance of the uneasiness that swept him and the silent urge to hit the man as he turned his back to walk away, Linten continued to study the group he would be training with. The thought of how any man could falsely believe that a ruby eyed dragon pin at their throat could save them from all was a foolish mistake and would eventually lead to their death.

~You a fool boy; strike an Asha'man here at the farm? Have you forgotten so soon the last time you drew steel on a member of the black? Someone help me, I'm trapped in the mind of an insane boy. Someone ... anyone help me.~

Oh, now you have scruples, but if he wore a shawl you would have me rip the throat from her before she even turned. What kind of monster shares my mind?

~I ask that often.~

Movement around him pulled his mind back as the trainees broke off to collect weapons from the shack nearby. Several like himself remained; their choice already familiar to them and brought in preparation to this training session. Taking a moment Linten looked over some of the competition while Arath wove Saidin once more, only this time the threads where air to create a non lethal covering over the blade that had served him well so far. In truth it had served a purpose while he had been exiled. But it had also been part of the problem; memories of the soft hiss that same blade had made as it drew on Rion the night Isha had taken Linten away to the Borderlands and later left him there to die. The continued line of thought was spiraling down into a dark place and with it his mood.

The opportunity to release the tension that had built from all these dark thoughts was like the sweetest drink of cool clear water during the heat that bathed them as it did now. Lightly his grasp on the swords hilt loosened, sword slipping from his hand to the ground at his feet. With a mumble of apologies Linten collected the blade once more; discreetly his hand collected a small amount of the dry dusty earth. He needed the release; a method to free his mind from the chaos that threatened to sweep him away once more. Turning slowly he scanned the group as it began to break up and spotted on fellow who's brow seemed weighted with his own internal daemons. He was the perfect target, someone else who needed to find a purpose through the use of force. Stepping slightly to the left, creating an open space around him for movement, Linten caught the man's eyes before his opponent was briefly blinded by the dirt tossed from Linten's hand.

With the man's eyes tearing and covered Linten took full advantage of the opportunity and swung out hard with the blade, both hands added his full weight to the strike as he dropped to a knee and brought the blades protective edge against his opponents knee. Ged dropped quickly to the ground one hand still over his eyes. Spinning to the right as he stood back up Linten brought the blade in a full arc whistling softly across the space in front of Ged's face. The curse that bubbled silently from Linten's mouth at the miss drove him to move close; the heel of the hilt driving into his opponents ribs; the soothing sound of air rushing from the man's lungs with the force of the blow adding to his elation.

The opening volley had been quick and decisive, perhaps too decisive. They were all cursed with the same future destiny; a cold and lonely death. He may need this man in the future, need all of them in the future. Dropping the blade from a guarded stance he stretched out a hand to offer his opponent assistance back to his feet and perhaps a fair fight.

OOC: Okay Faile .... left the choice to you if Ged wants to take advantage of the opening left to strike Linten or if he wants to collect himself again and try for a fair start to the fight. I'm good with either choice. :D

Blessed was the light and it's sweet gifts; the wheel's mercy turned out once more for Linten as he fought the emotions crashing down on the void. It's surface a spiderweb of cracks and fissures that spoke of eminent failure. With that failure would come the completion of his humility; his mind already creating the picture of a pathetic man in black curled up in a ball and crying like a new born ripped from it's mother.

~How could you betray us like this. All you had to do was kill them, kill them all and we would be safe. We would have life continue and they would know fear. I will not die, I can not die, I won't die I tell you!~

The rantings continued from the dark corner; confusion clouding judgment and hope. Desperately Linten focused on the invisible barrier between him the and burning orb of Saidin. Gently, slowly he felt over it's surface, traced around it. Looking for a hole, a crack, an edge. Anything to reunite him with the one thing he desperately needed to stay alive .... Saidin. But like a clean sheet of glass every probe stopped short of it's final touch; the voice laughing hysterically at his futile efforts. There has to be a way, light Creator please, there has to be a way. In frustration he threw all he was all he dreamed he could be at the glass surface as he had before when it first severed him from Saidin and created this mockery. Only this time the glass bowed and shattered; Saidin leaping to his grasp in a torrent of ice and heat twisted together in the rotting taint.

Like a caged animal released from it's captures Linten rolled quickly to his knee's and leaped at the women who moments before held the power to remove his life. He did not know what had happen to change the course of his fate but he welcomed it with vengeful appreciation. Landing on the women with his full weight , the back of his right hand came hard across her left cheek snapping her head to the right as his hand continued in the follow through. Weaves a spirit drove hard in between her and what ever connection she hoped to make with the One Power. She would pay for her actions, for all their actions. I swore I would rid the lands of you witches and I mean to do just that. Quickly his hands found her throat and began to squeeze with all the hatred that had built over time and the fear that she had instilled in him moments before. He knew the others would be blocking weaves of the One Power from killing each other. But hands, pure physical contact. That was the way he would make sure this one never held him like that again. His cold eyes stared wildly at her's as they opened wide in shock. He could feel the pulse of her heart in his hands as she struggled for air; her hands clawing at him.

Blood from the wound in his side and the cut at his throat slowly dripped to her gown, the stain spreading out to mix with others. Pinpoint spots of black threatened to grow and steal consciousness from him as he continued the squeeze his hold had on her throat. “Never will your kind have me,never again!!”

As I stated on your other post, PM me a descript on your character and I'll get a thread going. ;)

Who know's maybe later we can harasse the old lady Amrilyn and her silly little minions. :p

Linten chuckled softly, his head nodding at her comment. “Yes .... mad ... I suppose you have been witness to that rather unfortunate part of wearing this.” His hand pulled lightly at the black shirt, eyes watching the way the sun light seemed to disappear in to the fabric rather then radiate back out like it did with white. Why should those women be blessed with the gift of pure power and still feel the need to hunt us? How many times on his return journey had he thought they had finally found him; finally caught him. It was only through those trials that he had noticed the tingle when they wove with Saidar, noticed how they never seemed to be able to tell when he held Saidin and when he did not. A benefit he had used and planned to use more once his training here was sufficient to be allowed to travel abroad unrestricted and un-escorted.

Her offer brought a sly smile to his face as his jade green eyes flicked up to met her's again; read the recognition in them as to what her words could mean. “As entertaining as that would very much be Jocelyne, I do not think Rion would approve.” His voice had been level, no hint of the mirth that filled him inside at the thought of the reaction that would cover Rion's face if they did follow that unspoken path. But as her eyes widened and she prepared to clarify her stance a broad grin swept over Linten's face. “It's okay, I know that is not what you meant ... I was just trying to add a little humor to this meeting. Perhaps it was a poor choice of timing to break the ice but I have never been known as a scholar. Perhaps if you have the time we could amuse each other with a game or two of stones until your next choir.” Seizing Saidin and fighting through the taint that coated him an twisted his stomach Linten wove a tendril of earth into the ground and pulled forth a cluster of small smooth stones. “Do you play?”

~What are you at fool boy? Take her or be rid of her ... but this play is worthless. She has no ability to touch Saidar. They are the one's we need to hunt; to get them before they get us.~

Linten's posture remained relaxed and welcoming, no indication of the mad rantings of the voice in his head. No outward appearance of the games he had planed, or the vengeance he sought. Ignoring the voice to a buzzing in the back of his head, his mind continued to work over the plan he would use to ensnare Rion and give him a sampling of the suffering and fear he had felt when Isha had abandoned him to the blight. As much as Linten wanted to lay heavily the blame for that leaving on Isha and the subsequent nightmares that became his recent past. He could not bring himself to accept it ... But the whole reason he had been taken there was because of Rion and his witch loving. If not for him Linten would be an Asha'man by now. He would have been the one to enjoy the safety and warmth of the Farm and know who he could trust. But Rion had stolen that possibility from him; stolen time from his life. It was that and so much more that Rion would pay for. The White tower would come to heel at the Black and the witches under the guidance and control of the men the Black raised would be the hammer and anvil the Dragon would use to crush all that opposed him.

“Of course if you have to run off to Rion I will understand. If not I would love the continued practice, I'm sure Rion will be happy I was able to add a little fun in your day.” If I have to continue saying that traitor's name I am going to sick up all over the place. The only saving grace to this meeting will be the sheer pleasure of what will go through his mind when he returns and finds his precious little pet with me. Excitement raced through his nerves at his thoughts and curled the corners of his mouth in a slight smile while he waited for Jocelyn to add to his happiness by accepting the offered game.

Oh yes!!

I would definately find much enjoyment in a soul devouring ;)

He almost had to laugh at himself as he listened to her explanation; quick flicking glances verified her expression and features matched the openness of words from the girl in his arms. It had been so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like to converse with some one completely open; not trying to play the multi layered game Sirayn had introduced him to. Her remark about his desire to return to Sirayn's side immediately posted warnings in his mind and began a rethink of his outward appearance both now and as a reminder for the remainder of the night. If she felt that he was happier in Sirayn's presence then others also might start to wonder. That could only lead to a lecture he would very much like to avoid.

Gently his hand added a little more pressure to her back; tried to add more reassurance that he was here with her and not of the mind of another. So the boy and the girl are of a liking to the other. His mind splintered off into a mired array of ways the information could be used for leverage and persuasion. A natural reaction now, only where at one time that planing would be in relation to furthering Sirayn's needs. It now worked to further the chance of returning to favor in her sight and resuming a place in her service. Chuckling he offered her an understanding smile as a hint of jealousy washed over her before exclaiming it had been a dare and he would have equal returns. Taking advantage of a brief lulu in the melodies tempo Corin leaned in close to Shara both to ensure his words would meet her ear only and to raise question and wonder in any eyes that followed them, Sirayn's included.

“You have honorable goals and a fresh openness about you Shara, don't loose track of that in this place. But as for your plan to avoid the eyes of the Sisters, you have perhaps gone about it in a slightly wrong way. Games are played in the Tower at all times, especially at a social gathering. Who is granted what time with the Amrylin is something that would indeed be closely watched and pondered over. Not to mention she may well be doubly interested in why a guard trainee would be so brash as to approach the Amrylin seat for a dance; especially this night. She may even assume you are trying to ensure a pass of her class personally or for another. Either way you may find her presence and eyes one you two all the more.” Leaning back from her again he lead them around a small cluster of dancers and into an open pool of space before his head once more tilted to hers. The soft scent of flowers, blended in the soap she would have used to wash her hair, met his nose as some of the wispy strands brushed Corin's cheek. “Do not try so hard to be invisible here. That is what they are watching for the most. The one's that try not to be seen usually have a reason and the Sisters hate not to know the reason a person does anything. Perhaps I can help distract Mother's eye from you. Think of it a favor for a fellow soldier and beautiful women, but I can not guarantee the others.” His smile was rich and wide for her as the music returned to it's livelier tempo; Corin taking a moment to spin her out from him slowly. His nod spoke of approval as she turned after the appraising words.

His next step was to figure out how he was going to redirect her question about Sirayn and their history. But the light was shining on him this night; at least for this moment in the Wheel's weaving. The entry of Maegan Sedai gave him several opportunities the least of which meant the subject of Sirayn could be quietly tucked away after a simple transition of conversation. “One of the ways one meets the Amrylin has just been displayed to me in the boldness of a fine young girl.” He offered her a wink as if confirming an inside joke between them. As for your mentor's mentor, I have seen and talked with Aran on a few occasions, but alas our circles of work and time seem to spin in opposite directions more then not. He is certainly quiet a character.” A slippery snake of a character if you ask me. One best kept under glass where you can see what he is up to and know exactly where to find him. The whole blackmail thing with Sirayn still sat uneasy on his mind. If for no other reasons, he could not confirm Sirayn had been able to properly deal with him, or if the fool man was still bent on the same quest. Then there was the whole practical poisoning thing. Instead of fighting like a man Aran had practically drowned him with alcohol forced down his throat until he blacked out. Corin still very much wanted to find a way to even that score.

It took concentration to ensure none of his misgivings toward the man touched his face or voice. A feat he believed even his precious Sirayn Damodred would have been impressed by had she known and felt the inner turmoil that surged through him at just the sight of Aran. “It is good to see him back from ..... hmmm ... well they say the mind is the first thing to go,” he chuckled lightly. “If only the Yellow had a cure for forgetfulness. Oh well, do you receive any training from him, perhaps insights or is his pestilence strictly reserved for social occasions? He is quite skilled with his foot work you know.” Corin's eyes scanned the room in a seemingly casual manner once more but made careful note of Sirayn's progress and position in regards to Aran's. A slight correction in mid turn as if to avoid another couple set them on a path to remain between his self sworn charge and Aran.

Hey ObliviousShadow,

You'll find most people tend to be at our OOC board http://www.aliciawilkerson.com/warders/boards

Pop over there and I'm sure we can help you out and get you started. The Warders group is full of great and helpful people. So come on over and let's see what we can do to help you out. :D

*shakes head*

No takers? ..... No one willing to take me up on my offer? Everyone is happy to follow blindly the way they are told?

Here I though this was a place of men not mice. It appears perhaps I was wrong.

*smirk*

I think it has great possibilities and can't wait to see what you present for us to view. :D

It concerned him that she had refused the offer of food. No doubt she was hunger and cold, most civilians within a sizable distance to this mess were. Was it that she believed the Guard would poison her? Perhaps she took his probing question as truth and feared he would drug her only to awaken used and tossed out in the street like so much rubbish in this light forsaken place. The spoon rolled over again in his hand as he listened to her story or lack there of. Little information was offered and at the moment he could not say if it was from evasion or shame she kept the tale thin and short of meat. His mind wandered again briefly as she described her mother as a whore; Raffiel's heritage and bitter words bring back pain. How could I not have seen how Lavinya viewed the relationship? Light how do I explain this all to Sirayn, she hates me so already.

He forced his mind back to the girl sitting across from him, her smile still simple. If she had been a man, a soldier he would not have had such hardship with this decision. Even that grated on him. He knew there should be no difference; fought side by side with women his life trusted to their hands. Watched his comrades in arms die; death's embrace caring not for the sex of the flesh it claimed. He had sent women to their deaths before and no doubt would send many more in the future. So why was it this one caused him so much hesitation.

He wanted to rub his eyes; find his bed and sleep for a week. It seemed so long since he had actually had time to have a proper sleep. Between reports and sorties against the Dark one's armies that had take this land it had become a rare and elusive beast. But even in his present state of exhaustion some of Sirayn's training remained. He would have to begin the task of checking up on her now, whether she joined or not, to ensure the ranks remained safe. There was also the added task of actually training the fool girl and marking her progress so it could be reported back to the Mistress of Trainees if the light seen fit that he survived this war. His eyes studied her a little longer as she finished her tale, measured her worth and found the appearance presented lacking. But as Daes Dae'mar always showed. What is presented is not always true. In fact it rarely was; most holding just enough truth to be believed.

“Wait here Raffiel I will be back in a moment,” the words sounded more flat then he intended. Rising from the table he stepped back to the bar to converse with what had one time been the Inn keeper. In fact he still was, he just followed orders now instead of making his own whimsical decisions. Once the war was done he could go back to that but for now he was in the service of the Tower army. After making his requests Corin watched as Averan's eyes swept to the girl at the table and a knowing smile bloomed on his face with a nodded. Patience already worn with the games and the pace he had been keeping his hand slammed hard against the bar's surface and brought the man back with a start. “It will not be that way and don't you ever presume that again. I expect the room ready by the time I am back to the table.” As quickly as the words were out of his mouth in a far too loud of voice he regretted them. She would have been disappointed in him no doubt. Some how he had to find time for sleep.

Taking a cleansing breath he collected himself and a book from the counter and returned to the table and his guest. His fingers hesitated on the books cover as he eyed her once more before opening it to the last entry and sliding it in front of her. “Make your mark and be welcome to the training ranks of the White Tower.” He waited, his eyes still studying her openly, for her to take the pen and write her name. Once complete he pushed the book aside still open to allow the ink to dry. “As we do not have the luxury of time and the Mistress of Trainees here to make assignments for you it will be left to me to look after you. I will be your mentor until such time as you leave the service of the Tower, we return and your care is transferred to the MOT, or you die.” His voice held the authoritative edge once more; stating the options as in inconsequential facts. “You will do what I say when I say. If we are in the safety of the city then there is openness for discussion in your training and the tasks I ask of you. If we are not then there is no discussion, you do exactly as I tell you. No arguments. Now follow me.”

Turning from the table he moved halfway back down the common room to a door and stepped through into a small corridor with multiple small meeting rooms off of it. Opening the second door his eyes swept the room quickly spotting the bedding laid out in the corner. He knew that anything of value in relation to knowledge was secreted away as he always did. But prudence was worth the time it took to check. “This will be your room while we are in this city,” he motioned her forward. “Space is limited and there is no room for a trainee section so you will stay with me. Perhaps it will work to advantage the speed of your training. Perhaps we will just get on each others nerves, only time and the wheel know that. You can have the floor or the bed the choice is your's.” His voice softened slightly for the first time as his gaze lingered on the bed momentarily, “it seems I rarely have the time to use it.”

A pain raced through his chest briefly. It had been agitating to say the least to be so near Sirayn and know he was banished from her presence unless her bidding required it. But to be here so far away, unable to watch over or know exactly what problems filled the yard and tower that could present danger to her was maddening. She had to be delighting in how this would affect him; sending him so far from her. Turning back to the girl he had to double his resolve to keep the emotions from his face through the strain of exhaustion. He was her mentor now and could not show weakness in her presence, not yet at least. Had it been Dorian the tables could have been different; might have been able to show some. Light he hope the boy was working well for the temporary mentor put in charge of him. Temporary, nothing in this felt temporary any more. Perhaps here in the cold surrounded by waste and loss she would find her silent wish fulfilled and Corin Danveer of the White Tower guard would cease to exist, wrapped in the arms of death. “Do you have any personal effects you need to collect? Items you own that you would like to see with you now that you have a new home?” Something about her eyes still bothered him, it was not like they held open defiance and hostility. But they flashed from time to time with something. An emotion Corin could not put a finger to yet but certainly planned to find out.

His side ruined and battered; broken ribs cracked and grated as his labored breath forced them to expand and contract. Vaguely Linten was aware of the damage to his left side and the tormenting gift of undulating pain that awaited him outside the voids detached state. It waited like a hungry wolf circling a dieing lamb, waiting, waiting, soon the fence separating them would fall and the wolf would have it's prize just as the pain would have Linten. But that time had not yet arrived. Chaos; acrid smoke from fire and lightening lay thick and low throughout the forested area where death floated freely. Claiming some and whispering promises to others while the sun worked hard to burn light through the dense haze kicked up by the raging struggle for life and death.

Linten had wondered at times how he might find his end. It was never glorious like in the tales told to children of the gallant warriors who thwarted the hordes to save the world and it's people. That was not the hand that had been dealt him by the light blasted Creator. No his hand was of torment and a death of roting and isolation. There would be no love, no companionship for those of his kind. They, like wild animals, would be hunted and killed for sport. As they grew weak they would simple disappear from the rest and await the killing blow that always found the lame and the dying. He had been blessed with the purpose of being cannon fodder for the Dragon's purpose, and should he survive, then a slow and rotting death from that same gift was his reward.

Survival, the thought twinged his mind and slowly brought back the sounds of battle and the dieing, Isha was no longer standing across from him. While he had been accosted away in his mind the war had continued and his mentor and friend was at work for his life.

~You still call him friend? After the cook pot and the hound hunt he left you to? If a friend is one that leaves untrained boys to the Shadows delicious methods of torturous death then why is the weak witch slave Rion not also a friend~

The voice's chuckle raised the hair on the back of his neck while vengeance once more surged forth seeking the man that would see them all enslaved. It took only moments scanning the growing list of combatants to find him. The Aes Sedai were putting on a good showing of it, but more and more black clan men; deaths own shadows walking the earth and pay out it's gift of the grave continued to file in around trees. He bit off a curse as he noted how many where simply working defensive weaves and slashing spirit blindly trying to stay alive but not pressing the enemy and emptying the life from these women and their Saidar blinded slaves. Spotting the M'Hael, Linten took a breaths length to study the group surrounding him; to note the weaves and flows of Saidin in use. They too where all defensive weaves designed to protect themselves and shield the women. This would end soon and not the way Linten had first thirsted for.

From the corner of his vision he spotted Rion focused on one of the witches while another closed on him. It would take only a moment to weave a welcome for her and draw her eye from Rion to himself.

~But if he was to trip, to fall asunder while under the focus of two of them it could surely not be your fault. A tiny thread of earth, just a trickle unnoticed amongst the thick cords of One Power being wielded in this space would not even be noticed. A small thin thread that lifted and edge and sent the witch worshiper to the ground. It might be enough to break his concentration and they would have him. Let him feel his new master's love as they separate him eternally from Saidin and then torture him until even death refuses him and he rots in the bowels of the great White Tower~

It was wrong, Linten knew deep down it was wrong for any of their ranks to be given over to the self imposed guardian's of the light and ruiner of lives. But the warmth and pleasure that spread out over him at the though of Rion sniveling in a dark and dusty cell at the bottom of the Tower seemed to much to ignore. Even with the elation of the voice's dark thoughts racing through him he could not bring himself to help the witches. It was their fault all this was happening; their fault he was cursed to the taint and a life rotting from the inside out; their fault Saidin had been tainted forever and men with it. Killing the man himself was acceptable and perhaps even enjoyable. But helping the witches was out of the bloody question.

Turning his attention back to where he still held flows of air, he approached the still form. Her chest rose and fell with the continued indication of life. If the M'Hael was here already then it would not be long before the rest arrived and this fight would be over. But their was still time with everyone distracted to carry off his new play toy and secret her away for later when he could return and have some fun with her. Eventually he would have to silence her tongue for ever; enjoy watching the light of life slowly fade from her eyes, but that would wait. Wait for the fun he had planned. She would pay the sin's of her kind, bring him more of her own to play with, to learn from. He would find a way using her and any others he could get his hands on to pull the high and mighty Aes Sedai blight from this world. Men will be hunted no more when I am through with this time the wheel has granted me. A cold smile of pleasure at the thought spread wide on his face as he knelt over her, reaching out to confirm with touch her heart still beat strong.

Such a shame, smooth skin and deep walnut brown eyes would have to be wasted ... But unconscious people don't have their eyes open. Before the shock of the thought could set in he found himself hurled back into the air to crash back onto the ground on his back; the air rushing from his lungs with the sudden force of meeting the ground. Fire ripped along his nerves as the side already ruined earlier in the fight was further abused with the fall. But how? His lungs burned with the need for air and his vision fuzzed slightly as his body worked to regain it's ability to breath; pain trying to wash him unconscious. A sudden weight on his chest only aided in hindering his ability to collect a normal breath; add further pain to batter at the voids surface. Leave it fractured in a spider web of fissures and cracks; it's collapse a real threat. But it was the unseen sensation; the sudden invisible barrier that drove through the flow of Saidin that froze him; set his blood to ice. Frantically he threw himself against it's smooth surface but it kept him a breaths distant for the savory power that had moments before filled him. He struggled against the thickened air, the women on top of him and the invisible barrier with desperation for a moment before he felt it.

A thin edge pressed against his throat, something on the verge of bitting into his own soft flesh. This was not suppose to be how it ended, he was not destined to die here in the woods with no purpose while that rat of a man Rion remained in the living. It took a moment for him to register that her lips moved and words filtered through the din to his ears. Dark brown eyes held a dangerous heat to them, a thirst for blood, as they tried to burrow through to his mind and see the answers she wanted. There was little he could do helpless now to her whim cut from the source and bound to the ground. He could offer her as much resistance as a new born infant. His eyes followed her's to the same man clad in black she had been staring at when he had first found her.

~See I told you you didn't need him. Isha is too soft, if not for him you would have finished her and still be in the fight rather then a useless lamb awaiting the butchers knife. Feel this sensation and remember it.~

The voice retreated back into the shadows as if trying to escape the cut that would end their mutual existence. What interest could she possible have in one of my kind over another. His mind raced to find a way out with his life still intact. “Him, he is nothing special,” watched as her eyes flick between Ged and her present cornered prey. “Vindicated in what he does now; what your type put him through. Left to torture by the hand of another woman. A woman like those that tortured him who had no soul, no decency to make the end quick. You're all the same, you hunt us for sport and only wish to see how long you can make deaths arrival!” His voice was a scream now as he pressed his head up toward the women; felt the edge of her weapon bite into the first layers of skin; the warm sensation of blood slowly trace it's way over his flesh.

.

“But what do you care, get on with it witch. Spill out my blood to the ground where I lay and find deaths cold stare grasp you soon as well. Your arrogance at coming here will not save you or your treacherous party. All will die before my body is cold,” his head slipped back to the ground. From the grave if he must he would see her hurt; see her grovel and beg; some how he would see it. “He will kill you next woman, he will kill you next.” The words were a whisper but they made there mark as her gaze returned to Ged. Light, someone help me ...... I'm scared If not for the void he would have lost it then and there, surrendered to an emotion he swore he would never succumb to again and cry.

OOC: ummmm .... a little help guy's ;)

The sigh almost escaped him at her response before his will could snatch it from his tongue. Renewed frustration writhed inside him at the simple dismissal and refusal to spark even the basic of conversation. Are you truly so cold and distant that we can not even carry a civil conversation. Surely the penalty can't be that harsh for shaking some common sense in to the stubborn women. The thought, although warming in it's vision, was quickly stuffed aside and forgotten as reason intervened and kept him placid and presentable on the outside. A brief sparkle in his eye the only silent indication that perhaps he had found something amusing in his thoughts.

Granting her unspoken command they continued in silence floating over the floor cascading from one song to another. He led her through the various dances along the outside of the mass on the dance hall floor for the most part to ensure she had the opportunity to observe her students. It also gave him a chance to see who had arrived and make plans to meet a certain women he had a task for. What he did not expect to see so early on was a trainee who was obviously too far along in his love of alcohol. The snide Malkieran fellow he was talking to was of no real concern to Corin, then again neither was the unstable trainee. The Mistress of Trainee's was here and it was her job to deal with the wayward children that got out of hand. Tonight his focus was the attempted repair or construction of a bridge to the one he would lay his life down for.

But the granted silence only lasted so long before he could no longer resist the opportunity to try again and make conversation with the object of his focus. “There are indeed interesting rumors about those poor cursed men that have set up shop in Andor, but then I am sure you are more then versed on them Mother.” Taking her though a final spin he watched almost mesmerized as her dark hard bounced lightly in it's recoil after sweeping over her shoulder with the momentum. Again he found it hard to resist the craving to reach up and stroke it. Instead settling for pulling her in close for the spin and then quickly stepping away, his arm around her releasing, as he dropped into one more deep bow and kissed the back of her hand lightly. “You dance exquisitely Mother, but as he rose and began to turn and slip her arm around his own again a new distraction appeared before them offering honoring words to Sirayn, Amrylin of the White Tower.

A trainee, of all things a pair of trainee's were to interject on his plan and purpose. The cool look toward the women who was obviously the one behind the plan was brief before he settled back into the game. The fellow at the girls side, Fior, looked like he was making a good attempt at maintaining calm detachment from what was surely a pressure situation for him. A brief thought of the shock and worry that raced though him the first time he had met met the Amrylin flashed across the plain of his mind as his eyes finished the survey of the two present before flicking back to Sirayn's face. Her smooth ageless face beguiled nothing of her feelings toward this interruption or the scales in which she measured her response and Corin found his amazement in her renewed. He had know from early own that she was the one he would tie his skill and life to, each time he witnessed her skill in action such as now only reaffirmed and strengthen that belief.

Beautiful gray slate met his emerald green for a brief moment before she acknowledge the question with a slight nod to release him to this new dance partner. He would have paid a life time of wages to know what was going through her head during that moment but, as so many things with her, it was something he would most likely never know. Stuffing down the agitation at having to leave her side his mind began on the new puzzle before him and a way to find a silver thread in it. “As it pleases you Mother”, his head dipped with his words of acquiesce before releasing her arm. For his new partner he offered her a formal bow as well though only a deep as protocol would require, “I would be honored lady Covenry, my name is Corin Danveer of the Tower Guard.” Collecting her arm in his own he lead her back in toward the middle of the dance floor.

The music began in slow soft swaying tones as Corin stepped in; one arm softly encircling her as the other hand collected hers before they stepped out in unison. The colored lights played off the soft flow of red hair that adorned Sahra's head and for not the first time this evening a brief memory of Lavinya surfaced before he could wash it back into the dark depths of his mind. His eyes itched to wander the room and find Sirayn, to search her face; to search her eyes and know her thoughts. But she was not his charge at the moment. He had a new one and this young girl, who held herself tall and straight in posture, was a new puzzle to figure out. They floated smoothly across the floor in several varying circles; moving amongst the other patrons. “So Sahra, what is it that interest that pretty mind of yours? Judging by the look on the young fellows face that escorted you I doubt it is me, and if it is not me then I ponder on what it would in fact entail?” He offered her a warm and friendly smile, eyes light and voice relaxed and equally warm.

She had a connection to a certain guard that worried him; more so when it appeared the interest might be in relationship to Sirayn. The last time he had talked with Aran it had been over Sirayn and he still worried over her security with that man's idea's loose in the Tower still. But as with all things, protocol and delicate conversation were the tools of this game, not outright interrogation and forceful persuasion. His eyes scanned the room once more as if ensuring they would not run over anyone and noted some fool boy rising from a knee; more for the Mistress of Trainees to concern herself with. His eyes continued there sweep looking for anything he may perceive as a threat to Sirayn and paused on them briefly. Boy you had blessed hope nothing happens to her while you are at her side or I shall gut you myself. His eyes returned to Sahra's as they wove around another couple, she followed his lead easily and floated through the change. It was obvious she had danced before, whether self taught or instructed, her foot work was good and he found himself appraising her potential swordsmanship skill mentally. Something that he seemed to do more often now around the yard as he watched the trainees and other guards alike.

Hey all,

I'm looking to address those of you out there that are dedicated or below in rank. Yes you soldiers are the perfect people I am looking for.

If you are dedicated or below and are interested in a few extra RP's in the yard that have nothing to do with training but are intended for fun and my own personal ... well let's just say fun for now shall we. ;) Then let me know who you are so we can have a little chat and see if you would be interested in what I have in mind.

Sorry you Ashy's and above, this is for the lower ranks ... for now .... I'm sure I will be seeing someone from your rank a little later on. ;)

Her smile seemed genuine on the surface, but something about her still nagged at his mind; perhaps it was the way she still seemed to use her eyelashes as a means to further her position. Perhaps it was just the simple fact she was Domani and he still nursed the wounds Lavinya had left him with. For the time being he could not put his finger on it and if he could not be sure then caution became his cloak of security. His dear Sirayn would be safe under the eyes of the guard back in Tar Valon; at least he prayed she would be. For now he had other Aes Sedai lives to watch over and a land to free from the Dark One's touch. Which side this impish girl placed her flag of loyalty on was still up for grabs and he was not about to let one of the Father of Lies children into the sheep's pen unobserved.

“Raffiel is it,” his hand came up to stroke his chin in thought. Give them solid indications when you are doing key things like thinking in the beginning and they may forget to look at the small things later when the trap is before them. The words were from one of his teachers in the path of Misdirection, and he took all his instruction in that path seriously. Anything that might sway vantage to his side was always a welcome lesson. “Well Raffiel, as I stated earlier that is not how we advance the ranks in this order. Especially those in my care. If you are to join and eventually earn the Red cloak then you better get use to putting those eyelashes of yours in neutral. I will not stand for simpering fools tarnishing the ranks.” Light knows there is enough of them already, and the drink does not help. He had almost sworn off the stuff after his unfortunate altercation with a particularly penchant guard who had been snooping around Sirayn's affairs. But he still enjoyed a good ale or glass of wine from time to time, only it was kept to extreme moderation.

“So you do not like the cold, I wonder if you truly understand the unpleasantness of the future you are looking to bind yourself to?” He let the question hang there for a moment, but before she could reply he turned on heel heading back down the street. “Come,” it was not exactly stated as a command. But there was no doubt that it was not a suggestion either, it was time to see what this young lass believed the guard held for her.

The journey was a short one to the Inn that was acting as one of the many barrack buildings to house the force Tar Valon had sent to Kandor's aid. The common room had been converted to a mess hall of sorts and the private meeting rooms on the main level office quarters. The upper rooms had become the barrack rooms of the rank and file with three and four to a room where the scheduling would allow for it. Space was a premium for an army on the move and not of this land, large field encampments would have been too convenient a target so they were avoided this close to the fighting. Stopping by the counter Corin gathered a bowel of stew and a chunk of torn off crusty bread while motioning for Raffiel to do the same. Once seated in a corner table and several bites warming his stomach it was time to return to the game at hand.

“You understand that by entering the ranks you will give up your present freedoms and may be called upon to forfeit your life if need be in the service of protecting the White Tower and all that call it home? It is important you understand that and weigh it's commitment seriously. This is not a decision to be snappily made to ease the conditions one presently lives in.” He turned the spoon over and over in his hand as he spoke to her; watched her expressions; her eyes. The Dark One had too many in his following and the guard could not afford to let even one slip into their ranks. It was so much easier when they came petitioning at the Tower. There the Mistress of Trainees and other senior officials could weed out the deadwood and watch over the unknown. But here, he was but one person that still had all the responsibilities of his present station in this war. If he accepted her he would be responsible for her as well until he could hand her over to the Mistress of Trainees for official entry and mentorship. Knowing his luck with her he would find the girl assigned to him until raised. “Tell me about yourself Raffiel, where do you come from, family, hobbies?”

~The birds sing to you in merriment ... are you not pleased with your return so far?~

Linten had hoped beyond hope that the heat and boredom of a patrol would have sent the cursed voice in to hiding. But it taunted him relentlessly, pointed out his plans flaws, reminded him of mistakes, and twisted his victories so far. The only benefit to the day it seemed was the fortunate blessing of not having to work directly under that sniveling Aes Sedai worshiping fool Rion. Cold dispassionate eyes cut a sharp glance back across the trail to the group on the opposite side and one man in particular. He had been fortunate enough to meet his little bed warmer and have some fun with mind games and the such. But it still galled him to no end that they had granted the Dragon pin to a coward and traitor such as Rion was in his eyes. It was only a matter of time before his true colors shown out; people would no doubt die, but as long as it was not Linten he would welcome the opportunity to prove to the rest of the ranks in black that Rion was dangerous. His views of the White Tower and it's women would have them all in chains.

A tingle floated over his skin stopping him dead in his tracks. No!! It can't be ... I'm safe .... how did they find me? Spinning he found a vertical slash widening next to him and jumped clear of it's edge as the brilliant line cut through the space he had been occupying.

~I told you they would come, told you they would find you .... should have killed them when you could. Kill them!!! Kill them now before it is too late!~

The voice screamed madly in his head as ice formed in his stomach. He had not felt that sensation over his skin since his trip back from the Borderlands where Isha had abandoned him to. Visions of the cold dark stairway he had hide under as they swept through the Inn looking for the man that could weave; remembered the cold sweat that ran down his back as his skin crawled like a thousand ants racing over his spine. He had promised then that he would never cower from them again. Jumping to his feet two rows where already through the gateway and Saidin could be felt all around him as men with swords detached themselves from the women and began running toward his companions on the opposite side.

Opening himself to the torrent of Saidin, it's vile coating oozing over his skin like oil while he fought to keep from being swept away. This was for life; it was for revenge, payback for all the huddling in the dark and the nightmares they had caused him. Filled to the point of pain Linten lashed out at the back of a man galloping toward the line of black coats with a weave of air and fire; watched as his back seemed to open in the middle and then fill with fire. So quick no scream was heard from his lips as the smoldering corpse fell to the ground. He spotted a woman intent on another of his ranks and lashed out with earth and fire causing the ground below her mount to explode tearing flesh from bone on the animal and sending her to the ground hard. A wave of ground hit him knocking him from his feet as an arrow of fire sped through the space his head had been. Fool ... defend yourself or you will find no revenge.

The shield of air leaped up in front of him as a rock exploded like a grenade; it's shards deflecting off the thickened surface inches from his fragile flesh. Anger seethed inside and beat harshly on the void but his focus was on blood and it's great thirst. Flows of air pulled another woman from her mount as spike of earth erupted up from under her, impaling her body; their bloody points feeding the thirst in his soul. It was almost like he could feel her die and it pleased him, quelled the hysterical voice in his head slightly. Licking his lips his eyes sought out a second, this time he reached out with a weave of fire, his hand throwing the fire spear toward another but it dissipated before reaching it's target. He tried again with darts of air only to see them unravel before the women. How, how is it possible for her to see the weaves? He sent forth a weave of earth strengthened with spirit to draw up spikes below her feet but that too unraveled before meeting it's focus. This time he had noted the flows of Saidin at work. Who in bloody ashes would ... he didn't need to finish the thought as his eyes found it's source. “Rion!!!!!” spinning to face the man a growl rippled from Linten's throat “I will kill you myself,” but his voice was swallowed as the ground erupted in front of him throwing him into the trees, pain searing through the void as the debris rent open the flesh of his side. Pain crashed against the void's tender surface causing it to bow and threaten to break; strength and determination returned slowly to him from the unwanted voice.

~Kill him ..... he helps them, he will see you in chains as their servant .... Kill him .... Kill him now!!

Shrill desperation flowed from the voice as Linten slowly reclaimed his feet; the air shield reforming around him as the din of screams and battle continued to fill the area. A slow steady stream of black coats were beginning to pour from the tree's closest to the Black Tower. His opportunity to kill was quickly dissipating. Weaving a thickened ball of air he threw it toward a man with steel in hand charging toward a knot of men in unrelieved black. The ball was not meant for him however as it passed the space in front of his head and struck a tree just behind Rion's; wood splinters and debris showering the Asha'man. His head swiveled to find Linten's emotionless cold jade stare focused on him. Shrugging as if to apologize for the apparent error Linten's focus changed to another witch, but the smirk that had painted his face as he had met Rion's gaze spoke of anything but sorrow. His rank still held him above Linten and therefore untouchable for the time being ... but it would not last forever. Sooner or later the rest would see him as Linten did. See him for the coward he was; his actions this day in defense of the witches would be a start to that dawning.

The new intent of his focus seemed distracted as she stared in what appeared shock at one of the black clad men dealing death. Was she scared? Had she never seen blood and death before? Perhaps she could feel her imminent departing from this time, regardless of the reason the distraction offered Linten a chance to remove another of their rank from his nightmares. Readying a weave of earth and air as he had before he lashed out with the air to seize the women. But before the earthen weave could settle to the ground and bring for the the spikes that would empty the light of life in her eyes Linten caught sight of Isha. The man's hard eye seemed focused on him and his brow dark. He obviously saw what Linten was planning and disapproved. I still need him.

~No you don't you have me, kill her ... before she can enslave you to a life of misery begging for death.~

Shut up!!! ... you are mad ... mad I tell you.

~Who is covered in their blood?~

Sarcasm lay heavy on the voice as Linten pulled hard at the air flows moments before the spikes darted up from the grounds surface. The women was yanked from her feet and thrown heavily to the ground away from the death dealing earthen points unmoving. His sharpened vision, gifts from the void and Saidin noted the continued rise and fall of her chest. She still lived and with her life hopefully Isha's support and guiding. The urge to watch life's red flow from her body still called to him but he could not take his eyes from Isha's stare.

Linten

Future forced bondmate of Faile

Let the Red never forget slavery ;)

Her brief glance during her announcement of behavior left little doubt in Corin's mind that the reminder was meant for himself as much as it was the new graduates. It may yet turn out to be a long and arduous night if he was to accomplish half of what he hoped. The addition of Pia Sedai's name did not help his situation in the least. He would have to keep and eye out for her now as well as the one he escorted if he was to set his eyes to task without being tied to her. He knew Faile would be amongst those in attendance; but hope to get to her without their association being recorded by the wrong eye and there by creating questions where emptiness should be was going to be a task now.

With his mind already working to fit the pieces to the puzzle he almost missed Sirayn's gesture as she stepped out toward the crowd and had to stretch his first few steps to fall in at her side without a noticed hesitation. Ensuring that his etiquette and poise as her escort was maintained to perfect form meant he would have to stay very alert to Sirayn's movements. It would be less then respectable if the teachers own escort did not meet the high standards of her own class. Something Corin knew all to well from his own private lessons earlier in their relationship. He never realized how much he treasured those days in her presence until they had been taken away from him. Even when his nerves tried to crawl out from under his skin under the intensity of her scrutinizing gaze. The fact that he was alone and in her presence made the situation bearable.

As if the light itself placed it's blessing on the plans Corin had set out for tonight, Sirayn's steady light voice tickled his ear with her request of the first dance. He had hoped, though none could truly count on the matter, that she would be of mind to dance. That fact that she would have to keep a certain appearance at the ball helped those odds. But with Sirayn Sedai, now Amyrlin, there was never any true certainty other then the fact Sirayn would do what Sirayn felt moved to do. Collecting her hand lightly while ignoring the glances toward them he bowed formally once more. "I would be honored Mother to dance the first with you," his smile as he righted was as warm and genuine as his voice had sounded. But anticipation flared inside him with a heat second only by the sun itself. He had waited long for the opportunity to hold her and though it was not in an embrace of lovers it was still and embrace.

A picture of red cascading curls began to form in his head at the though of a lovers embrace and he quickly banished it to the dark confines of his mind. Even now he could still not bring himself to crush the emotions and feelings that strayed upon him from time to time in regards to Lavinya Sedia. That had been a fine kettle of silverpike he had created for himself. But here, now, he was with the one he had promised to shortly after there first meeting. She still did not know his intension's, even now she no doubt still believed him a dark friend to be watched and kept at arms distance. Stepping in to collect her his free hand slipped behind her; open palm coming to rest lightly on her back.

As night is to day so were her eyes and face to her back; two items at complete opposite states. Where schooling, centuries of practice, and determined will kept her face a perfect mask of serenity and her eyes bright and welcoming. Her back tensed slightly at his touch, held the slight rigidity of a person afraid but determined not to let it show. Anyone looking at her there in his arms would never had been able to piece together the odds at which his touch found in the small muscles of her back beneath the delicate white fabric. The tidal wave of elation that had swept over him as he first stepped in to collect her froze in mid buildup as the realization that she still feared him smashed it to tiny shards that pierced his heart. He worked to keep the sadness from his eyes, It would be so much easier if she would only see me in private where we could drop this facade and let her see the real person wanting to reacquaint with her.

The music strummed out from the dulcimer; light pressure to hand and back worked to guide her and they stepped out in unison. Floated across the small space that opened around them, her dark hair swaying slightly across her shoulders as it lifted and swept into movement to follow. An itch in his hand wanted to reach to that hair, stroke the soft sheen and tell her how much he had missed her presence. Pulling her lightly toward him he directed them around another couple, “Amyrlin, you have done well mother. They could not have found a stronger and more wise leader from the Tower.” He kept his voice warm and inviting, work to keep the edge of disappointment from it. He had thought perhaps her invitation would be the beginning of a new start but what he felt below the fine fabric was at odds with that hope.

“I must admit after all this time I was elated, and very honored to receive your invitation. My behavior in the infirmary was rather divergent of the careful advisement you had instructed me in. I was disheartened to believe that perhaps I had brought too much shame to your teachings. An outburst of such will not attend you again.” Her stormy gray eyes still pierced him with their intense gaze but he resisted the urge to fight them. He knew if there was to be any chance of the future he knew, dreamed, wanted. He would have to open himself to her stabs and cuts; weather the storms she would bring raging down on him. Perhaps then after trail and fire would she see the true man before her. Believe in what his soul presented and not the dark belief in a clandestine plan for her and the Tower. Remorse at the way he had left things after the cabin incident redoubled; hollow emptiness that she once occupied reached to strangle his words. His throat felt tight, lips dry, but he dare not moisten them with his tongue for fear of making the inner bedlam apparent to her. She was strong, the Amyrlin of the mighty White Tower, and could not afford to appear with a weak foolish man at her side. Even the servants that attended her would be able to hold strong and decisive under the calculating gaze she leveled. Surely his imagination created the illusion of something far harsher then what was there.

As the music slowed he lead her through a series of slow calculated spins; her hair floating lightly across the tops of her shoulders. What is it about this women that holds me so enthralled with her? the question seemed to hang between them as his eyes darted ahead of them again to verify the path the dance would carry them before returning to her own. The tenseness in her back had ebbed ever so slightly while they had been working the patterns of the dance across the floor. They increased once more with the slower pace and the closer set between them. Truly she must find me bitterly repulsive to still be so tense. “Your grace on the dance floor Mother is as always flawless in perfection. I find I am in need of further practice in some of the more intricate dance steps, but will endeavor to refrain from stepping on your toes.” He flashed a broad smile at his attempt at lightening the tense air between them, “have you been keeping well?” It was a simple shot in the dark, an attempt to ease her underlying animosity towards him, and he needed to find a way to be in her presence again. It was a large part of his plans for this night whether she figured it out before the festivities end or not.

LOL .... might have something to do with the fact poor Joc is scared to come out from behind her man in his skirt. ;)

Cold dispassionate eyes; chiselled Jade set deep in earthen tones and swathed in smooth unrelenting midnight watched the progress of another escorted lamb to the slaughter. More an more had continued to come, the amnesty bringing them in seeming droves like the scattering of beetles from an overturned rock. Each one scurrying away from sight and light to find a dark damp place; to feel protected as they slowly rotted from the inside out.

From a distance Linten’s appearance would almost have the casual eye wondering if he was in fact a living creature. Perfectly still, no movement, save for eyes that took in the slumped man between the shades of black; his head slowly sinking back down as courage ebbed from the boy.

~Blood, it is warm in its flow from you as any others in this place. Surely even you can see the same curse surrounds you all.~

Be that as it may, I will not leave my life in the hands of wet nose milksops such as that which call on the Dragon’s strength for life. If he is a man let him stand and face death with open arms and a snarl. If he is not then wipe the earth clean of his blemished life.

~So brave now that they are not here. Where was the bravery under the stairs with tears streaming down your face, your arms wrapped around your legs like a beaten child.~

A low rumbling growl escaped his throat and dissipated in the air around him before it could tickle any ear in range. But his eyes noted the extended glance of the Storm Leader. Curiosity and attention were the last things he needed. He had to remain a shadow amongst shadows; a nameless face in a cascading sea of faces. When the time was right they would remember his name. They would all remember his name.

His salute was crisp and perfect in form but the challenge never left his eyes; eyes that continued to follow the three forms as they moved along the walk toward the barrack buildings. He would meet this new arrival soon; there was little doubt of that. He made a point meeting those that arrived. Not always on their arrival date and not always in the open. But to know threat and twists of evil that pulsed thick in the world now, one had to know their enemy like their friends. Which way this one would go would be reviled in time.

Only after the Storm Leader had broken his gaze and returned it to the boy with him did he notice the small sphere of fire circling above an open hand. Saidin coursed through him singing it’s sweet song; calling him deeper into its torrent currents.

~The time is not yet right, patience. The witches will pay. I will help you, they will pay

The sphere winked out of existence as the small party moved behind another building. The last picture to enter Linten’s mind was the man’s brilliant wide green eyes as they disappeared behind stone. “Soon, they will pay,” His voice slide out in a cold steel whisper.

Linten

Dedicated of the Black Tower

Silently Corin's hand slid down the length of the sleeve feeling the soft fine texture of the material. Only once had he spent as much on an outfit bound to be worn on the most rarest of occasions. It had cost him dearly for the the coat and trousers now adorning his frame; the shirt had been nothing in comparison but still more then he would normally pay for a white shirt. Then again it was not like he wore the finery often. Turning slightly his eyes watched the slightly warped figure reflected back at him searching the fabric. The seamstress had stated that it was not a true midnight black, only that it gave the impression of it. When hit with light at just the right angle to the eyes a slight whisper of the deepest green would shimmer across it's surface to enhance the color of his eyes. The smile she beamed at him with the comment made it easy for him to agree to the material and depart quickly; only too happy she had already done her measuring. He was not about to start out this second offering with that level of trouble attached to his name.

Concern swept over his face as his fingers collected the plain letter from the table and tapped it against the palm of his opposite hand. An invitation, well truth be told it was more of a summons and an order, to a ball in the Tower. A rather large and fanciful ball directed by none other then her own hand. Since her ascension to the seven striped stole it had become much harder at collecting information on one Sirayn Damodred. Information that had once slipped to him in infrequent trickles now dripped to him at almost the rate of water squeezed from a stone. His fingers traced over the seal once more as if trying to pull the memory of her touch from it. Folding open the parchment again his eyes scanned the invitation once more seeking anything else he might have missed in the past one hundred viewings. At one time her missives came to him with an almost regularity pace. But since the cabin this had been the first directed to him.

The letter held no warmth, nothing to mark fondness of even friendship. In fact, if one was to take it at face value it would have brought an air of hostility and a strong undercurrent of threat. But to Corin it was a start. If she was willing to pen him the invitation with her own hand, and as such have him at her side as an escort; then it mattered not the level of adversarial tone in the invitation. It lent to the flicker of hope that somewhere deep inside the cold and structured appearance of Sirayn Sedai a remembered emotion still lingered. If there was even a goat hairs chance that he might still find a way to her side in service and perhaps ... He dashed the idea forming in his head quickly, little steps Corin, soft simple little steps so as not to scare her off again. Indeed, too much chaos had come to his life since she had left it vacant, besides it would give him a chance to personally check up on one particular student of interest. One that by the very nature of the darkness Sirayn thought Corin part of; had come in to his service. Regardless of her present views; Sirayn's teaching and tricks had not fallen on deaf ears or blind eyes. Everything he had gleaned from her through lessons and observations had been rolled into a skill still in it's infancy compared to the mastery with which she wheeled. But like a child it was growing rapidly, and held a yearning hunger for praise.

Folding it once more Corin slipped it into an inner coat pocket in case it was needed for entry and scanned the room once more. His red cloak of position hung on a peg next to his sword. This was to be a celebration but not of service or duty; as such the ceremonial requirements of both would not be needed. Reactively a hand swept over the forearm of the other feeling the secreted blade; too many strange happenings had taken place inside the secure walls of the tower not to be cautious. A gathering such as this could easily become a target for who knew how many countless others seeking to further their own desires. No it was best to error on the side of caution, hence the reasoning behind several daggers secreted upon his person. Should anything go awry tonight, he would do everything to ensure she remained safe. With nothing left to do and no further reason for delay he slipped out the door heading to a chance reunion that perhaps would lead back to a righting of situations.

Knowing Sirayn to the level he did, Corin ensured he was at the ball entrance early and waited patiently for her arrival. If the Amyrlin was fashionably late that was fine, if however her escort was, there would be no end to the grief he would receive that night if she allowed him to accompany her at all. A risk he was certainly not willing to take, better to look to eager then be late. Her arrival was perfectly timed and indeed the information received had been correct in every detail as to her choice of gown and color. Rising from a deep formal bow he offered his arm and was elated when hers slipped around it. Her tone was still stand offish and flat but it was still early in this new game; besides he was at her side once more and he could feel the wonderful contact of her arm against his. He patted it lightly with his other hand as he offered her a warm smile, “it would be my pleasure mother.” Let the games begin anew my dear, the idea sent a small thrill up his spine as he turned and lead her on his arm into the hall.

The hall itself was amazing in sheer size and the simple yet brightly colored lights that covered it's vastness in varying pools. The announcer at the door bowed deeply to Sirayn as she passed, before turning and announcing them into the hall; his voice reverberating off the ceiling and walls. Pride swelled inside him as he heard her title run out and then the small addition of his simple name and placement in the hierarchy of the tower ranks. “I kind of rather like the sound of that,” his voice was a muffled whisper for her ears alone. Taking only a few short steps into the once bustling hall he came to a smooth stop at her side as all eyes turned toward them at the announcement and the room fell silent. When her arm slipped from his own he took her cue; bowing deeply with great formality before he stepped back leaving her the center of attention for her announcement.

It was a wonderful miracle that she had the need to address the room as it gave him a chance to truly take her in unobserved while she was preoccupied. The colored pools of light lite a shimmer to her white gown and picked the red highlights from her dark hair. Corin's mouth became dry as he drank in her hidden beauty and remember the softness of her skin that night at the cabin. Though her dress did not hug her form or accentuate curves; it did amplify the regality she displayed in queenly form and drew eyes to her. Clever Sirayn, indeed very clever of you, no one would be able to easily dismiss her presence.

Corin Danveer

Tower Guard

Testing renewed waters ;)

Congrats Covai :)

Long time no chat ... hope to see you around the yard ... Linten is becoming more active again finally. :D

Congrats on the promo :)

ummmmmm .... yup :)