.. “Follow me into Shadow..” .. ►▼◄ Whispers and Echoes, Dreams and Sorrows as Despair battles Hope in the endless Turning of the Wheel of Time.. Ω When Day turns into Night As all Hope is Lost Sing His Praises! Reflections in Mirrors Floods of Tears The Knife that Destroys! Seals Weaken, Souls are Broken Screams are Embraced In the Darkness of the Lord! Prepare for His Return Your Salvation is Near As the World Drowns in Blood! From The Prophecies of the Shadow 207 NE, the 3rd Age Author unknown ● Qariahna gazed lustfully, intensely at the naked man pinned against the brick wall with invisible bonds of Saidar. His arms were stretched high above his head, his face twisted in gruesome pain. His legs were parted and his male member blooded. His right thigh was a mass of blood, flesh hanging from what remained of bones and muscles. His other thigh was crisscrossed with red wounds from end to end where her sharp knife had made painful incisions. The Chosen’s almost black eyes were wide and elated, the pale red dress she was wearing with patches of crimson red where blood had splattered. She did not usually take such pleasure in torture, not like certain others of her brethren did, and part of her knew she was going over the top this time, but she did not care. This time this man had pushed her too far. Far too far! First, she had raped him, forcing him into sexual acts he did not desire, and then she had started torturing him, cutting off several of his fingers, before moving on to more.. delicate areas. Slices of afternoon sunshine came through the dust-worn windows of the old and run down shed. It was situated in a back alley close to a rugged barn in the outskirts of Lugard well away from the main road leading into the city. Beside some farming equipment, a half-cracked table and a wooden chair that was practically falling apart, the shed was pretty much empty. Except for the two of them. ● Raising her eyes to his torn face, Qariahna’s eyes blazed with anger and pleasure. This insolent man had doubted her word. Had doubted HER! A Friend of the Dark had laughed in her face and called HER a pretender, a fraud! He had lost his left eye for that remark. He had lost his right ear for his second remark. Betrayers of the Shadow, of the Chosen, of the Great Lord, were never to be forgiven. Not in this life. Nor in death. The Great Lord would make sure of that. “I will make you suffer for a few more moments, for your insolence and betrayal.” The Chosen said gleefully but with ice-cold eyes. “You will learn what it means to betray the Shadow.” To betray me. Running a hand through her long black hair, her painted fingernails brushing her stunningly beautiful face, revelling in the feel of Saidar streaming through her whole body, bubbling with energy and life, the woman once called Caitriona Sandher Neidhar of V’saine finally slit his throat from end to end using ever so tiny streams of the One Power.. ..and watched triumphantly the blood flowing down his crushed body in rivulets of crimson. ● Tinuviel opened the Gateway, the threads of Saidar precise, and stepped confidently through. Closing it behind her, echoes of her apartment in Jehannah still lingering in the air for a second before the silver line snapped shut, she turned to face the Tarasin Palace in the far distance with its prominent marble-white dome and spires. She was still wearing her pale blue dress with a low neckline, matching earrings and a light-blue necklace beneath her travelling coat. She had seen no reason to change before Traveling. Her lips were painted red as usual, her constant reminder of blood and of her sacred femininity. Her hands were also partly crimson at the moment. She had not cared to wash them after taking pleasure in killing that beautiful Ghealdan girl who had listened at the keyhole. Licking the blood from her fingers now, she relished the thought of the delicious sex she had had with that young voluptuous girl in the past few days. Reaching the heights of pleasure time and again had for a moment removed the pain of her past from her mind. ● She tasted the salt in the sea air, the smell carried on the soft breeze coming out of the west, and her hard blue eyes turned to face the blue-black ocean. It was before midday and she saw the ocean water reflected by the sun’s rays. Heading in that direction, following a dusty path that meandered among brush and patches of green grass, she approached the seafront a quarter of an hour later. Walking down to the waterline, a small rocky beach with pebbles of all sizes perhaps a few hundred paces wide, she cleaned her hands in the ocean water with an almost regretful sigh and then switched her gaze to the couple coming in her direction. A middle-aged man and woman dressed in local attire they hardly gave her a glance as they passed her by, walking hand in hand near where the soft waves brushed the rocks. The Chosen watched them carefully, noting the delectable figure of the female, before she too departed. She followed the larger path above the beach, stone-paved and well maintained, in the direction of the city. New rumours from her agents had indicated that the object she was seeking might be found in Ebou Dar. It was no certainty, of course, but the best lead she had and so she would visit the city and see if her luck was changing. I must find the Seal. She thought as she walked, her eyes narrowing. And soon! ● Amaranth gazed determinedly at the ancient marble chess board before him on the glass table. The marble chess pieces were of famous rulers from his former life, in what they now called the Age of Legends. Men the world have forgotten. Amaranth remembered though, and cherished this chess board almost as much as he cherished what it represented: the ultimate Game of Strategy and Power. The whole marble chamber shimmered slightly in the way of Tel’aran’rhiod, the Unseen World, but he was so used to it that it hardly registered. His striking violet eyes fixed on one of the pieces, the White Queen who was half-way up the board. Moving the piece slightly to the right, away from the centre, he nodded to himself. He then leaned back in his ornate high-backed chair, running a hand through his neck-long blond hair, enjoying the touch of velvet in his black coat, and closed his eyes for a moment. A Queen to move. And to be moved. ● On the white walls of the chamber hung objects of light. A reflection of his own chamber. Otherwise, the walls were bare. It was always that way. It was the way he liked it. Whitebridge He had found what he was looking for there. Though not perhaps in the fashion he had expected. It is the way of life There were many secrets to be uncovered in this new Age of Men. The Stone of Tear A Passage. And a Spiral. Secrets. Always secrets. A soft sound made him open his eyes again and a smile came upon his lips as the beautiful woman came sliding along the floor, her naked body desirable, her eyes lustful. She gazed at him lasciviously, her blood-red lips wet, and came up to him and sat down in his lap, her arms warmly around his neck, her mouth quickly meeting his. Another Queen to move around the board that is life. Amaranth thought excitedly as he felt himself stir. And to enjoy. Oh yes! ● Erandel stared at the five kneeling Black Ajah Sisters from behind her elaborate mask.. knowing her One Power-wrought shimmering appearance made it impossible for them to discern her facial features and appearance. They finally got to their feet and stood silently in a semi-circle nine feet away, their faces partly downcast. The Aes Sedai shawls on their shoulders were of several colours. Two were Green, one blue, one white and one yellow. The Sisters were all more than a hundred years old and fairly prominent in their Ajahs. And all had knelt before the Great Lord and had sworn new Oaths. Binding Oaths “The time is coming.” Erandel began softly. It was past midnight and they were in the hidden cellars deep beneath the White Tower, a place where they would not be disturbed. A few lights hung on the walls but otherwise the stone chamber was dark, cobwebs hanging from the shadowy corners. “The time of the Great Lord’s Return is approaching!” Her voice was changed too and sounded strange and unrecognizable to the gathered women but it did not matter. The eagerness and excitement in the voice when she told of the Great Lord’s imminent Return was clear and made several of the women smile in anticipation. “You each have your orders.” Erandel added in a stronger voice, looking at each of the women in turn. “You each are important to the Great Lord’s plans. This was a slight exaggeration but it helped to have all of them believing they were important. “We are increasing our numbers monthly”. The Chosen said truthfully. Their methods had been effective. Most would choose Life in the Shadow before Death. “It pleases the Great Lord to see so many choose to follow the.. Right path.” “Do you rejoice, ladies?” Several whispered eagerly and there was joy in their eyes. Speaking for them all, the elderly Green replied: “Of course, Great Mistress! There is joy in our hearts!” Erandel nodded, believing it was so for most of these women. She was uncertain about one of them though, but that could wait until later. ● Channeling briefly, a yellow flame appeared in the palm of the Chosen’s left hand. It grew steadily until it almost stood taller than her. “We are the Flame.” Erandel intoned. “We are the Darkness. We are the Power.” They stared impressed as the flame turned green and then blue and then red and finally appearing with all the colours blended in a net of flames spread above their heads, tiny threads of Saidar woven faster and way more intricately together than they had ever seen. “We bask”, Erandel said in a rapturous voice, “in the Great Lord’s glory!” When the net of flames finally disappeared, glimmers remaining in the air for a few moments before dissipating, she heard several of the Sisters letting go of their breath. Smiling to herself, knowing the importance of showing power and proving her superiority to these channeling women who called themselves Aes Sedai, though hardly worthy of that title in her view, Erandel raised a hand. The women went immediately to one knee again. “You live to obey!” she said, her voice now hard as a whip. “Any betrayal will be met by death!” She saw them all nod and promise they would obey. Erandel nodded to herself. If anyone betrayed them, she would kill that woman herself. A small smile came upon her blood-red painted lips as she bade them all rise to their feet. She whispered the words but they all heard. “The White Tower.. is Ours.” ● Dalimar whispered into the King’s ear. “They lie.” He said smoothly. “They do not want peace. They pretend they do, but they don’t.” The King turned halfway toward his Advisor and whispered. “How can you tell?” Dalimar remained patient. A truce or even worse, peace between these two nations would not benefit the Shadow. It was necessary to keep the conflict going. The chaos. He had taken on the guise of the Royal Advisor, an astute middle aged man, several months hence and the King most often had listened to his advice. Recently though the King had been less reluctant to heed that advice. It was something Dalimar, or rather Seighan the Advisor, would have to deal with. “The tone of his voice.” Dalimar lied. “I have met his kind before. They say one thing but mean another. Also”, he added smoothly, “he too readily accepts this truce.” The King, an elderly though stately man in his early sixties, nodded, touching his long grey beard pensively, though he still seemed unconvinced. The Chosen was not fond of using Compulsion, unlike some of his other brethren, in part because he found it a kind of mental manipulation that only sometimes worked, in part because Compulsion was not one of his strengths. Even so, it was clear to him that he would now need to use some on this Monarch. Subtly, using Spirit, he entwined some threads of Saidin around the old King’s mind and continued to argue the case. After a while they had a break in the discussions and the negotiators from the other nation left the throne room leaving Dalimar and the King alone. “Perhaps you have a point”, the King said finally, shrugging. “They still sound sincere to me”, he added carefully, not wanting to antagonize his very accomplished Advisor, “but you probably know better.” Dalimar smiled to himself as the weaves of Compulsion started to work on the old King. ● When the old man stumbled a little latter, as he was making his way to his bed chamber, and hit his head on a marble statue in one of the corridors, drops of red blood were seen on his forehead before one of the servants removed them with a handkerchief. Dalimar supported the King as he walked half by himself to his bed chamber and made sure the Monarch was not badly injured and in a good shape. Before his Advisor left, the King took him by the shoulder and whispered in his ear, his voice earnest, “I am fortunate to have such loyal good-hearted men like you advising me.” ● "Elessar!" she hissed, knowing he was also now wide awake. "Did you see that?" Her Warder crashed out of his half-sleep, feeling through the bond the shock Calia had just experienced, and rushed to his feet sword in hand, looking for the threat. His eyes flew in every direction but then settled on his bondholder. He could see her eyes were still wide from whatever had stunned her, she still felt overwhelmed by what had happened to her if the feelings coming through the bond were anything to go by. He had half-sensed some glimmer of light piercing the darkness for a second.. but had no idea what it could be. “Are you alright?” he asked, and Calia nodded back, though he saw she was still dealing with whatever had happened. He nodded with some relief but kept looking around them for any potential threats. He saw none and his dark eyes fastened on his Aes Sedai again. “I saw.. something.” He replied softly, his dark eyes narrowing. “Some kind of light glimmering for a moment.. but my attention was mostly on our surroundings in case there was any threat.” His eyes narrowed further. “We have experienced many strange.. things.. on our journey”, he added squarely, “and this is another one.” Nodding to himself he took another long look around in the dark. “Perhaps you can guess better than I can.” A small smile came upon his lips though he remained stone-faced in the way of many Warders. The world is changing, he thought to himself as the silence deepened. We are walking new paths, facing new wonders.. and horrors. ● They passed the Damona Mountains, riding slowly and carefully through a couple of passes, and continued southwards towards Ebou Dar. Several days later, in late afternoon and under a blue sky with glimmers of sunshine, they reached the stone-walled town of Maderin. A prosperous town, it was surrounded by farms and olive groves and the streets were wide and stone-paved. The three and four story brick houses had tile roofs and seemed well built and the local commerce, they quickly learned, was based on olive oil, lacquerware and lace. Finding an inn was easy since there were several in this town, both west and east within the stone walls, and they chose the “Old Grove” which lay in the eastern part. The inn was of decent size and seemed decently clean and well-cared for. The innkeeper, a fat broad-shouldered man wearing a white apron with a few smudges who had a chubby face, a prominent moustache and a huge smile, welcomed the merchant pair to Maderin. Rooms for them were found quickly, Elessar’s smaller room adjacent to Calia’s, and they got settled in. Their horses were taken care of by stable hands (who received clear instructions from Elessar) and Calia relished the thought of a warm bath after several days’ heavy riding on dusty roads. Elessar would not mind a hot bath either if he were honest, and for a moment, being in a somewhat cheeky, playful mood, he considered surprising Calia and joining his bondholder in her bath in the way of many Green Sedais and Warders.. but upon second thought he found it.. safest to wait for his own bath. They were both pleased to be much closer to Ebou Dar, their present destination, although some travelling still remained before they reached the Altaran Capital further south. ● That night Elessar tossed and turned in his bed, dreaming of rivers of blood.. and woke abruptly from his half-sleep, his dark eyes wide, his heart pounding. He was not surprised to learn that he had bitten his lip and red blood was dripping onto his pillow. ● EPILOGUE: Day turned into Night as the loyal citizens of Maradon, Capital of Saldaea gazed fearfully into the Borderland sky that mid-afternoon, as a Shadow passed over the Light of the Sun, wondering if the prophesized Darkness was finally upon them. ▀▄

.. Walking A Path of Redemption .. ►▼◄ Watching Calia drift to sleep in her blankets a few feet away, listening to the soft fall of raindrops from the darkened sky, the forest all but silent around them, made Elessar open his mind to the past. Not yet ready to enter the half-sleep, half-awareness of Warders, he gazed into the black night and memories flowed inside him. ● “Welcome to our house, Aes Sedai - we are honoured”, said a tall broad-shouldered man in a friendly and respectful voice, beckoning them inside. Valdherien Telcontar, lord of this manor, was a hospitable man. He wore silver chains over a formal dark-blue coat cut in the Kandori fashion, muted silk trousers and Borderlander footwear. His beard was in the distinctive forked style of his countrymen, he had two jewelled earrings in each ear, there were some gray patches in his dark hair, and his jaw protruded a little more from his tanned face than was the case with Elessar, but even so it was not difficult to see that the two were brothers. They clasped shoulders in heartfelt welcome, though Valdherien’s eyes were slightly hesitant, a look which the Warder returned. The moment passed and they joined the others - Valdherien’s wife Leonorah, a tall beautiful Borderlander woman who wore a stylish Kandori dress with a necklace made in an intricate pattern known as the ‘Kandori snowflake pattern’, and their two daughters, leading the way - as they headed down a hallway and into the main lounge. “Father?” Elessar asked his brother, in an uneasy voice, as they rounded a corner, and Valdherien, with a sigh he was unable to repress, replied that their father was out in the gardens. Elessar nodded and said no more, but inside he was debating with himself whether it would be wise to postpone the confrontation with his father, or simply get it over with. He had not decided by the time they reached the main lounge and his older brother bade them seat themselves in the ancient-looking chairs in the room and have a drink. On the walls were old paintings depicting Borderland history - scenery, towns, Borderlander warriors and battles -, paintings that Elessar knew from old had been passed down through several Telcontar generations. His age-long interest in history and battles had been born in part due to these old paintings and the small but distinct library of history and story-books that resided in a different part of the manor. ● After drink and some polite conversation Elessar excused himself, with a quick nod toward Kathleen, his Aes Sedai, which was returned, and headed out into the gardens. His unease increased as he walked toward a lonely figure standing some way off, tension he was sure his bondholder would feel through the Bond, but he had to get this over with. He had been in doubt whether to wait or - possibly - avoid the confrontation, but in the end had decided that this was the only way. He had to deal with his father at some point and he was tired of this chasm of anger and distrust which had developed between them. ● Elessar, staring coldly into the darkness surrounding their camp in Altara, sighed. Things were never easy. And sometimes more than difficult. He went back to Kandor in his mind and to the garden at their family estate. Oh father! As he neared the lone figure, standing by an Apple Tree, he recognized his father’s features and posture. The old man turned around and faced his son in silence. He looked just as Elessar remembered him from his last visit several years before, though perhaps a touch frailer. Saamlin Telcontar, a proud man of brown skin (tanned from countless days outdoors) with angry dark eyes and a hard face, stared angrily at Elessar but said nothing. Of all the brothers Elessar had always resembled his father the most, also becoming the martial son his father had always wanted - and nurtured. Elessar, however, thought it might be this very sameness - almost like a mirror image - that had driven his father from great pride in his son, as he had travelled to Tar Valon to become a Warder of the White Tower, to great, unyielding anger at him - and perhaps himself - for Elessar being unable to save the youngest son Vehran from drowning. It had happened on his first visit home a few years after finishing Warder training, during a forest trek in one of Kandor’s several valleys. Vehran and he had gone swimming in a Borderland river there, the currents had been strong - stronger than they had anticipated - and Vehran had accidentally slipped and knocked his head on a rock, disappearing flailing into the rushing water. Elessar had heard his brother’s scream but had been too far away to do anything, and by the time he reached his brother’s body, carried by the frantic stream further downriver, and got it out of the water, it was too late. His father had never forgiven him for not saving Vehran’s life. “You were the older brother, it was your responsibility to take care of him, Elessar! How could you not see the danger!? How were you, a trained Warder, unable to save him!? It is on your head. You are no longer a son of mine!” ● The harsh, bitter words rang in Elessar’s head still, even after so many years. And perhaps his father was right. He blamed himself for his younger brother’s death, even if perhaps unfairly, another sin weighing down on his soul. Too many sins. Too many doubts. We carry burdens inside that weigh us down. Some of us more than others. He remembered turning away from his father’s accusing stare. He stared silently into the orchard of Apple Trees, flowerbeds and grassy grounds that enveloped the estate. Compared to other Kandori estates, of greater noble families, this was a fairly modest sized estate. Even so, it would have been considered a fair-sized estate in some smaller countries and to a young Elessar it had, at the time, seemed the world. It was the world to me. For a while. As he had stood there staring silently out at the gardens with their blooming life, his father’s damning eyes on his back, he had remembered a different day, a much better day, when he was a child.. It had been a beautiful spring afternoon.. ..the sun shining from a cloudless sky, a young Borderlander boy running freely around in play, face full of boyish glee, his two brothers at his heels - one older, one younger, but all three in many ways the same - none of them with any cares in the world. Screams of delight and childish banter between brothers.. ”Wait for me, Elessar!” screams Vehran as he tries to catch up with his two elder brothers. “Faster, Vehran!” shouts Elessar as he tries to get to the Tree before a panting Valdherien. “Elessar, I will beat you..!” shouts Valdherien as he runs shoulder to shoulder with him. “Never!” screams the ever competitive Elessar back, as he storms ahead for the narrow win. Soon all three brothers lay laughing, gasping for air in the grass before the Climbing Tree .. ● Without turning, his eyes fixed on the Climbing Tree of his childhood some way off, Elessar said in a clear, strong voice. “Father, I am sorry.. but we must end this!”. His voice cut through the wall of silence between them. “This anger, this hatred.. will not bring Vehran back.” Vehran, I am sorry. My brother, forgive me. “Blame me all you wish, father.. I blame myself also, though I did what I could.. but please, let us end this strife. It’s been too long. It is destroying our family!” It is destroying you, he added in his mind. He clenched his fists and calmed his thoughts, trying to find the Flame and the Void. It was a struggle due to his inner distress. His father remained silent and Elessar could feel his eyes boring into his back. Seconds stretched into what seemed forever, the Warder waiting for the outburst that would surely come, but there was only silence. The Silence of Finality. Just as Elessar was certain his father would not respond, the prolonged silence was broken by a malevolent curse. His father spat another curse and leaving obscenities in his wake he stomped off toward the manor without looking back. Elessar sighed heavily, shaking his head sadly, and turned in time to see the figure of his angry father in the distance, closing in on the manor buildings. I tried. He thought in misery. Blast, but I tried! He had known that his attempt at reconciliation might not succeed, that this deep chasm between them was perhaps yet too deep, but he had hoped.. Perhaps his father simply needed more time. ● Ah, but some wounds never heal. The rain was picking up and Elessar listened to the patter of rain falling on the protective covering above his head. Rain falling like tears. It was quite some time since that journey into the Borderlands with Kathleen, a journey that had unexpectedly ended with her releasing the bond, but his father’s harsh stance had never changed. The last time Elessar had visited his home in Kandor he had stayed away from his father to avoid any unpleasantries. Perhaps things never would change after all with his father. Perhaps that chasm was forever. ● “You must stop blaming yourself, Elessar.” His bondholder Myrrhi had told him some years later, her hand on his shoulder. Her kind eyes had shown empathy with his personal plight. “You have reached out a hand of reconciliation.. and it is not your fault that you father has declined it.” He had smiled back at her, appreciating her understanding and support, but his feeling of guilt had remained. He had always been good at feeling guilt. And I still am. Shifting his eyes back to Calia he saw her lie still and the calm of sleep was felt through the bond. Smiling to himself he blessed the hands of fortune that had brought her into his life now in these perilous times. They were connected in every way and working as a functional and effective unit through the bond. We are One. Just as Leandreen and I were One. Oh Leandreen. Forgive me. The ancient wound in his soul opened for a moment And he stared into the Abyss, his heart stopping.. ● I said I would die for you. And I will. No, it’s not too late. I will save you! I promised you, my life before yours. My life before yours. Yours. I will bring them down. For you! I will. My life before yours. It is my duty. Duty. I am too late. Oh my Sedai, I am too late! Too late. Confusion and darkness everywhere. Past and present intertwined. Mother!? A scream in his soul makes a shiver run down his back. Mother, I will save you! I will save you! The stench of death, the cries of those being slaughtered crashes into him. No, it is happening again! I must stop them! No, it is too late! Never too late! Never! Hacking into the Trollocs he is death reincarnated. The blood flowing makes him grin evilly in satisfaction. Justice. Then silence. Silence. Leandreen, are you there? ● Standing together with Carrain Sedai watching Leandreen’s burning funeral pyre lighting up the darkness, Elessar feels the fire tearing into him. The Borderlander night is silent, as if in homage to a brave warrior. She seems so regal laying there, her Emerald green eyes closed and her fiery Red hair embracing her so familiar face, ready for the final journey. Soon she is enveloped in flames, the fires joining her inner fire, in a blaze of light that defies the night. Oh Leandreen, forgive me. Now he can breathe again. But the sin remains. The failure. ● Turning over on his other side now, Elessar let Leandreen’s Emerald Green eyes recede in his mind, the deep sorrow making him ache inside. So sorry. He lay listening to the raindrops in the Altaran night for a long while, his mind gradually flowing into other memories. Ebou Dar. The Tarasin Palace. ● ..In the split of a second he took in the scene before him: a square room about thirty feet by twenty feet, moderately decorated with pale green walls, and with four golden leopard statues, mirror-images of the predators appearing on the Altaran Sigil and Banner, one in each corner. The man, sword in hand and an intensely dark look on his face, stood on the right side of the room, ready to throw himself into the deadly duel. Coming to his feet Elessar walked forwards slowly, blade raised, before coming to a stop ten feet or so from the other man. His eyes met the other man’s and he nodded. There was no need for words. This was a Darkfriend. Staring hard at the tall, dark cloaked Warder, the man from Lugard held his sword high, in challenge, almost as if proclaiming that if this somewhat modest and almost forgotten Palace backroom, with its four silent golden guardians, was to be their chosen battleground, then so be it! Elessar was one with his blade as he moved back and forth with elegance, striking out and parrying, feinting and thrusting. He moved with agility and purpose and so did his opponent who Elessar found surprisingly accomplished. It was almost as if there was a driving force behind the Lugarder. Sweat beaded on the Warder’s brow as he went on the attack once more. His opponent countered well but seemed also to be tiring, his strokes becoming ever slower. As they duelled Elessar felt the calm of the Flame and the Void filling him and it gave him inner strength. In Warder-training his teacher had always said: Flow through the motions, be one with the sword. And when you see signs of weakness in your opponent or find an opening, seize the moment! Precision is everything! ● And seeing weakness in his enemy now he struck out with his blade, moving inside the other man’s guard and slamming the hilt of his sword into the man’s shoulder. The Darkfriend was too slow to defend himself, his sword coming up too late, and screamed out in pain as he fell to the floor in agony. Elessar combined sword forms and smashed his blade toward the man’s body to finish him off, but somehow the other man managed to twist to the side and the Warder’s strike missed. The momentum brought the Gaidin slightly off balance and he corrected by moving away from the man who was trying to gain his feet. Elessar panted slightly, feeling weariness rushing over him. He knew that he would have been even more tired had he not gained the added strength through the bond from his Sedai. Perhaps the bond would save his life today, even if his bondholder Carys was some way away in the city. She would know something was up with him. She would feel it. Now all he had to do was to stay alive. After their shared experiences in the relatively short time they had been acquainted and their rewarding Warder-Sedai companionship on the road and in the face of grave danger, it would somehow be.. a touch irritating if he were to go ahead and die right now. These thoughts went through his mind in the few seconds before he faced his adversary again. The man had by now regained his feet, and came toward the Warder with his sword half raised. He seemed surprisingly unaffected by the heavy sword-blow to his shoulder. Throwing the Warder a scornful look he said in a spiteful voice: “The Great Lord will enjoy your blood, Gaidin!” One moment he was several feet away, the next he was right in front of Elessar! The Warder did not have time to consider how the man had caught him off guard. He tried to deflect the blow but the Darkfriend moved with quick feet inside the Warder’s guard and struck out hard, his blade slicing into Elessar’s shoulder, drawing blood. Elessar cried out in pain, taking a step back, and brought his sword up to deflect a second blow. The man stepped aside, obviously less weary than he had let on. He turned almost nonchalantly toward the Warder and waited for him to rejoin the duel. Moving out of sword’s reach Elessar felt at his injury with his left arm. It was not a deep wound though it would need tending to. He tried to ignore the pain. I underestimated him, he thought darkly. I will not do so again. He met the other man’s ugly grin with a cold stare. Then he raised his sword again and they resumed their Dance. ● Back and forth they flowed, thrusting and parrying, attacking and spinning out of range and moving swiftly from stance to stance, two opponents locked in deadly combat. At one point a sudden move from the Darkfriend brought his blade arching towards Elessar’s neck. Steel met steel but the blow was deflected and the Gaidin sidestepped out of the way of an oncoming strike. He in turn swept his scimitar in low and the Shadow figure blocked it and immediately retaliated, bringing his sword up and around in a way that gave his opponent only one blocking-move and one which could well leave him open for new attacks.. At another point, a little later on, Elessar suddenly moved forwards and performed a vertical slash, high to low, but which altered course in mid-swing. The other blocked the move deftly but the Warder followed up with another hard swing which was parried. Then the Gaidin changed form, performing a diagonal slash which began low and rose cleanly and, on the return-swing, began a series of powerful overhand blows. This took great stamina and strength and Elessar was only able to keep it up for so long. The Darkfriend parried well, however, with powerful strokes, but was driven back on the defensive.. Elessar could not tell how long they had fought, but it felt like an eternity. And just when he needed it the most, he found a deep strength from within. Though his body was exhausted he kept on fighting, refusing to give in. Perhaps it was that part of him that never would or could accept defeat that helped him now. Perhaps it also was his anger and fear of failing in his duty yet another time. And perhaps it was strength coming through the bond from his Aes Sedai, as well as an attitude in him that nothing! was going to destroy his bond with Carys. He fought on relentlessly against this clearly highly accomplished swordsman of the Dark. ● Then it happened. Just as Elessar struck the Darkfriend in the side with his blade, in a surprise move where he combined several difficult sword forms, bringing the man to his knees, his sword falling to the floor, bells rang in the Warder’s ears, he felt dizzy and his movements slowed.. , He stumbled backwards away from the kneeling Darkfriend, further back.. and then his hands touched the wall. Surprised that he had come so far back in the room, he looked down and saw one of the golden leopards laying on its side. When did that happen? he wondered. What..? His mind went blank for a moment and all was white.. Then he blinked - and slowly felt his senses returning. Removing his hand from the golden leopard, standing up again against the wall, he breathed in and out heavily, almost as if testing the air. As if testing that he was still alive. His gaze fell upon the Shadow swordsman who was attempting to gain his feet, one hand on his blade. Elessar walked toward him, raised his blade and unceremoniously thrust it hard into the man’s back between the shoulder blades. The Darkfriend cried out in great pain and cursed loudly. As he fell backwards, blood gushing out of his mouth, his arm swung out almost reflexively and caught the Warder’s right leg. A sharp knife cut deeply into Elessar’s flesh and it was the Gaidin’s turn to cry out in pain. Elessar cursed loudly and berated himself for not being cautious enough, but even as he felt the pain run through his body, he felt a sigh of relief that the knife had not been poisoned. That feeling of pain, sudden overpowering pain, I will never forget! He thought, recalling the poison-episode earlier on their journey. Beside him the Darkfriend now lay dead, his eyes forever lost to the Light of the world. His last thought before dying was one of horror: in his mind’s eye he imagined eternal torture from the Great Lord for his constant failures. ● Elessar sat down on the floor, for a moment ignoring the pain and the exhaustion he felt. He put his sword aside and closed his eyes. This time, I did not fail! I did my duty! A strong feeling came over him, of gladness, of deep contentment, of satisfaction, of pride. Though he did not know how, he knew deep inside that this experience.. this necessary accomplishment.. had been a kind of cleansing for him. You must forgive yourself, Elessar! Leandreen’s whispered words from his dreams echoed in his mind and he felt tears starting to flow down his cheeks. A stream of tears. He could not stop them, and did not want to, nor the wide smile that gradually came upon his lips. It would take time to heal him completely, from the guilt that for so long had been a part of him, but he had started down that road, he knew that now. He had started the process of forgiving himself. A Path of Redemption. ● I am still walking that path, thought Elessar now, Emerald Green eyes gazing into his Soul. as he closed his eyes to the night and the Darkness. With the soft wind touching his Warder-face in a mother’s loving, soothing embrace, brushing away for the moment all his worries and doubts and dark memories, and as the sound of raindrops falling on tree leaves, flower petals and a sodden ground drew away the darkness and opened up for Light, Elessar Telcontar of Kandor slowly entered into the half-sleep of his warrior kind. ▀▄

.. A Basin of Revelation. .. ►▼◄ “A Web on her mind?” Taeda din Varede Four Moons, the Mistress of the Ships and ruler of the Atha’an Miere, stared back at her Windfinder questioningly. Saevha din Karal Sea Breeze met Taeda’s eyes squarely. She was a middle-aged woman with tanned skin and dark eyes, short dark hair and a strong chin. She had been Windfinder to the Mistress of the Ships for over a decade and was highly experienced in the Weaving of the Winds. The weave which encompassed manipulating the weather with flows of Air and Water to speed their ships through the oceans was something most Windfinders were proficient at, but some were better at it than others and Saevha was the best. As befitted her station. She often debated with herself how much detail was useful to impart to Taeda when it came to channeling since the Mistress of the Ships did not have the spark herself and might get confused if she were told the intricacies of Saidar and its use. Saevha therefore often simplified things when she spoke to her of such matters. Not that she were holding things back. It was simply.. practical. “That is the correct way of explaining it.” The Windfinder responded smoothly. “It is sometimes called a glamour, but it is a Web.. and one which is difficult to penetrate.” She gazed at Taeda to see if the other understood. Taeda’s eyes were iron hard as they most often were but did not tell Saevha anything. “It has been set by someone very accomplished in the Art.” “The Art” was what Windfinders called Channeling. To name it ‘Channeling’ publicly came too close to speaking of Aes Sedai and their kind.. and so “embracing The Art” was more fitting. Taeda noticed the emphasis her Windfinder placed on the word “very” and thought there was a touch of admiration in the way Saevha spoke it. Is this a sign that the person who set this Web is very powerful? Or that setting a Web is unusual? She had several questions she wanted to ask but it suited her purpose to seem a little ignorant of “The Art” and so she remained silent. Seeing no response from Taeda, Saevha continued. “It must be an Aes Sedai of considerable power who did it.” There was a foul taste in her mouth when she said ‘Aes Sedai’. Those arrogant women in their White Tower who always thought they knew best. Who always wanted to take one of our initiates to be trained by them. Pfhaw! “The question is why.” Her dark eyes narrowed and she ran a hand through her short hair. “Aes Sedai have never been fond of us”. Quite an understatement as she saw it. “But I would not have thought they would see any benefit in devious infiltration and assassination. What threat are we to them?” ● The Mistress of the Ships turned away from her Windfinder, placing her hands on the rail of the balcony, and stared silently at the blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean. It was late afternoon, and cold winds from the North had driven black clouds southwards to the Aile Dashar. Rain was in the air. They had interrogated the imposter woman at length, alternating between cajoling and harder measures, but she had revealed nothing, continuing to proclaim that she knew nothing, remembered nothing. They believed her in the end and in the following days Saevha had attempted to learn as much as possible about this Web but without success. Whoever had placed the Web on the woman’s mind was more accomplished in the Art, at least in matters of the mind, than Saevha was, or at least so her Windfinder had told her. A Hawk, eyes glinting dangerously, borne on the strong Northern winds passed by high above heading Westward further into the Aryth Ocean. The Mistress of the Ships followed the bird of prey with her eyes until it disappeared into the dark horizon. Is the White Tower behind this devious plot? Really? But who else could it be? Turning back to her Windfinder, Taeda nodded slowly. “I agree. It seems very peculiar.” Touching the medallions on the chain connected to her nose, she pursed her lips. “But we need to find out.” She left it at that and Saevha nodded silently. ● “What about the Coramoor?” the Ruler of the Atha’an Miere asked in a measured tone after a moment of silence. “We have discovered where he is.” The Windfinder’s reply was matter-of-fact but her eyes lit up. “He is in southern Arad Doman.” Taeda nodded, her mind running in a hundred directions when it came to the Coramoor. The man predicted by the Jendai Prophecies to lead them to greater glory and domination of all the seas of the world. The man who they would pledge allegiance to. But who could say what this man would be like? Would he have the strength and character needed to lead them? Would he need.. persuasion? Would he need coaxing? The prophecies said nothing of such matters. Would this likely be the same man the land dwellers called the Dragon Reborn? A man practicing The Art? She shuddered involuntarily at the thought. Among her kind such men were an abomination and were dealt with. Permanently. So, in a way, such a man would be of Light and Shadow as she saw it, a dangerous combination. But perhaps a necessary one. She did not dare speak her uncertainty, and sometimes even doubt, publicly. Nor privately for that matter. She did not want to sow any doubt among her people regarding the Coramoor, but deep inside she debated and hoped her misgivings would not bear fruit. “Good.” She responded at last. “We will send emissaries to the Coramoor and establish an agreement.” Her Windfinder nodded, a finger to her lips in respect, her dark eyes hopeful as she thought of the Coramoor, a man of legends and prophecies who would bring greatness to the Sea Folk. “So it shall be done.” ● Faolahr was lost in Dreams. But they were strange dreams, memories that were not his own. “Thranduil Alahr Sehn”, the blond man said in an angry voice. His violet eyes glinted dangerously. “You do not listen to voices of discontent. You and many other Aes Sedai here”, he pointed accusingly at the members of the Aes Sedai Assembly, “are arrogant in your belief that the insurgents will be defeated. It is time you listen to the voices of those who know better!” “Amir Tavaneh Vendahlin”, the tall well-built blond man with those striking blue eyes replied in a steadfast tone. “We have heard your warnings before. They have been needless. Do not try and spread discontent where there is none.” “Fool!” the Aes Sedai in his dark robe with white symbols running down the side muttered. Then, in a louder voice, “We must bring them to heel so they understand the error of their ways.” Turning to the many members of the Assembly, Amir added. “You all know I speak the truth.” Many of the gathered Aes Sedai, both men and women, shook their heads but some nodded softly. The two men faced one another a few paces apart, both standing strongly and proudly atop the huge Aes Sedai Symbol dominating the white marble floor: the circle divided equally into black and white halves representing the One Power, Saidin and Saidar, and their interdependence. “It is time to act! To show strength” Amir Aes Sedai said emphatically as he met the other man’s blue eyes squarely. “We are the leaders.. and we must lead, not show weakness!” Thranduil Aes Sedai shook his head, his white robe with black symbols running down the side folding around his strong body as he moved to face the Assembly. “It is not weakness, just prudence.” His voice was strong but calm to breed confidence. “The measures already set in motion will be enough. We have more important matters to focus on. The ongoing development of the SkyShear for one.” “That can wait!” Amir responded coldly. “Your arrogance, Thranduil, will be the end of you!” The Violet eyes of the man in Black flared while the Blue eyes of the man in White stared calmly back though tinged with an inner fire. Meanwhile, it was as if the Aes Sedai Symbol beneath their feet echoed the Radiance of this Place of Power, flowing into a Basin of Revelation. ● Remember who you are! A whisper! Remember who you can be. Another whisper! Remember who you must be! Silence. ● Waking up slowly, the echo of whispers still in his mind, Faolahr brushed sleep from his eyes and stared up at the roof of his master tent in silence. It was just a dream. It had to be just a dream! But he knew it was not. Closing his eyes again he listened for the whispers to return, but they did not. The violet eyes of the man Amir in his dream, the man who had opposed the leader of the Aes Sedai who would later be known as the Dragon, echoed in his mind though. Those eyes bespoke of power and ambition. And of greed. He must have been a powerful individual, Faolahr thought. The striking blue eyes of Thranduil were even stronger in his mind.. and at one point he could have sworn the man was speaking to him, to Faolahr, though that was, of course, impossible.. He knew without knowing that he had somehow witnessed something important from the past. Real memories. From the Age of Legends. From the Dragon. ● Amaranth gazed at the sunset beautiful in its splendour from atop the white glass-columns of Whitebridge his black cloak on white dark marble travelling in his mind into the past ● Somewhere near the centre of Altara, gales of winds amassed in roughly reckoning force. Together and apart they stormed, raging and shifting across boundaries of settlements, towns and fertile farmlands with as much gusto as any other collection of Altarans with origins like theirs were wont to do. North and East they rumbled, unseen forces driving them towards the Damona Mountains.. The ever-stronger winds ruffled Elessar’s travelling coat as they rode through a region with long-stemmed grasses on either side of the road. The winds pushed the grass backwards almost to breaking point as if a hand of providence was at work, and it made the Warder think that a Storm was probably Gathering. The sky had darkened in the past few hours as well and rain was in the air. He saw Calia lean forward to whisper something in Socksie’s ear and the mare whinnied as if she, of course, understood every word. Which she probably did. Stormbreaker carried the Gaidin strongly forwards whatever the terrain and he guided the horse with experience using his legs to steady and the reins to control. Elessar and Stormbreaker had been companions on the road for many years, and they cared for one another. It was the only way he could think of it. And he would protect Stormbreaker too with his life. Feeling the cool wind on his face, a wind which was cooler than normal for this temperate region, he gazed across at Calia. Or rather at the merchant she was seeming to be. Her darkened hair was familiar by now but in his mind he saw her blonde hair and how she really looked. He grinned thinking of his changed appearance too. Even so, he would not mind when they would change back to their real appearances again. He smiled inside when he saw Calia give Socksie’s head a good, two-handed scratch until the mare nickered gently in appreciation. Stormbreaker snorted in response, a sign of approval as the Warder saw it. The Aes Sedai and Socksie had formed a strong bond and it was strange to think that the mare had only been part of their travelling party for a relatively short time. There was little doubt that Calia had found a special travelling companion. He hoped she would enjoy many years with Socksie, though darkening clouds of a global kind were rising in the horizon. His gaze remained as he observed his Aes Sedai and her mount with steadfast appreciation. He was glad to have her, Socksie and Stormbreaker along for this journey! ● When the remaining travellers turned off the road toward the nearest village, Elessar and Calia exchanged a quick look instinctively, their eyes meeting in silent understanding, before continuing along the road. Their connection beyond the bond was quick, subtle and more than adequate to convey their thoughts. With mutual smiles, but without a word, they continued on a ways, the slow and steady hoofbeats beneath them keeping a reliable tempo for their comfortable silence. At separate points, they each steered their horses from the road, cutting a careful, many-cornered path through the dancing grass so as not to leave an obvious, two-mounted-persons trail.. Elessar returned Calia’s smile as they came back together in a small clearing well out of sight and earshot from the road. They dismounted and Elessar led the horses away to be tethered at the nearest tree. They continued the by now familiar ‘rituals’ for setting up out-of-the-way camp and the Warder soon took a walk along the perimeter of the camp and its surroundings to check for any potential dangers (better safe than sorry, as he always thought) while Calia built a small fire and prepared some kaf and something to eat. Upon his return Elessar sat down to enjoy a little food and drink and they chit-chatted for a while. As twilight cloaked this region of central Altara, the darkness covering the trees and grass and meadows, the Warder brushed down both horses, gave them each an apple to enjoy (and by the sound of it both Socksie and Stormbreaker enjoyed the treat mightily!) and walked another time around the ‘outer encampment’ as he thought of it, the area several hundred meters surrounding it on all sides, without seeing anything of note. Rain had finally arrived by the time he was back, a drizzle at first but soon heavier, but they were protected by the trees and the coverings he had set up. The last thing Elessar thought before going into the practiced half-sleep of Warders was how right his bond and connection with Calia felt and that he was fortunate to have this strong and valued bond now at a time where Storms were Coming and Destinies Shaped. ● Varanis, in the guise of the court painter Sinthan, studied his latest painting and smiled in appreciation Seated as usual in his upstairs room in the left wing of the Royal Castle in Fal Moran, smudges of paint on his hands, he applied his paintbrush expertly to the work of art before him and watched it come alive before his eyes. The painting was huge in a tall wooden frame six feet tall by five feet wide. It was a frame he used for all his paintings; a frame that was, in fact, a Ter’angreal and a special one. The scene depicted was of the courtyard in front of the Royal Palace which was filling with people and soldiers. Servants and retainers rushed from the castle doors to the gate to ensure all was in place for the Commander’s arrival. The Shienaran Army’s Commander, General Varar Sukhata, was returning with his army after a battle further west with Shadowspawn and most of Fal Moran had come out to welcome him home. Flags had been waved through the streets and the populace had been jubilant and now the rows upon rows of soldiers rode through the Castle gate. Varanis watched the spectacle in his painting, his blue eyes slightly wild as usual, anticipation building as he waited for the Commander to appear. His paintbrush kept adding a few lines here and there, some colour in places, as the painting changed ever so slightly, elements disappearing and others appearing. He touched the scar on his face as he was wont to do, his excitement building. ● And finally, the last of the soldiers had entered the palace courtyard, banners flying high, and the Commander, General Varar Sukhata, a proud man in his early forties and a brilliant soldier and leader, came riding slowly past the gate, in full battle armour, and towards the castle itself. Changing his weave of Saidin ever so slightly, Varanis saw the Commander as if standing just fifteen feet away and recognized the triumphant look on the General’s face. “Welcome home!” the Chosen whispered gloating, as he drew an ominous circle around the General’s face in the painting, feeding it with deadly weaves. In the painting he saw Varar Sukhata’s dark eyes widen in shock as his hands went to his throat, he started choking and fell off his horse and tumbled to the ground. His face gradually turned blue as his arms flailed uselessly and finally he stopped moving, dead. People were rushing toward him, crying out in alarm, and Varanis watched it all now from a distance, a smug grin on his face. “I guess you were not triumphant after all, General Varar Sukhata”, Varanis chuckled, his wild eyes glinting and his face grinning as he continued perfecting the painting, glorying in his art. ● Sovenhia Sedai and her Warder passed the border into Altara on a sunny afternoon. Their wagon pulled by four black carthorses travelled southwards along the dusty road that led to Ebou Dar further south. There were few travellers on this road and mostly locals going to and from farms along the woodlands. Sovenhia was pleased that the horses had turned out to be just as sturdy and reliable as she had hoped, and she was making sure they were travelling at a speed which did not exhaust the mounts. Aran kept telling her it had not been their fault what happened in Amador, but she did not care to listen. There had been mistakes which they had made, not the least their late arrival; no need to ignore that fact. And by going to Ebou Dar they would redeem themselves. I will redeem myself. Ebou Dar. A New Beginning. ● Aran stayed alert in the way of Warders as they passed a small village that mainly consisted of a street, a few houses, a blacksmith and an inn, and then tried to cheer up his Aes Sedai with stories as they continued their journey. His light-blue eyes were dancing as he told a particularly cheerful story of something hilarious that had happened before he joined the Warders, the grin on his face infectious and Sovenhia could not help but chuckle. His long blond hair tied in a bun was smudged and his face and travelling cloak dirty but he looked the same joyful Warder she had bonded. Merchants they were supposed to be, but Aran would never pass as a simple merchant to a trained eye. Fortunately, most people only saw what they expected to see and the subterfuge had worked. So far. Altara was not as antagonistic toward Aes Sedai as Amadicia, but it would be wise to be careful in Ebou Dar. Aran shared a smile with his bondholder and was glad to see that his stories had cheered her up somewhat. Her dark hair flowed down her back and her brown eyes looked intently back at him, eyes that seemed a little more hopeful than in the last few days. He needed to be her rock as he saw it, the defence against all enemies but also the defence against her own doubts and insecurities. He knew he was young and inexperienced as a Gaidin and had much to learn, but he had belief in himself and faith in their connection, their bond, and he was learning. Above all, he had optimism - and he knew they would succeed! ● Hidden deep beneath the Royal Palace of Andor, were cellars that had once stored important things. Valuable things. Rare things. Dangerous things. They had also served as dungeons in use by Queens of Andor during times of strife and war. In the past decades the cellars had, however, not been used and the deepest parts were all but forgotten. Walking down dusty stairs to the lower part of the dark cellars, a globe of light above her head lighting up the darkness, Nymeria the Chosen stared fixedly ahead as she passed cobwebs aplenty. She had inverted the weave, an ability and talent thought lost in this Age, to ensure the resident Aes Sedai did not detect that another channeler was on the Palace grounds. Not that she would struggle to take care of the Sister if necessary, but it was prudent to carry out such a task in the shadows. Qariahna would just have blasted a hole in the Sister advising the Andoran Queen and gone about her business. The thought made her grin lopsidedly. She knew her too well. Opening a door as old as the Trolloc Wars, surprised it was still standing when she glanced quickly back over her shoulder, she then entered a stone chamber which was almost empty. The size of a small room, it was covered in dust from top to bottom and it was clear no one had entered in at least half a century. Walking up to the only piece of furniture in the room, an ancient cupboard about two meters tall and one meter wide that appeared made of stone but with no drawers, she stopped and studied it carefully for a long moment. Then, with a satisfied smile, she pointed at the lower half of the cupboard and channeled, Earth and Spirit, in intricate weaves, until they became a solitary light. A buzzing sound broke the dark silence as the protection weave was removed and a small compartment appeared, sliding open. The Chosen’s sapphire-blue eyes were fixed on what was inside. A medallion. ● Nymeria grinned as she picked up the medallion and studied it for a few moments. This was no ordinary medallion. This was something ancient. Something very valuable. She touched its marble surface and her eyes glinted. Placing it reverently in the inside-pocket of her light-green dress, she turned back toward the cupboard and channeled. Soon the drawer was gone from sight, hidden by invisible weaves, and the cupboard looked all stone again - and unbreakable. Nodding with satisfaction she returned whence she had come, climbing the stairs carefully and navigating the cellar corridors with care. When she left the Royal Palace, passing the Grand Hall (often used for state occasions) and the Blue Reception Room (with its blue floor tiles and arched ceiling painted to display the sky and white clouds) on her way out, she left behind servants puzzled by moments of dizziness and shadows. Unnoticed by anyone, she departed and was soon back in the centre of Caemlyn. Her blonde hair, falling in golden waves down her back, shone in the strong afternoon sun and her smile was triumphant as she headed toward her next destination. ● A pair of dark eyes followed the blonde woman studiously as she passed a plaza with a beautiful fountain of Ishara Casalain, the first Queen of Andor, holding a ruler’s scepter high, and several statues and monuments of historical importance before stopping at a street corner beside a small flower shop. The eyes tightened in eager anticipation. ▀▄

.. Echoes of Conquerors .. ►▼◄ “Papa, come into the light!” Argam heard his daughter’s voice from far, far away and it made tears blossom in his eyes. He was asleep, he knew it was a dream, but he cherished her voice as if she were there with him. “Wake up, Papa. Come to me!” Something brushed his cheek and he could feel his darling daughter’s fingers on his face. He wished this wonderful dream to last forever. The weeks that had passed since Sandana’s disappearance had been some of the worst in his life. He had looked everywhere for days on end but had not found her. It was as if the night had swallowed her whole. Blaming himself for not protecting her, he had gone days without food or drink and his life had become a never-ending misery. With his daughter gone, he felt all his life’s purpose gone. Something touched his hand and he felt warmth as the smaller hand grasped his. “Papa, wake now!” There was some urgency in the voice and something made him turn in his bed. His eyes slowly opened but he had to shut them quickly because of the strong light! “Sandana!?” he whispered, his voice choked and then tried to open his eyes again. “I am here, Papa.” Her voice was jubilant and it made his heart soar. ● Raising his upper body from the bed, he stared into the light, still unable to believe that this could be happening. In the light he saw his daughter, his darling daughter, and her smile was radiant. Her brown hair ran down her shoulders and her large oval eyes stared lovingingly at him. He brushed a hand through his short brown hair, hoping against hope that this was just mot a dream. “Are you.. real?” he finally said, reaching out toward her, his hand shaking. “This is for real, Papa. I love you.” Her voice was strong and emphatic and another tear ran down his cheek. He stepped out of the bed and started walking slowly toward the light. His bare feet sensed the warmt from the wood floor as if it were alive. “Papa, we will never part again. I love you.” His heart jumped with joy at hearing her sweet voice and when his fingers touched hers a glow came upon her face, radiance enveloping her whole body. And together, in a warm embrace, and then hand in hand, they disappeared into the light, through the Portal Stone, joined as One. “Sweetheart”, he whispered, his heart full, just before the light dimmed and was gone, “I love you. You are the light of my life.” Her answering smile was as dazzling and glorious as the Sun. ● “I see you, Rei’ad”. “I see you, Ai’rid”. The two Aiel Clan Chiefs gave one another a respectful nod as they sat facing each other in the warm tent. Ai’rid was the Clan Chief of the Goshien which had been allies of the Miagoma for decades. He was slightly taller than Rei’ad, his red hair about the same short length, and slightly younger. He might be slightly stronger but Rei’ad had more cunning and, importantly, more patience. Rei’ad passed the cup with Oosquai to Ai’rid and drank from his own cup before speaking. “I am glad to see you , my friend.” He began. “What brings you north to Spine Ridge Sept?” The other Aiel man set his cup aside and his face became more serious. “Scouts have observed creatures of the Shadow in the west, farther south than has been seen before.” “In large numbers?” Rei’ad asked. “Yes, surprisingly so.” Ai’rid replied. To observe shadow creatures further south in the Three-fold Land, what the outlanders ignorantly called the Aiel Waste, was unusual. They were usually seen in the far north not far from the Blight. ● They each took another cup of Oosquai to mull it over. Made from zemai (maize), it was perhaps an acquired drink for outlanders but among the Aiel it was a cherished drink, potent as well. “This is a concern” Rei’ad mumbled after a while and the other Clan Chief nodded. “I wonder why they are daring enough to come this far south.” Ai’rid said questioningly. “They know our western clans will not stand for it.” “I wonder too”, Rei’ad said and put his glass down. The Clan Chief of the Goshien met the other Clan Chief’s eyes and added that he had heard rumours that a Storm was Coming. “As have I”, replied Rei’ad, his eyes narrowing. “One of the Wise Ones has said that our sands will run red with blood.” “A bad omen indeed”, Ai’rid said solemnly. “A bad omen.” ● “Does it make you think of the prophecy?” Rei’ad added after a long silence. The other Clan Chief’s eyes tightened. They both knew of which prophecy he was speaking. The one about the Car'a'carn, the chief of chiefs, who would lead the clans but also destroy them. The words of the prophecy rang in Rei’ad’s ears and he could never quite decide whether to be jubilant or horrified. "He shall spill out the blood of those who call themselves Aiel as water on sand, and he shall break them as dried twigs, yet the remnant of a remnant shall he save, and they shall live." “I try not to think of it”, Ai’rid replied softly, his eyes dark. “But there is change in the air and we will need strong leadership if this Storm is soon upon us.” Rei’ad nodded but inside he wondered if a man who would break them was the kind of leader they needed. ● Are they just horse thieves, or something more? The thought ran through Elessar’s mind as he listened to the questions Calia gave the thief. The questions were reasonable but even so the thief was pretty closemouthed. The Warder wondered if that was because he had much to hide? Or was it just his sour disposition and a dislike for authority figures? He appeared a simple sort, the kind of man with little education, few prospects who often ended up in a life of crime. Elessar had seen many such over the years and recognized the signs in this young man. But could he have been enticed by the Shadow? That was most important for them to know. If the stealing of their horses was part of a bigger plan. A more dangerous plan. Which revolved around the two of them. The thief maintained that he and his accomplice had stolen the horses for profit. Nothing else. They needed the money and were going to sell the horses to a man they knew a few miles further east. Elessar’s eyes tightened at the admission and he felt an urge to kick this man as he had kicked the other one, but he restrained himself. They needed answers. ● The Gaidin usually had better control of his emotions, but this episode with their horses angered him more than usual. Snatching Stormbreaker! Blood and ashes! It had only happened once before, years ago, and he remembered the anger he had felt at the time. And the thrashing he had given the Andoran man. Cloaking himself in the Flame and the Void, he felt his anger gradually diminish and calm take its place. When Calia was finished with her questioning, she walked off toward their horses and spoke to Elessar for a while. They agreed that these two were most probably just horse thieves, not Darkfriends, and that what they had admitted, that they had taken the horses to sell, was true. In any case, they needed to get moving and could not spend any more time questioning the two young men. Calia embraced a perky eared, bright eyed Socksie warmly and Elessar gave a nickering Stormbreaker an affectionate pat on the back as they shared in the relief to have their valiant companions back safe and sound. They subsequently bound and gagged the two horse thieves, a muttering displeased pair with scowling eyes, on the back of their horses using rope Elessar carried in his saddlebags, and then headed back to Remen and further south-west to the larger village of Fyall where they were handed over to the local authorities. Calia and Elessar then turned south again, in the direction of the Damona Mountains. ● Blood ran in streams down Tinuviel’s naked body. It was not her blood. Red rivulets ran down from her chest, over her pink nipples, down her stomach and into the red patch between her legs. She touched her left breast and licked the blood from her finger. The salty taste invigorated her, and when she gazed at the body of the young Ghealdan man laying naked on the bench beside her, his chest damaged by the two dozen knife stab wounds that she had inflicted, she felt a thrill run through her. He had not provided her with the answers she wanted - and had paid the price. That simple. Added to the fact that he was a man and men deserved no mercy. She had felt that way ever since that first violation by her uncle those many years before. The repeated rapes had changed her forever. She no longer remembered her life before that first incident. She would always remember, however, her uncle’s delightful screams of terror and excruciating pain when she had cut off his male member, dangled it before his horrified face, and watched him bleed to death. Men were all the same. Animals. ● Digging her finger into the dead man’s partially open stomach, caressing his intestines, she touched her other breast and let the blood run slowly from her finger down that side of her body. Blood is life. And blood is death. It was only much later that she was done and she washed the blood from her body and splashed some water on her blood-like hair. Outside her apartment the streets of Jehannah were coming to life, the sun rising in the light-blue sky. She ignored the sounds of hustle and bustle as merchants set up temporary shops in the market square and people started walking the streets, on their way to work or to make purchases or to simply enjoy this wondrous city in Ghealdan. Her mind was on the Seal which she still had no clues where could be. Rumours had driven her southward but it could very well just be rumours. Gazing at herself in the bedroom mirror, she liked what she saw. It pleased her that other women liked her naked body too. Dressing herself, putting on a pale blue dress with a low neckline this day, matching earrings and a light-blue necklace, she made sure to paint her lips deep red: a good reminder of the blood she had enjoyed. ● The Keeper’s stole felt heavy on her shoulders. Running a hand through her brown hair, Tarah stared at the Amyrlin who was leafing through some parchments on her desk. What has happened to you? She thought she had come to terms with the fact that the Amyrlin had changed her mind on several important issues and that perhaps she, Tarah was overreacting. For the Amyrlin was just as efficient as before and was running the White Tower so to speak with as deft a hand as before she had left on that mysterious errand. But am I really overracting? Or it is it just that everyone else is as blind as Leihda? “Have you found the parchment, Mother?” she enquired in a soft voice. Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat half-turned and fixed her empty gaze on her Keeper of the Chronicles. “Do you not think I will tell you when I have, Tarah?” That was exactly the response she would have given before.. it was just her gaze that seemed colder and still pretty empty in a way that was different. Tarah sighed and half-nodded as Nadhene turned back to what she was doing. A minute or so later she exclaimed “Ha!” and raised a parchment in the air. “I knew it was here somewhere!” Opening it, she began to read loud. “The Dragon Reborn has gathered an army and thousands that call themselves Dragonsworn. They have been aided by the King of Arad Doman. They are heading south toward Ghealdan.” Turning toward her Keeper, Nadhene said: “You see, we need to get this young Dragon Reborn into our custody before he causes havoc in the land. We have no other choice!” Her voice was steady but her eyes became less empty for a moment, and darker somehow. Tarah felt a shiver run down her spine and wondered why that was so. Perhaps it was this talk of capturing the young Dragon Reborn. That must be it. Surely. “I know you disagree, Tarah”, the Amyrlin added smoothly, “but it must be so. Our initial ideas were too daring. I hope you will see that one day.” “Yes, Mother”. Tarah hoped the Amyrlin was right though deep inside she still questioned the wisdom of this new decision which could easily be just as daring. Who knew how the channeling Dragon Reborn would react to being captured? She would not say so loud but inside she feared this would end in tears. ● “I have sent a couple of Sisters his way to join their Dragonsworn”, Nadhene added after a long silence. “They will watch and listen and give word back when it is time for us to strike.” Tarah ran another hand through her hair but remained silent. So they were to sneak two Aes Sedai into the Dragonsworn camp and wait for word. They better not get caught or I am sure there will be hell to pay! “I understand, Mother”, she said instead, her eyes fixed on the Amyrlin’s desk but not on the Amyrlin herself. The silence lasted several minutes this time as Nadhene kept going through the various parchments before her. “Mother”, Tarah added just as she was leaving, “that Aes Sedai-attack on the Children of the Light, should we not respond to the allegations?” “Nonsense”, Nadhene replied over her shoulder. “Like I told you before, the White Tower does not respond to nonsense.” She shook her head. “As if we would attack the Fortress of the Light and kill a squadron of their soldiers and disappear into thin air. What do they take us for, ignorant fools?” “I understand Mother”, the Keeper reponded calmly. I understand that you do not wish us to look into the matter. It is peculiar though, very much so. She did not speak her thoughts though. Shutting the door behind her, Tarah walked down to the corridor below and along the hall towards her private quarter. She nodded to a couple of White Sisters who stood talking at the end of the corridor and then headed down an adjoining one. Only when she was back in her own room, closing that door behind her, did she breathe easier. Sitting down in her armchair she removed the stole from her shoulders and leaned back closing her eyes. Ever since she had put on a Novice dress those many years ago she had wanted to become an Aes Sedai so she could right the wrongs in the world. Now she feared some of those wrongs were in the White Tower itself. ● “You are not from around here, are you?” The old grey-haired librarian, his wrinkled face speaking of great age, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose, looked the man up and down, noticing the foreign clothes. The man’s dark cloak was of a style which was not often seen in Ebou Dar and his shirt was also of a strange design. The man himself looked as if he were from up north somewhere. “Up north” was Kheram’s general way of speaking about any place north of Altara. He had been Chief Librarian of the Royal Library in Ebou Dar for over forty years and he knew all there was to know about books in his library. He knew most things that were interesting to know about anything else as well. The visiting man studied the old face before him with some amusement. He himself was stoutly built with long dark hair framing a handsome face. His almost black eyes were kind right now but had a hard edge to them which indicated they could turn harsh at any moment. What the old librarian noticed the most though was the man’s brilliantly white shining teeth. He had never seen teeth that white in all his years and he found he could not stop staring. “You are correct”, the man replied smoothly. “I am from.. somewhere else. Far away, you could say.” His amusement grew but the old libarian did not seem to notice. “Far away, you say?” the old man added, tearing his eyes away from the man’s white teeth. “Arad Doman perhaps? Or Cairhien?” He spoke the names as if they were lands so far away that they were almost of legend. “Oh, farther than that”, the man said with a grin. “Much farther in some ways.” His eyes glinted as he whispered, “A place of dreams.” ● Kheram stared at the man now, wondering if he were making a joke. People from “up north” had a peculiar humour or so he had been told. Travellers who thought they knew it all. He pushed his glasses further up on his nose and placed both his hands on the desk before him. “I am sure you are right”, he murmured and half-smiled in the way he often did when speaking to people who embellished the truth. “Now then”, he continued after a long moment. “You wanted the book on Artur Hawkwing, I understand. The famous one by Derian Sarna.” “Yes, please.” The man replied. “It is a very old book”, the old librarian mumbled as he picked it up from a shelf behind him. “And rare. Treat it with respect.” Handing it carefully to the foreign man, he watched studiously as the man headed further into the library with the book in hand, finally seating himself at an available desk in a corner. Zephyr the Chosen’s eyes met those of the librarian’s for a swift second before lowering to study the old pages before him. Kheram’s eyes studied him for a while before turning back to the old manuscript he had been reading before the man had entered, the one that talked about False Dragons. His glasses had slid down his nose again and so he pushed them up yet another time and sighed inwardly. There were too many foreigners, strangers in Ebou Dar these days. Too many people asking questions. And too many rumours of False Dragons. ● ►▼◄ ‘The Ballad of Artur Hawkwing’ Artur Paendrag Tanreall was his Name As Artur Hawkwing he rose to Fame The High King who united the Lands in Truth Created an Empire, a Legend in Sooth Born in Shandalle, a Kingdom like Those In western Cairhien, Erinin was Close A Prince of the House, a Royal was He Destined for Greatness, a Conquerer to-Be Tutored in Combat from an early Age Becoming a Soldier and Captain, to Wage Battles and Wars, versus neighbours so Strong Fighting for Nation and opposing the Wrong He led an Army that Tar Valon had Sent Against a False Dragon, in Tear, Legend Went In contrast to others, his Army did Well To stalemate Amalasan’s Forces, they Tell Named ‘Hawkwing’ in Honour of swiftness and Speed He moved his Forces with efficiency and Need And then at the Battle of Jolvaine Pass Using tactical brilliance, he captured with Class Bringing Amalasan, to Tar Valon in Grace To have him face Justice, his Judgement to Face A conflict erupted, like a White Tower ‘Swath’ Though Hawkwing succeeded, the Amyrlin was Wroth Shandalle was attacked by Neighbours and All They wanted and screamed for the Hawkwing’s Fall He wondered if Tar Valon and Bonwhin were Involved But winning the Battles, the Consolidation all Solved After those years, he Ruled the world in Peace For twenty-three years, with deftness and Ease Though with seven Rebellions he had to Contend And a Trolloc Invasion, he defeated in the End He turned against Tar Valon from Councel Received Laying Siege to White Tower, in hatred Believed And sent a large Army across the Waters Divide Of the wide Aryth Ocean, with his son by their Side Or so Legends speak, as History is Made In year 994, he the final Price Paid From illness he Passed, at eighty-two of Age Leaving a Legacy, and Wars there to Wage Loved by the Commoners, his death caused much Strife With no known Heirs, there was Battle-lust for Life And for Power and for Land, yes it ended in Tears In what History remembers as the War of the Hundred Years ►▲◄ ▀▄

.. The Lost Talent .. ►▼◄ Twilight was spreading across the Borderlander city of Fal Moran, the light of day slowly being replaced by the dark of night. The towering Shienaran stone walls, bathed in hues of amber and violet, seemed to breathe with the fading warmth of the sun. Lanterns flickered to life along narrow cobblestone streets, their soft glow struggling against the encroaching shadows like sentinels holding back an unseen tide. Far above, the first stars pierced the velvety sky, their cold light a stark contrast to the warmth and bustle fading below. Seated in an upstairs room in the left wing of the Royal Castle filled with strange paintings spread around and filling dark corners, Sinthan the court painter worked on his next masterpiece. The painting was huge in a tall wooden frame six feet tall by five feet wide. His eyes seemed somewhat wild in that way that artists sometimes looked, as if they knew a wonderful secret that you did not know. His blue eyes gazed appreciatively at each line and colour painted and the brush in his hand ran across the landscape he was creating as if it had a life of its own. As court painter to the Crown, hired by the King of Shienar himself, he took much pride in his work and nobles all around the Borderlands agreed he was the finest of his craft for generations. Adding a little light green colour to the meadow he had crafted, he finally put the paintbrush away and studied his new masterpiece. His hand went to his slightly gaunt face as he scrutinized the painting, his fingers going to the scar running down the left side. As he stared, the painting began to come to life.. ..the trees swaying slightly in the wind, figures walking along a dusty road, and smoke coming from the chimney of a cottage in the woods. In the blueish sky which had a few clouds moving southwards there was suddenly something flying over the treetops. First it was a tiny speck but then it grew as it came closer, wings pushing it forwards. The creature screeched as it flew over the cottage and as it landed on the dusty road. Now it could be recognized as a Draghkar. The large bat-like wings were unmistakable. Created through a corruption of humans, the Shadowspawn creature looked like a large man with bat-like wings with skin too pale and whose eyes were too large. Sound drifted out of the painting and it was the soft, hypnotic song of their kind which they used to draw their prey to them. Once caught in this ‘net’, the Draghkar’s ‘kiss’ would drain away the person’s soul and then the person’s life. ● Sinthan the court painter felt no fear looking at the Draghkar in the painting. He kept ‘feeding’ the painting with Saidin, thin threads of weaves combined in a complicated fashion in a way not seen for millennia, his eyes shining. Raising his hands, he spoke words of command in the Old Tongue as they called it in this Age, and the Draghkar turned to face him. A stream of blue fire ran into the painting and surrounded the Shadowspawn. Slowly it was drawn forwards and then out of the painting, growing in size as it came. Wings flapped over Varanis the Chosen’s head and the creature landed a few feet behind him. Turning calmly on his stool, he faced the creature and his blue eyes were even wilder than before. The Draghkar stared back in that silent but dominant way of its kind. It’s crooning song was gone though, not that it would have had much effect on the Chosen. Varanis had never been afraid of anything in his life and he was not about to start now. “You know your mission.” He said finally, a chuckle in his voice, his eyes wild. “Do not fail me!” Walking across to the huge window, taller than a man, off to the side, he opened it and felt the wind touch his face. Stepping aside, he let the creature step toward the window and then fly out, soon becoming a shadow in the night. Closing the window softly, the Chosen walked back to his huge painting, sat down on his stool, and gazed at the movements therein. Leaves flew across the dusty road pushed by the strong wind, and small butterflies and insects floated on the currents of air. A Master at his Craft, he knew no one could duplicate his feats. This Talent and weave, Colouring, had been lost since the Age of Legends and had been very rare even back then. That knowledge made Varanis grin widely and he chuckled to himself, exhilaration and a feeling of accomplishment filling him, as he picked up his paintbrush again with an artist’s superior arrogance and kept on improving his masterpiece of art. ● Keyraa Erem Sani ne Paendrag dried her bloodied knife on the dead man’s shirt and then lay low in the forested terrain for quite a while. Her shaved bald head showed streaks of red blood and her different-coloured eyes - the right dark brown, the left emerald-green - stared intently into the night. Her red-lacquered fingernails had been shortened for this test and she ran her fingers across the muddy moss-ridden ground, ignoring the filth and stench of the mud. The Day of Reckoning was an ancient Royal tradition in Seanchan. The ultimate test of hardness and courage that any Daughter of the Nine Moons needed to pass to show that she was worthy of becoming a future Empress. The test included survival in the wild for several days, eating whatever the land could provide, and the killing of three professional assassins who were sent after her. One of these assassins, a middle aged man strong of build, now lay dead beside her in the muddy ground, his throat slit from end to end, his dead eyes staring emptily into the beyond. Blood flowed on the mud and grass, still fresh. Crawling across the soggy ground, Keyraa tried to recall everything she had been taught by her mother’s Chief Assassin to the Empire. His words echoed like whispers in her ears. Stay low. Stay silent. Be patient. Be deadly when it is time to kill. Be certain your victim is dead. Always finish the job. Be the knife that kills. Be the echo that follows. Move on. Always move on. ● She stopped as she thought she heard a small noise over by the trees to her left. Her eyes tried to penetrate the darkness but she was only able to glimpse the trees closer to her place of partial concealment. The forest was silent and dark. After a minute or so she continued her crawl through the muddy soggy forest ground, trying to avoid any fallen branches or twigs that might give away her position. She only got twenty feet into the low brush when another small noise made her eyes widen. She froze and lay still as death. She held her breath… as she waited. The forest was still again, as if testing her patience. Exhaling softly, she was just about to crawl further when suddenly a shadow detached itself from the shadows around and something large pounced on her! Her reactions had always been good and she moved aside just in time as the huge hunting knife slashed at the place where she had just lain! Before the figure was able to escape, Keyraa’s knife embedded itself in the assassin’s heart and he was dead before hitting the ground. Gazing almost dispassionately at the dead figure, the second man she had killed this night, she touched his body where the knife had taken his life and felt blood running beneath her fingers. Tasting the blood made her feel energetic and alive. A small smile painted her red lips for a second but then she crouched silently beside a nearby tree, before moving on through these dark woods. Blood and the juices from the squirrel she had eaten raw ran down her chin as she crouched behind a tall oak a little later, listening to the silence of the dark. She used a bow and arrow to kill the third and final assassin. She came upon him unawares, a smaller man but with a scar-filled face which spoke of a brutal past, and the arrow from a distance struck through his left eye into his brain. A feral scream erupted from her mouth then, a scream of triumph, as she ran through the forest like a deadly whirlwind, like a predator, becoming One with the Mist. I am worthy to be Empress one day! Her eyes shone in jubilation. Oh yes, I am worthy! In her mind she glimpsed a hawk with a white head flying away. A very powerful omen. Fear Me! For I am the Empire! ● Belarian pretended to listen to the High Lord’s explanation for the recent financial losses of his House, but in reality his mind was on other, much more important matters. It had proven quite easy to manipulate the Cairhien Noble Houses and to install people of.. right persuasion so to speak. What he had not expected and did not have time for was the internal bickering between certain High Lords and Ladies. His grey-green eyes fastened on the High Lord’s face and he wondered if this arrogant and haughty grey-haired man in his mid-fourties could be trusted. Can anyone be trusted these days? When the man finally stopped talking and took a long sip from his red wine, Belarian took advantage of the few moments of silence to respond. “My High Lord Setidred”, the Chosen began smoothly. “I understand what you are saying. But there is no proof that your money was stolen.” He met the other man’s gaze and his eyes tightened. “And don’t forget”, he emphasized, “there are more pressing matters to focus on.” The High Lord only knew him as a Lord with connections high in Cairhienin Darkfriend Circles and a man to obey. He did not know that Lord Asantred was a Chosen and neither did he need to know. “But Lord Asantred..”, the older man began but Belarian stopped him. “No more, Lord Setidred”, he said with finality.”Enough.” ● Seeing the other man’s hard stare, Lord Setidred swallowed what he was going to add and stared sullenly at the other man. “What you need to do next”, Belarian added smoothly, folding his hands in his lap, “is to make sure that the other House we talked about is blamed for the incident.” Cairhien was infamous for the Game of Houses but what many had forgotten over the generations was that the Shadow was also more than competent in this Game. “That will be the start of its downfall.” The Chosen’s eyes glinted strongly. “Soon Cairhien will be ours”, Belarian added in a strong voice. “And the Great Lord will reward his servants.” High Lord Setidred nodded and spoke his agreement. Inside though he wondered who this man was who had so much power in the Circles he wandered. Staring at the face before him at the other side of the dinner table, noticing the high cheekbones and strong jaw, he could not ever recall having been told much about him. Not that he needed to know many details, but he liked to know who he was dealing with, in case it was necessary to take certain.. precautions. This man was to be obeyed though, that had been imprinted on him several times, and he would do as ordered. ● After the meal Belarian returned to his mansion in the western part of the city. It was not the largest mansion around but neither the smallest. He had several servants and guards as befitted his apparent station as a Cairhienin Nobleman. Nodding to the two guards who welcomed him back that evening he walked through the corridors of the building ignoring the ancient paintings on the walls, marble statues in the corners, and lights spread along the hallway. Passing another guard, he rounded a corner and headed toward his personal chamber at the end of the corridor. Opening the door, he walked through the ward which would have alerted him if anyone else had been present or had been there before, and stepped up to a large mirror on the wall. Gazing at his reflection for a moment, resplendent in his Nobleman’s attire, he grinned inside. Zephyr should see me now, he thought with great amusement. The other Chosen had always complained that Belarian cared too little about his appearance. To which Belarian had complained that Zephyr took himself too seriously. Teasing had always been a part of his personality but behind the seemingly innocent teasing lay sly manipulation. Zephyr had always been aware of this but he did not think all his.. brethren.. were as aware. Embracing the One Power, feeling the torrent that was Saidin rushing into him, he gloried as always in the feeling of energy and potency as he held onto the powerful flow with skill and experience. Channeling he opened a hidden compartment in the wall and withdrew the strange artifact, the dark crystal with ancient symbols. Holding it in his hand he felt its unusual heaviness and also that other thing which he could not quite define. A coldness that seemed to come from within. Staring at it closely he wondered if he ever would learn the meaning of those foreign symbols. The little he did know about the artifact was that it was supposedly from.. outside. Which made it especially precious since such objects had been very rare back in his own time and, he presumed, were even rarer in this time and Age. He needed, however, to learn how to make it work, because as it was it was simply an interesting dark crystal to look at. Something fascinating, something exotic. But not useful. He had considered asking one of the others, Amaranth perhaps, but he did not know who he could trust and he did not want to share this rare discovery whatever it was. And so, he would continue to look for answers and hope that he would find some. I have to. I will discover its secrets. ● Placing the rare artifact back in its hiding place, he channeled and it disappeared from view. Nodding softy to himself, he walked across the chamber to a table and sat down in a comfortable armchair. Pouring himself a glass of red wine, he sipped to the decent vintage and lost himself in thoughts of his home back in that world which had been dead for thousands of years. And the image of Emar Dal, the great city metropolis of beauty and wonder in the Age of Legends - of skybridges and crystal spires, of domes and palaces and wondrous gardens and parks, of streamers and light slides and reflectors, echoing a thousand colours and visions and horizons in perfect unity - blossomed in his mind. ● Stormbreaker and Socksie gone! Elessar waited for Calia’s response while at the same time thinking where the two horses could have been taken. There could be several suspects in this somewhat shifty village but the prime contender was probably the dubious rogue-looking man he had seen at the reception. Calia appeared calm, her face smooth, but he thought he sensed some unease coming through the bond which would be quite natural in the circumstances. He wondered if she had prepared for such an eventuality. He had learned in his time as her bondmate that she was crafty and not one to be underestimated. He saw her close her eyes and remain still for long moments. With a sigh of relief, she finally opened her eyes and filled him in on the details. He gave her a respectful nod and smile when she told him about the Finder weave. Crafty indeed! “At least they haven't got far," she said, "And they wouldn't have gone anywhere without a fight!" The Warder nodded, relieved that they now had a way to find their dear mounts. "Let's go!" ● They set off swiftly, Calia in the lead. Elessar followed a step behind and as always he kept an alert, vigilant gaze at his surroundings. He was considering how he would thrash the thief when he caught up with him when suddenly Calia froze in the middle of the market square. He looked around to see where the danger was but saw no one in particular. Seeing her meaningful look and feeling concern coming through the bond he assumed she had somehow lost the sense of the Finder weave. That could mean several things, but hopefully it just meant it would be a little more challenging to find the horses. Turning to Elessar, Calia explained that the weaves had gone dark. Either both horses randomly lost their beads, or whoever took them severed, or at the very least were informed about things they should not be able to see. I feel like we were close, though,” she added, “and I might be able to keep us heading in the right direction." Elessar nodded and gave her a smile of encouragement and waited as she turned back to the path and scanned ahead in the direction they had been travelling. He saw her gaze narrowing as she stared at certain points ahead but was not able to see what she had observed. Amusement seemed to come through the bond and he stared ahead trying to figure it all out. He then caught her eye and saw the beginning of a grin on her face. "Clever mounts!" she said in an amused-almost worthy of a laugh-way but only almost. Gazing ahead with harder focus this time, her Gaidin finally saw what she had seen. Their mounts had been clever indeed. Leaving a trail of dung. “Oh, shit!” Elessar murmured in an amused near-chuckle. The circumstance almost made him laugh. Almost. ● Through streets and alleys, the dark deposits led them on a merry chase. It was an absurd method, but it worked. Abruptly, they rounded a corner into a narrow rather abandoned alley, only to be met with a very unexpected sight. Socksie - still disguised as a very large-'dapple grey' carthorse, and Stormbreaker the palomino, still taller and larger than Socksie, with the situation very much under control. Calia started to laugh and Elessar struggled to keep from chuckling. For the scene was kind of hilarious. ● Because pinned against the crumbling stone wall of a storage house that appeared to form the back end of the alley were two men, wide-eyed and pale - and most thoroughly trapped by the horses themselves! One had the misfortune of being pinned, quite firmly by her mare’s hindquarters, his tunic bunched up around his ribs where the horse’s weight pressed him firmly in place. The other had his collar... and perhaps some of his shoulder... caught in Stormbreaker’s teeth, the stallion holding him steady with an air of what Calia could only interpret as steadfast satisfaction. “Well,” Calia said, her voice rich with quiet amusement, “We found them!” “And”, she added, “seems whatever else the two in custody know or don't know, they failed to consider that their prizes might come with their own sense of justice and both the strength and to carry it out!” ● Elessar could no longer keep the hilarity inside and laughed long and hard. Giving Stormbreaker an appraising look, and a fond smile to Socksie, he said “Indeed. And I think we can safely say that these two.. rogues.. are in deep shit!” Calia grinned hearing his words and then walked up to Socksie and gave the mount a warm hug. She then gave the thief a hard stare before making her horse step forward so the man was no longer pinned. He had no chance to run though and fell to his knees giving the ‘dapple-grey’ a hard stare. Elessar grinned darkly as he stepped up to his warhorse. “Wonderful job, Stormbreaker” he said with affection as he patted the black stallion on the back and whispered soothing words. Stormbreaker finally let go of the second man’s collar and part of his shoulder, gnashing his teeth and giving the thief a dark but also superior ‘Next time I will go for your whole shoulder’-look which made Elessar grin even further. “You are the best”, he whispered to his horse as he led him a little to the side and Stormbreaker whinnied as if he both understood and agreed. “Now then”, he said as he gazed hard upon the man who had also fallen to his knees, his rough face angry. It was indeed the dubious-looking man from the inn, the one Elessar had suspected would be trouble. “I had decided”, he began, “that once I caught up to whoever had stolen our two horses and valued companions on the road, I would give them such a thrashing that they would not be able to sit comfortably for weeks.” Unsheathing his blade, he pointed the tip at the man’s throat. “Now, on the other hand”, he added icily, “I think I will sever your right hand instead.. as a reminder not to steal other people’s property.” He saw the man’s angry face turn to fear. When the Warder’s sword went to his hand the man gasped that he was sorry. He begged for mercy, his voice desperate. Elessar had no intention of removing the man’s hand, but he did not know that. Elessar just wanted to put a fright into this thief who had dared to steal their beloved horses. Blood and Ashes, he stole Stormbreaker! Raising his sword, catching a glimpse of Calia’s face out of the corner of his eye, he let the blade fall.. but it whooshed past the man’s right hand with only an inch to spare. The man’s eyes were as wide as they could go but before he could enjoy the relief of still having his hand Elessar kicked him hard in the head and he lost consciousness as he fell to the ground, his head hitting hard. “Nothing more than you deserve”. It was a final whisper but he sensed that Calia had heard. Turning back to his Aes Sedai, his dark eyes were as hard as she had ever seen them. Hard as ice. He looked as deadly as she knew he was and she was glad he was on her side. Gazing at the second thief, Elessar nodded toward his bondholder. “Perhaps it is time to question this man about.. several things.” He saw agreement in her blue eyes. Pushing the man backward with his boots the Warder fixed him with his icy stare. “You better answer this Lady’s questions, quickly and honestly, or I may take your right hand instead.” Standing back, he waited for Calia to start the questioning of this man. ● Wake up, boy! The whisper in his mind made Faolahr angry. He was fed up with the voice which had become more and more insistent in the past weeks. No matter how much he tried to shut it out, it kept returning. And it kept whispering that he was a fool. A bloody fool. Gazing across at golden-haired Lady Oriana, her face radiant still after all the riding that day, all his troubles dissipated. His heart began racing and he wanted so much to walk across and kiss her. All over. He could not understand how he had not truly seen her incredible beauty before. She had always been a pretty woman to his eyes but now she was his reason for living. She saw his gaze and smiled that gorgeous smile that always made his knees go weak. It was a struggle to tear his eyes away, but he had matters that needed sorting. “My Lord Dragon”, he began somewhat tentatively, “we do not have sufficient supplies for the coming campaign.” The Master of Coin, as he had officially been named, an older grey-haired man with squinting light-brown eyes who looked like a scholar stared at a place midway between the Dragon Reborn and his Asha’man Advisor. It was safest that way in view of the Dragon Reborn’s latest.. temper tantrums. “With our Dragonsworn Army growing”, he added swiftly, “we do not have enough food to feed them for more than two more weeks.” His face turned downwards and he held his breath waiting for another tantrum. When none came, he looked up carefully and exhaled slowly. The Dragon Reborn sat quietly in his high armchair but his eyes were fastened on the Lady Oriana who was talking to another woman off to the side. Finally, Faolahr focused his gaze on his Master of Coin and sighed. “No matter”, he said, his voice distant. “There will be a solution.” ● Waving the man away, Faolahr left his chair and walked outside his tent. He stopped a few feet away and stared into the twilight sky. Darkness was coming. Darkness is here, you fool. The whisper made him half-turn even if he knew there was nobody there. Recently he had begun to wonder if the voice was his consciousness having a go at him. He could not quite understand what else it could be. What’s more, he had begun to doubt the campaign he was pushing. Why was there any point after all to grow his army from nation to nation? He had never wanted to be a conqueror. He wondered if he should leave the conquering to others and, in fact, renounce the title of Dragon Reborn. All he wanted was to be with Lady Oriana; to feel her soft skin on his face, to drown in her beautiful eyes, to touch her all over her body, to sink into her passionate loins. What more could there be to life? He did not say so to her though since she appeared very eager for this campaign. But one day he would. Oh yes, he would! Fool! He ignored the familiar whisper in his mind and returned to his armchair, first nodding to the two Asha’man guards who stood watch silently outside his tent. ● Crysanthia took a moment’s pause from her talk with the serving woman and stared at Faolahr. He was seated in his armchair - or the King’s Chair as some had started to call it - listening to the Master of Coin. She felt strong emotions every time she looked at him. He had become the love of her life just as she had hoped for. And worked for. He was still under her spell, as was necessary, but in time the weaves of Saidar, the Compulsion, would not be necessary and he would love her just as much back - and for real. And we shall rule this world together! The thought made it tingle all over her body and she beamed in anticipation! Turning back to the serving woman, the Lady Oriana gave her her orders and then sent her on her way. She saw Faolahr leave the tent for a moment and waited until he was back before departing herself. Passing the Asha’man guards, making sure they noticed none of her disdain for them, she walked further into the large camp. They were close to the border to Ghealdan and would pass into that nation in a couple days. The Dragonsworn were an army of everything: professional soldiers, amateur soldiers, advisors of many kinds, horse-tenders, healers, cooks, butchers, hunters, fletchers, blacksmiths and ladies of the night. Last but not least the hundreds of men and women and children who to some degree believed in the Dragon Reborn and in a new and better world and who had joined the campaign. Passing countless tents and small fires, and the bustle of talk and laughter and life in such a large camp filled with people and animals, Lady Oriana finally arrived at her destination. Her blue travelling cloak stood out in the orange glare from a small fire but then she disappeared into a tent and closed the opening behind her. The tent was empty but for a large wood-framed mirror beside a bench. Walking up to the mirror, she stopped a few feet away. It was framed in a decorative way with oak wood and interesting patterns. Three feet by two feet it was of some size as well. Embracing Saidar, she channeled into the mirror, the weaves thin but powerful. The glass changed colour and her reflection disappeared only to be replaced by darkness. Gazing into that darkness she wondered how long it would take for him to arrive this time. ● It only took a few moments and then Amaranth’s violet eyes stared back at her from the abyss. “It is about time you got back to me, Crysanthia.” His voice was hard, used to command. “Your personal missions take up much of your time. Too much”, he added dangerously. “I am doing the Great Lord’s work”, she replied which was the partial truth. “I am keeping a close eye on the new Dragon.” She tried to keep the love out of her voice but was uncertain how successful she was. “This is important for the Great Lord”, she added. “And you have ordered that he is not to be killed.” The violet eyes in the dark mirror tightened as if in anger, but all Amaranth said, was “Yes. He is to be kept alive. For now.” There was a long pause, and then the Leader of the Chosen said, “But you must inform me more often. Otherwise, I may begin to suspect that you are acting on your own, Crysanthia. And that would never do.” “I do not”, she responded, again hoping he would not catch the half-lie. “I serve and obey.” “As you should.” The violet eyes stared hard into hers but then became less and less visible before disappearing entirely into darkness. She channeled anew and the mirror gradually showed her reflection again, her golden locks falling in waves down her back. Her smile was secretive as she gave the mirror one last look, and then she left the tent and passed the man whose only purpose in life it was to safeguard that special mirror. Returning to the Dragon Reborn’s tent, a shadow moving through the camp, she wondered deep inside how much Amaranth really knew. ● Her clothes, an Aes Sedai travelling dress blue of colour (she had chosen Blue?), were dry and framed her body well.. There were some foothills in the distance and she started walking towards them. Everything around her seemed barren and dead, a wasteland bereft of hope. She knew, however, that this was a place of danger. Coming past a small ridge she saw what appeared to be a swamp of sorts off to her right. Something drew her instinctively in that direction, she could not tell what, but as she came nearer, she saw what seemed to be a six-pointed star in the ground near the edge of the soggy, dirty waters. She approached carefully, but then suddenly a huge creature with very long tentacles emerged in the swampy water and headed straight for her! It was incredibly quick for its size but Sovenhia was ready and composed! She threw fireballs at the creature and threw a ward around her just as it reached her. It pounded on the invisible barrier she had erected but was unable to breach it. Using the One Power, she threw another weave at the creature and heard it cry out in pain. She then moved to the side and twisted her body, attacking it again from another angle. This time she took it by surprise and her deadly weave hit it straight on and it sank silently beneath the dirty waters and was not seen again. Breathing a little more heavily from the exertion and exhilaration, she was nevertheless pleased she had removed the danger and been composed in the circumstances. Taking another look around to ensure there were no more immediate threats, she went to stand on the star. Fully focused she completed the right weave. It was a most difficult one that had to be completed just right but she managed it. Shining, colourful specks of light shone in the strange twilight for a moment as the weave came together, then dissipated. ● She nodded to herself and looked around for the archway. It was nowhere to be seen! Her eyes widened in momentary startlement.. but then she took hold of herself. Turning in the direction from which she had come, she started walking back. The colours of this place were strange, she noticed again, there was no sun in the sky, a kind of permanent twilight with neither night nor day beckoning. She had walked for quite a while (though time here could not be measured) when she of a sudden saw something to the south-west. Someone or something was approaching. Steadying herself, she held onto the One Power as the figure came closer. It was a Myrddraal. From descriptions of Shadowspawn by Brown Sisters in the Tower she knew that this could be nothing else! Her body tensed as the creature came closer and she readied her weaves. It stopped twelve feet ahead of her and she saw its muscular body and eyeless face, its lank black hair and waxy-white skin. She kept the instinctive fear at bay, keeping focus and readying herself. But then there was suddenly a scream from somewhere behind her! Turning swiftly, she saw what had to be a Trolloc, a huge beast with a bear-like snout, twenty feet or so away and it was about to crush the skull of a little girl. At the same time there was a buzzing sound off to her right. It was the archway! The poor little child screamed again and the Myrddraal came at her from the other side. For a split second she hesitated, uncertain what to do, but then she acted! She threw a weave of lightning at the approaching Myrddraal who was thrown forcefully back and turned to throw a fireball at the Trolloc. It barely missed them both. She knew she had to reach the shimmering archway before it disappeared, however, and so she sprinted towards it, leaving the others behind, and threw herself at the arch seconds before it was gone. Her last thought was one of deepest regret and sorrow for the little girl.. ● Sovenhia sat upright in bed, her eyes wide, sweat running down her back. The dream-memories of her Arches felt so real that it was as if she were being Tested again. She calmed her breath and then stared out the window into the darkness of the night. She felt Aran stir in the adjacent room and knew he had felt something through the bond. He never slept totally anyway in the way of Warders, the body somewhat alert even in the depth of night. Laying her head down on her pillow again she breathed more easily but echoes of the beasts from her Arches still remained in the back of her mind for quite some time. She had rented the two rooms for a couple days, needing a hideaway here in the Whitecloak Capital of Amador. The owners knew her as Mistress Mira, a merchant heading east. Her guard on the road, Mister Barehn, was a tall and strong man who gave the Amadicians a weary look. His long blond hair was tied in a ponytail and his light-blue eyes were alert and piercing. Aran played the guard role well though those in the know would see him for what he was. Hopefully no one here in this region would suspect that a Sedai was travelling with her Warder. Few Sedai headed this way unless absolutely necessary. Whitecloaks would kill a Sedai as a Darkfriend for little more than suspicion. Hopefully our journey will be a smooth one from this point onwards, the newly raised Blue Ajah Sister thought the following morning, as she washed herself in the small washstand in her room. Splashing water on her face, a face that many would say was handsome rather than beautiful, she stared back at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark hair had become longer during their weeks of travel, worn as well or so she thought, and her face looked wearier than she was used to. Her brown eyes gazed back at her as if to enquire whether she was really up to this task. You are up to it, girl! those eyes seemed to say. At the same time, she wondered if she really was. It was not normal that newly raised Sisters were given missions far outside the Tower straight away, but only a few months after becoming an Aes Sedai she had begged to be sent on this errand. She had bonded her friend and Warder of six months a week after being raised, trusting the man she had befriended as an Accepted and who had shown himself to be a competent fighter and sensible man who would complement her well as she saw it. Wanting to prove herself she had managed to impress upon the leaders of her Ajah that it would be useful for everyone if she were given a mission to complete. To prove herself. To prove her worth. And in the end they had relented. The journey had ended here in Amadicia but not quite as expected. ● Her orders had been to move subtly into Amadicia and to smuggle out a woman who had been an important Blue Ajah Eyes and Ears in Amador but who had been in great danger of discovery. They had found the woman but they had been discovered by Children of the Light who had captured the agent and they had barely escaped themselves. Through intermediaries they had later learned that the woman had been put to the Question and had been killed mercilessly. On the run from Whitecloaks they had stayed only a short while at each hideaway, Sovenhia blaming herself for the fatal blunder. Aran had told her time and again that it had simply been bad luck because their plan had been a good one, but she had struggled to accept his words. Only in the past days had she tried to put away some of the gloom and to think calmly and logically again. Risk was a part of their lives and sometimes they would fail. It was something a Warder and Sedai needed to come to terms with. The killing of the young Whitecloak a few days before, however necessary in defense of their own lives, still pained the young Blue and as she studied the map for the tenth time in the past few days she wondered if it could have been avoided. The Whitecloak had come upon them by chance and had drawn first. Aran’s blade had wounded the white-cloaked soldier mortally. It could not be helped. She tried to believe her inner voice. She had to. If she were to move on. The map showed small paths heading out of the city in a north-eastern and south-eastern direction. Her finger followed the path going south-east. It ran through the outskirts of the Capital and into the countryside beyond. And toward the town of Jeramel. A road that led into the nation of Altara and toward the Capital Ebou Dar. Her orders had been clear. If they failed in Amador, they were to travel to Ebou Dar where new orders would be given by a messenger. ● Joining up with her “guard” a little later, Mistress Mira said goodbye to the owners of the house, a trusted couple, and they rode slowly out of the city heading toward Jeramel. The body of the Whitecloak had been buried and would not be found but still it was sensible to get out of this place which was filled with Whitecloak soldiers in the streets. They were stopped a couple times but were believable as merchants in their wagon with wares and passed out of the city gates in late afternoon. Jeralem. And then Ebou Dar. Sovenhia thought to herself, seated beside Aran on the wagon, her plain travelling clothes blowing in the strong breeze coming out of the west. Hopefully we will find a way to redeem ourselves on our next mission. Her dark eyes tightened momentarily, but they then softened a little as she gazed at the four black carthorses that pulled their wagon. She had always loved horses and this team seemed sturdy and reliable. Carry us safely out of this shining White den of snakes and vipers, she thought earnestly as the horses took them along dusty roads and into well-travelled forest lanes. There did not seem to be any pursuit and so after a few hours riding they slowed down to rest the horses. Sovenhia exchanged a kind look with her Warder before they continued their journey. He was young and inexperienced but would grow into the role, of that she was sure. She gave him an encouraging smile and then turned to look in the direction they were going. Let’s be finished with this business, she thought to herself, so we can focus on the real business at hand. Fighting the Shadow! ● North-west of the abandoned Stedding Taishin, in a forested region north of the little-known River Ivo which flowed westwards out of the Black Hills and met the River Arinelle east of the Mountains of Mist, a strong northern breeze made the smaller trees on the outskirts of the woods sway in the wind. The taller oak trees further inside the thick forest did not seem affected by the wind though the leaves on their branches moved ever so slowly with the air currents, dancing as if holding the rhythm of life. This was an old forest, one that had seen centuries pass, and it had been tended by the Ogier in decades past. With their love of - and respect for - trees they had tended it lovingly for generations. In time the Ogier had moved on from this remote place and moved to more central and larger Steddings and the forest had been left to slowly decay. The old man with grey hair and a long flowing beard wearing a white robe that went all the way to the path on which he was walking thought about the forest and its deep secrets as he followed the path, touching brush and flowers, grass and small trees with his long staff, seeing everything bloom and reach out for beautiful life as he passed. It gave him joy to see his loving caretaking so welcomed by nature and he burst into song as he walked, singing the praises of trees, grass, flowers, brush, twigs, birds, animals and butterflies - of life in all its beautiful colours. “Come to life, tree and leaf Reach for the light in the sky Dance away decay and grief Embrace the green land high.” The small trees, their trunks and stems narrow, their branches thin, seemed to lean toward him as he passed and butterflies in a multitude of colours landed on his shoulders. The dominating tall oaks, the resplendent silver maples, red cedars, black-white birches, and the grand willow trees seemed to give a small shudder of pleasure when he pressed his staff against them and leaves that were beginning to turn yellow turned green again, young and fresh and filled with vitality and life. The old man’s eyes were smiling and his bushy eyebrows were raised in joy as he passed some small animals on the path, a rabbit and a squirrel and a wood mouse who seemed to look up at him with approval. His long wood staff which was smooth and white as snow glinted in the afternoon sun, warming everything he passed, as he continued his precious walk along the pathways of these wondrous woods that were his. Last of his kind, he was one with the land. The Forestal ▀▄

.. The Winds of Time .. ►▼◄ ~ A strong wind ~ formed high in the Mountains of Dhoom, borne on the Winds of Time, floating along the swift currents high in the sky over the Borderlands. It passed through the Shienarian capital city of Fal Moran where Varanis the Chosen, a medium tall, thin man with a slightly gaunt face with a scar down the left side and wild-seeming blue eyes, studied his latest painting which was coming alive before his approving eyes. To the west the wind drifted, through the Arafel capital city of Shol Arbela, where the woman called Sirih confronted the three scarcely clothed women before her, eyes downcast, and lay a knife against their bare throats. She whispered that traitors would not be long for this earth. Further west it swept, across the nation of Saldaea, passing over an army of Shadowspawn packed with Trollocs, led by several mounted Myrddraal, their eyeless stares fixed steadily on the northern horizon, their black cloaks still in the strong wind. Fierce northern currents heavy with rain pushed the wind south and east, drifting past Tar Valon with its towers and buildings of splendour, finally ruffling the leaves of several trees beside a villa just outside the city of Cairhien where Belarian the Chosen, a man grey-green eyed with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, sat closely studying a strange artifact, a dark crystal with ancient symbols, that he was holding in his hand. Drifting on now softer currents the wind turned further south, swirling as it touched the banners of Andor and swept into the city of Caemlyn. Nymeria the Chosen felt the breeze on her face as she walked confidently up toward the Royal Palace, her blonde hair almost shining in the strong afternoon sun. Onwards the wind blew westward across Andor to the town of Whitebridge. Standing on the huge milk-white bridge that spanned the River Arinelle, from which the town took its name, his dark cloak contrasting with the crystal glimmers around, Amaranth the Leader of the Chosen stared pensively into the horizon, his violet eyes glinting, as he saw his plans coming to fruition in his mind. A gust took the wind onwards on its long journey, turning south toward Murandy. Sweeping into the capital Lugard, stronger now in force, it brushed the dusty travelling cloak worn by Qariahna the Chosen standing before a dust-worn building speaking to a local Nobleman in a loud, imperious voice, before continuing through the city and westward. Passing through Ghealdan and the capital city Jehannah, making the banner of Silver Stars on a field of Red atop the Royal Castle ripple in the wind, it swept past Tinuviel the Chosen, her hair as fiery as her temper, who was seated in a small garden behind an enclosed house staring fixedly into a crystal ball which showed images of tall spires. The wind drifted upwards again and this time turned south-westward, floating on swirling currents into Tarabon. Down it went and ran through the little village of Serana where Denya the Black Sister stood beside the corpse of a dark-haired, attractive, strongly built young Taraboner man, touching the red blood flowing from his neck and wondering why another poor soul would not give her the answers she craved and needed. Westward the wind swept, borne by ocean breezes, to the Seanchan capital city of Seandar where the Seanchan Empress was making plans for the re-taking of their ancient lands in the East. Keyraa Erem Sani ne Paendrag, the Daughter of the Nine Moons, heir to the Seanchan Empire, listened to the conversation between her mother and her advisors but her mind was elsewhere that day. It was the Day of Reckoning. Storms in the Aryth Ocean forced the wind eastward again and eventually it passed through Amador, the capital city of Amadicia, where Sovenhia Taralth, newly raised Sister of the Blue Ajah, sat staring at a map in the hideaway she was using. She was Mistress Rina in this place, a merchant traveller on her way east. Her Warder Aran sat a few feet away, his light-blue eyes watching the shadows with strong intent. The dead Whitecloak lay still at his feet, the fresh blood darkening the man’s white robe. Onwards the wind swept, into Altara and the capital city of Ebou Dar where Zephyr the Chosen, a stoutly built man handsome of face with brilliant white shining teeth that deeply contrasted with his black heart, sat quietly on a park bench studying the figure of a man holding a sword in his hand. The figure was of marble and, more importantly, was an ancient Angreal. Smiling to himself, his almost black eyes glinted dangerously. The wind passed through Altara and swept east into Illian and its capital city where Lord Sandhar was entertaining a young brunette. She lay naked in his bed, her legs parted invitingly, stroking his chest softly, gazing lustfully down his naked body. In her mind though she was considering when would be the best time to kill him. Further east the wind went, dancing on the currents, passing into the nation of Tear where Tiragh Rendiana, Captain of the Stone, stood staring emptily into the distance beside the Stone of Tear. His grey-green eyes finally shifted to fix on the old woman before him who had just told him in a tearful voice of his niece’s death. At the hands of Darkfriends, or so it was said. Finally the wind turned northward and east, borne on newly formed strong currents, and swept into the desert lands of the Aiel. Passing through the village that was home to the Spine Ridge sept, it swept past the tent where a motherly Varthana, Wise One and Clan Chief’s wife, comforted a hugely disappointed Sirantha who would not go away and join the Far Dareis Mai after all. As the wind continued ever northwards, the currents softer now, it lost some of its force and vigour, and finally it came to rest at the darkened foothills of the ominous Mountains of Dhoom, its full circle completed. ● There was a creak in the floorboard outside in the hallway. Elessar was immediately awake and stepped out of bed and threw on a shirt and pants as he tip-toed across to the door. Another sound outside the door! Elessar held his breath for a moment, then threw open the door! Outside there was no one. Gazing up and down the hallway there were only shadows at either end. This has happened before! The thought struck him and he was puzzled because it seemed so strange. ● He closed the door behind him and listened for any sounds coming from Calia’s bedroom. She was still asleep or so it seemed from the sensations coming through the bond. Should her wake her? He took a step toward her bedroom door but just then there was a slight sound coming from down one end of the corridor. Turning abruptly, Elessar held the knife he had brought from his room before him as he stared into the darkness. Another creak.. ● Staring hard down the hallway he waited for whoever was there to make his move. The seconds passed and nothing happened. He started wondering if it could just be the wooden boards adjusting as wood in old buildings sometimes did.. but then again it could be something else.. Again he had the feeling that this was an echo of something that had happened before. Myhrri, are you safe? He felt a moment of confusion, but pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Another floorboard creaked.. Holding his breath, Elessar stepped slowly down toward where he thought the sound had come from. Peering into the dark, he waited for whoever was there. His eyes became gradually accustomed to the darkness and he studied the shadows, looking for the possible threat. Then the sound came from behind him! ● Turning abruptly. The Warder saw a shadow somewhere close to Calia’s’s door. He felt his Aes Sedai awake now and moving toward her bedroom door. He wanted to warn her but his voice caught in his throat as he heard another creak in the floorboard. Holding onto his blade, he readied himself to act. A small movement outside Calia’s door.. A shadow among shadows.. ● Elessar was a miniscule moment away from leaping toward whatever or whoever threatened outside his Aes Sedai’s door, when.. ..Calia opened the bedroom door - or was it Myhrri? - and peered outside, her pulse rising. Was there danger? Just as the Warder began his movement forwards, carrying his momentum into whoever was in the blackness outside his Aes Sedai’s door, the shadow detached itself from the shadows around.. A sound erupted from the black creature’s mouth.. Tiny globes of half-light where its eyes were.. And it leapt straight at Elessar! ● He jumped in spite of himself, a gasp of surprise! escaping his lips .. his dark eyes widening. Her eyes widened as well and she embraced Saidar! It was only as the creature sped past him with a feral scream, that the Warder realized that the intruder, their dangerous foe this dark and creepy night, was in fact.. .. the innkeeper’s huge black cat Rascal! Chuckles of mirth escaped Elessar’s lips and he shook his head, his pulse slowly decreasing. Dangerous foe indeed!! The cat had disappeared down the corridor and would probably not return. At least not at once. Perhaps it had been terrified of the lurking giant with a deadly blade standing there in the dark corridor. Or perhaps it had just been amused that this human creature would be interested in its nightly hunt for mice in the deserted hallways of the inn. Who knew the thoughts of cats.. They were, after all, Masters of the Universe. As a wide-eyed Calia turned into Myrrhi and back into Calia again before his stunned face, the sound of soft mirthful laughter came from afar. Echoes remained in the otherwise still hallway as Elessar gazed at his Aes Sedai almost as if disbelieving what he was seeing. Because he saw them both reflected in her eyes. His last thought before he abruptly awoke from his dream was, that this was impossible. ● Elessar lay for a long time awake in his bed in the darkness of night, thinking about the strange dream he had just had. It was part memories from years ago, part strangeness in that weird mixed-up partly surreal way dreams often were. The past merging with the present, what was with what could have been, as if the mind had a journey to make. And as if Myhrri and Calia were One. ● The next morning Elessar woke early, had a quick wash and did some exercises before meeting up with Calia in the Common Room for breakfast. He was thinking of the weird dream-memories he had had that night and it made him think of Myhrri, his former bondholder. He hoped she was doing alright; he had not met up with her again after their bond ended a good while back. She would always be a good friend. Smiling to Calia, he sat down by their table and ordered some morning caf and some bread and vegetables. ● While they waited for it to be served, the Warder reminisced the events of the previous evening. Mistress Mara’s amusing comment as they had walked up to their rooms, that he not scowl so much to avoid terrifying the locals, to which her Murandian merchant ‘brother’ with his presently curled mustache and small beard on the tip of his chin had given only a soft huff though inside Elessar had grinned darkly. His time in the reception when Calia had gone to take a bath. The shifty innkeeper and the equally shifty visitor. Returning upstairs to his room a bit later he had pondered on their situation and on whether he was seeing shadows where there were none. He had prioritized checking on their innkeeper before taking care of his personal hygiene, but he now intended to get his sweaty and smelly body over to the bath chamber. Just then there had been a soft knock on his door and a voice had called out “Brother?”. He had replied and the dark-haired woman with wide brown eyes set in a tanned face had entered. Mistress Mara. He had gotten so used to Calia’s different look and accent that he hardly paid it any attention by now. Once inside, with the door softly closed behind her, Calia had pulled a circle of knotted rope from the bag she had collected from her room. She had then made him stand close beside her and had lifted the circle up and over both their heads and spreading the circumference as wide as it would go on the floor. A ward of some kind so they could speak in confidence. She had stared at his face then as if she could sense the concern he bore stoically and had asked him, her voice low and calm, “What is it?”. He had told her his concerns regarding the shifty innkeeper and the shifty rough-looking man and they had talked a little about potential dangers there in Remen. Many travellers passed through Remen on their journey south towards Ebou Dar and it would not be inconceivable that there were Darkfriends presently in this village. The shifty-looking man might be just a local scoundrel.. or he could be something more. They needed to be alert. After this short but important conversation Elessar had excused himself saying he needed to get his sweaty smelly body over to the washroom and the gaze Calia had given him had told him it was a good idea. He had enjoyed a long soak in the bath, relishing the warmth and letting his muscles relax, soaping himself down from head to toe, washing the dust and grime from his skin, before returning clean to his room. When speaking to fellow Gaidin he always pointed out, however, that he preferred to soak in a cold forest brook. It was the truth. Of course it was. . ● A middle-aged blonde-haired heavyset woman with log-sized arms and piercing blue eyes, of dubious reputation, came with their food and drink. She did not give the Murandian man a second look and hardly seemed inspired to do anything but serve quickly and be gone. She mumbled an ‘enjoy your breakfast’ under her breath before turning swiftly and disappearing back to where the innkeeper waited at the other end of the room. A few tables were occupied, with travellers mostly, but on the whole the Common Room was empty and far quieter than it had been the previous evening. Elessar, the Murandian merchant, swept his gaze over the room alert as always but there was no sign of the shifty scoundrel. As they ate, they chit-chatted a little about the next part of their journey. They were edging closer to their destination, Ebou Dar, and both were excited and pleased to soon be getting there. After the morning meal, Calia went up to her room to pack while Elessar went to see to their horses at the back of the inn. The sun was rising in a blue sky with some clouds drifting in from the west and people were beginning to fill the street; locals, shopkeepers, merchants, travellers. No one appeared to take notice of the Murandian merchant who walked a little way down the street and then headed for the stables behind the establishment. A few minutes later the Warder -in the guise of the merchant- came sprinting up the stairs and knocked hard on her door. She had sensed him coming in a hurry and felt through the bond that he was concerned and so she opened the door a fraction of a second after he knocked. Calia saw the uneasiness on his face and, her stomach tightening, waited for the bad news. “The horses are gone!” Elessar said with consternation. His dark eyes tightened with concern and anger. “Someone has taken Stormbreaker and Socksie!” ● My dearest Triamohna, There is a time for everything and now Twilight is soon upon us! I rejoice to think of what is to come! You know of what I speak. The Rise of the Black Sun. As Shadows will cover the World in glory. When our Master Rises from his Sleep. All Glory to the Great Lord of the Dark! Your loving sister, Fiahna ● Serehstra walked along the corridor to her room in the Tarasin Palace, her pale red dress softly brushing the marble floor. She had finally recovered from the assassination attempt and would soon be able to move back to her room at the inn. The Queen was adamant that she stay as long as she needed and the Red Sister was appreciative. Coming up to her chamber, she opened the door softly and closed it behind her. She was surprised to find that the room was not empty. Voreyna stood by the window staring outside but turned as Serehstra entered. “Oh, there are you are”, the Gray Sister said. Her voice was a tad more welcoming than it had been on certain occasions in the past but it was not too friendly. “Voreyna”. Serehstra said as she faced the other Aes Sedai. “I did not expect you here.” Looking at the beige dress the other woman wore with its high neckline, Serehstra wondered if the woman ever had tried to wear something a little less.. dull. Not that one needed to wear near see-through dresses with very low necklines that Greens sometime favoured.. but a little colour and variety would not go amiss. She did not bother saying anything about it, however, since Voreyna probably saw the disapproval in the Red Sister’s eyes. “I wanted us to.. talk.” The Gray Sister began tentatively, her voice more friendly. She had noticed the other woman’s disapproving look at her dress but ignored it. If Serehstra wanted to flaunt herself, as if she were a flaming Green, that was her business. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Serehstra’s eyes narrowed slightly, wondering what Voreyna was up to. She would not be so friendly-seeming if not for a reason. What is your play, Voreyna? “Sure”, the Red Sister replied, and offered the other woman a chair. Sitting down herself, folding her hands, she waited for Voreyna to speak what was on her mind. Even as she waited her mind was still pondering on the big question: who had tried to kill her? For the thousandth time she wondered and for the thousandth time she had no answer. It was infuriating! ● Sunlight drifted in through the windows, light streaming into the chamber. The bustle of city afternoon life could be heard in the distance but only as fading echoes. It took a while before the Gray Sister spoke but finally she did. “The White Tower has gone.. quiet.” Voreyna’s eyes were inquisitive. “Have you heard from.. home lately?” Home was, of course, Tar Valon. It was a surprising question and Serehstra wondered what lay behind it. “I have not been in direct contact since I arrived in Ebou Dar”, the Red Sister said. “Only through intermediaries.” Voreyna understood that she meant Eyes and Ears. All Ajahs had Eyes and Ears in most major cities in the land and certainly in as important a southern city as Ebou Dar. “Is something worrying you, Voreyna?” Serehstra’s voice was smooth but not condescending in any fashion. She would try and be as friendly as can be since the Gray Sister appeared to be reaching out. Voreyna’s eyes tightened slightly but she replied calmly that no, nothing in particular, just that there seemed to be an unusual silence from the White Tower. “I am sure Mother has everything well in hand.” Serehstra added with a small smile. The Amyrlin was very capable indeed, a woman of great integrity, a woman to be trusted, even if some of the Sitters sometimes felt she was a bit.. demanding. Voreyna nodded though her eyes still had question marks in them. “Things are changing, Serehstra”, the Gray Sister said after a long silence. Folding her hands she closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again, meeting the Red Sister’s eyes squarely. “There are rumours that a storm is coming”. Voreyna’s voice was calm but serious, her eyes narrowing. “And this is a storm we must weather together.” ● “Your Keeper is becoming suspicious of you.” Erandel gave the Amyrlin a no-nonsense look, then shifted her gaze to the ancient parchment on the desk. It was part of the Amyrlin Seat’s private archives, documents few had ever read apart from Amyrlins and perhaps their closest advisors. They dated back to the Trolloc Wars. The Chosen thought with some amusement that she could, if she had wanted, have added much valuable information to these archives about the time the people now thought of as the Age of Legends, a time from which there were hardly any historical records. But she had much more important business to take care of. “She confided in me”, she added while she was reading the document. “Well, in Leihda.” A dark grin came upon her face. “Of all people, she chose Leihda. Which is fortunate for us.” Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat stared at the Chosen’s back and replied smoothly. “Tarah will not become a problem. She has always been somewhat of a worrier.” Closing the parchment, Erandel spoke again. “Even so”, she said lifting an eyebrow, “we need to keep an eye on her. It will not do if she starts sharing her.. concerns with others.” “She has no proof of anything; who would believe her?” Nadhene’s voice was calm and measured. “Still”, Erandel said, “we must make sure she does not talk.” Her eyes narrowed with a dangerous gleam. ● “You mean kill her?” The Amyrlin said. Her voice indicated that the killing would not bother her but that it might be inconvenient; she would rather her Keeper remained alive. “If necessary”, the Chosen said coldly. “But the important thing is that we know she is suspicious.” “Tarah is a good Keeper”, Nadhene said as she opened another ancient document on her desk. “She does her duties efficiently and well.” Finding the page she wanted, she started reading while speaking at the same time. “I would not care to have to teach some other Sister those tasks. That could take months.” “Perhaps you won’t have to”. Erandel replied, running a hand through her hair. “If she behaves.” Nadhene turned to face the Chosen now. “Do you have other.. options in mind?” She asked. Her face was Aes Sedai smooth though her eyes still had that empty look that would often remain for a good while after a Turning. “There are always options”, Erandel replied smoothly, her eyes glinting dangerously. “You should know that better than most.” The answering look in the Amyrlin’s brown eyes was unreadable, but she nodded in respect, knelt and said, “Yes, Great Mistress.” ● When the Chosen in the guise of the Green Sister Leihda Sedai had left the Amyrlin’s private chamber, closing the door softly behind her, Nadhene’s gaze shifted back to the documents she had been reading. Finally, she put them aside and opened a new parchment which was from the Amyrlin’s personal Eyes and Ears network across the land. The short message read: The Dragon Reborn is on the move. ● “Be a good boy, Sendril,”, the grey-haired old woman said emphatically, her dark eyes narrowing, “or Amaranth, Qariahna, Nymeria or perhaps Landroval will come in the night and take you!” The young dark-haired boy looked with huge frightened eyes at his grandma, half-hiding under his bed sheet, seeing Shadows in his mind, creeping under his bed to snatch him in the night. The nightmares she mentioned conjured up images in his mind that made it run cold down his back. In the dark, after his grandma had shut the door to his bedroom and gone downstairs, Sendril closed his tearful eyes and promised the Creator to be a very good boy from now on. ● The old woman descended the stairs and found a comfortable armchair to sit in. Gazing up towards her grandson’s bedroom, she shook her head. He had always been unruly ever since he was a toddler, but now at six of age he had become more than a handful. She needed to put some fright into him, to make him start behaving as a boy should. At least that was her opinion. Her son Sarik, the child’s father, was too lenient, she believed. He let his son do practically anything he wanted and hardly ever corrected him. It was up to her to sort it out. And sort it out she would. Thankfully there was no danger of the evil Forsaken coming to snatch her grandchild; but Sendril did not know that. Almost without thinking, she mouthed the comforting and ritualistic invocation, words whispered and spoken since the dawn of time: “The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time". It was a relief to know that it was so. And that the Darkness was just an ancient memory. ● ”Do not fall into Wells of Ignorance, For Nothing is certain Except that the Shadow Perseveres.” Old Shienaran proverb The Third Age ▀▄

.. A Vessel of Revelation .. ►▼◄ “So, Serehstra”, said the woman in the dark grey dress, amusement in her voice. “Who did you anger this time? A channeling man you were hunting?” Voreyna was trying to make light of the situation though they both knew this had been deadly serious. Serehstra had been an inch away from losing her life, or so at least the Yellow Sister, a Gareihna Sedai, who had Healed her had claimed. The Yellow Sedai had arrived in a huff, having been pulled away from certain important appointments in the city, but when she saw the Red Sister and Delved into her seeing the near-mortal wound she had become all business, throwing everyone out of the room so she could do her work. Much later she had invited the Gray Sister inside and let her see their patient. Serehstra had still been pale but a little colour had begun creeping back into her face and Voreyna had sighed in relief when told the Red Sister would live. Regardless of her personal feelings toward Serehstra, the Tower had few enough Sisters for what lay ahead as it was and could not afford to lose any more. The poisoned dagger had lain on the desk, warded. Eying it as one would a dangerous viper, Voreyna had destroyed it after the Yellow had left, feeling the filth of it permeating the air. Now it was gone, but the question still remained: Who had tried to assassinate the Red Sister? ● Serehstra lay in a bed in this more private guest chamber, a half-eaten meal on a plate on a bedside table. She gazed back at the Gray Sister who sat in a chair beside the bed and kept the frown from her face. This was not the time for teasing or barbs, but the woman had saved her life, she and the Yellow Sister who Serehstra did not recall from the White Tower, and so she deserved some gratitude. “I wish I knew who did it”, she said in measured tone. “It was like a shadow.. that I sensed out of the corner of my eye.. it was there.. and then it was gone.” She shrugged, her face neutral but deep inside she felt a gust of fear. How can anything take me so unawares. Meeting the Gray Sister’s gaze, she added, “I have been asking some questions here in Ebou Dar. Perhaps certain parties did not like those questions asked.” That was very cryptic but she was not about to share Red Ajah matters with the Gray. That was for her Ajah and it alone. Even though this woman had helped save her life. She did deserve some gratitude though. Raising herself up half-way in the bed, her face brightened slightly. “Thank you, Voreyna.” She was going to add something more, but then thought better of it. The Gray nodded with a half-smile, knowing that Serehstra would not find it easy to utter words of gratitude to her. Laying her head back on the pillow, the Red Sister closed her eyes and said she needed to rest and Voreyna quietly left the room, closing the door behind her. Some sunshine was coming in through the glass windows, between the heavy curtains, and Serehstra did feel the need to rest some more, but primarily she had sent the other Sedai from the room because she needed to think. Who had tried to kill her!? Who? Pondering on the situation and on what had happened, she ate the rest of the meal - feeling a deep hunger - and then lay silently in bed for several hours thinking, her train of thoughts dynamic, before she finally let sleep take her again. ● “So, Amaranth”, Dalimar said shrewdly as he studied the marble chess board before them. “You seem to be moving your pieces well.” That could be taken several ways just as they both knew. Amaranth half-grinned at the comment, his violet eyes glinting. He knew very well what the other Chosen meant. There were always layers of meaning behind Dalimar’s words which was why Amaranth enjoyed these conversations. It was a challenge to read between the lines with this man and Amaranth had always enjoyed challenges. “Well, Dalimar”, Amaranth responded smoothly as he moved another piece on the board, a subtle move but one with hidden possibilities, “strategy has always been important in this game.” That could be taken several ways also. The game of chess. But more importantly, The Game of Power. “Yes indeed”, the other man said with a grin. Too true. In every game. His brown eyes glinted too as if there were secrets hidden behind those eyes. ● Studying the man opposite him, the First among the Chosen wondered if the man was scheming against him. For as long as he had known him, Amaranth had had the impression that this ox of a man, dark of hair and skin and most often soft-spoken, would stay loyal to his commands. But Amaranth had begun to suspect everyone lately. Can it be that you too will betray me, Dalimar? He did not voice his thought, shifting his gaze back to the chess board and to the other man’s latest move, Knight to E4. Taking control in the middle of several important positions on the board. “And some pieces”, Dalimar added softly, considering the implications of his latest chess move, “do not always wish to be moved.” He met Amaranth’s eyes squarely and held his gaze. Amaranth stared back just as calmly, understanding another double meaning, wondering if there had been a challenge in those words. Am I reading too much into things? The Leader of the Chosen moved another piece on the board, Knight to F6 to neutralize the threat. “That is the way of the world.” Amaranth’s voice was soft now, softer than usual. “Pieces are moved.. and battles are won.” He leaned back in his chair and his fingers brushed his dark robe, loving the feel of silk. The white robe Dalimar wore gave a great contrast to his dark skin. Amaranth guessed that was why Dalimar often wore white. Studying the other man’s violet eyes Dalimar gave no instant reply but inside he wondered what battles the First among the Chosen was thinking of. There were many battles to be had these days. Against many an enemy. Moving his Warrior, a chess piece which could move diagonally in any direction, to E6, an offensive move, he sat back and considered the game. ● Dalimar had always enjoyed chess ever since his early days in Jalanda back in his earlier life. Chess was a game of strategy, a game of cunning, a game of skill but also of surprises. One wrong move and one could stare defeat in the eye. The risk enticed him and the ultimate glory of victory. In some ways chess felt similar to his other passion in life, chemistry. There was logic in the elements and in the way they were combined to produce results. Wrong combinations could result in failure at best, disaster at worst. At the University of Jalanda, he had shown his prowess in chemistry and in his free time he had shown his passion for chess. He had led a good life.. until he had seen society slowly beginning to break up under the arrogance of its leaders. Science had become stale, no new discoveries made, no innovations and just an arrogant view that all was perfect and would stay so forever. Feeling an urge to challenge this world view he had found that his strong opinions had been brushed away and, in some distinguished circles, criticized and over time this had made him seek out those of similar mind who believed there was something better, more exciting, more powerful out there, ready to embrace new challenges, new ways of thinking, and create a new world order. This had finally brought him to Shayol Ghul and he had sworn new Oaths in return for the promise of immortality. As one of those Chosen To Rule The World Forever. ● And now I have another chance to influence the world order. Dalimar thought cunningly to himself. In this new place, in this new time. “But we need to remember”, Amaranth added subtly after a long while, moving his pawn aggressively to D5, “that a Knight is a Knight. A Pawn may, however, become a Queen.” Dalimar stared smoothly back at the other Chosen, trying to interpret the other man’s words. A Queen? Is that a hint? In which case, which Queen? Amaranth had always been clever, strategically sound, and dangerous. Very dangerous. As long as he does not interfere with my schemes, Dalimar thought shrewdly as he moved another piece in response, a pawn of his own, all is well. “That is true”, Dalimar responded softly after a while, his hands resting comfortably in his lap, his brown eyes fixed on the marble chess board but with his thoughts on the scheme he was about to implement. “But at the end of the game, the King left standing, is the victor.” He raised his glinting eyes to Amaranth’s and his small smile was filled with secrets. ● Riding in front of his army, Faolahr Sahrin, the Dragon Reborn, left the gates of Bandar Eban, the Capital of Arad Doman, behind and headed in a southerly direction. At his side rode the Lady Oriana, advisor to the Queen of Arad Doman. She was beautiful and regal, long golden hair cascading down her back, grey-green smiling eyes watching him from time to time when he did not notice. Faolahr was pleased that his mission to Arad Doman had succeeded, with a treaty signed, very pleased indeed, even though he quite frankly somehow did not quite understand how it had happened. Or how it was that Lady Oriana had joined him on his quest. He remembered the Arad Domani Queen - another beautiful woman - the first time being somewhat sceptical of his proposals and speaking with caution as her husband, the King was apparently absent. The Dragon Reborn had left with no deal and with many questions. And then that night with Lady Oriana that almost seemed a blur.. He blushed thinking about it but then wondered why he was blushing. She was beautiful after all, and very desirable. And after that.. everything was somewhat confusing. When he had approached the castle a few days later, to try a final time to get the treaty signed, the Queen had suddenly been understanding and eager to sign, the caution of before gone. Her husband, the King, an elderly man in his late fifties with a strong jaw and a steely-eyed look, had also agreed, a strange smile on his face as he had signed the documents. Lady Oriana had sat in the background, her body still but eyes glinting, as the proceedings had been finalized. When she had added that it would be wise for her to accompany the Dragon Reborn on his quest to gather armies for the Light, as a representative of this new alliance, it had seemed perfectly logical and when the King and Queen of Arad Doman had nodded in agreement, he had felt it was the right thing to do, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head. ● And here they were, riding before a mighty force to which the King of Arad Doman had added five thousand soldiers and ample provisions. It was more than Faolahr could have hoped for, so why was he somewhat puzzled? Everything was logical, after all. Even if some details were somewhat.. muddled and confusing. The small voice in his head had gone silent after they had set off which was fine as far as Faolahr was concerned. He was tired of telling the voice to shut up. Gazing across at the Lady Oriana, resplendent in a pale blue travelling cloak, her face radiant, her long golden hair cascading down her back in waves, he felt his whole body tingle with desire. Her incredible beauty, her sensual body, her lustful red lips, so soft in their love-making, soft but also passionate, almost made him tremble. He did not know if she was the woman of his dreams, the woman who had saved him back then.. or if she just resembled her strongly.. but he no longer cared. She was the woman he desired and she desired him. That was all that was important. That, and the continuing quest for the Light. In which order, he sometimes could no longer tell. “We will ride for a few hours”, he said to Lady Oriana, his voice warm, his look adoring “before taking the first break.” Crysanthia nodded with a smile at him. She could see how her smiles affected him and could almost sense him stirring. Memories of their passionate love-making brought some redness to her cheeks. He may be young, but he certainly had stamina. For a second she felt a touch of regret for how she was using him, but then it was gone and she knew it was necessary. And he is so desirable. “That sounds good, my dearest.” She replied, her grey-green eyes smiling, her voice seductive. “I love riding as you know.” The double-meaning did not escape him and she was sure she saw him blush. His black stallion, a feisty horse who had become a close companion on the road, and her white bay mare, a horse of mild temperament but with ample speed, kept pace as they galloped southwards in Arad Doman under a beautiful blue sky and an orange sun, several black-cloaked Asha’man riding twenty or so paces behind them. The Dragonsworn army with soldiers and wagons with provisions, under the banner of the Dragon Reborn, followed at a slower pace. It is a good day, thought Faolahr happily to himself, to be alive. ● Elessar shared a long glance with Calia, his Aes Sedai, and waited for her to respond. He trusted her with his life just as she trusted him with hers. My life before yours. Alone at night, staring up at the ceiling or at the night sky depending on where they were, he often wondered how it was that they worked so well in unison, almost as if they were One. They had not been bonded very long, after all, and often it took time before a Warder-Sedai pairing functioned perfectly. I have been lucky. Again. Though they were clearly different as persons, with different personalities, they suited one another very well when it came to their service for the White Tower. Elessar had felt that kinship from the very start, similar to the one he had felt with his former bondholders, but there were never any guarantees that a couple in service to the Light would unite in purpose and effectiveness like in the case of Calia and he. He wondered if she were thinking the same thing. The impression she gave was, at least, that she was very pleased to have him as her Warder. That belief strengthened his confidence in the duty he performed. Gazing at her now, there they stood together in the shadows, he felt purpose, resolve and steadfastness in the silent connection between them that was the Aes Sedai-Warder bond. He also felt some concern sifting through which was understandable in this very volatile situation. Her glance was unwavering though and he knew she saw a similar unwavering glance from him. They were on a vital mission together and they would face united whatever waited, strongly and without hesitation. We stand ready. Words that defined them. “We need to leave,” Calia said, her voice a measured tone that belied her inner storm. "Now." Elessar’s dark eyes searched her face, seeing resolve in her icy blue eyes. There was clearly added danger here in this place and they needed to leave it straight away. He trusted her judgment. She has sensed something. His eyes went to the now lone figure in the distance. Calia leaned closer and whispered concerns she had and gave him the bare outline of a plan and Elessar listened intently while keeping a close eye on the darkness surrounding them. He nodded his agreement when she had explained, agreeing with the option she described. She added that they move fast and they change as often as night turns into day, and with those last words they set off together. They moved swiftly through the dark streets of Lugard, Elessar alert as always and doubly so at the moment, Calia focused on the road ahead. Some time later, as shadows merged in dark alleyways, they reached their destination. ● The stables of the Hanging Noose loomed ahead, shadows creeping here and there about the walls in the dim light of early evening. Even from a distance, the structure smelt of dirtied straw, damp hay and worn leather. Elessar knew that the stable hands would have retired to their dice and taverns by now, but tonight at least, he was grateful for their bad habits. A glance exchanged with Calia confirmed their sentiments were shared. While Calia saw to her mare who was somewhat skittish at the moment, Elessar walked across to his black stallion and patted the staunch warhorse on the back. The two mounts had become friends in the time they had been together, something which pleased but also surprised the Warder. His horse had, after all, been bred for war and was usually of a solitary nature, periodically also a little grumpy and feisty. Stormbreaker had taken to the mare, however, almost in a protective way mirroring his master. Giving the black stallion a caring pat on the nose and a few whispered words of affection, to which Stormbreaker nickered softly in response, he led him forwards and joined Calia and Socksie as they crossed toward the building. Elessar heard the words Calia whispered to her horse and smiled inside. Neither horse responded. Had either replied, be it in Andoran dialect or the Tongue of the Borderlands, the Gaidin’s eyes would have gone as wide as the stable door. Then, he would have promptly sat down and had a good long talk with Stormbreaker about the tragic lack of variety in the black beast’s diet. Calia soon set to work with her plan while Elessar stayed alert, his eyes sweeping over their surroundings. His Aes Sedai had not given him all the details but he approved of what she had told him. It was a clever move - and prudent. She sensed added danger here in Lugard and he agreed it was wise and necessary to leave. And to do so in a way not anticipated, and hidden. According to Calia it would hopefully be quite some time before anyone realized the Aes Sedai and Warder had departed Lugard, despite having left 'their' distinctive mounts behind. Together they stepped silently into the stables. Elessar re-arranged the horses and provisions and belongings on the two horses with practiced ease. His Warder training kept his emotions in check but while he was packing, he was thinking about the journey ahead. They still had a long way to go to reach Ebou Dar. And there would be further stops before that. The journey is dark, but we will prevail! When he was done, he waited in silence, his hand resting loosely by his side, sword within instant reach. Calia spoke to her horse in whispered tones and the mare snorted appreciatively as if understanding every word. "Trust no-one but your self, and yourself not too much,'" she confided, and then set to work. ● Later they were mounted upon two very different-looking horses than the ones they had arrived on. Elessar remained stoic, even beneath his woven disguise, alert as always. Apparently, he was now a young blond man atop a dull roan or so at least Calia claimed. Thinking about it, he had always wanted to be blond, so this was simply marvellous! Stormbreaker snorted in response, though whether it was from Elessar’s amused comment or from the fact that he himself was supposed to be a dull roan, it was hard to tell. Perhaps both. The Warder swallowed a chuckle when his stallion stared at him with a not very amused look. Calia, however, was now a dark woman and pretty much the opposite of what she normally looked. She probably loved her somewhat exotic look. They were quite a couple, the two of them. And no one, surely, would know them for who they were. Calia spoke softly and said that they wouldn’t look back and that they would keep their heads low until they were far, far from there. Elessar gave a solemn nod. Though he did not know everything, he saw the implications just like she did and knew it was the right decision. Together, as One, they eased the mounts from the stable and made their way out of Lugard subtly and carefully in silence, passing dark alleyways and darkened streets with practiced caution. Moving as two perfectly non-descript travellers atop two perfectly non-descript horses leaving the sounds of boisterous merrymaking in inns and taverns behind. ● They finally reached the edge of the Murandian Capital with fewer buildings around and with open fields in the near distance. Further away would be the hills in the countryside and forests. Riding along the dirt road, a soft wind ruffling his Warder’s cloak, Elessar kept his alertness, as always ready for any danger. With the recent episodes in mind, it was prudent to be especially aware this night. The sounds of Lugard drifted away into the distance behind them, like echoes on the wind, soon lost in the shadow of the darkened ground. Elessar rode just ahead of Calia, looking back over his shoulder at intervals to see if there was anyone behind them. He was trained to use his night vision and it was a skill few had on the level of Warders. Calia’s face looked slightly less strained when he caught her stare. It was to be expected now that they were out of that shifty city. He met her gaze with a look of unyielding resolve. "We," Calia said, drawing her horse close to Stormbreaker and looking up at her Gaidin, "are going to need some serious speed on the path ahead." ● A week or so later, the days sometimes passing in a blur of riding, resting, eating and more riding, they arrived in the small village of Remen in north-eastern Altara. The village was situated only some miles from the border to Murandy and it lay on the Lugard Road, or at least its extension which ran all the way south to Ebou Dar. The village was just like any other they had come across on their journey, filled with dust and dirt and weary villagers as well as travellers of all kinds. As they rode into Remen on a sunny afternoon, a strong wind from the east making it feel chillier than it really was, they both felt weary after hard riding for many days and looked forward to sleep in a bed and to dine inside. There had been several wet, rainy nights in makeshift camps in the woods since leaving Lugard and they had stopped at few inns, wanting to travel fast and to remain inconspicuous despite their disguises. Here they would, however, spend a couple days also to rest their tired horses. Most importantly though, there had been no further incidents since the Murandian Capital and it seemed for the moment at least that they were free of Shadows. Stopping before one of two inns in the village - the ‘Staunch Ox’ the worn sign read above the entrance door - Elessar took both their mounts and walked steadily to the back of the tired-looking building and delivered them to a young, scruffy stable hand who promised to take good care of them. Stormbreaker looked at the scruffy lad with some scepticism and the look was shared by Socksie, but they let themselves be led into the stables. Afterwards Elessar carried their saddlebags and belongings inside the inn where they were met by a thin innkeeper with a sour face wearing a dirtied apron. The Warder had always been sceptical of thin innkeepers, it just did not suit the profession in his mind, and so he kept a weary eye on this one as the bald middle-aged Altaran with his shifty eyes showed them to their rooms. Calia’s room was of fair size and looked decently clean while Elessar’s room adjacent was smaller but more than adequate. They unpacked their belongings and afterwards Calia met Elessar in the corridor with a big smile on her face. She was going to enjoy a lovely bath! ● Elessar had never known a woman, Aes Sedai or no, young or old, poor or rich, who did not love a hot bath, especially after many strenuous days on the road, and he bade her enjoy it! As she disappeared down the corridor, a smile upon her Aes Sedai face, he went down the stairs to the reception area and found himself an armchair in the corner where he could sit and observe everyone. Including the innkeeper. Perhaps especially the innkeeper. He also needed time to think. They were closer to Ebou Dar now and they both were eager to reach their destination. There were still details he did not know regarding the object of their search, but he had the information he needed for now. Calia would inform him of the rest later, if needed. Ebou Dar. He had many memories of Ebou Dar from previous visits with his bondholders. Some good, some bad. Some unforgettable. A beautiful city filled with many white shiny buildings, plazas and fountains of beauty and wonder, but also a place of danger as were most large cities. His train of thoughts was cut off, as a rough-looking fellow of middling age with long unkempt hair and a scarred face came through the door and walked up to the shifty-looking innkeeper standing behind his counter. He whispered something in the innkeeper’s ear to which the bald man nodded fiercely. Then he appeared to give the other man several coins which the innkeeper pocketed quickly. Throwing a quick glance at Elessar seemingly slouching in his chair, the rough-looking man then departed the establishment and shut the door behind him. That man will be trouble. Elessar thought to himself as he returned to his room upstairs a little later. He had seen enough troublemakers through the years to recognize them on sight. You can bet on it! ● “Leihda”, Tarah began in a measured tone. “I don’t know quite how to say this, but.. mmm.. do you think.. Mother.. is different after she returned?” She stared at the tall, blond blue-eyed woman in her pale green dress seated across from her sipping her tea and wondered again if it had been a good idea to approach her. She did not want to seem weak or hesitant.. that was never wise for a Keeper who wanted to stay Keeper for long.. but she was at her wits end and in near desperation she needed a second opinion. Sipping her own tea slowly, she waited patiently for the other woman’s response. “Different?” Leihda finally replied in a smooth voice. Her blue eyes studied the other woman closely, like a hawk studying a potential prey. “In what way?” Tarah waited a few moments before responding. She was not sure how much to reveal, but she needed to add something to what she had said already. “She seems.. even more closed off than before.” She began tentatively, touching the side of her grey dress as if its smooth texture would add to her confidence. “Even less trusting in our conversations. It just surprises me, that’s all.” The Green Sister studied the Keeper shrewdly before replying. She could see that Tarah was struggling to maintain Aes Sedai composure. This meant the other woman was indeed very much upset and worried. “Oh, I think it’s nothing to be worried about”, Erandel the Chosen replied very smoothly. Her blue eyes glinted. “She just has many things on her mind, that’s all. Her mission outside the Tower, whatever it was, has probably taken a toll on her. The Amyrlin will be fine.” As fine as can be, for her, she added silently in her mind. “But.. there are Tower matters she needs to deal with”, Tarah added, unable to hide the worry in her tone. “Matters she disregards as unimportant. It is becom..” “Don’t worry, Tarah”. Leihda’s voice had seeming empathy now. “She will have everything in hand, just give her some time.” ● The Keeper’s brown eyes narrowed slightly. Can it be that I have misjudged the whole situation? Had the Amyrlin just reconsidered the matters they had decided on? Did she just need more time as Leihda claimed? It did not make sense to her, something inside her protested strongly, but what she replied instead was, “I am sure you are right. My worry is probably over nothing.” Erandel studied the Keeper closely as she sipped her tea, holding her cup before her face, wondering if this was a fly to be squashed. “I am sure you have more important matters to focus on, Tarah”. Leihda Sedai added squarely. “The Tower never rests.” Tarah saw the Green Sitter’s eyes glint amusingly and felt a moment’s embarrassment for having brought up the issue. She had chosen Leihda to talk to because she was one of the Aes Sedai who seemed to be the most in contact with the Amyrlin lately and therefore might best understand if there was something.. different.. about her. She had not spoken much to Leihda before, it was not that usual to ‘cross the floor’ as it were to other Ajahs, but the Green had seemed approachable. Now her last words almost felt like a dismissal, and so Tarah knew the talk had come to an end. “I am sorry to have bothered you on this fine afternoon, Leihda”, the Keeper said finally, placing her empty teacup on the table before them. “Thank you for taking the time to talk.” She gave the Green Sitter a tentative smile and then, her face Aes Sedai-smooth again though inside she was still deeply concerned, left the room, closing the door behind her. Erandel’s eyes tightened as they stared after the departing Keeper. It would not do to have the Keeper of the Chronicles nosing about in affairs that were not her business. They did not want any suspicions that the Amyrlin was anything but what she had always been. The Chosen would have to keep a close eye on Tarah in the days and weeks to come. And if necessary, she would be dealt with. Permanently. ● The Globe of Light filled Sandana’s vision until it was too bright to gaze on. Shielding her eyes, she stepped backwards but then felt the wall at her back and she could not move further. Her child-like eyes were filled with some fear but also wonder and she caught her breath as the globe swelled further. Then, suddenly, a pair of arms reached out of the globe, two female hands beckoning. A soft voice sang in her mind. A song of beauty and hope. And now she understood. It was the Summons she had dreamt about. She moved slowly forwards and away from the wall, confident now, as the light lessened slightly, reaching for those gentle female hands. She felt warmth run through her as their fingers touched and she became breathless in anticipation. Tears of joy ran down her young beautiful face, and then she became One with the Light. ((((((((((((((((((((((O)))))))))))))))))))))) .<>Time standing still<> and it was as if a moment was repeated in her mind.. .. She was back with the Twelve female figures in long white cowled tunics, decorated with strange symbols and paired with belts in shining silver. The palace interior one of pure white marble, thousands of small marble bricks fused together in a way that it almost looked to be one massive piece of eternal white. The shape of the central chamber was one of eight straight sides, a beautiful structure symbolizing the octagon that stood at the centre of their Order. A soft light started to glow from all eight sides of the octagon that formed the hall. A symbol also detached itself from the ceiling high above, a shining Star two paces wide, and floated downwards toward them. Sandana sat on the throne of white marble. Smiles could be seen on several of the women’s faces; euphoric smiles, happy smiles, expressions of awe - and wonder. The woman who had led the small procession, a tall handsome blond-haired woman of middling years standing beside the throne, raised the hood of her white cloak and faced the other women. Her eyes were pale green and they sparkled now. “We are One”, she intoned and the other Sisters repeated the words in clear voices. “The Winds hear our Voice.” Gazing at the little girl, the woman smiled warmly. “And You, Vayasha, are the One prophesized.” She added passionately. “You are the Octagon.” Placing a small emerald stone on the little girl’s forehead, she spoke words of Resonance and the green stone, delicately cut with eight equal sides, now seemed a part of the skin. All the women knelt and bowed before her, their white robes touching the marble floor reverently. The Chamber sang with white Radiance - and the Star above stopped its descent and remained positioned ten feet above the throne. Sandana’s eyes Watered in Delight - and her Smile was as Warm as the Sun. ● Pulled through the Portal Stone colours swirling in her mind, in never-ending combinations the brightness swelling a soft wind blowing from nowhere an ocean of sapphires and dancing butterflies in a meadow of small suns And she finally settled, as the world stopped spinning, and gazed calmly at the familiar beautiful women in white cowled tunics who waited in the circle of tall standing stones inscribed with octagon symbols; and she smiled warmly. This was a new place, a new world and somehow she knew that she belonged. She was home. “I am Sandana”. She said with a triumphant and dazzling smile of Light. “I am the Octagon.” Silver light streamed from her body, like a S t a r in their midst, as if from a Vessel of Revelation. “I am The Oracle.” (((((o))))) Thunder followed her Pronouncement In a Sunlit Sky Ocean-Blue Starlight spreading in Waves Heralding a Prophecy Fulfilled! ▀▄

.. The Shadow of the Seal .. ►▼◄ “Your mission”, Amaranth said softly, “will be to find the Seal - and to bring it safely back to me.” Tinuviel met Amaranth’s stare with one just as intense. Her blue eyes which never sparkled did sparkle now. The neck-long red hair which framed her fierce face was as fiery as her personality. She touched her face delicately with one hand, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath her fingers. It was one of her mannerisms that she knew amused Amaranth. Her lips were painted blood-red which made a great contrast to her pale complexion. Opening her mouth slightly, in a very sensual way, she deliberately did not respond for a long time. She just kept staring back at the First among the Chosen, her stare hard. Amaranth’s face hardened, his violet eyes tightening, and any amusement he had felt disappeared. Of all the Chosen Tinuviel was one of the least obedient. She did not show him the respect he was due and that infuriated him. It had always been so. But she had her uses and this mission would suit her well. She had always been a loner among them, preferring to work on her own, not trusting anyone or anything. Even so, he needed her to understand the importance of this mission and that she had to succeed. “You do understand”, he added in a somewhat sour tone, “don’t you?” Tinuviel kept staring back at him, thinking what a bastard he was, but finally replied. No matter how much she despised him, and all men if truth be told, she knew she did not want him as an enemy. That could be deadly and she very much wanted to stay alive. She had many more men to kill to atone for the horrors that had been done to her. “I understand, Amaranth.” Her tone was neutral but her blue eyes kept sparkling. “I will do as the Great Lord commands.” ● She deliberately said ‘the Great Lord’ and not ‘you’ and enjoyed the slight frown that came upon his face. They both knew the command had come from the Great Lord, passed down to the Chosen even if Amaranth would think of the command as his. Amaranth ignored the barb however, focusing on what was important. “Good, Tinuviel.” The First among the Chosen replied, his violet eyes now sparkling. He took a sip of red wine from the cup on the marble table before them and savoured its taste. Lifting his violet eyes so they were parallel to Tinuviel’s he wondered how far he could push her. Not too far. Not if he expected her to be useful. He watched as she took a sip from her own cup, raising it to her red lips in a very sensual way. He greatly doubted any male would feel the softness of those lips. “And Tinuviel”, he added softly, as if an afterthought, once she had placed the cup back on the table. “Do not feel tempted to destroy the Seal yourself. That would be very unwise.” His violet eyes hardened to the point of ice and she could see her own death in those eyes. “Of course,”, she replied, her voice as modest as she could make it. “I hear and obey.” ● Leaving the marble-tiled chamber, she walked slowly into the smaller, neighbouring room and opened a Gateway to her base in this new world. The hall was empty as it should be, the tall white pillars framing a large chamber with pale red walls. Stepping through, she closed the Gateway behind her and wandered down the corridor until she found her personal room. Well inside, she removed her ruby earrings, her two golden rings, her pale red dress and her underclothes. Wearing only the red crystal necklace with the star-shaped medallion that was an ancient Angreal, her favourite piece of jewellery, she stared at her naked reflection in the tall-standing mirror. Her hard face softened a little as she ran her fingers down her body, over her shapely breasts, her stomach and down to the red patch between her legs. That she was still able to find pleasure after what had been done to her years ago was something she did not quite understand but appreciated more than anyone could know. Lost in passion was the only way she felt truly free. Turning around slowly, she stared at the naked woman laying invitingly in the large bed that dominated the room and her blue eyes sparkled even more. Tinuviel felt her body responding too and her voice was seductive as she said, “Those soft lips of yours look.. inviting.” The woman smiled lasciviously back, her blonde hair looking newly washed. She lay with one arm on the pillow and the other across her stomach. “A woman’s touch”, Tinuviel added softly, almost like a whisper, feeling that thrill which she feared she had lost ages ago, “is always the best.” When they kissed, body against body, it was the first of many. And it was only much later that her red crystal necklace with the star-shaped medallion was removed. ● To Elessar’s question whether the professional thugs or assassins knew who they were trying to kill, Calia replied that she did not think so. Glancing down the dark alley she added, “After all, who would be fool enough to attack an Aes Sedai and her Warder as they stroll through the shifty shadows of a backstreet alley?” He saw her lopsided grin and gave her a similar grin in return. It was indeed very likely that they had not been told who they were going to dispatch. It had been a deadly surprise for the trained killers. ● Elessar gazed down the dark alley wondering how far the killer would run. Would he lie in wait for them beside an abandoned building? Or would he go for reinforcements? Or would he call it a day and look for other, easier prey? The Warder shifted, his eyes now fixated on his bondholder, waiting for her to decide their next step. She felt calm through the bond but he often found it difficult to tell just as had been the case with his previous bondholders. He had long suspected that the Aes Sedai could control - for lack of a better word - the bond to a more accurate extent though none of his Sedais had confirmed it. He needed to see her face and to hear her thoughts. “We can find him - if we want to,” Calia murmured, her voice just low enough for Elessar’s ears alone. “When it’s time.” He nodded in the darkness. She would explain herself. He did not need to know how it was to be done, just that it was. A few moments later she added that it was potentially risky depending on who the men were and why they had targeted the Aes Sedai and Warder as they had. And, who they might ultimately be linked - or have been linked - to. Elessar noted the slight edge to her voice though she still appeared calm. It was understandable in the circumstances. He shared her suspicions that these killers could be linked to their mission, linked to the Shadow.. even if they had no proof as of yet. "So. We only act on this if we are both in agreement. Do you want to follow him?" Calia asked Elessar, emphasising the fact that she would not be acting further on this matter without - or against - joint input." ● Elessar kept his gaze connected with Calia’s as he considered their situation. First of all, he was glad of being asked. Though Aes Sedai-Warder teams were meant to work in tandem, he knew from other Gaidin that some Sisters of the White Tower did not involve their Warders much in their decision making. The decision was, after all, the Aes Sedai’s, but a wise and prudent Sister would listen to her Warder in a dangerous situation (and elsewhere) and weigh his opinion. That Calia so readily asked for his opinion and even more so said they would have to be in agreement to go forwards with her idea, showed trust in him and respect for him and that he valued and appreciated. As for the decision to be made, what were the alternatives? To let this matter be and continue their mission even if it could mean them being followed by the remaining killer or others in his employ? There was risk in that even as there was risk in hunting down this killer. He did not think either of them thought this attempt on their lives was random. Neither Calia nor he believed in coincidences. He shared these thoughts with his bondholder, his voice making it clear that he appreciated her trust in his judgment. They were in agreement and decided to chase down the killer whoever he might be. ● They moved swiftly but without urgency through the city streets of Lugard. Elessar did not ask how she knew exactly which paths to take, he trusted her and her abilities. The Warder’s eyes swept over everything in the way of his kind as they traversed the streets, noting every detail and looking for any danger. They entered a marketplace which during day hours would be filled with traders hawking their wares and customers haggling. Now it was almost empty. He heard her murmuring that their prey was still moving, her head barely turning toward him, and he nodded in return, his eyes scanning the darkness of their surroundings. He added in a low voice but with an edge of steel that they needed to find out who had sent the killers. It was an obvious statement, mainly voicing his thoughts, but as they slowly closed in on their prey the importance of those words increased. As they approached the end of the marketplace, Calia slowed her step. Her voice barely a whisper, she said that the assassin was either hiding or meeting someone. Elessar exchanged a glance with her and she added that they needed to be ready. Further along they reached the corner of a narrow side street where Calia stopped and waited for a moment. Then a little later they reached the mouth of a shadowed alley. Elessar met his Aes Sedai’s gaze, his dark eyes unreadable but alert. His hand rested on his blade, ready for whatever awaited. They approached very carefully in the silence which was only broken by the murmur of voices from a nearby tavern. Turning a corner, they saw their prey at last - a shadow in seeming conversation with another figure, cloaked and hooded. Elessar’s eyes narrowed as he studied the two figures and their current dark surroundings. Something about the way the assassin held himself made the Gaidin believe he was pleading.. perhaps to his superior. Perhaps he was worried about the consequences of his failed mission. It was difficult to tell since Elessar was unable to hear what was being said. The hooded figure had a cold voice though and though he could not hear the words the Warder was certain they were admonishing. ● Calia tensed then and sensing it he turned half toward her before focusing even harder on the scene before them. Holding his breath in suspense, feeling the darkness closing in on them, he exchanged a look with his bondholder and now felt concern coming through the bond. She has sensed something. An added danger. The thought swirled in his mind as he focused again on the two figures some way away. This could complicate their plan. If this other person was a great threat, then it could be too dangerous to strike as they had planned. The air between them seemed to hang thick with tension as they kept staring at the two figures who were still in conversation or, rather, it was now mostly a monologue by the hooded figure, chastising the assassin. What were they going to do? Elessar motioned to Calia for them to draw further back along the alley so they could discuss their options. She understood his intention and moved together with him until they were further away but still in sight of the two figures. Only then did Elessar whisper: “I sensed that you felt the other hooded figure to be a great threat”, he said softly, giving her an even look. “Chastising the assassin in that way, at least that’s the way it seemed to me, indicates it is a person of authority and power.” He did not need to add that it was more than likely a Darkfriend or at least someone associated with the Shadow. Presuming their suspicions with regards to this attack were correct. But he believed they were right in their thinking, and that made this an even more dangerous threat. “Do we continue with our plan?” He whispered, shifting his gaze to the two figures in the distance and then meeting her eyes squarely. “Or should we reassess the situation?” ● “You are to obey. That is all. Your excuses are pitiful!” Qariahna looked sternly at the man before her from beneath the hood of her dark cloak. She had been assured this special member of the local thieves’ guild was a professional but now she wondered. “Yes, but..” he pleaded. “I was not told..” “You are told what you need to know.” The Chosen’s voice was cold as death. “That should be enough.” “Yes, but this is an Aes Sedai..” His voice was more pleading than he preferred, but this woman had terrified him in his dreams and very few things terrified Lethal Jim. “Stop this pathetic whining”, Qariahna said with disgust in her voice. “Tell me why you failed.” Anger made her embrace the source, Saidar flowing through her veins like a potent river of well-being. She drew even more of the One Power, almost as much as she could safely handle, and gloried in its wonderful feel. Staring hard at the cowering figure before her, she was almost tempted to take his life, as an example to others of the price of failure. But no, he could still be of use. His voice lower now, he promised he would do better and succeed with his second attempt. He would need to alter his plan though and get some added assistance. Qariahna nodded but told him this was his last chance. Pointing her finger at his chest, she channeled and a very thin weave of Spirit and Fire burned a pattern into his skin marking him as hers. He grunted in pain for a moment, then sullenly looked up into the face in the hooded cowl. He could not see the face clearly but those very dark almost black eyes bore into him like a sledgehammer, eyes he recognized that haunted him in the night. With a few final commands the Chosen let him go. For a slight moment she shifted her gaze to the end of the alley, as if sensing someone was there, but then she shrugged and walked slowly into the Shadows at the other end and further into a nearby alley and was gone. ● Taeda din Varede Four Moons gazed out at the blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean and sighed. Things were happening too fast. But also, too slow. The threat coming from the west was real. And the Coramoor had arrived as the prophecies had foretold. But they had been unable to discover where he was and so had not sent any emissaries yet. The Darkness is coming. She felt it in her bones and it made her confidence waver. Not so anyone saw, of course, but privately in her own quarters before bedtime. When she questioned her decisions in her heart, hoping that she would be worthy of what was expected of her and of what was to come. Sometimes the burden of being the Mistress of the Ships was heavier than she would have wanted, but she was a stubborn woman and she would carry that burden with strength and with pride come what may. Her dark eyes narrowed as she studied the horizon, almost as if expecting the enemy to appear at any moment. Twilight was almost upon them here in Aile Dashar and the last vestiges of sunshine touched her near white hair making it shine for a moment, like a piece of Light in the Darkness. ● Her face then resumed its hardness, carved of iron as she knew her Sailmistresses called it behind her back, and she turned to face the Wavemistress and the bound prisoner. Her Windfinder stood off to the side eying the bound woman angrily. The traitor. They had finally found the traitor but not before the woman had killed two of her Sailmistresses. “Let me phrase the question in a different way”. Taeda said, her voice hard as stone. “What was your purpose in infiltrating the Atha’an Miere?” Studying the bound woman, bound by weaves of the One Power too strong to break, she wondered who had put the glamour on her. Who had made this woman in her mid-twenties with long brown hair, light-brown almond-shaped eyes and a pale complexion look like one of them, one of the Sea Folk, so she could pass among them unnoticed? And why? The Windfinders had no answers but said an intricate weave had been put on the woman, an inverted weave they said, though that meant little to the Mistress of the Ships. The woman could not channel herself but whoever had placed the glamour could indeed channel - and do it very well. It had been by chance that the glamour had been discovered, or so at least her own Windfinder claimed without going into details. As for who had set the weave? Aes Sedai seemed the prime suspects, though Taeda could not quite understand how such an action would benefit the White Tower. “I don’t know anything”, the woman whimpered again. “I can’t remember anything from the last few weeks.” She shook her head, her eyes watering. “To be honest I don’t even know how I got here.” Taeda remained silent for a long moment. She saw their prisoner turn her face upward and stare at the six rings she had in each ear, a sign of her high station, and numerous medallions on the chain connected to her nose, and sighed. Perhaps she was telling the truth. Was it possible to be made to forget like this? She would have to talk to her Windfinder. First though, she would interrogate this woman some more. They needed answers. And quickly. ● “How did this happen!?” Voreyna’s voice was harsh as she stared at the pale, near-lifeless body of Serehstra on the bench before her. Seeing the wound in the other Aes Sedai’s side, her eyes tightened. She had stopped the flow of blood and had used what Healing skill she had (which was not considerable to say the least) to keep the Red Sister alive. For now. She only half-listened as the Ebou Dari man, a local innkeeper with a pale face wearing a dirty apron, explained that someone had stabbed the Aes Sedai in his establishment but had gotten away. Nodding to herself, she placed her hands again on the other woman’s forehead and sighed. She had never been fond of Serehstra, a flippant, arrogant woman at the best of times as she saw it who thought far too much of herself and her abilities, but she was Aes Sedai and no one got away with harming Sisters of the White Tower. We need a Yellow to heal this wound. She thought. The wound was blackening from the evil that had infused the blade, and deep inside Voreyna feared it would be too late to save her. She thanked the upset innkeeper and sent him away with a few coins for his trouble. At least he had the sense to bring her here. ● Turning back to the unconscious Sister, she considered the situation with the calmness and patience that had benefitted her many years as a negotiator in her station as Gray Ajah. She wore the beige dress with a high neckline that was her favourite, and a matching necklace, and as she pondered the problem her right hand touched the sleeve of her dress and she felt the bracelet beneath. The old family heirloom. The room they were in was at the back of the Tarasin Palace, a well-decorated chamber filled with paintings on the walls and a comfortable settee with several chairs and a table. Beside the table lay the bench they had carried inside when Serehstra had been brought in. This was a ‘guest quarter’ Voreyna had been told, and the Aes Sedai was impressed. Gazing at some of the paintings now she recognized depictions of what were southern sea battles of yesteryear if her memory served her right. The framed paintings were quality work, that she could determine, even if art had never been among her interests. Is there a Yellow here in the city, I wonder? Making her mind up, she called for a servant (an older modest man, finely dressed in palace livery, who had been ‘assigned’ to her during her stay in the palace) and gave him a message to deliver to the ‘Southern Bloom’ florist on the western side of the city. The man left swiftly, closing the door behind him. The florist in question was part of the Gray Ajah Eyes and Ears network and he would let her know promptly if a Yellow Sedai was somewhere in Ebou Dar. Just don’t let it be too late. ● “Rei’ad, heart of my heart”, Varthana of the Aiel said, eying her husband closely, “this is Wise One business, so leave it be.” They sat across from one another in their tent. His spear lay resting at his feet and he had removed his veil. Gazing lovingly at her mate of many years, this tall red-headed man with his blue eyes and amused grin, she wondered if they would still be together had he not been a Clan Chief. Not that she had ever pursued men of power, oh no, not at all, but she needed a strong man by her side and Rei’ad had fit the bill. He still did, and she was very proud of him though she was careful to not tell him so too often. It was important for an Aiel wife to have a husband who never felt overconfident. It kept him in place - on his toes - as was necessary for a fruitful relationship. She had cunning, of course, so she made him think he was in charge while she naturally made the decisions for them both. Now and again, he became stubborn though, like in this case with the young spirited girl of their Sept, Rhandra, who wanted to join the Far Dareis Mai, the Maidens of the Spear. ● Rei’ad looked at his darling wife of many years and inwardly felt blessed that she had chosen him, of all people, to be a lifelong mate. She was a wonder - strong as the mountain, beautiful like a desert rose, fierce like a giant Gara, and cunning like a Bloodsnake - and he had had her by his side for decades ruling this Sept with a deft hand. Outwardly though he grimaced and shook his head, pointing a finger at her. “No, my desert rose”, he replied, his voice slightly raised. “This affects the whole Clan. She has, as you know, been bred to become a Wise One and so we cannot allow her to leave.” “Oh Rei’ad”, she said somewhat exasperated. “If we cage that girl, she will run away.” She fixed her eyes on him. “I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. She does not have the spark and so we cannot hold onto her.” The Clan Chief frowned and opened his mouth to protest some more, but she stopped him with a stern look. “Heart of my heart, it is no use.” Her blue eyes sparkled as they always did when she had decided a matter. “However", she added smoothly, "the Wise Ones will discuss how to proceed in this case.” She touched her neck-long red hair and wondered if he could sense her mixed feelings on the subject. It was best to keep her uncertainty for the Wise One council. She wanted to test the girl another time to see if she had the spark. If she did, then they would be able to stop her going. Somehow. Even if it would cause some grief. Headstrong girls had run away before and some had never been seen again, lost in the desert that surrounded them on every front. Other headstrong women married Clan Chiefs. When she left their tent a little later, having calmed her husband sufficiently, she headed across to the tent inhabited by another Wise One of many years, Sirantha. She had a good head on her shoulders and would give good advice. They needed to talk. They needed to sort this situation before it got out of hand. ● Raun Selid gazed at the Soldiers training hard and with vigour in the yard and nodded to himself. Their abilities were growing and, in a month or two, they would be ready to take the next step and become Dedicated. He approved of fast progress and it made him think of the ranks in the Black Tower and how they were producing skilled, efficient channelers. The men of Dedicated rank wore distinctive black coats (some of wool, some of silk) and a silver sword pin, a metal collar pin in the shape of its namesake, on the left side of their collars. Those able to take the final step and become full Asha’man, the highest rank in the Black Tower, would wear the silver sword pin of the Dedicated as well as a gold-and-red Dragon pin on the right side of their collars. Not every Dedicated managed to reach the level of Asha’man, but they still had their uses and every man in the Black Tower had a function, regardless of rank. There were also cases of men burning themselves out, or killing themselves accidentally in the militaristic battle-oriented training, as well as the taint affecting some men to the extent that they became a danger to themselves and to everyone around them. Such cases were fairly few though and were taken care of appropriately. And then, of course, there was the Dragon Reborn. The man who had built the Black Tower, the man who was their ultimate leader. An Enigma in many ways. The Black Tower was proud of the working men as Tiram Ralnovar, the 1st Asha’man, kept reminding them all. Raun saw the tall strongly-built man in the distance and could imagine him instructing the Soldier in his calm, serene way. Those pale brown eyes gave an impression of a man who was no danger to anyone, but Raun knew different. Tiram was very dangerous indeed. Running a hand through his short dark hair and beard, Raun frowned. Then his eyes shifted to the Soldier barracks off to the left where he saw several young men going inside. Heading that way, he passed two middle-aged men in black - one tall with a pale complexion, the other shorter with a dark complexion, but both similar in step and attitude as if they were one - who gave him a respectful bow. They both wore the silver sword pin of the Dedicated as well as a gold-and-red Dragon pin on the right side of their collars. They were the oldest Asha’man in the Black Tower, a place mostly filled by younger men. They never made a point of it though. Raun’s dark eyes tightened slightly as he continued toward the barracks. ● He ignored the hustle and bustle and sound of heavy explosions coming from the training grounds, well used to the sound which was part of daily life here in the Black Tower, and opened the door to the barracks and stepped inside. The Soldiers immediately stood to attention when they saw who entered and stood proudly by their bunks. He was Asha’man and not only that but 2nd Asha’man, second in command of the Black Tower during the Dragon Reborn’s absence. A friendly smile came upon his lips as he faced the Soldiers. “You are good men”, Landroval the Chosen said with a grin, his dark eyes glittering from within. “We shall make you a power to stand against any foe!” The Soldiers of the Black Tower bowed respectfully to Raun Selid, their faces eager and excited, proud to be taught by such a great and honourable man. ● ”Sly is the Shadow So make sure you have Three Eyes open.” Old Arafellin proverb The Third Age ▀▄

.. The Flame of Axion .. ►▼◄ It was past midnight and Darkness covered the city of Cairhien. Lights were out in most houses except for a few inns here and there from where sounds of laughter and music wafted. In one house, partially secluded at the end of an alley on the outskirts of the capital, however, light streamed through the windows like silver threads breaking the oppressing dark. ● Walking down the stairs to the cellar, mind focused on the task at hand, the short old woman frowned. She did not like not getting the answers she wanted. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned right and lit the lamp on the wall. It was a sparce cellar room with two small windows, a table, a shelf, and some tools. And the large box. Six feet by two, made mostly of iron, it stood on the stone floor in the middle of the room. It was closed on the whole except for a small open end on one side. Gazing down at the bound man, she sighed. Why would he not give her the answers she wanted? Poking at him again with a sharp knife, he grunted, his eyes staring fearfully up at her. “There, there my pet”, she whispered softly as she poked some more, drawing blood. “If you will only give me what I want, this pain will stop.” She smiled almost caringly and kept poking at the side of his face. Drawing more blood, she sighed as he remained stoically silent. Shaking her head, she rose from her crouch and placed the bloodied knife on the table. She made a note in the diary-like notebook she always carried on her person. Running a hand through her almost white hair, her piercing blue eyes then fastened on the opposite wall and she nodded to herself. Raising her hand, she channeled and a doorway appeared on the otherwise grey stone wall. It opened as she approached and she walked into a larger chamber. This room was empty, every stone wall bare, except for a huge decorated mirror about six feet tall and four feet wide which stood at its centre. Walking up to the tall mirror, Denya grinned slighty. In the mirror there was movement, blue and green and yellow colours shifting beneath a dynamic grey haze. But when the Brown Sister’s hands touched the exquisite wood frame, the image changed and became one of a serene afternoon-setting in a forest with a charming-looking white-windowed cottage surrounded by brush and trees. Birds could be seen settling on the roof of the small building, the wind making branches on the trees move in unison. This was a real image in that it was a mirror into this place and not an imaginary image. It was as if being there, seeing it from a short distance. Denya had not mastered the use of this Ter’angreal - it was supposed to show the viewer what he or she most needed to see - but it worked some of the time at least and that would have to do for now. Some colour came into her otherwise pale complexion as she wove Saidar, blending Air with Spirit just so, and saw with pleasure the image change slightly, sharpening and edging closer to the building. Touching the sides of her brown dress excitedly, holding tightly onto the One Power, she whispered a word of command.. and stepped into the mirror! All that was left in the cellar, was the occasional whimpers coming from the large iron box. ● The gleeman wore his cloak with many colourful patches with pride. He had always been fond of stories and from an early age had shown a talent for singing. His parents had encouraged him to pursue his talent and teachers had given him private lessons over several years. As he grew into adulthood, he knew that he wanted to become a gleeman and, perhaps one day, a court bard and he spent all his time improving his skills. He finally achieved his ambition and had now been a travelling gleeman for over a decade. He knew he was skilled, and appreciated by many, and he loved spinning his tales of history and myth and legend. Most of all he loved poems and songs about real historical events, stories that he told with passion and enthusiasm. His crowd of guests in this inn in Fal Moran this night gave him polite cheering for his flute playing, but it was when he started telling his stories of legend and history that they really came alive. Boisterous cheering and banging on tables followed his captivating story of Maragaine, the legendary Queen of Andor, and cheerful laughter followed his story about a middle-aged Boderlander Nobleman of very bad repute who had run off with a young local blacksmith’s daughter and was pursued by her six furious brothers. The story did not end well for the Nobleman. ● Smiling to his crowd, he ran a hand through his medium-long blond hair and over his short beard. Most of those present where local Shienarians but he saw some men from Arafel and Saldaea as well, easily recognizable by their attire. A couple southerners sat at the back, Andorans by the look of them. They were among the most boisterous but the gleeman suspected they were not as drunk as they appeared. Did they know his secret? He shut the thought down, this was not the time for worry, and focused on the crowd before him. When he began on his next story, a famous historic poem called ‘The Winds of the Trolloc Wars’, his voice pitch-perfect for dramatic effect, all the people in the Common Room sat forward eager to be captivated. Soon they were spellbound, as the master-storyteller wove his magic.. ►▼◄ ‘The Winds of the Trolloc Wars’ In an Age of Darkness and battling Light A Time of Conflict, a hardened Fight The Shadowmight came from Northern Shores It was a Time called the Trolloc Wars Spawn of Darkness, coming from the Blight Brought their evil, marching through the Night Poured in masses into Southern Lands Slaughtered the people and killing the Clans Trollocs, Myrddraal, Draghkar, they All Conquered in force for the Nations to Fall Joined in mission by Darkfriends so Cruel And also by Dreadlords with great lust to Rule Opposed by the valiant Forces of Light In Jaramide and Aramaelle, the erupting Fight Was great and bloody, as Barsine Fell Under the yoke of the Shadow’s Spell The Ten Nations bravely tried to Defend With Aes Sedai, the breaches to Mend But could not contain the poisonous Spread As men and women and children lay Dead The city of Mafal Dadaranell was Lost An Ogier-fortress, destroyed at high Cost The Shadow turned south, toward kingdoms Great Attacked Coremanda and Aridhol Straight Major assaults on Tar Valon Occurred The White Tower fought back and onward Spurred Developing new tactics, encircling the Dark Battling with strategy, lighting a Spark The Fall of Manetheren and Aridhol as Well Were heavy defeats for the Light, so they Tell Eharon’s capital, Londaren Cor Overrun Barashta destroyed, in the Light of the Sun From the Embers of Defeat, the Light rallied Strong The Shadow’s Forces confused; their judgment Wrong Were taken aback, by the new Amyrlin’s Attack Rashima Kerenmosa, fought the Darkness, pushed it Back A great Battlefield commander, she the Aes Sedai Lead To victory at the Shining Walls, assaulting army, Dead For ten years she campaigned, the many lands to Free From evil and oppression, until Maighande’s Battle Be The Battle-Defeat weakened Shadowmight for Sure But remnants fought on, using forcefulness and Lure As time went by, their dreams of Power drowned in Vain As the Darkfriend-forces and the Dreadlords were Slain In the end the Shadow-threat was vanquished for Man The Conflicts were ended, and Peacetime Began All that was left of the Shadow’s Northern Shores Was the echo of the Winds of the Trolloc Wars ►▲◄ ● Tarah Sanighar had always considered herself to be a reasonable woman. As a young girl in Cairhien, she had been well behaved for her age and her teen years had been considerably less rebellious than most others’. When Aes Sedai had found the spark in her at age fifteen, they had whisked her off to the White Tower and she had gone without much protest. She had attained the Shawl of an Aes Sedai after only eighteen years an Accepted and had become a Sitter for the Gray Ajah after only twenty years a Sister. It had surprised no one when Nadhene Carahnas had selected her as her Keeper of the Chronicles. Tarah’s rise in the ranks had impressed many in the White Tower and her years as Keeper had reinforced the view that she could very well rise to the rank of Amyrlin one day. Whatever expectations others had of her, she was flustered at the moment with the Amyrlin’s amazing turnaround regarding the Dragon Reborn. What has gotten into her? ● Running a sweaty hand through her short brown hair she shook her head. She was seated at the back in the Tower Library seemingly leafing through some thick books. In reality she was thinking.. and trying to get to grips with the situation. What could she do about it? Around half the Hall of the Tower wanted to capture the young man anyway and the other half were reluctantly opposed, believing - as Tarah did - that despite the danger of having him free in the world locking the man up could tamper with important prophecies. Nadhene would get the majority she wanted, no doubt. Leafing through some more pages of the thick book before her, a history of High King Artur Hawkwing’s exploits, she thought back on the conversations she had had with her friend and inspiration in the week since she had suddenly appeared from her period of absence. The conversations had been short and to the point, almost as if Nadhene did not care for her opinions anymore. When Tarah had mentioned that there were several administrative tasks that needed doing swiftly, Nadhene had just shrugged and said she would get to them in time. When she had mentioned the alarming rumours about Aes Sedai making war on Whitecloaks, Nadhene had replied that it was false rumours. And when her Keeper had pointed out that the agreement and treaty with the Black Tower was no more, that the written agreement had disappeared into thin air, the Amyrlin had just shrugged and said it was of no importance. No importance!! When Tarah had insisted that they contact the Asha’man anew in Andor, Nadhene had replied that an agreement with the Black Tower might not be in their interest after all. Shocked more than she could say, Tarah had left the Amyrlin’s office at a run and had hurried down to her private quarters and had spent much of the rest of the evening with her face in her hands, flabbergasted. It was almost as if this ‘new’ Nadhene was an entirely different person! ● Shutting the book on the table before her, touching her Gray Keeper’s stole with one hand, she sighed inwardly. Can people really change that quickly? She had asked her friend another time what had happened out of the Tower, smiling disarmingly as she met the Amyrlin’s brown eyes, but had gotten no reply. The way Nadhene’s eyes looked empty much of the time disturbed Tarah, but it was not something she could explain. Something had happened to her friend when she was absent from the Tower, and it affected her in some way. It was, however, personal and the Keeper did not wish to intrude on a matter that was Nadhene’s and hers alone. She was the Amyrlin, the Mother. She was the leader entrusted with the future of the Aes Sedai. Taking her face in her hands once again, in a very un-Aes Sedai like fashion, Tarah closed her eyes, feeling a deepening emptiness inside. What am I going to do? ● What am I going to do? Serehstra gazed at the blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean and wondered why it was that she had not left Ebou Dar. She had not succeeded with any of her tasks. After weeks on end, she still had no answer to what was going on out in the ocean. Only rumours and they were wilder the more fishermen came ashore. Her visits to the Tarasin Palace had yielded no results either. Her hand went to the red shawl that lay across her neck. Thinking about her.. talks.. with the resident Aes Sedai made her blue eyes tighten in anger. There was no cooperation to be had there. And on top of this there were the messages through the Red Ajah Eyes and Ears network that the Shadow was on the rise in her homeland Cairhien. Infiltrating the Nobility. She cursed inside at the thought. She still had feelings for her homeland even if she had not lived there for generations, and the thought that Darkfriends were taking over Noble Houses there made her angry. Curse the Shadow! The smell of salt on the air had become commonplace for her by now and the breeze which most often came in from the south-west ruffled her long light-brown hair gently. Touching the side of her pale red dress she turned away from the sea and faced the dock with workers running to and fro in that chaotic-seeming but planned movement mooring ships and loading vessels. Walking slowly past them, seeing them give her a wide berth, something that always made her smile with amusement, she headed into the nearby street and up toward the nearest inn. ● Entering the establishment - “The Blue Dolphin” the painted sign above the door had read - she found an available table and ignored the looks she received (drunken from some who did not recognize what she was, fearful from some who did recognize what she was, disgusted from some who certainly recognized what she was, and horny from some who certainly did not recognize what she was). She ordered a cup of coffee with a little cream on top (‘Caffè NotAlatte’ it was strangely called, certainly something from foreign lands) and sat studying the other guests while she waited for it to arrive. A child sitting on the next table looked strangely at her.. Its near black eyes seemed to widen of a sudden.. and then it smiled wickedly, sharp jagged teeth red with blood. What!? When a shadow passed before her table, and a non-descript figure leant down as if to whisper something in her ear, she only had time to look up quickly and see the echo of a very ordinary face in front of her before the man was gone. Only a few seconds later did she notice the dagger sticking out of her side, a pain beginning to spread, and the blood flowing onto her pale dress making the red colour starker. Baffled more than she could say, she heard the scream from one of the other guests as if from far away and then e v e r y t h i n g happened in s l o w motion. Her hand went to the knife, her blue eyes widening in disbelief, her mouth opening as if to speak.. but then she felt herself topple and crash onto the floor. More screams from far, far away.. and then everything went blank. ● The alley was closing in around them, narrowing into a dilapidated unpaved path of dirt, stone and shadow. The tall buildings that flanked them loomed overhead like silent sentinels, their worn facades watching, waiting… Gazing into the oppressive darkness, the thought crossed Elessar's mind that this was their second alley-adventure together. The first had been in Tar Valon way before they had bonded. Now once again they faced a threat that had to be dealt with - and they would deal with it together! He felt Calia’s alertness through the bond and she crouched beside him, her eyes studying the darkness before them. A few moments later she gave him what was barely a whisper but he heard and tilted his head ever so slightly to let her know. He saw her make hand signals and understood what she intended to do. To make a ball of light and throw it above the place where one of the attackers had lain. It was a good move and might flush out the second attacker. She signalled for him to keep low and he crouched in the dark, ready to protect his field of vision when the night would light up. The stillness of the night continued around them as Calia remained poised, cautious, a feeling he shared through the bond. And then, long moments later, Calia flung the orb towards an overhang on the side of the building where the grunt had come from and filled it with a burst of Fire and Spirit that spotlighted the area just as they needed.. Elessar shielded his eyes for a second, then gazed into the Light which had dispersed the Darkness, searching for the second man. He held his old knife in his hand, ready to throw it at the sight of any movement. Calia stared just as intently into the now lit alley and he exchanged a small smile with her, happy to have her at his side. ● For a long time, there was only silence. A few sounds drifted in from the inns a few streets further down but here in this alley nothing moved. The Warder felt intuitively though that the second attacker was still here. This was no petty thief trying to overcome two visitors to Lugard. This was a professional operation, these men were experienced, and it was only the Warder and Sedai’s alertness, skill and competence which had saved them. I should have detected them even earlier though. Elessar shut down that thought and focused on the here and now. Could these be of the Shadow? Too many strange things had happened lately for it all to be coincidence. That being said, Lugard was indeed a shifty place.. and attacks here were far from rare. ● Lethal Jim stared hard through the darkness at the place where his prey lay. His piercing blue eyes gazed intently and he touched his scarred face almost without thinking. His knife had missed! thumping into the wood behind them. Damn! Lata’s knife had also missed. Instead, he had been mortally wounded by a knife coming the other way. This operation was slowly turning into a disaster! The orders had been simple. Kill the woman and leave her body in the alley for others to find. The man was unimportant. Who she was he had not been told. It was not important. What was important was to salvage something from this bungled assassination attempt. There was only silence and he considered whether to remain where he was or to move closer. His instincts, which had served him well in the past, told him to lay low, to wait for his prey to make a move. He was a patient man but his intuition warned him that stalling might be unwise this time. ● Just as he was about to creep forwards, a ball of light suddenly destroyed the darkness above where Lata had lain in wait! Cursing to himself, he shielded his eyes and crouched even lower against the building. Aes Sedai!! No one had told him the woman was of the White Tower! That surely meant that her companion was a Warder. Damn! This prey would be extremely dangerous. The glowing orb lit up the alley and he rushed further along to hide from the light. There was nothing he could do for Lata. The man would be dead by now. And so may I be soon if I keep after this Aes Sedai and Warder. He brushed the thought away but orders or no orders, killer-experience or no, he needed to retreat and re-consider this operation now that he knew what those two were. Cursing another time, angry at his superiors for keeping the identity of his prey secret, and thereby preventing him from preparing properly for the danger at hand, he disappeared down the alley and headed back to his quarters in the city. ● Elessar spotted the shadow moving in the light, their attacker close to one of the buildings. He whispered a warning to Calia and saw her eyes move in the same direction. The man whoever he was, was quick though and just as Elessar stood ready to throw his second knife or to intercept him, either thought blossomed in the Gaidin’s mind, he felt Calia touch his shoulder and shake her head. The man was simply too quick and had a head start. He saw the man’s silhouette disappear out of the light and down into the shadows further along the alley. Nodding to his bondholder, he remained alert as they stood in silence waiting to see if the second man would run too. When nothing happened for several minutes, they agreed to approach carefully. When they were a dozen feet from where they assumed the man lay, Elessar leaped toward the figure, knife in hand, and came on top of him, his knee planted hard on the man’s chest. Laying with his head against the stone-face of the building behind, it was clear the man was dead. Elessar’s new knife was buried in the assassin’s chest and his eyes stared emptily into the beyond. Nodding to himself as he withdrew the knife and cleaned it on the dead man’s shirt, he shared a small smile with his bondholder. It had been an excellent knife-throw in the dark! Calia stared at the dead man but remained silent. Elessar felt approval through the bond though. She too would wonder who this dead man was and why he had tried to kill them. And his colleague was out there, a danger still. “This is no simple thief.” The Warder mumbled to himself, gazing at the man’s clothes and the hardness of his middle-aged rough features. “These men were professionals.” He shared a look with his bondholder and saw silent agreement in her blue eyes. “The question is”, he added thoughtfully after a while, his face pensive, “did they know who they were trying to kill?” ● Faolahr woke early the next morning and for a moment wondered where he was. Shaking his head, he stared at the empty bed sheets beside him almost as if expecting them not to be empty. Trying to get a hold of himself, he focused and recognized the tent top and recalled that he was outside the Royal Castle in Arad Doman. Dawn was breaking outside he saw through the opening in the huge tent and he nodded to himself. Dawn. A new day. But what happened last night? Running a hand through his unkempt hair, an image of a beautiful woman popped up in his mind. Lady Oriana! As moments of reflection passed by, more images of her flashed in his head. Those beautiful painted lips and the taste of strawberry on her breath, her gorgeous eyes that he wanted to drown in.. and then her whole body embracing him, the lustful smell of passion, losing himself in her stunning beauty.. His cheeks reddened at the thought. And then. Nothing. He remembered no more. Until he awoke this morning. ● What had happened? How could be lose himself so totally in a stranger? How could he lose all self control? His emotions were a mass of wonder, embarrassment and thrills thinking back on what he could remember. The lady in question was gone now, probably back at the castle. Thinking what she might tell others made his cheeks redden even further. As the moments lengthened his embarrassment turned to uncertainty and then to anger that she might have taken advantage of him. But had he led her on? He could not remember. Perhaps I did and it was all my fault! Sighing loudly, still flustered, he lifted the sheets and saw that he was naked underneath. Of course. Shaking his head again, he climbed out of bed and put on some underclothes. Finding his shirt crumpled in the corner he picked it up and put it on. He could smell strawberries on the sleeves and yet another time he wondered how in the world she had managed to seduce him to this extent.. if she had, in truth. It took him some time that day to get his mind on other matters, but only in late afternoon did it truly sink in that he was nowhere nearer an answer as to whether it was worth it to try and reach an agreement with the King of Arad Doman. ● Amaranth stared at the five men and one woman chatting at the back of the large hall and wondered if they knew that he knew everything about them. Everything that was important at least. Oh, he knew their backstories. He had always prided himself on knowing all there was to know about his associates.. and potential enemies. Oh yes! His violet eyes sparkled as he studied each person in turn. Landroval. Tall, strong-bodied, blond-haired, bearded with piercing green eyes and a prominent nose. Arrogant but a good tactician. In his dark blue coat, he looked like a Nobleman and he had in fact been among the elite also back in their own world, Mayor of a large town west of Emar Dal. He seemed to sense Amaranth’s eyes upon him because he turned from his conversation and gave Amaranth what looked like a slightly challenging stare. Varanis. Medium tall, thin with a slightly gaunt face with a scar down the left side. Blue eyes that seemed almost wild. Amaranth had always wondered if the man was entirely sane. Dark-haired and short-tempered, he had been an entertainer of sorts in V’saine back in their world. An artist for sure - and artists were in general unreliable as Amaranth saw it. Zephyr. A shorter man but stoutly built. His long dark hair framed a handsome face from which almost black eyes stared. He had been a renowned dentist in V’saine back in their world and he relished showing off his brilliantly white shining teeth when he smiled. Calm of nature he was a strategist who many underestimated at their peril. Dalimar. Built like an ox, he stood fifteen inches taller than most men. Dark of hair and of skin he looked like a fighter, his face hard as stone. Few would have believed he was a chemist back in their world, at the famed University of Jalanda. Often soft-spoken, there was great intelligence behind his brown eyes, however, and he was one of the others that Amaranth enjoyed having philosophical conversations with. Belarian. Of medium height with grey-green eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. A jester who loved to tease everyone around him. Behind those teasing comments, however, lay a sly manipulator who it was wise to keep an eye on. Born in Emar Dal he had moved to a large town east of the famous city and had set up a medical doctor’s practice. Rumours had grown of dubious practices there involving some unethical experimentation but he had never been found out or accused by the authorities. Tinuviel. A tall red-headed woman with a fierce face and damning blue eyes. He had never seen her smile and he presumed the hatred she bore was too strong. For she hated all men, having been repeatedly raped by her uncle in her childhood. Amaranth knew that she had killed her uncle in the end, castrating the man first, and had hunted men as she grew into adulthood. Born in Jalanda, she had left at sixteen and never returned. Working as a consultant to a major security firm had never sated her lust for blood and so she had taken on certain ‘jobs’ on the side. Sensing Amaranth’s eyes on her, she gave him a hateful stare before turning back to the conversation she had been in. ● Six men and women; different in many ways but all sharing 2 important things - their skill with -and love of- the One Power, and their allegiance to the Shadow. They had each bowed to the Great Lord at Shayol Ghul and sworn New Oaths, relinquishing their bonds to the Aes Sedai. Nodding to himself, Amaranth went over in his mind what he was going to say to them all. He was glad to see these six assembled. They had been busy of late, each in their own base of power, but now it was time to get everyone together. To plan ahead. A chime rang and a Gateway opened several paces behind him. He turned just as Qariahna and Nymeria emerged, each in their beautiful dresses. They nodded to him, Nymeria smiling as if she bore a secret, as they walked toward the other assembled men and women. Another chime and Erandel stepped into the hall. Her painted face, blue echoes on one side, orange echoes on the other, enhanced by the One Power, looked striking behind her elaborately decorated exotic mask and headpiece. The smile she gave him was somewhat mischievous and he wondered what she was thinking. More chimes followed and Kalessin, Silvahria and Crysanthia each emerged from Gateways, giving him a nod of respect and walking across to the others gathered. ● Finally, Amaranth faced the group. As he channeled, small flames danced upon his palms. The flames gradually turned violet in colour, matching his forceful eyes. Commanding the others to join him, his voice low but heard by everyone present, he raised his hands outwards as all the men and women stepped toward him making a semi-circle around their leader. “I am glad to see you all here.” He began softly, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “The time is near!” His voice was strong now and there was intensity in his violet eyes. “We stand ready, Great Lord!” His voice was exultant now - and a booming sound started reverberating in the grand hall. The flames changed.. and now channeling the True Power - dark weaves forming in intricate patterns in the air before them - Amaranth brought forth the dark Mist that had appeared only once before. A Shadow unlike any other, swirling like a wind in an ocean of Darkness, black like the deepest Night, moving as if alive, meandering in unending twists and arcs until the Ancient Symbol was formed: ●●● ●●●● ●●●●●● ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ The FLAME of AXION They all bowed reverently, the glory of the moment overwhelming them all! They were the 13 most powerful channelers from an Age of powerful channelers. They were those Chosen to Rule the World Forever. ▀▄

.. Adrift in Profound Divergence .. ►▼◄ “You are back!?” Tarah’s large brown eyes were wide in surprise and her mouth fell open! Her Keeper’s stole, a hand's width in the colour of her Ajah, was upon her shoulders and in her hand she carried an old parchment which she had been reading in the White Tower Library when a Sister had told her of sounds of moving feet up in the Amyrlin’s private chamber. She had swept out of the library, almost knocking over a Brown Sister on her way in, and rushed along the hall and up the stairs - and now, catching her breath, her mouth opening and closing liked a beached fish on land, she stood staring at the woman by the Amyrlin’s writing desk. Closing the door to the chamber softly behind her, trying to regain her Aes Sedai composure, she stepped forwards into the room. “Where har you been.. Mother?” She remembered to add the honorary title and tried to get a hold of herself. “The Hall has been sick with worry.” ● Nadhene stared silently back at her Keeper but did not answer at first. She turned and placed the sheet of paper she had been holding on her desk and closed the book that lay next to it. Only then did she turn around and face Tarah. “I had business outside the Tower. Important business.” Her voice was smooth but her eyes were cold, soulless. “Amyrlin’s privelige.” It was the expression she had always used when the matter at hand was for the Amyrlin’s eyes and ears only. “I understand”, the Keeper replied. Her friend seemed so cold. What had happened? “But the Hall was deeply concerned since you..” “Since I disappeared so swiftly?” Nadhene said, completing the sentence. Her Keeper nodded, studying her friend of many years. “The matter was so important that it was necessary for me to leave.. unseen”, the Amyrlin added, folding her hands. “As it turned out, it was more complicated than I anticipated. And much more time consuming.” She met the Keeper’s stare squarely. “I assumed you would have matters in hand”, she said, “here during my absence.” Yes, Tarah thought to herself. But to be away for so long? And without giving word? And to disappear just after the agreement with the Black Tower? What she said, however, was, “We managed, Mother.” Studying the Amyrlin’s face more closely she noticed those cold eyes.. colder than she had seen them before. Colder.. but at the same time empty of light. She could think of it no other way. “But we were concerned..” “The Hall is always concerned.” Nadhene’s voice was as cold as her eyes now. “Whenever they are not bickering and arguing that is.” Tarah knew there was ample truth in that. But even so, the Amyrlin’s words were harsher than she recalled. And without the sarcasm that often accompanied her frustrations after meetings with the Hall of the Tower. “In any case, I am back now.” Nadhene said matter-of-factly. “The matter has been sorted and we have much to do.” ● The Keeper nodded, trying to ignore her misgivings. The Amyrlin was back and that was the most important. “But I have spent the time away from the Tower re-considering some things”, the Amyrlin added as she walked back to her writing table. “Some things will change now”, she said speaking over her shoulder. “Some of my.. our.. decisions were a bit.. hasty.” Tarah’s eyebrow lifted and she looked questioningly at the Amyrlin who turned around to face her again. Nadhene ignored her Keeper’s reaction and picked up the sheet of paper that she had been reading before Tarah interrupted her. “First of all, and most importantly”, the Amyrlin said in her cold voice, “we shall capture the Dragon Reborn and keep him safe here in the Tower.” Tarah’s mouth hung open again. “Letting him run free was.. a mistake.” Nadhene added with Aes Sedai smoothness. “Too dangerous.. for us.. and for the world.” Tarah was gobsmacked, unable to say a word. Her eyes were wide and she slowly closed her mouth. Staring fixedly at the Amyrlin, she wondered if she had misheard. But she knew she had not. She shook her head slowly but her voice caught in her throat. “A majority in the Hall will support my decision”, the Amyrlin said with confidence. “We shall make no such mistake again.” ● When Tarah left the Amyrlin’s private chamber, she did not know what to believe anymore. She never would have believed Nadhene would change her mind on such an important matter as this. They had spent hours and hours, days the two of them, in secret, discussing the Dragon Reborn and had finally agreed on their plan. They had stuck by it in the following weeks.. never doubting.. never wavering.. and now suddenly Nadhene had a reversal of opinion?! Puzzled more than she could say, she almost bumped into another Sedai when she reached the bottom of the stairs leading down from the Amyrlin. It was Leihda Sedai of the Green on her way up, her face Aes Sedai smooth and her dress dark green with embroideries on the sleeves, and Tarah mumbled politely ‘Sister’ to her as she passed her by, receiving a whispered ‘Sister’ in return. The Keeper of the Chronicles felt lost for the remainder of the day, wondering again and again: What could have happened to the Amyrlin out of the Tower for her to suddenly change her mind completely with regards to the Dragon Reborn!? ● Faolahr was unable to fall asleep. Laying in his blanket in his huge war tent that night, he kept staring up at the top section of the tent but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was thinking about the meeting with the Arad Domani Queen earlier that day. He highly suspected that the King was present in the Royal Castle but did not wish to enter into any agreements with him, the Dragon Reborn. And so they pretended he was away ‘on business’. Were he present, he would either need to form an alliance with Faolahr, or decline the offer with potential consequences, or try to stall. Perhaps neither option appealed to the King or perhaps he needed more time to decide. It was perfecly understandable that rulers were sceptical when the Dragon Reborn appeared on their ‘lawn’ as it were, with an army, and offered an alliance. But he did not have the time for month-long negotiations. The Dark One was touching the world, that he had learned in the year that had passed, and he had far too much work to do to unite the nations and far too little time in which to do so. So he needed this alliance sorted quickly so he could move on to the next nation where new challenges awaited. The Queen had been polite and correct in her behaviour during their conversation but he had noticed the nuances in her words and the way she had spoken. “Dragons must be stopped”, she had said when he had spoken of stopping False Dragons. Not a slip of the tongue, he believed; it was deliberate - and the question was if it was a warning or an attempt to show him that she -and they- were weary of all Dragons. And that he should be careful with his demands. She had impressed him. But her advisor, the Lady Oriana’s image burned in his mind. Where had he seen her before? She looked familiar somehow… I know her! The voice in his head spoke up and there was an intensity present. “Oh, shut up!” he replied, driving the voice away. Running a hand through his short brown hair he wondered anew where he had seen her. Suddenly an image floated in his mind.. of a similar-looking woman who had bent over him and given him Healing that day what felt an Age ago.. The woman who appeared in his dreams at times.. But it couldn’t be.. This Lady Oriana looked similar, a little older perhaps, her face a little more mature, but still beautiful. Listen to me! I know her! ● He shut the voice down a second time and tightened his eyes. The voice appeared more often these days than had been the case in the beginning. Part of him feared this was madness creeping in, but except for the voice he felt fine, himself and in control and so he ignored that fear. Rather the voice was becoming a little.. irritating. He did not know who the woman was who had Healed him and set him on his path to discovery and, ultimately, survival. She had never said her name. But she was an Aes Sedai. What else could she be? He was grateful to her whoever she was. This woman in Arad Doman looked as if she could be the Aes Sedai’s slightly older sister but it was probably just a resemblence. He had once come across a farmer who lived far away but looked the spitting image of one of the elders, Seith, in his own village. Strange to think that people looking so alike lived all across the world. Turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand, he considered what should be his next move. Did he have time to wait for the Arad Domani King to consider the offer of an alliance? Should he press the issue? Or should he move on to the next place and see if he had better luck there? He had an army at his back but he did not want to start a war unless it was absolutely necessary. There would be war later with the Shadow; uniting the countries - under his leadership - should be done peacefully if possible. He knew it would not always be possible to avoid war but he wanted to avoid one until his army was bigger and stronger. So what to do in this case? He lay for a long time pondering this question. Finally he rose from his blanket and walked to the tent door. Gazing out into the dark night sky, the silver moon half-full far above, he enjoyed the soft breeze touching his chin. He nodded to the two Asha’man guards standing just outside the war tent, black against the black of night, then returned inside and sat down in the settee they had brought all along their journey. It was leather-made with soft cushions and very comfortable to sit in. The only luxury he indulged himself in on this march. Sipping some cold tea from a cup on the table in front of the settee he thought about his options and considered consequences. He finally came to the conclusion that the best thing to do was to speak with the Arad Domani rulers again. Yes, he had to make a second attempt. He had to make them understand that this was for their benefit too. The Shadow is spreading. This was his own thought. She will try to use you. That was not his own thought Shrugging his head, he took another sip of his cold tea. I need to speak with Lady Oriana again. He thought. Yes. Somehow that seemed the right thing to do. As advisor to the Queen, she would understand matters and have knowledge of things. Perhaps she could give him good advice on how to influence the King and Queen. But he needed to speak to her alone. Her face blossomed in his mind and he knew that was not the only reason he wanted to see her again. ● The morning after, as dawn was breaking over Arad Doman, the sun beginning its long journey in the sky, bringing Light to the world, the Dragon Reborn wrote a message on a small piece of paper which he then gave to a messenger to be delivered at the castle gate. It was an invitation to the Lady Oriana for a personal meeting in his war camp. He did not know if she would accept but he felt there was a great chance considering how intensely she had studied him during the meeting with the Queen. She seemed interested in him.. and he was curious about her. Several hours later a messenger from the castle returned with a short message for him. It read: Thank you for your invitation. I accept. At the bottom was a letter which looked halfway an O and halfway a C, he could not quite decide. Smiling to himself he put the message aside, thanked the messenger who left, and then sat back in his settee and pondered on the questions he would ask this lady advisor. When she arrived at the appointed time, she wore a pale blue dress with a low neckline. With her long golden hair cascading down her back, a pair of intense grey-green eyes studying him, he could not help but find her beautiful. The emerald stone necklace she wore around her slender neck seemed to pulse in tune with her smile. So familiar.. Brushing that thought away, he welcomed her and bade her sit down beside him in the settee. “My Lord Dragon”, she said as she seated herself, her chin reddening softly again. The way she said ‘Dragon’ made something stir inside him but before he could reply she added that she had been pleased to get his invitation. Be careful. ● It was the voice in his head again and he shut it away once more, more forcefully than the last time. Seeing her up close in this way she looked even more like the woman who had Healed him, the Aes Sedai. He found that he was struggling to find the words he wanted and so to buy some time he offered her some cold tea. She accepted and sipped to the tea while sneaking some glances at him from the side. “I am sorry, but you look so familiar to me somehow”, he said after a few silent moments. “Do I know you?” “Perhaps”, she replied softly, her eyes glinting. He stared at her lips, they had a soft red colour, and then his eyes went to the emerald stone. And lower.. to her breasts, only half-hidden. Realizing how he was staring he apologized and quickly raised his eyes again but she did not seem to disapprove, rather a playful smile came across her painted lips and a twinkle in her eyes. “We are all souls drifting in this place, from one place.. to another.” Her voice was soft and seductive. He thought that answer was a little cryptic but it did not matter. He was drawn to this woman and had to focus to think clearly. “I have asked you here to get some advice.” He began. “I do not want to go behind anyone’s back, but it is important to create an alliance here and I don’t have much time.” His gaze was drawn to her slender neck again and he swallowed deeply. “None of us want a war”, he emphasized, “and I hoped perhaps.. you had some clues as to what.. steps I can take.” ● Her grey-green eyes seemed to draw him in and he was unable to look elsewhere. “A step here, a step there Walk the path, with me.” She whispered the words softly, but he hardly heard. The voice in his head began to whisper a warning but he ignored it as he felt his whole body react to this stunningly beautiful woman beside him. He opened his mouth to say something.. but then drove the thought from his mind. Something was wrong.., he felt it deep inside, but he was unable to stop what was happening. When she touched his arm tenderly, he sighed excitedly and when her hand moved to his thigh he felt a thrill run throughout his body. She leant toward him and her mouth covered his. The taste of strawberry on her warm lips made his pulse quicken further.. all rational thought Gone With The Wind.. and he lost himself in passion with this gorgeous beauty of a woman. ● The little boy blundered into people as he hurried through the crowd, earning hard looks and angry comments. He reached the end of the street and threw himself around a corner coming face to face with a rugged-looking man with a scarred face and arms the size of logs. With a yelp he dived low and between the big mans’s legs and climbed to his feet and ran on. This alley was mostly empty of people and he made good time. Finally he reached his intended destination, the Cross Keys inn. Pushing the door open he ran inside and shut the door behind him. The innkeeper, a pink-faced fat man in a starched white apron who had graying hair combed back over a bald spot, noticed him straight away and shook his head. “This is no place for you, boy!” he shouted and stepped toward him. The boy was quicker though and swung to the side and into the next room. The Common Room was fairly large and paneled with dark wood. Fires on two hearths warmed it well. The boy stared toward the end of the room but saw no back door. The smells of roasting meat and baking bread drifted from the kitchen, though, making his mouth water. He would not have admitted it aloud, but his belly was gnawing at his backbone. He did not get his chance, however, as a bouncer, big as a Mountain, lifted him into the air and threw him over his back and carried him outside. “Off with you, boy”, the big man said somewhat gruffly though without malice and then shut the door to the inn. Unmindful of the now pouring rain the young boy hurried down the street. He passed shops that had awnings out front sheltering tables covered with goods and traders who were hawking their wares. The wind whistled over the rooftops and thunder was heard in the distance. ● The light from an open door suddenly spilled into the dark street and the boy glimpsed a large shape standing there. Hurrying on he looked over his shoulder but saw no one following. As he neared the corner of the street a shadow suddenly appeared before him in the heavy rain and he came to a sudden stop, his eyes wide! A stony-faced man cocked his head and said, “And where are you going, boy?” Sprinting past this foul-looking man the boy rounded the corner and continued running. Slipping on the paved street he hurt his elbow as he fell but he did not care. He rose quickly and ran off as only boys can do when they are young and filled with energy - and motivated by shadows chasing. At the end of this street he saw a horse and its rider. The stallion danced a step sideways, restive and the boy gazed at it with wonder as he ran past. Two more horses could be seen a little ahead but these moved at a brisk walk despite the slippery road. Finally he stopped running and had to catch his breath. He was wet to the bone like a drenched cat but there was nothing to do about that. When he could breathe normally again he started walking out of the city and into the countryside beyond. A while later he saw the lights of farmhouses that flashed into sight and smoke rising from chimneys. He smiled, knowing his Ma and Da would be there and he would get dry clothes and perhaps something to eat too. His stomach continued to remind him that it had been many hours since his last meal. When he threw open the door, his Ma and Da greeted him warmly and asked what mischief he had been up to today. He answered that he had been a good boy and they grinned at his mischievous face. Seeing a tin tray sitting in the middle of the table holding a pitcher and cups, as well as hot stew and bread, the little boy thought it was wonderful to be home. ● The knife whistled past Calia’s face and embedded itself in the woodwork behind her! <> The night before, after they had arrived at the Hanging Noose inn, they had had a meal in the Common Room and had gone to bed early, both tired after a long day’s riding. To his surprise Elessar had had trouble sleeping and had lain awake for several hours thinking about the past days - and of Four Kings. Calia had not talked about it in the days afterwards and he had not found a good way to approach the subject with her in an appropriate manner. Neither had he spoken to her about the way she had rushed off into danger without him. It was something he needed to speak to her about at some point.. but he had wanted to give her time since he guessed that she was grieving in her own way. Aes Sedai appeared stoic and unemotional at the best of times, their training and hardness assured that, but they were human beings and all human beings would feel emotional wounds to some extent. As they had ridden south, he had intermittently felt some sorrow through the bond even if Calia did not openly show grief and despair outwardly that he could see. He sensed some of her grief though, at moments when he caught a glance at her face when she did not notice. And so, he rode at her side, hoping to be a steadfast comfort and companion on the road and to be there for her if she needed to talk. She rode with her head high and Elessar was proud of her and happy to be at her side as her Warder. Whatever danger lay ahead, they would face it together! Even though they spoke little in the days ahead, he somehow felt that the bond held the space between them with a combination of care and determination for which Elessar was grateful. He was glad that that connection he had felt with her that first time in the Tar Valon streets had been right. By the Light, I was right! Thinking back that night, he recalled when they had come upon the river in the wilderness. <> The memory echoed in his mind: .. the shimmer of a river came into view, its surface glistening under the midday sun like a ribbon of silver threading through the landscape. The river meandered alongside the road for a short stretch, its waters clear and fast-moving, tumbling over smooth, worn stones. Tall, leafy trees cast patches of dappled shade along the bank, and wildflowers bloomed in clusters, their soft fragrance carried on the breeze.. Calia had wanted to stop and refresh herself in the river pool and he had agreed with a smile. While she was swimming, he had kept watch over the horses and the surroundings. When suddenly there had been a rustling noise in the underbrush, Elessar had been as surprised as Calia by seeing the two horses from Four Kings there! Seeing the broad smile upon his Aes Sedai’s face when she climbed out of the water and embraced the nearest horse warmly made the Warder smile warmly too. This was the little bit of sunshine she needed at that moment! Later during their journey Calia had tried to leave the two horses behind at the Hilran Estate for safe-keeping; but the horse called Socksie had wanted none of that, and in the end, Calia had swapped her bay mare for this enthusiastic new horse as her travelling companion and she and Stormbreaker had carried the Gaidin and Sister of the White Tower the final part to Lugard. Socksie was quite a character, it turned out, just as Stormbreaker was - and Elessar thought they would suit one another very well indeed. <> He had finally fallen asleep in the night, exhaustion taking him in the end, and had awakened late this morning, the sun shining into his room through the window, decently rested after all. They had eaten a late breakfast at the inn, had looked in on their horses and smiled at Stormbreaker and Socksie sharing a stall, their noses touching in a beginning friendship, and afterwards had walked the dusty streets of Lugard. They had bought provisions for the next part of their journey south, Calia had attended to some personal matters, and Elessar had visited a local blacksmith’s shop and taken a look at the displayed weapons. He had bought another knife, a good-looking quality piece with stylish decorations on the blade. He had not, however, expected to have to use it so quickly! In this dark alley this night. <> Elessar threw himself over his Aes Sedai, bringing her to the ground with a thud! Another knife flew past his head with a whooshing sound and he kept himself in front of his bondholder like a living shield. Cursing inside that they had been taken by surprise, he stared into the darkness trying to pick out the perpetrator. There was only silence.. But then suddenly he saw a shadow move ever so slightly off to the right, and he withdrew his new knife from its sheath at his side and threw it in almost the same motion. He heard a muffled grunt signalling that his knife had hit its mark. Nodding contentedly, he gazed into the surrounding darkness. Calia moved beside him and soon crouched a few feet away. I knew this was a decidedly shifty place, he thought to himself darkly as he considered their next move. Through the bond he felt Alertness and Determination. ● Sandana smiled. She loved the pond. It was her special place this pond, one that no one else knew about. At least she had never seen anyone there. It was close to that place she had been that time; the place where she had felt as if she were flying. She did not know what exactly had happened back then, but it was a wondrous memory. Swimming in the pond this afternoon gave her peace of mind. For she had had many strange dreams lately, dreams that scared her a little. But here in the sunshine, here where the water could run all across her naked body, where the sun’s golden rays could warm her muscles and give her renewed energy, here there was nothing to fear. Her eyes glittered as she looked up into the blue sky. With no clouds present the sky looked almost like an ocean, an endless sea of blue. She felt she could lose herself up there; float like a bird on winds going north and south, east and west. How beautiful that would be. And then she would be able to look down on Papa as he worked in the garden behind their house. She loved her Papa, the bestests man in the whole world! ● When she was ready to get out of the water, she swam to the edge of the pond and climbed onto the ground. She stepped carefully so as to not hurt her feet on the sharp stones near the edge and walked across to the mossy ground. Laying on her back she let the sun warm every inch of her body. The weather was warmer this season than usual, warmer than for many years in the Borderlands, and Sandana loved it. Butterflies flew above her, their wings the colour of red and blue and violet and green and yellow in wonderful combinations and she laughed joyfully as they landed on her stomach. They sat there, their small wings fluttering very slowly, and it was almost as if they were bowing to her. She giggled, happy with the Wonder of Life! A beautiful hummingbird with feathers of blue, red and green, came to a standstill in the air beside her and she stared at it with wonder in her eyes. She reached out to touch it but was too late. The hummingbird flew away up into the sunshine leaving what almost seemed like silver threads behind. It was all magical to Sandana and when she finally headed back home, remembering to bring her clothes which she had left at the other end of the pond, she kept singing all the way to their house, a Song of Light and Beauty - and of Hope. ● The Children of the Light were founded in FY 1021 during the War of the Hundred Years by Lothair Mantelar. They were originally preachers working to expose Darkfriends, using Mantelar's book “The Way of the Light” as their guide. At first they only defended themselves against the Shadow, but by FY 1111 they had become a fully militarized force. One of their most notable accomplishment in the early New Era was their murder of the Amyrlin Seat, Myrna Riluhr, in 306 NE, while she was mediating a dispute in Murandy; they hanged her body after death. The Children's power and prestige was initially limited, but over the succeeding one thousand years, as the influence of the Aes Sedai began to ebb due to their declining numbers and failure to prevent the War of the Hundred Years and many subsequent conflicts, they became more popular and powerful. In the 930s NE they reached an accord with the King of Amadicia, who agreed to let them establish a permanent base of operations, the Fortress of the Light, in the capital city of Amador. However, the power of the Children within Amadicia rapidly outstripped that of the King, and within a few years the royal Serenda Palace had been removed to outside the capital and the Amadician army reduced to an auxiliary force under the Children. The Children entered a period of rapid growth under young, successful military commanders, and in 957 NE, they launched an ambitious attempt to bring the much larger and more divided neighboring kingdom of Altara under their rule in what became known as the Whitecloak War. The kingdoms of Illian and Murandy intervened in the conflict and the Children were forced to abandon the attempt, despite significant military gains and successes. Despite many intrigues and attempts to extend their influence into neighboring Altara, Ghealdan, and Tarabon, the Children's influence and power has been contained within Amadicia. Excerpt from “The History of the Children of the Light” By Serein Casalain, Chief Librarian Royal Library of Caemlyn 971 NE 3rd Age ● Red blood filled the walls of the otherwise pristine marble-white Fortress of the Light. Dead Whitecloaks littered the corridors of the fortress, lifeless bodies in cloaks now bloodied and torn, and with empty eyes staring into the beyond. Walking down one corridor the Amo’hra, leader of the Sharan Ayyad, grinned broadly. Her eyes sparkled as she stepped over the body of a young Child of the Light whose aspirations and dreams had been extinguished forever. Turning a corner she came upon one of her Sisters and smiled, receiving a smile back. Entering the office of the former Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, Lord Enthar Mehrin, she gazed down at what remained of his body. What is your Truth now, Whitecloak!? She thought with some pleasure as she stepped down on his head and crushed bones that had not been destroyed. Laughing wickedly to herself she recalled their.. session.. when she had taught him what real pain was. When he had broken.. and given her the primary answers she needed. A brave man though, she had to admit yet again, which was why she had let him fall on his sword, though not perhaps in the way he had quite expected. Only after she had taken his eye and made him eat it, did he answer her second question, however. “Has the Children of the Light made alliances with other nations outside Amadicia?” He had finally answered, yes. It had come out like a croak. Alliances had been made with the rulers of Altara and Ghealdan. In the Light. ● That was useful knowledge for Silvahria and the Shadow. As the Amo’hra, she had gotten much out of this mission, more so than she would have expected. Destroying the Fortress of the Light, killing its Lord Captain Commander, gaining knowledge of several Whitecloak companies out in the land, and lastly the knowledge of alliances made with outside rulers. Disruptions made and disruptions to come. Her train of thought was disrupted when one of her Ayyad Sisters brought the final prisoner in. Another young lad in his early twenties, cloaked all in white but with blood flowing from his head. Another pair of eyes that shone with Truth and a twisted face that gazed hatefully at her. “Filthy Aes Sedai scum!” he spat and tried again in vain to get free of the hands holding him. She ignored the barb this time, sick of being called Aes Sedai both in her present incarnation and otherwise. “Now then, young man”, she began, picking up the knife that lay on the former Lord Captain Commander’s table. “Do you wish to share your Lord Commander’s fate?” Only now did the young Whitecloak see what remained of his Lord Captain Commander and he threw up on the floor and went to his knees. There was despair but also rage in his dark eyes when he lifted them to look up at her. He remained silent though but she could see the disgust and horror in his eyes. “Good”, she said after a moment’s pause. “All right, I have one simple question for you.” She bent down so her eyes came level with his. “Is it true.. that you are, in fact, a Darkfriend, Child Sedron?” His eyes went as wide as they could go and the indignation he felt made his face burn. He spat at her, disgusted that she would even say such a thing. He was a Child of the Light and had always been so! No lies from witches would ever change that! ● Silvahria chuckled inside though her face remained passive. Of course he was no Friend of the Dark. She just enjoyed toying with him a little before killing him. “Child Sedron”, she said at last when he had calmed somewhat down, “you will have the honour of being the last Whitecloak to be killed here in your precious Fortress.” He stared blankly at her, trying to be stoic but she saw the darkness behind his eyes. A darkness that bespoke knowledge that his time here on this earth was coming to an end. “Since you are the last”, she added smoothly, her eyes sparkling in triumph, “you may get the choice whether I shall remove your arm or leg before you die.” His eyes widened in horror. “I want you to suffer”, she said matter-of-factly, “and perhaps then no Whitecloaks will consider going to war with Shara.” She could see from his eyes that he did not understand but it did not matter. His eyes looked at the knife she brought before his face and his attempt at bravery failed. “I die in the Light.” He whispered as he closed his eyes. “Dear Creator, shelter me”. Then the excruciating pain began as she tore into his leg with the sharp knife, crimson blood flowing onto the marble floor, painting it red. ● Opening the massive Gateway outside the Fortress of the Light in Amador, beneath a shining afternoon Sun bringing Light to the region, the remaining Sisters of the Sharan Ayyad under the leadership of the Amo’hra stepped through and the huge Gateway shut behind them, light slicing the air and then evaporating into nothingness. All that remained in the Fortress of the Light, bastion of the Children of the Light, was blood flowing - and death. ▀▄

.. Caught between Dawn and Twilight .. ►▼◄ The Miagoma clan of the Aiel nation was a proud clan. It included several septs and one of these was called Spine Ridge. It was the northernmost of the clan septs and its Chief was Rei’ad. He was a tall red-headed man of above middle-age and of good strength. Though perhaps not the strongest man in the sept, he was certainly the wisest and he possessed much cunning, a combination which made him well suited for the position. Staring into the far north he wondered when the ‘bleakness’, as he called it, would descend on them all. The Storm is Coming. He could feel it in his bones, he often said in private meetings with the Wise Ones. These were women of wisdom in the village who often - but not always - had the ability to channel the One Power. They kept many secrets, but as Clan Chief he had deduced some things which were not common knowledge. Wise Ones had great influence among the clans and also great responsibility. They could be as stubborn as the desert, like all women in Rei’ad’s experience, but ought to be listened to (that did not mean that they always got their way, however). It was a prudent fact of life. His wife, Varthana, herself a Wise One of many years, had taught him as much. As Clan Chief he also knew the secrets of Rhuidean. And about the origins of the Aiel. He had been there, he had walked through the Rings of Power, he had learned the Truth. The greatest Secret of all. One that could never be revealed to the clans. Rhuidean was an ancient and holy city in the Aiel Waste built some time after the Breaking of the World by the Jenn Aiel, an extinct faction of the Aiel and unique among their people. The Jenn did not abandon the Way of the Leaf, a pacifistic code of honour, something that went against all that future generations of Aiel stood for. That the Aiel originally had been pacifists was something their people would never be able to accept, the Clan Chiefs agreed. He remembered the buildings in Rhuidean well. Majestic palaces, ornate buildings, with many unfinished. There was a great plaza in the centre of the city filled with hundreds of objects of the One Power, presumed brought there, in service of the Aes Sedai, to save the objects from the madness and upheaval of the Breaking. Also there was Avendesora, the legendary ‘Tree of Life’, which grew at the very centre of the Aiel city. A place of wonder indeed. ● The Clan Chief shook his head as his thoughts went back to what he had experienced when he had walked through those Rings. He had seen the past. He had seen a possible future. He had seen the Truth. And he had seen more.. things he could never talk about to anyone. Things he could not believe.. Waiting for.. Him.. He who would break them but also save them. Rei’ad did not understand that paradox, but he believed there was Truth there. Turning away from the north, the desert sand whipped up into a storm a way to the west, his eyes shifted to the village before him and a hint of a smile came upon his rugged face. This was home and he would protect it whatever happened. To his dying breath. Veiled as he was, in the fashion of his people, he looked every part the warrior. His spear lay at his feet at the moment but could be picked up and thrown in an instance. As Clan Chief he had little use for it in every day life, not like warriors scouting or defending the village, but he carried it with him out of tradition and pride. The spear was part of their identity just like many of their other special customs, some of which would be hard to understand for outsiders. Ji'e'toh was a prime example. He remembered how it had been explained to him when he was a little boy. “Ji'e'toh, my boy, is a complex system of honour that we the Aiel follow. Ji'e'toh determines all interactions in Aiel life; fighting, housing, even intimate relationships and marriage. The term is from the Old Tongue and means, literally, ‘honour and obligation’. Ji is honour, and toh is obligation. The greatest ji comes from touching an armed enemy in battle without harming them. This incurs a great deal of toh upon the enemy, and the person who is touched usually becomes gai'shain, which in the Old Tongue means "pledged to peace in battle." A gai'shain serves his or her captor for a year and a day, touching no weapon, doing no battle, and wearing only white.” Outsiders will never understand, thought Rei’ad as he walked into the village, greeting several villagers that he passed. Wetlanders are different and always will be. A cold gust of wind coming in from the north made the Clan Chief think of his premonition again, and as he entered his private abode, placing his spear beside the entrance, the ancient Aiel Oath, known to all their people, popped into his mind. He murmured the words almost without thinking, whispers out of time. ▼ ● ▼▼▼ ▼▼ ▼ "Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit into Sightblinder's eye on the Last Day." -Ancient Aiel Oath ● ֎֎֎֎֎ ֎֎֎֎֎ ֎֎֎֎ AIR ֎֎֎֎ There was the sound of thunder from an open sky and the air suddenly seemed to twist in on itself over the city of Cairhien, mists of swirling translucent light merging to create phantoms above the banks of the River Alguenya, as if reality for the slightest of moments inverted itself and bent the light. People stared worriedly at the phantoms of light and up at the sky above, many dumbfounded, some gasping for breath and fearful of what was going on. For a second it was as if time had stopped… But then, almost on cue, the world righted itself, the phantoms in the air dissolving into nothingness, the mists falling onto the river water like miniscule silvery petals, and most of the city’s citizens wondered, had they just imagined it all? ● Very little light penetrated the dark woods as night approached dawn. Slivers of moonlight brushed the leaves on the trees like feathers touching the morning. Elessar kept vigil, watching over his Aes Sedai. His eyes swept through the dark forest, searching for any threat. But there was nothing, near silence and quiet. A few nightbirds were heard in the distance and some shuffling through the brush by nocturnal rodents but nothing of consequence. There were no Shadowspawn nearby either; he would have felt them through the bond. Gazing at Calia, still asleep in her blanket close to him, he wondered if she was going through nightmares. She was murmuring in her sleep and seemed restless but he did not want to wake her since she needed all the sleep she could get. Leandreen had told him how exhausted Aes Sedai could become after extensive use of the One Power, unable as they were to Heal themselves, and here Calia had had additional emotional hardship. It was no wonder it had become too much for her, her body and mind now needing rest. After a while she calmed and seemed to have more pleasant sleep something which pleased her Gaidin. He hoped she would rest at least until dawn and then they would see how strong and rested she was. Thinking back on the horror in Four Kings, he felt both sadness and anger. Sadness that so many people had fallen to the Shadow and anger that he had been unable to stop it. Joem and Amelie’s faces flashed in his mind. First the way they had looked when they had arrived; very much alive and filled with purpose and energy. And then the way they had looked in death. His heart cried out to them once again and he cursed the evil Shadow for destroying such wonderful, peaceful and giving people. He also wondered how the Shadowspawn had appeared so quickly in Four Kings. It was impossible to move bands of Trollocs and Myrddraal far across country without being observed. So how had they done it? He did not know, though he had some suspicions, but he felt that this was something they needed to find out. If Shadowspawn could suddenly appear anywhere, then the danger was even greater than they had supposed. He once again wondered if the sudden attack on the town had anything to do with the two of them and their mission, but he presumed not. They were not so important that a fist of Trollocs would be sent after them. Surely not. He was glad they had given Joem and Amelie a respectful burial, in the part of the apple orchard that was not totally destroyed, but the horror and destruction of that day would not so easily be buried in Calia’s mind, of that he felt sure. Looking at her again, her face half-hidden in shadow, he knew he would do whatever was needed to keep her safe and alive. My life before yours. ● As dawn was approaching, he felt her slowly wake. She lay still, her body probably heavy with fatigue, but then she finally shifted in her blanket and sat up slowly. She turned softly toward him and in the half-light, he thought he saw a small smile on her weary face. He returned the smile but did not know if she saw but he felt a sense of appreciation and silent understanding through the bond. Exhaustion, grief, determination—it all melded into the sense of a silent exchange that words would never quite fit or capture. Calia was simultaneously sorry to have brought Elessar to this, and deeply grateful to have him by her side. He sat up straight then and continued his watch in the stillness of the night, giving his bondholder all the time she needed to process things and regain her strength and awareness. He was a little concerned over her fatigue but hoped she would heal, without and within, in the days to come. ● When she seemed ready for it, Elessar held out a waterskin to her and she accepted it gratefully, drinking deeply. Afterwards she thanked him. He smiled back. “For everything” she added after a moment and he nodded back, appreciating her words. He knew he had only done his duty as a Warder, but it was always valuable to be appreciated. “It is my honour,” he whispered back. He watched her rise from her blanket and look around carefully. Then she turned toward him and said that they should move soon. He nodded and then saw her walk across to their tethered horses. A soft moonlight cast a glow over the camp and he glimpsed the horses’ coats shimmering faintly in the pale light. He nodded with approval when he saw her check them for injuries and weariness. They had a long journey ahead of them by horseback and it was important to take good care of their horses, their valiant companions on the road. While Calia saw to their mounts, Elessar broke camp, gathering all their belongings in saddle bags. Dawn was breaking as he was finished packing and he walked the perimeter of the camp once again to check that nothing untoward lurked in the shadows. When he returned, having neither seen nor heard anyone, Calia was finished with the horses and turned toward her Warder. “What do you think?” She asked. ● “I think”, he replied steadily, meeting her eyes, “that you are right.” He saw her nod and give him a small smile. “Presuming you are rested, of course.” She assured him that she was, at least rested enough for the next part of their journey. He felt some weariness in her still through the bond but she seemed ready to ride southwards. “Then we ride south”, he said. “We have a long journey ahead of us.” He fastened their saddle bags to the horses, double-checked that they were secured, and then they led the mounts carefully across the moss-heavy forest floor and down to the forest road. There they mounted, Elessar whispering words of encouragement in Stormbreaker’s ear, and soon the Warder and Aes Sedai were riding south just as glimmers from the sun streamed down on them from above. ● On a sunny afternoon several weeks later, with soft winds coming in from the south-east, Calia and Elessar arrived in sight of Lugard, the Capital of Murandy. Elessar had been there several times in the past and it was indeed a shifty place just as the book he had read had said. One has to be especially alert in this city. Located in the heart of the nation on the banks of the River Storn, it was the trade centre for Murandy, and Lugard had a well-earned commercial reputation, making and exporting lace and handling goods from all neighbouring nations. Lugard also, however, had a very bad reputation for thievery and licentiousness. It was said that residents are said to consider any outsider to be a fair mark for theft or a con and that the unpaved roads and alleys were dangerous to travel alone. We have to be careful here, he thought again as they continued down the Lugard Road, riding past several despondent men and women with children, poorly dressed with downcast eyes, who looked tired and worn, hungry and apathetic, and who walked steadfastly toward the Capital, eyes only on the road in front of them. The wind, stronger now, caught hold of the banners of Murandy atop the city’s eastern gate, the famous Shilene Gate, sending ripples through the cloth, pushing the Red Bull into strenuous forward motion on its vertically striped field of blue and white, as Calia and Elessar rode slowly through the Gate and into Lugard under an azure-blue afternoon sky. >>>>>><<<<<< Riding through the streets of the city, haphazard-appearing in layout and plan, there was a thick layer of dust upon buildings and streets alike. Houses, shops, and inns [it may in this context be noted that Lugard may very well be one of the few cities in the world which actually have more inns and stables than houses and shops] all were of grey stone and roofed in blue, red, purple or green tiles but those bright colours were covered with a dull haze of dirt. It was just as Elessar remembered it. A place of colour. But also a place of dirt. And worse. They finally arrived beside a building that did not look quite as worn down as most of the inns they had passed. It still was shabbier than many inns Elessar had visited, but the innkeeper, if he remembered correctly, was positively inclined toward Aes Sedai [to the extent that was possible in this disreputable city] and the rooms were fairly clean and the beds as well. Dismounting, the Warder took their horses to the stable at the back of the building and returned soon after to carry their saddle bags inside. They did not notice the pair of piercing blue eyes following their every movement from the other side of the dusty street as they entered the ‘Hanging Noose’ inn. ● Faolahr waited impatiently before the gate to the Royal Castle. He needed this alliance with the King of Arad Doman. To bind the nations together, as the prophecies proclaimed. A Hawk suddenly glided into view and he raised his eyes to watch its flight. A Hawk to attack our prey. It was the voice again, the voice he tried to ignore. Shut up! He said silently, and wearily heard the voice chuckle in his mind. As his eyes lowered, he caught a glimpse of someone looking down at him from a castle window. Perhaps it was the Queen. He saw the hint of a woman’s dress before the figure disappeared from view. If only the King would appear. This delay was starting to border on insolence. He shook his head. He had never been so impatient before, but there was so much to do and he could not afford to delay. Finally, the gate opened and a figure appeared. He was dressed in military uniform but looked to be in his early fifties with a grizzled look and a worn face. He stopped a few feet from Faolahr and gave a bow. “My Lord Dragon”, he said, his accent thick. “Please follow me.” Faolahr gave a respectful nod back and waved for two of his Asha’man to join him. The two black-coated men walked up the path and stopped right behind the Dragon Reborn. They were both in their twenties and utterly loyal to Faolahr. They walked one to each side slightly behind as the Dragon Reborn headed into the castle proper. Well inside, the gate shut behind them. Six soldiers waited inside the castle yard and formed an honorary party around them as they headed inside the castle itself. Along several corridors with painting on the walls, rugs and opulent statues until they finally reached a larger chamber. The older man walked up to a pair of guards and spoke. Soon he returned and faced the Dragon Reborn. “Lord Dragon”, he began. His eyes swept over the two Asha’man and his eyes tightened momentarily in consternation but then he focused on Faolahr again. “The King is absent from the castle at the moment. But the Queen is ready to meet you.” ● Faolahr sighed inwardly. So, the King was not here, or he was here but not ready to talk with him. Either way, it seemed he would not be seeing the Arad Domani King today. So be it. He did not know to what extent the King took his Queen into his confidence, but since he was here, he would speak with her. “I understand”, he replied smoothly. His eyes were hard though. “It is unfortunate that the King is absent. But I will speak with the Queen. She may relay what I have to say to her husband.” The old soldier nodded as if he had expected nothing less. “Then, please follow me.” He indicated that the two Asha’man were to wait in the hall and they positioned themselves one on each side of the entrance to the hall, standing still but looking as deadly as wolves. Faolahr followed the old man into another corridor which led to a large oak door with an insignia at the front. He knocked twice and a voice from inside bade him enter. Opening the door, he stepped aside and let Faolahr step into the room. Closing the door behind him, he returned to the hall. This chamber was smaller but still of ample size with marble floors and walls decorated with massive paintings depicting war scenes and ocean battles. A long table with chairs for twelve people stood in the middle of the room, a large office desk behind it. Several bookcases along the walls and marble statues in the corners. In front of one of the statues stood a regal woman in a beautiful dress wearing a small tiara. The Queen. She was in her forties with long beautiful brown hair, high cheekbones, oval eyes and a smile on her face. Beside her stood another woman, just as beautiful. She had long golden hair cascading down her back. Grey-green eyes looked intensely at the Dragon Reborn. Staring at her he thought she looked vaguely familiar.. but he could not quite place her. Walking up to the Queen he gave a respectful nod and received a similar in return. ● “Queen Irhana”, he said, a small smile touching his lips. “My Lord Dragon”, she replied. Her smile was wide. “May I present my advisor, Lady Oriana.” She nodded toward the other woman and Faolahr greeted her too. There was something about this other woman.. but before he had time to think more on it the Queen bade him sit at the table. She sat down opposite him while her advisor sat down beside her. “I am sorry that my husband is not present”, she began. “He is elsewhere on royal business.” Faolahr nodded, wondering again if this was true. Not all rulers would be keen to meet with him and, as they feared, risk losing power and influence. Perhaps he was away at the moment.. “I understand”, he replied smoothly. “It is unfortunate but I hope you will relay my offer to him.” “Offer?” she asked, her smile still as wide but her eyes shrewd. “Yes, my offer of an alliance.” Faolahr added sincerely. “It is important to stand together in these uncertain times.” “Yes, the times are uncertain”, the Queen responded smoothly. “With Dragons causing havoc here and there.” The Dragon Reborn pretended not to have noticed the barb. “False Dragons make war. We have one to the south as you may have heard.” His tone became harder. “They must be stopped.” The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Dragons must be stopped.” ● The Queen’s advisor remained passive, listening to the conversation. Faolahr noticed the emerald stone necklace she was wearing around her slender neck. It was beautiful matching the beauty of its wearer. His eyes met those of the woman and once again he felt that almost recognition. Where have I seen this woman before? I know you. The whisper in his mind echoed in his ears but he shut away that voice again. Turning his eyes toward the Queen again he heard her say that alliances were difficult to build when an army stood at its front door. “My army travels with me”, he said smoothly. “We are no danger to anyone who joins our cause.” “And will you force cooperation?” the Queen added, her smile less wide now. Irritation started to build within him but he remained calm. “To force will not be necessary if an alliance can be made.” His face darkened slightly. “But those who stand against me in this fight to preserve the world from the Shadow, they will pay the price.” “That is only fair, don’t you think?” “I will relay your offer to my husband, the King”, Queen Irhana replied smoothly. Her eyes were still shrewd-looking but her smile was gone. “I am glad you came in person to relay your offer.” She put emphasis on the ‘offer’ knowing he would take notice. Standing up from the table, she pushed the chair back. Her advisor did similarly but Faolahr noticed her studying him closely, her eyes wide, her chin slightly red. She ran a hand through her hair without knowing it and found it difficult to focus on anything but him. The voice in the Dragon Reborn’s head started to say something.. but just then the door to the chamber opened and the old soldier entered. “Thank you for your time, Queen of Arad Doman”, Faolahr said imperiously and walked straight out of the room and down the corridor. In the hall his two Asha’man joined him and they left the palace to rejoin the army outside. In the Queen’s office chamber, the Queen and her advisor spoke for several minutes before the Lady Oriana left, closing the door behind her. He is more impatient than before, Crysanthia thought to herself as she walked down the corridor. Her position as advisor to the Arad Domani Queen, in the guise of the late Lady Oriana, was shrewd she had thought. She had needed a base for her operations and Arad Doman had been as good as any. And available. And very fortuitous as it turned out since the Dragon Reborn had decided to make an alliance with this nation. She knew that Amaranth would not be pleased that she was advising the Arad Domani Royal House to ally with the Dragon Reborn, but who cared about that stuck-up arrogant man anyway? She did not care about him nor his ambitious plans. All she cared about was the Great Lord (who would trust in her judgment) and herself. And the Dragon, of course. ● Carah din Toral Rising Wave, Sailmistress of the Sea Folk Raker Oceanfold, awoke suddenly, the sound of waves brushing against the ship’s side. Her head felt heavy and her eyes were sore. She had had another bad night’s sleep, waking every hour or so, the same dream appearing in her head time and time again. She could not understand why that particular memory should become so insistent. It was that of her mother speaking to her eight year old daughter Carah of Windfinders and Aleh’ren. “Windfinders, Carah, are honoured among us. They can channel the One Power and their Weaving of Winds is highly useful for our ships; they provide safe and swift travel, transport and trade. Aleh’ren, on the other hand, is a different matter. This is the name we give to those unfortunate men who can channel. If a man is discovered that he can channel, he is given two choices: the first is to drown himself by walking of the bow of their ship holding a stone that is tied to their legs, or be abandoned on a barren island with no food or water. The second is considered the more shameful of the two. “ Perhaps it was the impatience that brought on the dreams. Or perhaps the rumours of chaos in the world. Her husband Khoram had spoken of those and he had seemed quite concerned. For whatever reason she hoped the dreams would stop. The subject of Aleh’ren was a dark one that Atha’an Miere usually avoided. ● Getting up from her bunk, Carah stifled a yawn and went out onto deck. It was close to dawn, the sun beginning its slowly rise in the horizon. The blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean were seen everywhere, waves splashing and rocking in that oh so pleasant way, and the sight calmed her down. The salt in the air made it feel like home and she embraced it all. They were a few miles out of Tanchico Harbour. Against the orders of the Mistress of the Ships. But everyone on the ship had been close to madness after all the time at dock in Tanchico and she had seen no other choice than to head to sea. At least for a little while. Smiles of relief could still be seen on the faces of the sailors on board and her Windfinder Morin din Rubai Blue Wing had almost cried with relief when they had left harbour. They could not go too far out to see though. The enemy was out there somewhere and they had to be able to return to Tanchico in time for the imminent invasion. For invasion the Sailmesstress was sure was coming. The Shadow is coming. ● “So, Amaranth”, Erandel began, a flirtatious smile upon her glossy blue lips. “Where are your harlots today?” Her painted face, blue echoes on one side, orange echoes on the other, enhanced by the One Power, looked striking behind her elaborately decorated exotic mask and headpiece. Her eyes, enhanced by shadows, also took on the colours of her painted face and they watched the other Chosen closely. Amaranth knew that Erandel had brought that unique mask and headpiece from their own time back beyond the Endless Sleep; it was one of her most prized possessions. He also knew that when she was speaking of ‘harlots’ she was not only thinking of the ladies of the night who pleasured him at times. “Very droll, Erandel”, Amaranth replied, tightening his eyes slightly as he gazed back at her. She enjoyed teasing him and could not help herself when they were alone together. “Dressed up, I see”. He added smoothly. “Some special reason?” He knew that she was a somewhat flamboyant character who liked to dress up at times and also to cloak herself in multi-coloured shimmering weaves when she did not want to be recognized. Amaranth thought she was vain, but he no longer bothered to remark on it. Her work in the White Tower was what mattered and she was doing a very good job there, creating division and cracks between the Ajahs just as the Great Lord wanted. “Do I need a special reason?” Erandel responded, amusement in her voice. Touching the exotic earrings with gems that hung from her ears, and smiling somewhat mischievously at the leader of the Chosen as she took a sip from her glass of red wine, she wondered if one of those two.. harlots had pleasured him today. Never mind, it was not important “I simply fancied it.” She said matter-of-factly. “I have always embraced colours, as you know.” “Yes you have”. Amaranth took a long sip from his wine. In more ways than one. ● They were seated in the living room of his mansion. It was all white, marble walls meeting marble floor, a luxurious white settee with some high-backed chairs and a glass table with a crystal decanter and a pair of crystal wine cups. In the corner sat his prized chess table, with pieces to move and be moved. “Do you ever dream of.. home?” He said after a while. His eyes had an absent look. She knew what ‘home’ meant when he said it that way. Their life back in their own time. What people in this Age called the Age of Legends. “Of course I do”, she replied, her eyes darkening for a moment. “This Age is pale in comparison. A shadow of what once was.” She was correct in every way. This Age was a poor reflection of what had once been and he felt sadness for all that had been lost. Anger too. And frustration. But mostly regret. “You are right”, he added pensively. “This world is a pale shadow.” He rose to his feet and walked across to the huge window which faced the large garden outside. Green grass amidst flower beds and fruit trees, it was very picturesque and Amaranth had it tended properly. Nowhere near the splendour of his garden back in Comelle Adanzan, of course, back in that time with its spellbinding flowers, small waterfalls defying gravity and blue-violet droplets falling on leaves of shining gold, but it pleased him and he had a caretaker making sure it was kept to perfection. A soldier he was in most ways, but he too took pleasure in the joy of colours. ● Turning around at last, he faced the beautiful woman in the settee. “Now then”, he began. He gazed at the colourful dress she was wearing which managed to be revealing but also decent at the same time. It had a low cut but not excessively so. She saw his stare and was unable to hide a grin. “There was something”, he said, “you wanted to talk to me about.” He was dressed all in black; it was something he favoured. The shirt was of the finest silk, the pants casual but not overly so, the boots stylish. The dark colour made a great contrast to her colourful attire. Remaining standing, he waited patiently for her to reply. Looking at him, she had to admit that he was handsome. He was not her type though even if she did enjoy flirting with him now and then. She undressed him with her eyes and saw him react to the attraction of her. That made her chuckle inside. Shifting her attention to the matter at hand, her eyes became more serious. “Yes”, Erandel began carefully. She had been debating with herself how much to tell him. Too little and that could become a problem. Too much and that could also become a problem. To find the right balance was not always easy. “I have heard rumours about.. the Dragon.” Amaranth’s violet eyes tightened and his posture stiffened. His face darkened further as she explained what she had learned. ● The little boy of five years called Mo (short for Mortimer) embraced his grandda warmly, feeling safe in the old man’s arms. “Your stories are always the bestests”, he said, smiling into his grandda’s chest. “I want to hear the one of the prince and the maiden again. The one where they battle the monster!” His eager smile made his grandfather chuckle. The little boy had brown ruffled hair and green eyes, a big nose and out sticking ears. He would never be the handsomest boy around, but what he lacked in looks he more than made up in charm, wit and a pleasant personality. “Alright, my boy”, the old man said, grinning into his grey beard. His green eyes glinted with pleasure. “I will tell that story again.” He placed his grandchild on his knee and started speaking. ● “Once upon a time.. in a Kingdom far, far away there was a prince who was a fierce fighter. A brave man. But one day as he visited the local village, he came upon a fair maiden who took his breath away.” Chase smiled broadly, enjoying the telling. “Her light-golden hair”, he continued, “glistened in the sun and her eyes were wells he could lose himself in. And her smile.. oh, what a smile. He was beside himself with love, obsessed with this young woman after that first sight, and one dark night he snuck out of the castle and visited the maiden in her home.” He paused then, hearing a noise outside the house. Looking through the window he saw harbour in the distance and a large ship arriving. The docks in Mayene were often busy so such a sight did not surprise him. The noise did not return and so he continued telling the story. The tale of the prince and the fair maiden who ran away, and on their journey, they had adventures. By the time he had told the whole story, the little boy had fallen asleep in his arms, a happy smile on his face. The old man smiled himself. He loved his little grandchild and cherished every moment with him. This is what makes life so precious. ● Her life was a living nightmare. She feared she was losing her mind. Nadhene’s life before joining the White Tower had not been an easy one. Left to fend for herself at an early age, her parents’ self-destructive individuals who one day threw her out of the house and locked the door, she had been cared for by her aunt who not either was a caring person. It had almost been a relief when at the age of fifteen she had been tested by passing Aes Sedai and found to have the spark. They had taken her to the White Tower to be trained. Her years as a novice had not been easy either, struggling to learn and miserable with all the menial tasks novices were made to do to ‘grow character’ as they said. She had spent more years as an Accepted than most and her first years as a Sister of the White Tower had been rough. It had taken decades of hard work and personal development to reach her potential and to grow in strength in every way, a hard path to walk. But nothing came close to the horror she experienced every waking hour as slave to the Forsaken Nymeria. Oh, the woman had imparted her name one day and had laughed gleefully seeing the Amyrlin’s eyes widening in terror. One of the Forsaken! Loose in the world. If Nadhene had not been broken already she would have become so at this horrific knowledge. If the Forsaken were loose, they might all be doomed! Given pain every single day through the evil Domination Band, she had begun to treasure the few moments of non-pain and had begged the Forsaken, her Mistress Silah, for mercy even though it shamed her to utter the words. Nymeria had chuckled at the pitiful words and had punished her even harder. Crawling across the floor daily like an infant, in soiled clothes and in her own vomit, Nadhene was an emotional wreck and as far from the powerful Amyrlin she had been as could be. She did not care about pride anymore, though. Pride was for the living. She was, in reality, dead to the world. Dead to herself. And dead to the Amyrlin Seat. ● And then one day it all suddenly stopped. She was given proper food to eat (no longer the dog food she had been given), was cleaned up and given a hot bath which made her cry in appreciation even though the hot water stung her many wounds across her naked body. She swallowed ashamed tears and just relished not getting pain anymore. That she had fallen so low made her soul scream in anguish but she hushed down her inner pain and hoped the moments of pleasure would not end. Watching her slowly regaining strength, physical and mental, Nymeria smiled inside. To break her down completely. And then to build her up again. We need her strong for what is to come. “You have been a good child, Lata.” Nymeria’s voice sounded kind but as if she were talking to her pet. “No complaints lately which is good. Therefore, you deserve these rewards.” Nadhene’s lips trembled but she tried to smile through cracked lips. “Thank you, Mistress Silah. Lata will be a kind child.” What horrified her was that she knew that she meant it. As her body slowly gained strength, her mind did too. She despaired over her situation but with the constant pain gone her self-confidence grew and she was able to get some blessed relief. In her most secret of hearts she began to think the unthinkable.. to escape. She hardly dared think the thought, fearing that perhaps the Forsaken could read thoughts through the Domination Band, but she could not help herself. She cried herself to sleep at night but as morning dawned in the small spartan prison they called her room a small hope blossomed that somehow she would be able to get free. ● She was let out into the garden twice a day. It was a small patch of green with two trees and a flower bed. High brick walls, twenty feet high, encircled the garden and so it was impossible to see beyond. She had in fact no idea where she was but the taste of salt in the air told her she was somewhere close to the ocean. Not that it really mattered where she was but she still wondered. The servants who did everything from making food to cleaning walked silently around with empty eyes and never said a word to anyone. They were clothed like normal people but they did not act like normal people. Not that that mattered either. But as the days passed the Amyrlin took more notice of things while attempting to seem uninterested. She had no idea how long she had been a prisoner when one day she found the house empty. She had just gotten up, washed herself and readied herself for breakfast. She had been given a book to read the night before, “Artur Hawkwing: Fact or Fiction?”, and had started reading, appreciating the gesture since it would help her mind working again. Now, however, her thoughts went to the White Tower wondering how they would have reacted to their Amyrlin and Leader being gone. Perhaps they have elected a new Amyrlin by now. Waiting for her captor to arrive, she sat down in a chair. The table that had had maps was empty. There was no sound either. Finally, after a time, she rose and walked slowly toward the entrance door. She did not know if she dared try and open the door. The collar around her neck had given her atrocious pain the one time she had done so. Touching the accursed collar now she almost expected the pain to come. It did not. Hope rose in her and she touched the door lever. Nothing happened. Pressing it down slowly the door opened and she stared with blurred eyes as she saw the brown-black mountains in the distance. Freedom. She took a step outside onto the gravel and stopped. Gazing frightfully but with hope streaming through her she looked left, then right. She saw no one. She could not feel the One Power inside her but it had been that way since she arrived. Somehow, she knew she had not been stilled, the Saidar was still a part of her, just that she could not access it. Yet. Another step towards freedom. The path before her surrounded by rocks and small bushes beckoned her forwards. She took a third step and waited. When no one stopped her, she continued down the path, hope blossoming in her heart. As she reached the end of the path, she turned to stare back at the building that had been her prison - and saw the Forsaken staring back at her! She was smiling smugly. “So, Lata”, she said, her voice clearly amused. “There is some fight in you after all. Wonderful!” Nadhene’s hope was shattered. ● To her surprise she was not punished for trying to escape. All continued as before, she was given food, rest, and no pain. She did not quite understand it but she appreciated the leniency. She grew more and more confident as the days went by, inspired by the heroic tales of Artur Hawkwing, though she remained subservient when in the presence of her captor. She began to make plans for what she would do in the White Tower - she was certain she would somehow be able to escape - once she was back. The world needed to know that at least one Forsaken was loose. If one was loose, others were probably too. This made it even more important that the Forces of Light - The White Tower, the Black Tower and the Dragon Reborn’s forces - unite and stand together against the Shadow. The mission she had sent Calia on together with her Warder, to find and recover one of the remaining Seals on the Dark One’s prison, was now even more important. There was so much to do but first she needed to gain her freedom. ● “It is good to see you strong in yourself again, Lata”, Nymeria said one morning, patting her on the head like a dog. Nadhene felt her chins redden but tried to swallow the shame. She was only partly successful. The Chosen pretended not to notice. “We need you strong now.” Her smile broadened but in a dark way. “You are going to be a good.. asset, child. A very useful asset.” The Amyrlin stared demurely at her captor, seething inside, wondering what she meant. Just then a chime sounded in the house and a Gateway opened at the other side of the room. The second woman who had abducted her in the White Tower, the dark-haired beauty, stepped into the room. She wore a dark blue dress with silver sleeves and a bronze-style belt. Her dark eyes fastened on the Amyrlin who wore the same dress she had been captured with. Washed of course and ironed. “So”, she said taking another step toward the Aes Sedai. “Your little pet is ready to do some work.” Her voice was smooth nut her eyes sparkled. “It’s about time, I’d say.” Nymeria glanced at Qariahna wanting to shut her mouth. Instead, she responded just as smoothly, “Yes, Lata is now ready. She will carry out her duties with utmost proficiency, I am sure.” The other Chosen pursed her lips but said nothing in return, just kept staring at the Amyrlin. She in turn tried to fix her stare on a point midway between the two women. Inside though she wondered what it was they meant. How would she be able to help them? Grabbing Nadhene by the shoulder, Nymeria pushed the Aes Sedai toward the open Gateway and stepped into what looked like a cave. Qariahna followed soon after and closed the Gateway behind her. Nadhene was unable to treasure the incredible fact that people could Travel again in the world because just as soon she was pushed forward into a corridor leading inwards into the cave. She could hear the waves crashing against the rocks in the distance and understood they were yet again close to the ocean. Their path angled downwards for a while and Nymeria pushed the Aes Sedai along. Qariahna followed at the back, a soft grin on her lips. The cave path slowly straightened, then angled upwards and finally opened up, walls of stone rising upwards on all sides, with huge malachite hanging from the ceiling high above. In the middle of the huge stone chamber, criss-crossed by symbols on the ground and partially lit by three dozen candle lights, stood thirteen Myrddraal and eleven Dreadlords, six female, five male. The two Chosen placed the Aes Sedai by the stone wall and then Nadhene was lifted off the ground by weaves of Air and bound to the wall three feet above ground. The Two Chosen joined the Dreadlords so they were now thirteen Myrddraal and thirteen channelers, the acquired number for the business at hand. To turn Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat, to the Shadow. ● The Amyrlin’s piercing brown eyes stared hard at everyone gathered. She wondered why so many were assembled and her eyes widened when she recognized some of those faces. Bound to the stone wall she was unable to move even her head and she realized she was gagged with Air again. When a clicking sound was heard and her collar, her accursed part of the Domination Band, fell from her neck she felt relief for a swift moment before a shield slammed between her and the One Power. To get confirmation that she had not been stilled, that Saidar still flowed inside her even if she could not reach it, gave her another moment of pleasure. But then she saw the triumphant smiles on the two Forsaken’s faces and her momentary relief was shattered. What were they going to do, kill her? If so, why the need for so many channelers and Myrddraal? She had seen Fades in the Borderlands many years ago but this was the first time she had seen so many assembled together. Were they ready for war? Was that what this all was about? Fear began to take hold of her heart though she kept her Ageless features smooth. In the back of her mind something she had read about in ancient texts in the White Tower grabbed her attention. It cannot be.. Cold shivers ran down her back. The black-coated Myrddraal stood silently waiting, their Eyeless faces turned upwards. The two Chosen spoke to the Dreadlords and though Nadhene could not hear what they were saying she saw the women robed in black bow reverently. Nymeria then walked up to the bound Amyrlin and staring up into the Aes Sedai’s face she whispered, “This is a day of joy for you, Lata.” She wore a lopsided grin. “Soon you will join your Sisters and Brothers in service to the Great Lord. You are forsaking the Light. And you will be Amyrlin again. Does this not make you happy?” Comprehension slowly dawned on the Aes Sedai. That ancient parchment from shortly after the Trolloc Wars had spoken of such an evil practice. Her entire face went white as a bedsheet as she understood what was going to be her fate. ● She started to scream inside, her brown eyes widening in horror! Her soul cried out and had she been able to, she would have killed herself rather than go through what she now understood was about to happen: she was going to be Turned to the Shadow against her will! Tears started flowing down her chin, her cheeks burning with frustration, as she thought with despair that they would make her betray the Light forever. The words from the ancient parchment now burned in her mind. In order to Turn someone unwillingly to the Shadow, it had said, one needed to gather thirteen Myrddraal and thirteen Dreadlords in one place. The victim of Turning must also be able to channel. The combination of Saidin and Saidar channeled through Myrddraal in this way was said to shift the allegiance of any channeler to the Shadow against their will. The process twists the person so that any previous commitment to the Light is redirected towards the Shadow. It was the ultimate horror Nadhene could imagine and she screamed silent screams that almost tore her soul. Seeing the terror that enveloped the Amyrlin’s face made Qariahna relish the moment. She had always found pleasure in Turnings.. in the War of Power, it had been used successfully on several occasions. It needed many participants though and so was only carried out on very important people; people who would be especially useful to the Shadow. This Aes Sedai would be very useful for the Great Lord and so they had gathered here in this place. Nymeria exchanged a look with Qariahna and nodded. It was time to begin. Qariahna was the one leading, controlling the flow. She felt Saidar surge through her body, amplified by her Angreal, and she increased the flow almost to bursting, feeling ecstasy in her soul. The power coming from the thirteen channelers was so strong that it made the air vibrate. She removed the gag of Air from the Aes Sedai and she screamed loudly, unending, a desperate cry that welled up from the bottom of her soul. Channeling through the thirteen Myrddraal, mixing with the power that the Fades derived from the True Power, the thirteen channelers of the Shadow threw their combined might, Saidar and Saidin, at the Amyrlin and it hit her like a burning storm. Horrendous screams erupted from her mouth as she tried to fight the massive onslaught. Crying out for the Light, tears flooding her face, she fought the mental rape for what seemed an eternity, using every fibre of her being and will and Hope to defend her soul, her heart, everything that was Nadhene Carahnas from the town of Darluna in Arad Doman, resisting for as long as she was able. Gradually hysterical with pain and fear, trying in vain to reach for the blessed One Power, and wanting oblivion, she fought on.. and on.. OH LIGHT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! .. her will strong, strengthened by adversity, and fighting and brave and pure….. but it was not enough. Nowhere near enough. Slowly, by increments, she felt her inner defences weakening, her thoughts became muddled and she knew .. OH DEAR CREATOR, I CAN FEEEEEEEL IT!!! .. that her soul was being darkened. Her strength waned, all that made her Nadhene slipping, and then at one point, an eternity later, or was it just a moment? she could not tell, she felt a.. change inside her, as if a hand of darkness had reached into her and extinguished everything she had ever been, everything she had ever thought, every love she had ever nurtured, every passion and dream she had ever had. Her soul was breaking - and the scream in her mind was endless and filled with terror! Her last thought as herself, as Nadhene, the Amyrlin Seat of the Light, before she passed out, was that she wanted to die and end it all. ● Afterwards all the channelers felt spent. A Turning always took its toll also on the Dreadlords. Qariahna retreated to the back of the cave and spoke with Nymeria for a while. It had taken longer than expected to break this Aes Sedai, but it also meant she would be a strong leader for the Shadow. The Turning had been successful and the woman was no longer the same woman, the same personality, that she had been. She had been released from her captivity and when she recovered a little later, she walked up to Nymeria and bowed reverently. Her face was flat but without any defiance as she swore new binding Oaths to the Great Lord holding a Binder, or Oath Road as they called it in this new Age. Her eyes were deep wells of nothingness but this did not surprise the Chosen since she knew that Turned channelers were said to have a darkness or soullessness behind their eyes, at least for some period after the event. The Amyrlin joined her Dreadlord Sisters, women of the Black Ajah who bowed to her as Amyrlin. She put on a black robe similar to theirs and already started to make plans on behalf of the Great Lord to disrupt matters in the White Tower. There were several things that needed doing. When Qariahna came to stand before her, she knelt before the Chosen. “Are you ready to carry out your duties for the Great Lord?” She asked carefully, looking deeply into the Turned woman’s eyes. “I am, Great Mistress.” She replied truthfully. Her eyes were dead but there was no doubt in her voice. “Remember your new binding Oath, Amyrlin Seat.” Qariahna added in a cold voice. “Remember your Duty.” Nadhene nodded deferentially. She was ready to serve the Shadow. ● It was well past midnight on a moonless night when the Gateway opened in the Amyrlin’s office chamber high up in the White Tower. Nymeria stepped through followed by Nadhene. A woman already stood in the chamber. She had long brown hair and dark eyes. Her dress was pale green with a low-cut bodice. She smiled when she saw the Amyrlin and quickly introduced herself. “I am Erandel”. She said, her eyes twinkling. “But you will know me as Leihda Sedai of the Green. A Sitter in the Hall of the Tower.” Nadhene immediately knelt before the second Chosen. “You will report to me.” Erandel added smoothly. “There is important work to be done for the Great Lord.” “Yes, Great Mistress!” Nadhene replied honestly. “I will leave you to your business”, Nymeria mumbled and gave a nod to Erandel. She nodded back, her eyes sparkling, and watched as the other Chosen entered the Gateway and was gone. Looking the Aes Sedai up and down when she rose to her feet, the Chosen nodded softly to herself. “I am glad to see the Tower in good hands”, Erandel said with a lopsided grin as she walked slowly toward the door that led into the corridor behind. Weaving the Mask of Mirrors she gradually turned into Leihda Aes Sedai of the Green before the Amyrlin’s eyes. She closed the door softly behind her and Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat, was left alone in her office chamber. A Tower of Shadow, the Black Sister Amyrlin embraced the Darkness. ▀▄

.. Living Nightmares & Dreams of Glory .. ►▼◄ Tarah Sanighar was an Aes Sedai of one hundred seventy years and she had devoted her life to the White Tower. She had been a Sitter in the Hall of the Tower for twenty years when she had become Keeper of the Chronicles, second in the White Tower only to the Amyrlin, Nadhene Carahnas. Her friend. Who had now disappeared from the White Tower and had not been seen for several weeks. It was inconceivable that she would just leave in such dangerous times as these. But the truth was that no one had seen her leave and no one had heard from her ever since that evening when she had offered an alliance with the Black Tower. An alliance which no longer existed since the document had disappeared too. ● Thinking back on that evening, the Keeper could do nothing but shake her head in disbelief. She had been proud to observe the Amyrlin take the daring but oh so necessary step to go into an alliance with the Asha’man. Taking the signed document down to the Tower Archives, she had walked the corridors in silence, carrying that valuable piece of paper. And then suddenly, out of nowhere, a Shadow had blanketed the light of the hallway, she had felt someone embracing Saidar and then she remembered no more until she woke some time later, crouching against the wall, her entire body aching, the document gone. Bewildered, she had sprinted back up to the Amyrlin’s private chamber, thrown open the door, but it had been empty, the Amyrlin and the Asha’man both gone. Had the Asha’man betrayed them? Had he somehow managed to incapacitate the Amyrlin and smuggle her out of the Tower? It seemed impossible and she could not quite believe it, but she could not think of any other explanation that made sense. Were there traitors in the Tower who had aided him? She had reached out and had received letters from the Black Tower insisting that they had nothing to do with the Amyrlin’s disappearance. Indeed, the Asha’man who had been sent to sign the treaty on behalf of the Black Tower was apparently gone too. A true mystery if they were to be believed. The Hall of the Tower was up in arms over the matter. Half the Sitters so outraged that they argued some sort of reaction against the Asha’man. The other half arguing that caution was wise until they had evidence of what had happened. In the Amyrlin’s absence the Keeper led the proceedings and she had taken on the administrative duties of the leader of the Aes Sedai. This included much paperwork and the reading of many messages meant for the Amyrlin. Going through the messages now again, she wondered if the world was on the brink of disaster. Some claims seemed valid, some not at all. It was difficult to know what to believe. There was chaos everywhere. The False Dragon in Amadicia has been captured by Red Sisters, stopping the war The Fortress of Light is under siege by Aea Sedai The Dead are Walking in Andor A Storm is coming in the Aryth Ocean, a Storm of Shadow Forces The Sea Folk are fortifying Tanchico Harbour A Shadowspawn force is moving eastward in the Borderlands, crushing defenders Shara is mobilizing The Queen of Saldaea has disappeared The Shadow has infiltrated Noble Houses in Cairhien The Stone of Tear has been breached The Dragon Reborn is gathering forces, Dragonsworn, in Arad Doman ● That last message worried her the most. The Dragon Reborn. Free, as she and Nadhene had decided was the best. The dangerous decision they had made in a split Hall which had debated what to do if they managed to get the Dragon Reborn safe and under protection. She and the Amyrlin had privately feared that locking up the Dragon Reborn could tamper with the Prophecies that needed to be fulfilled. A dangerous decision letting him run loose.. but they had had no choice as they had seen it. Knowing they could be deposed if the Hall were to know that they had willingly let the Dragon Reborn run free when he could have been captured, they had kept the secret deep in their hearts. Even so, it frightened her to know he was out there making nations tremble. Dear Creator, let it be the right decision! She prayed silently, crumbling that last message. Let him be the Champion of the Light that we hope he is! Leaning back in the Amyrlin’s high-backed chair, removing a dark lock of hair from her forehead, closing her brown eyes, she placed her arms on the table top before her, her thoughts returning to the most pressing issue at hand. Where was the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat? ● Galloping hard, flying like the wind, Elessar’s valiant warhorse Stormbreaker caught up with Calia’s smaller bay mare after a quarter of a mile. Cloaked in the Flame and the Void Elessar was focused on reaching his Aes Sedai only. A small irritation at her brave but somewhat reckless rush towards Four Kings still remained in the back of his mind, but he ignored it as he exchanged a quick glance with his bondholder as his mount came abreast of Calia’s. He only felt intense determination coming through the bond as Calia lay low atop her mare with its neck outstretched and hooves thundering across the packed earth of the road. She seemed deeply focused and Elessar quickly decided that there was no point in making her stop and consider her action. She had decided when she rushed off, and now all he could do was trust that her decision had been a wise one and to stand by her side come what may. They may have words later, but he was there to protect her and that he would do unto death and beyond! The wind whipped his Warder’s cloak as Stormbreaker ran at high speed, Elessar’s eyes fixed on the road far ahead. He still held tightly onto the reins with one hand and onto his sword at Stormbreaker’s side with the other. In his mind he calculated how far ahead the Shadowspawn could be. He sensed them still and he could feel the looming dread. Death and carnage awaited ahead. ● Suddenly a thunderous CRACK! and a resounding ROAR! split the sky ahead! A thick, black plume of smoke poured into the sky from the edge of Four Kings. The explosion thundered - and Elessar suspected its source. He gave a quick glance at Calia as their mounts picked up even greater speed and he could see the intensity and purpose in her eyes and stance. Four Kings Even stronger emotions came through the bond from Calia now, and having visited the town with her and seeing how precious it was for her - the family inn, her relatives, the orchards, the trees - everything; he understood how personal it was. And how destructive this could be for her. He knew there was no way to shield her though from the coming pain, the coming carnage. She was Aes Sedai, she was a Battle Ajah Sister, and she would face what was to come, however painful. strongly and proudly. ● The world was a blur around them as they rode, almost as if they were travelling at the edges of a dream. Stormbreaker’s heart beat fast beneath him, like a pounding drum carrying them to war. Despite the calm and control Elessar felt inside there was exhilaration as well and adrenaline flowing through him. His pulse was high and his body ready to throw himself into whatever danger awaited them. He exchanged another quick glance with Calia as they rounded a bend in the road and headed straight ahead towards the ominous black clouds in the distance. Finally, they reached a twist in the road, past trees and to a stretch where it would open up beside the Luin boundary. Smoke and ash now billowed in their direction and Elessar coughed and felt his eyes beginning to water. He half-closed them and tried to hold his breath at intervals but then suddenly he was able to both see and breathe normally again and he understood that Calia had created some kind of bubbles of Air around their heads. Leandreen has done similarly once and it helped them massively now. He hoped Calia felt his appreciation through the bond. Almost as one, united in action and purpose, they wheeled their galloping mounts around the next corner and came face to face with burning orchards. ● Bark and branches shattered into splinters. Apples, ripe and ready for harvest, flew from their peaceful boughs, red and green skins splitting from the forces that assailed them. Sweet flesh was crushed to pulp beneath hooves and clawed feet as bestial howls and cheers filled the air. Juice seeped into the mud and dirt. In the orchard, the last of the apples fell as the screams of terror began, and bright red skins split open as they hit the ground. ● The horse yards and stables were on fire too, Elessar saw as they galloped onwards. He did not need to gaze into Calia’s eyes to know the horror she felt. Her home was burning. The cart-horses were racing the flames, eyes rolling, manes and tails flying, caught in a whirlwind of fire and storm. The Gaidin hoped those horses would make it but they could not stop yet, they had to reach what lay ahead. The inn and the people. And there ahead Elessar saw it, the brewery was a collapsed smoldering ruin. He felt emotional pain coming through the bond from Calia and knew she must be devastated for such strong emotion to be felt by him. He understood her grave pain and wished he could spare her for what she would see next. Beyond the broken brewery, the inn was also on fire and beyond the point of no return. Flames licked voraciously up the walls, and black smoke bellowed from the roof. They reached the gate and his bondholder flung herself from the saddle, storming down the path. Elessar dismounted a little more orderly and took hold of his mount and Calia’s. He was tempted to run after his Aes Sedai but something told him this was a moment, however painful, for her alone. This was her home after all. Staring at the burning flames running up the side of the inn, tendrils of death coated in orange, his dark eyes tightening in anger, he felt another shock come through the bond from Calia and knew what that meant. His eyes filled with unshed tears for her. Joining her, he stood in silence before the Fallen. Seeing poor Joem and Amelie dead on the bloodied ground, his body trampled, with a makeshift spear sticking up from his back, her body crushed, her arms extended at an unnatural angle, made Elessar’s heart ache. Innocent victims of the brutality of the Shadow. A Shadow that spared no one. A Shadow that drowned out all Light. Thinking of the joyous celebration of this place such a short time ago and how it now was a place of Death and Devastation made the Warder’s soul bleed. Standing close to Calia in the death-filled yard, but giving her the personal space she needed, he gave her strength through the bond and determination. They exchanged a swift glance and he thought he saw appreciation in that otherwise devastated look. A Wanderer in a Land of Death, Elessar of Kandor vowed to take revenge on those who had destroyed this place in the Sun. ● Twilight came and went by the time Calia and Elessar were on the road again. The darkness without mirrored the darkness within, as the horror of what they had witnessed stayed with them. They had dispatched the remaining Shadowspawn, relishing the killing of those savage brutes as rightful vengeance for the innocent dead, and afterwards had given the bodies of Calia’s two relatives as deserving and as special and honouring a farewell as possible. The Gaidin had dug two graves in the lee of one of the apple trees furthest to the east in the orchard, a part not totally damaged by the fire, and had placed the two bodies reverently in the ground. When Elessar had spoken the Borderlander words of honour, “May you Shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last Embrace of the Mother welcome you Home”, Calia had nodded softly though she had appeared distant. They had then set off but not before rescuing the horses from the flames in the horse yard. The mounts had run off, free from agonizing death, across the orchards and into the trees beyond. ● Elessar now felt very tired but he sensed that Calia was even more exhausted. Not surprising, considering the added emotional toll. They needed to get to a place of rest; a place where memories of Shadows no longer festered. In a blur they rode, chased by smoke and ash and mist, leaving behind most of what they had seen, what they had done, what they had revenged. Unable to escape some remnants of Death and Destruction, whispers in the mind too painful to lay to rest as of yet, they continued onwards for a New Day, another Day to be Alive. ● Some time later, time lost in a haze, they stopped, needing the rest, and Calia dropped, beyond exhausted, from the saddle, to stand, weakly, by her bay's drooping head. Elessar dismounted quickly and casting a worried glance at his bondholder he saw how weak she was. He felt her exhaustion through the bond and started toward her. She stared back at him almost blankly and as she started falling, Elessar leapt toward her and caught Calia in his arms. He saw that she was unconscious and placed her carefully on the ground. He understood that it was due to exhaustion, both physical and emotional, and that she would recover after a good night’s sleep. They were nowhere near a village though and so Elessar carried her a distance into the trees and lay her down softly on a bed of moss near some large rocks that would give shelter from the wind. Then he fetched their horses and set up camp. He moved Calia onto a blanket that he removed from their saddle bags and made sure she was comfortable. He would give her some water to drink later but for now she needed that sleep. Tethering their tired horses and giving each an apple to munch on, he then found his own blanket and placed it near Calia’s. The night was not cold and so they would manage without a fire. Elessar walked the perimeter of their makeshift camp to ensure there was no danger nearby before laying down in his own blanket. The Borderlander Warder did not sleep much that night, watching over his bondholder. ● Lord Sandhar knelt before the shimmering figure. Her dress was multi-coloured but lit in a way from within which made it shimmer to the extent that it was impossible to see the woman’s facial features or even the colour of her hair. But he knew it was her. “Great Mistress”, the blond-haired, blue-eyed Lord of Illian said. His voice was submissive and unusually soft-spoken for him. He had been a womanizer most of his adult life, loving the pleasures a woman could give him, but with this woman it was entirely different. This woman was deadly and he dared not disobey. “I am ready to serve, as always.” His head was still bowed. “I have served well in the past.” He had served the Great Lord of the Dark well ever since he had turned to the Shadow a decade before. He was proud of his service especially in these final days before the Great Lord’s Return. The woman stared down at the kneeling man and grinned though he could not see it. He had served her well in the past and she would make sure he kept serving her well. Dominating the Council of Twelve of Illian was something he enjoyed doing for the Shadow and it was important work. She kept silent though, wanting him to sweat a little more. “I moved half the military force of Illian north as you commanded”, he added carefully when it was clear that she was remaining silent. “Now that force is split and thereby the defence of this nation is weakened. Just as we want.” “Just as I want”. Her voice was as always strange-sounding, female but somehow twisted in pitch. It always made it run cold down his back. “Remember, you are doing my bidding.” ● He felt something press against his throat and began to struggle to breathe. His eyes widened and his hands went to his throat. There was nothing there though, but the pressure continued. Tears filled his eyes as he tried to find a breath but he could not! “You are my tool, Lord Sandhar”, the woman spoke. Her voice was hard as ice. “Never forget that!” Adding flows of Saidar, Spirit woven just so, he felt pain erupt in his head. “And don’t ever think to betray me.” Her voice crashed down on him now. “If you do, I will lock you in a box and make you feel pain worse than this for years before I kill you.” He felt pain such as he had never done before! A thousand needles puncturing his skin, touching every single nerve in his body, making him shake violently and uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. When he regained his breath at last, his face smashed into the marble floor, his dark cloak blanketing his body, and he lost consciousness. Gazing down at the unconscious Lord, the woman shook her head. Another pitifully weak man of this Age. But he had his uses and so she kept him alive. Touching the sleeves of her pale-green dress, her eyes narrowed and she wondered if he would carry out his next task with the same diligence. Time will tell. Opening a Gateway behind her, the sliver of light slicing the air of the Palace chamber, the Chosen stepped through and shut it behind her. In Illian, Twilight was approaching, day slowly turning into night as Shadows spread. ● It was early afternoon and clouds were drifting in from the far west. Patches of blue sky were still in view from the Black Tower and the wind was picking up. Tiram Ralnovar, the First Asha’man, gazed at the training men on the training grounds before him and nodded. He wore his black coat with the gold-and-red Dragon pin on the right side of the collar as well the silver sword pin of the Dedicated. A tall strongly-built man in his late thirties with light-brown hair, pale brown eyes and a soft beard, he radiated confidence and had the canny ability to build confidence in others. He was an excellent leader - and he knew it. Seeing one of their newest recruits, a young lad from Arad Doman, struggle with his weaves he walked over to the Soldier and showed him how it was done. The young man appreciated the help and tried to appear confident when the First Asha’man left him to see to another. By the Great Lord, I have to do better! I just have to! The young Andoran kept mumbling to himself as he kept weaving the flows of Saidin. Leaving another young recruit, Tiram walked back to the barracks. The training was going well on the whole though some of the new Soldiers were.. troublesome. Madness had set in in some of them, subtle signs but they were there if one knew what to look for. The Hall of the Tower, the council of the Asha’man, had debated what to do when these individuals became worse.. but the Dragon Reborn had forbidden that they be put to death. If worst came to worst, those men would be locked in an enclosure and watched closely. “Do not dare to disobey me on this”, Faolahr Sahrin, the Dragon Reborn, had said to their faces. “I have spoken!” ● The Dragon Reborn. Tiram respected the man, he who had created the Black Tower. He was young and inexperienced but there was something about him that made you listen, made you pay attention, made you follow. He did think the man ought to be more often in the Black Tower, to inspire, to be seen, but he also understood the very important mission he had, born of Prophecies, born to save the world, and that he therefore had to leave much in Tiram’s hands. If he were honest with himself, the whole Prophecies thing was way over the First Asha’man’s head, the Last Battle apparently coming and everything. He lived day by day, relieved that he still had his sanity and that he had not destroyed everyone around him, and did his very best to train these young men who would stand against the Shadow on that final day. He was proud to be among the Asha’man and of what they had created here in their new home, the Black Tower. A future, however long it turned out to be, for men such as he. He remembered what the Dragon Reborn had said to them all before he left the last time. “An Asha'man”, he had said, his brown eyes sparkling, “is a man who defends Truth and Justice and Right for everyone. A Guardian who will not yield even when hope is gone. Remember that!" His words had inspired the young men and Tiram as well. There was an echo of revelation in those words and it made them all proud. Entering the barracks, he strode across to a bunk near the corner and looked down on the sick man. He was feverish, sweat was beading on his face and running into his unkempt beard. His eyes were partially closed and his breath was wheezy. He was mumbling to himself and the First Asha’man shook his head. The madness was getting worse. Touching the man’s shoulder, Tiram whispered a few words of encouragement, then turned and left the room. He remained standing outside for quite some time, cursing the Taint that all men who could channel bore to some extent. It will be the Death of us all! He thought as he walked across to the manor where the leaders, the Asha’man, lived. Reaching his private chamber at the end of the corridor, he opened the door and closed it behind him. Lying down on his bed, not bothering to remove his black coat, he stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. The torrent of Saidin still ran through him, an avalanche that he both loved and dreaded, a power that had to be subdued and dominated. It was something he controlled and felt running wild within. It was a paradox which he had never understood nor been able to explain to others. From what he had heard, it was different for women who channeled. For them the One Power was a “river” which must be surrendered to or ‘embraced’ in order to control. The raging power that was Saidin, however, had to be faced straight on like a dangerous bull coming right at you at high speed - and you had to grasp for the horns! And those horns can rip through your body if you are not careful! ● He had been one of those men who had managed some control on his own before coming to the Black Tower. He had been lucky, he had understood. In the past six months or so he had learned how to increase the control over his power. He did not ever think he would master it all though. He did not think anyone was able to master Saidin completely. It was like a wild animal that would never be fully tamed. It had pleased him that they had chosen the name ‘Black Tower’ for the community, in clear contrast to the White Tower in Tar Valon. Not that he had anything against female channelers even though they did hunt men like him. But it felt like a nice symmetry: black vs white. Teachers in the Black Tower had also explained further differences with the Aes Sedai. That women channelers could sense the ability to channel, the spark, in others something men could not (though Waymand, one of their half-mad Dedicated, claimed he could feel the ability in strong male channelers like the Dragon Reborn, that there was a resonance, an echo of sorts; he was not believed though due to his mental state, but it was an interesting metaphysical question). They were also taught that Aes Sedai could sense if another Aes Sedai was stronger or weaker in the One Power. It was different for men and also believed to be impossible to tell how strong a man could become as a channeler. In truth, Tiram thought there were many things no one really knew about the One Power and men. Those who might have known, the male channelers of the Age of Legends, were dead three thousand years. A couple hours later he had a quick meal and then returned to the training grounds. He walked across to a Dedicated practicing battle-weaves off to the side, throwing balls of fire at a tree in the distance. Stepping up to the fairly young man, he could hardly be twenty-five of age, he showed him how it was done properly. The Dedicated found it difficult to duplicate the older man’s weaves but that was to be expected. He was quite newly acquainted with Saidin, having arrived at the Black Tower a few months earlier, and would need time to become proficient. Tiram gave him encouragement and then moved on down the line to the next Dedicated training. There was much work to be done at the Black Tower. ● Taeda din Varede Four Moons, the Mistress of the Ships and ruler of the Atha’an Miere, the People of the Sea, otherwise known as the Sea Folk, stared forcefully at the gathered Sailsmistresses and Wavemistresses. They were gathered there on the quay by the green-blue waters of the Aryth Ocean, eighteen women seated in a large half-circle with the Mistress of the Ships seated at the open end on a heavily decorated high-backed chair that served as a throne in this place. Aile Dashar was sparsely populated and this small village of Sindhar was its largest site. It consisted of the docks with the ships, a few fisheries and houses and a main street with some shops, a blacksmith, an inn and some private houses. Parts of the isle were off limits to anyone but select people, the secretive Amayar among them, though the reasons were unknown to most people. The isle lay northwest of Arad Doman and had been controlled by the Sea Folk for generations. It was seldom visited by anyone not of their kind. Visits were in general by permission only. “Thank you all for coming”, the Mistress of the Seas began smoothly. Her hand went to her heart in the ancient greeting. It was repeated around the circle but they added the greeting of respect, their hand touching their lips. “We have important matters to discuss.” She stared hard at every woman present and they all felt the force of her gaze. A strong woman, Taeda had a very dark complexion, very dark eyes, almost white hair and a face carved of iron. She was tall for her race and thinly built but her arms had the strength of someone half her age. She had six rings in each ear, a sign of her high station, and numerous medallions on the chain connected to her nose. Though no one dared say so openly, they all thought of her as a Force of Nature. “Some of our numbers are not present since they are needed elsewhere”, she said matter-of-factly. “But this matter is so important that I wanted to assemble you all.” ● She gazed at every woman present in turn, weighing them in her mind. Who was strong enough to face what was coming? Who was not? Who was faithful? And who was the traitor!? For she knew there was one in their midst. Her dark eyes tightened momentarily but she doubted many of the assembled women noticed. She was known to have a hard stare at the best of times. “The time has come.” Her voice was strong now and excited and the Sailmistresses and Wavemistresses leaned forward in their chairs listening intently. “The future has arrived!” Her eyes glittered now and her face almost glowed with anticipation. “We all”, she said, “know the Jendai Prophecy, Herald of new Age.” The sky opened above her as she spoke, clouds moving aside to reveal sunshine streaming down on her. It was the wind at an opportune moment, but she took it as a sign, an important omen. “I have the greatest of news!” Standing up, she opened her arms as if to embrace them all; her people. “The Coramoor”, she shouted in triumph, “is come!” ● The woman ran a hand through her long golden hair which cascaded down her back. Grey-green eyes framing a beautiful face of pale complexion followed the young man with the sword from a tower window as he walked briskly toward the gate of the Royal Castle. The Dragon Reborn. She remembered him as he was back then.. Thranduil Alahr Sehn.. the Dragon.. ..a tall, well-built blond man in his late twenties, sparkling blue eyes intense, laughter hard. She had desired him for years but he had never had an eye for her. All he had cared about had been that wife and that mistress and lover. His refusals to notice her had made her bitter, bitter and angry. Her grey-green eyes tightened in anger remembering. Desperate to win his love, she had plotted against his wife and his mistress but her very creative attempts came to nothing. She gave up the pursuit in the end but vowed to win him back one day. This young man looked very different. He called himself Faolahr Sahrin and had dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was also a little shorter than the Dragon had been and seemed less prone to tantrums. At least that was her impression from studying him. But it was the same man inside, of that she felt certain! When she had looked into his eyes back in that village what seemed a long time ago, she had seen glimmers, echoes of the man he had once been. It had been as if she had been looking at a man with a mask, with his real face hidden underneath. She had gazed at him as if imagining him without that ‘mask’, wanting the hidden man to reveal himself. Gazing as if he almost were there. She had placed him on his path to survival and revelation, hoping he would listen to her words and gratified that he had done so. Following him from the Shadows, also using the World of Dreams to reach out to him, she had ensured he had learned enough to survive and that he finally had embraced his destiny. For His destiny was Her destiny. They were Meant to rule the World together! ● She would make him understand this; this time he would choose her, now that his wife and blasted mistress were dead thousands of years. But it would have to be done gradually and with some tact. Impatience had always been one of her less fortunate character traits but she could be tactful when necessary. Oh yes! Certain other.. parties would not be pleased once they caught wind of her intentions, but she had dealt with them before.. in her own way.. and would again. She had been driven to the Shadow back in that old life, out of anger, out of spite, out of bitterness towards the Dragon who ignored her, and out of hunger for more power. Power and Glory had always been her dreams. Kneeling before the Great Lord at Shayol Ghul had made her feel Glory in her Soul but even then she had focused on assembling power for herself. As the War of Power continued, the Shadow fighting the Light on battlegrounds of blood and carnage with the One Power used with terrifying results, she had found herself able to forgive Thranduil. Forgive him for ignoring her totally. Forgive him for not embracing Greatness with her. But then, the end had come of a sudden!, she and the others caught at Shayol Ghul with the Great Lord, sealed into the Endless Sleep as she had come to think of it. Now, however, she was back in the world, a very different place but even so, and now she would have her chance. The woman once called Neverine Parahm Arkhin, Chief Engineer of the mighty Collam Aeorosol Science Complex in V'saine, embraced Saidar and felt that glorious power inside her, the Sun blazing within. Around her slender neck hung an emerald stone that was an ancient Angreal. Touching it tenderly, she smiled broadly. He will be mine. This time he will! Her eyes glittered as she saw the young man stop before the gate, head raised, face seemingly calm, hiding what power he had. A Hawk came gliding through the air just then and it made the man gaze upwards.. and for a second, as he lowered his eyes, they caught hers up in the tower window. A thrill went through her and she stared back, holding her breath. Then his eyes fastened on the gate again and she could breathe once again. Mine! She had been known by many names among her friends and foes, but she preferred the name she had taken for herself in those days when the world changed and she became One of Those Chosen to Rule the World Forever, Crysanthia ▀▄

.. A Dance of Light and Shadow .. ►▼◄ Nymeria removed the two-fold shield that she and Qariahna had placed between the Amyrlin and the Source and replaced it with a Domination Band around the Aes Sedai’s neck. The Amrylin was only partly conscious and aware of what was happening there she lay on the settee in Nymeria’s private chamber. As the Band clicked in place, like a metal necklace, the Chosen smiled contentedly. The Domination Band was a very useful tool which she had made use of several times before, and it - and its twin - was one of the very few things she had in her possession from her earlier life, back there in what they now called the Age of Legends. It was a Ter’angreal used to control channelers (usually for a woman to control a man who could channel, like its twin, but a select few, like this one, could also be used on women). It consisted of the necklace or collar and a bracelet, leash less and practical, where the controller or leash holder used the bracelet, and the controlled or leashed wore the collar. They had been made near the end of the War of Power, but even back then it was not clear who had constructed the first one since there had been several attempts at the time. Nymeria suspected it was one of the Aes Sedai who had turned to the Shadow and become a Dreadlord who had first come up with the idea, as the device had only been used in service of the Great Lord as far as she knew. Aes Sedai back then had considered the device evil and the practice atrocious, even in time of war, but Nymeria and others of like mind had scoffed at the reluctance and had seen the great value of this Ter’angreal. ● Nadhene felt overwhelming dizziness, her head pounded as she tried to focus on the room she was in and the person staring down at her. She tried to mumble something but realized to her horror that she was unable to speak! What..!? Gaping, she concentrated on the figure of the woman but her mind was still clouded. Her muscles felt heavy and unresponsive but finally she was able to move her arm a little. She tried again to cry out but was unable to. Her eyes were wide with consternation as they focused on the unknown face studying her closely. “Yes, my child.” The woman said. “You are caught like a mouse in a trap.” The woman’s voice was hard but also filled with great amusement. Staring up at the tall blonde-haired beautiful woman with those sapphire-blue eyes she wondered who she could be. The woman was almost too perfect; that perfect body, perfectly-shaped nose and those high cheekbones framing a face that was a wonder to behold. Then the woman’s words took hold and the Amyrlin felt dread in her soul as she tried to take in her circumstance. Where was she? And who was this unknown woman, and channeler, in that seductive lavender dress? Calling her ‘child’ in that condescending tone of voice would normally have made her angry but her circumstance was too serious to bother about such petty issues. She was totally immobilized, unable to speak and a captive to boot. Then, as her arm slowly moved to her chest and up, she suddenly became aware of the smooth collar around her neck. Her eyes widened even more as she touched it and found no clasp to open it. It was cold to the touch. Deathly cold. Seeing her troubled confusion, Nymeria spoke. Her voice was as cold as the metal around the Amyrlin’s neck. “That, my child, is a Domination Band.” The Chosen’s eyes glittered. “It is a Ter’angreal that gives me the power to control your channeling. To control you in all ways, actually.” Nadhene felt shivers run down her spine and despite her extensive Aes Sedai training and years as a strong Amyrlin fear overtook her. Nymeria saw the fear in the Aes Sedai’s eyes and thought scornfully how weak Aes Sedai were in this new Age, even so-called Amyrlins. “It means”, she added triumphantly, “that you are unable to walk or speak or do anything without my permission.” The Chosen’s voice now took on an amused tone. “You can breathe and your bodily functions are not affected, but anything else..” Her smile grew dark and evil. “Anything else.. is mine.” ● Nadhene tried to remain brave but struggled in the face of this.. horror. For this was worse than being shielded.. this was.. evil. That was the only way she could think of it. Who are you? She wanted to ask, but was physically unable to do so. Something stopped her from speaking and voicing her thoughts. What are you? She had never heard of such a Ter’angreal that could do that. She could not either recall having read about such a.. tool. She moved the other arm slightly and tried to get into a more comfortable position on the settee, all the while trying to not become overcome with grief at the desperate situation she was in. It was all like some horrible nightmare that she was waiting to snap out of. Bitterness overcame her then as she thought of her triumphant certainty that she had saved the White Tower through the deal with the Black Tower. What a fool she had been! And now she was pretty certain that she would not live to see the White Tower again. Nymeria watched the Aes Sedai but there was no pity in her eyes. She let Nadhene move her hands and arms for the moment, relishing the control she had over the Aes Sedai. “I shall make good use of you, child.” The Chosen’s grin widened. “And just so you know, there is no use to resist or disobey my commands, this is what happens if you try.” An avalanche of pain hit the Amyrlin and it was as if a thousand needles stabbed her at the same time! She screamed inside, again and again, she could not help it, her body shaking on the settee, and her face contorted into a twisted mess of tears and agony as the pain continued. Finally, an eternity later or so it seemed, the pain stopped though her arms and legs shook for a long time afterwards. ● She felt shame at her own weakness but knew deep inside that hardly anyone would be able to withstand such pain. It took a long time for her to raise her tear-stricken eyes to the woman channeler. She thought she knew all of her Daughters in the White Tower, at least by sight, but this woman was unknown to her. She could not fathom how the woman could Travel and have such an evil contraption. A wild thought blossomed in the back of her mind, but she shrugged it off. That could simply not be! The Chosen looked at her victim for long moments before speaking again. “I will be kind and let you speak for a moment”, the Chosen said and momentarily adjusted the control through the bracelet. “Be careful what you say though, child. I will not have any bad manners from you.” The condescending tone grated on Nadhene’s nerves but she tried to ignore it. There were more important matters to clarify. “You are Aes Sedai”, the Amyrlin began. Her voice sounded weak to her ears but it was a relief to be able to speak even if only for a short while. “I don’t recognize you, but you must be.” She added. “Why do you keep me captive, Daughter?” As she spoke her voice hardened and she felt her hope strengthen. She was the Amyrlin after all, whatever was going on here. “I am no Aes Sedai!” Nymeria said with a sneer. "And certainly no Daughter of yours!" As if she would compare to these.. these unskilled children. Pah! Then her calm returned and she added with a lopsided grin, “You can call me Mistress Silah. And from this moment on your name is Lata. Be a nice little child, Lata.” She leaned over and patted the Amyrlin on the head as if she were a pet. Nadhene’s face reddened in shame and indignation but when she began to protest, she realized speech was cut off for her once again. She struggled to keep tears out of her eyes, her soul crying in anguish. “As for why you are here”, the Chosen added after a long pause, her eyes narrowing shrewdly, “we shall see, won’t we, my child. We shall see.” Nymeria’s sapphire-blue eyes glittered in eager anticipation as she touched her Domination Band and forced the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat to crawl across the floor like a helpless infant. ● Forward the White Lion! For Andor! Were the battle cries of Might At Four Kings so says the Lore Maragaine conquered in Light! The words of the last verse of the ancient poem about Maragaine whispered in Elessar’s mind as he rode out of the town of Four Kings side by side with his Aes Sedai bondholder Calia. They turned onto the southern road, the sound of merry-making following them on the wind. Elessar glanced across at Calia as they rode, seeing her smile as they passed more rows of apple trees. It made him think of the Great trees in Four Kings that clearly meant a lot to his Aes Sedai. Adding his name and strength, as she had emphasized, to that one tree had meant more than the activity itself, the tree being a symbol of Life, what they were fighting for, and also reminding him of the trees in the Borderlands by the fence where they had bonded what seemed a long time ago. And knowing this, he had felt honoured and appreciative that she had asked him. Their bond was growing and, he felt, warming them both. He also felt honoured to have met Calia’s relatives and seen what polite, respectful, good people they were, trying to make the best of their lives. He was also impressed how everyone - Calia, Amelie, Joem - had managed a potentially awkward situation, and though he only knew a little from what Calia had told him he felt certain their private conversations had also transpired in a friendly and respectful fashion. Through sheer determination and hard work, they had managed to take care of the family inn and continue the family’s age-long traditions. They were upstanding members of the community as the Warder saw it and this was reflected in the praise he gave them before he and Calia left. The pleasant memory of the villagers gathering stayed with him as they rode southwards along the dusty road. .. in hues of Green and Yellow and Sunday best, their laughter and voices rising with the background music of the minstrels. Strands of green foliage continued to flutter in the rafters of the inn and the alehouse, and the tails of brightly coloured ribbons twirled around the maypole, swirling in the lightest wind.. ● Calia had caught Elessar's eye at the celebration and had nodded decidedly, indicating it was high time for the two of them to leave. They had a mission to complete. The Wheel waits for no man, he had thought. Neither does the Shadow. They had made their way across the yard together, raising their arms in unison, and nodding farewell to Joem and Amelie as they had passed. Riding along in companionable silence under the midday sun the Warder’s thoughts focused on what lay ahead. They had a long journey in front of them. Lugard would be the next major city on their ride southwards but they would pass some towns and villages along the way. Passing some carts drawn by horses made him think of the cart-horses in the stables back in Four Kings. They sure had enjoyed those delicious apples Calia had given them. Standing eagerly at the gate, ears pricked forward, they had seemed ready to join on the journey Stormbreaker and Calia’s bay mare (as of yet unnamed; the mare was apparently not happy with any of the name suggestions Calia had come up with, and knowing how stubborn some horses could be this did not surprise the Gaidin at all; his own suggestion Lassie had not gone done well either..). Elessar smiled at the memory and was just about to ask Calia how far she wanted them to ride today when Stormbreaker suddenly became restless beneath him, changing his gait. He did not respond to the Warder’s soothing whispers and started throwing his head. Calia’s bay mare mimicked the black warhorse and Calia exchanged a look with Elessar. It was peaceful and quiet around them, the sun warming their backs, and the Warder stared hard into the trees and shrub along the road looking for any danger. ● And then, SUDDENLY he felt it.. the sense of danger.. Shadowspawn! He saw Calia react at the same time and felt the emotion through the bond! Her eyes were wide with horror as she exchanged a hard glance with her Gaidin. Black smoke rose into the air in the distance. Back from where they had come. Four Kings. His eyes widened too and he stopped Stormbreaker just as Calia turned her bay mare around. He felt the Shadowspawn back there.. back toward Four Kings. It was an ability that came with the bond, an ability which had helped many Sedais and Warders through the ages. He could not tell how many of the beasts were back there but there were MANY. Many thoughts ran through his mind at the same time. How to keep Calia safe. Options for them now. The terrible fact that Four Kings was probably burning. The fear that Amelie and Joem would be in danger. Should they return despite the risk and try to save some lives or prioritize their important mission south. Difficult choices. Hard choices. He thought he sensed the nightmare unfolding in Calia’s eyes and mind. Her Four Kings was burning. Her relatives were in mortal danger. And possibly because they, she and Elessar, had visited the town. Guilt and Desperation. But also ice-cold determination. He was just about to speak to her.. when Without a word, Calia whirled her mare around and kicked her into the hardest gallop of each of their lives, racing back down the road the way they had come. What!? Elessar stared after her wide-eyed for a long moment, torn between believing her sprint back to Four Kings without discussing their options with him utterly reckless and foolhardy and seeing her swift action as brave and correct. Her protection was his duty - my life before yours - and so he had no choice but to gallop after her, Stormbreaker running like the wind! Not that he would have done otherwise in any circumstance. Even so, he felt some anger that she had taken off on her own, running into who knew what danger! Embracing the Flame and the Void, feeling calmness driving away the shock and anger, he lay low atop his galloping black stallion, his warder’s cloak streaming behind him, one hand tight on the reigns, the other on the sword at the horses’s side, as he tried to catch up to his Aes Sedai! As always he was ready. Ready to stand against the Shadow. ● Children screamed and mothers came running in panic as shadows congregated in the dusty streets of Whitebridge. There was an oppressive heat even though it was early evening and every eye was drawn toward the street where something foul was coming. A sound of marching feet could be heard, but the children had already sensed the horror. And smelled the stench of death that foretold their coming. Mist and fog rose from the shadows, snake-like tendrils of darkness that swallowed the twilight.. And then out of the swirling mist, came the Walking Dead. Part skeleton, part human, some berobed, some not, rotting flesh hanging from arms and legs, they walked steadily forwards, eyes lit by some inner darkness. Some held swords, some held spades, some held clubs, others just marched unwaveringly with clenched fists. All stared hatefully ahead and then, as one, turned to gaze at the screaming children and the fearful mothers that stood on the paths leading away from the road. Men who had come running too stared at the Dead as if in a dream, fear in their eyes, but ready to defend their families. A shriek then escaped the Walking Dead’s lips and it crept into the minds of those present making them tear at their hair in terror. Horror. And Eternal Pain. Whispers in their minds that drove the children to hysterics and the mothers to despair. The fathers and other men tried to stay brave but succumbed to the soul-shrivelling shrieks and fell to their knees, tears falling, hands shaking. The foremost Dead, a berobed skeleton wielding a scythe, suddenly left the road and turned in the direction of the path of the people and the houses. Raising the scythe high in the air, it screeched, an awful sound that tore the soul. Then just as they waited for Death to claim them all, the Dead were gone as if in the blink of an eye, Shadows evaporating, leaving only dust and dark echoes in their wake. ● Carah din Toral Rising Wave, Sailmistress of the Sea Folk Raker Oceanfold, was usually a patient woman. But her patience was wearing thin, waiting as they were in Tanchico Harbour for the enemy to appear out of the West. She had stopped counting the days and her daily pacing on deck was beginning to grate on her husband’s nerves. Khoram, the ship’s Cargomaster, gazed with worried eyes at his wife as she paced up and down her ship, her eyes sweeping over the sea outside the harbour at intervals. Running a hand through his greyish hair, he wanted to put her at ease but he knew well that when she was in this type of mood his intervening would only make things worse. Frowning, he shook his head and turned in the direction of the lower deck where some seamen were making repairs. They were impatient for something to happen too; remaining shore-bound for long periods made them restless. Khoram understood them well. He too wanted to be at sea; it was where he felt most at ease. At least the trade negotiations had gone well. Carah had been pleased when he had informed her but she had been doubly-pleased when he had told her the rumours about the enemy on its way. She was adamant that it had to be the Shadow that was coming. Certain rumours he had heard in the city contradicted this, but since he did not know anything for certain and she might be right, he kept his thoughts to himself. Whoever was approaching, they were here to conquer, of that he felt very certain! ● Morin din Rubai Blue Wing, Windfinder of the Oceanfold, walked the lower deck, her eyes lowered, her frustration bottled. She was even more restless than Carah, and was on the brink of throwing herself into the sea just to put an end to everything. This endless waiting was going to be the end of her, she felt sure! And then there were the dreams. The strange dreams, now so familiar, that never seemed to end. Almost every night she was brought into that.. dream that was not a dream. She could explain it no better. It had to be a dream, a recurring one, but it felt.. different. And her mother who haunted her dream with her messages and omens. But it was not her mother, of that she was certain. She could not tell how but she was. Why did these.. dreams never stop? Stopping her pacing, she placed her hands on the ship’s rail and gazed at the muddy water below as she had done many times in the past days. Embracing Saidar, feeling the wonder of the One Power flowing through her, her mood brightened as it always did, bringing some sunshine into the darkness of her days. She could not lose hope - and whatever her ‘mother’ said in her dreams, she stood ready to fight with the ship when the enemy appeared as Carah said. Let it only be soon. ● “Papa, I love you”, Sandana said, burying her face in her father’s chest. “I love you too, sweetheart”, he replied warmly, holding her tight, his hands caressing her hair in that way that she loved. Sandana’s face was radiant as she stared up at his smiling face. “I am dancing with Angels, Papa.” Her voice was dreamy, as if she were remembering an event. “I am dancing in the Light.” “Yes, sweetheart”, Argam replied softly. His daughter was having these child fantasies and he did not want to make her sad by telling her that these.. dreams were not real. Let her have these fanciful dreams, he thought to himself. She will grow out of them soon enough. Sandana also seemed so happy all the time and it warmed his heart to see his daughter happy. She did not have any playmates like most children had, and so it made him glad to see her not lonely and despondent. “Angels are watching over us”, he added after a few moments. “To make sure we are safe from Shadows.” “Oh, there is no need to be afraid of Shadows, Papa”. Sandana smiled warmly. Her large oval eyes glittered. “I know what comes.” ● His name was Faolahr Sahrin and he could not remember the last time he had thought of himself as a normal person. His whole life had changed when he had understood that he was the Dragon Reborn Running his fingers through his hair dark brown hair, his brown eyes scrutinizing the castle wall before him, he sensed the Commander of his Dragonsword Army approaching but kept his eyes on the tall city walls and gates of Bandar Eban, the Capital of Arad Doman. His army was camped behind him, tents in rows and with banners swirling in the soft north-easterly breeze. They were twenty thousand strong, filled with men and women, soldiers and commoners, who had flocked to his Dragon banner. But even so, gates were closed when they approached and he was treated more as an enemy. Faolahr grumbled at the thought and wondered if it would be this way everywhere. Had it only been a year since it had all started? It seemed impossible; this past year had felt like a lifetime for him in more ways than one. During days in camp when preparations were made for the following day’s march, he often had found himself thinking back on that first time, when it had all started. Back at the beginning.. ● And it had not started with a kiss, as in many romantic stories and songs.. oh no.. rather it had started with the bad “spells” as he had come to call them. The healer in his village Stanton Creek in north-western Cairhien, an older woman with a talent for listening to the wind as rumours went, had given him herbal remedies and told him to stress less but nothing had helped. The “spells” usually consisted of moments with heat and cold alternating and with his emotions going haywire. He had been rattled but had presumed it would pass as all momentary sickness did. It had, however, only gotten worse. Periods of dizziness and confusion had made him unsteady on his feet and finally one afternoon he lost consciousness, his whole body feverish. The healer had been beside herself, frustrated because she could not find the cause of his condition. He had finally regained consciousness and she had given him various teas to get his fever down. The next day he had been back on his feet again and nothing more had happened that week. The following week, however, he had the “spells” again and this time he felt great pain in his head. The headache would not go away until he got remedies from the healer that made him sleep. He could not understand what was happening to him, he was a healthy young man of nineteen years who stayed fit, and it made him very frustrated and bewildered. He wanted answers - and he soon got them, though from a very unlikely source. One day she was there, as he lay on a bench outside his home, his head aching, his body covered in sweat, his heart pounding. She came out of nowhere from what he could see, a quick movement out of the corner of his eye, but suddenly the woman stood before him with an amused smile upon her lips. She wore an elegant blue travelling dress and her long golden hair cascaded down her back. Her grey-green eyes studied him closely, almost as if in recognition, before she spoke. “Faolahr Sahrin”, she began in an almost seductive voice. She spoke his name almost as if she had expected an other. Her face was beautiful, he thought, and it captivated him even in his reduced state. “You must listen to me”, she said. “What I have to say is important, very important. It will sound crazy perhaps, you may think me insane, but you must believe me.” “I know what is happening to you.” She added softly, but the words sounded like a clarion call to his ears. ● He looked back at her, his mouth open. She knows?? When she touched his forehead and his headache lessened, his mouth opened even further. He looked for a Great Serpent Ring on her finger, deducing that she had to be one of those Aes Sedai his father had spoken of in his late-night tales and that she had used the One Power on him, but she wore no such ring. Looking more closely at her face he registered that she did not seem to have the ageless look that his father had described when speaking of Sisters of the White Tower that he had come across in his youth. To meet one Aes Sedai was uncommon but to meet several, as his father had claimed, was almost unbelievable. But his descriptions of the Tar Valon women he had come across in his travels had made a young Faolahr certain that his father had seen many things over the years. Puzzled, confused and more than a little wary, Faolahr stared up at the woman, waiting to see what more she had to say. Seeing his confusion, the woman shook her head slightly, but her voice was clear when she continued. “You will not believe me.” She began. “But please listen. What you are going through is called channeling sickness.” She saw his eyes grow wide with disbelief. “It is a condition experienced by people born with the ability to channel, but who are unguided in learning how to do so.” She saw him begin to shake his head emphatically and stopped him. “Accept what I say, it is the truth.” His head became dizzy again, whether from this supposed sickness or from assimilating her unfathomable words he did not know. “You must be wrong!”, he replied, his whole being screaming in denial. “You must be wrong!”, he repeated, an edge to his voice now. This could simply not be true. He refused to believe it! Why should this foreign woman come up with such a lie to frighten him? His wariness turned to anger and his eyes tightened darkly. He started to protest heavily but she held up her hand which made him pause. “I am sorry, but I am not wrong”, she said and then proceeded to tell him the rest. That he was using the One Power without knowing it and this unsafe usage was causing a slow, sapping illness that would eventually kill him unless a trained channeler helped him control it. It was too much for him, he felt his head explode and he lost consciousness. ● The woman touched his face, a strange expression upon her own facial features, and gradually he came awake again, his mind foggy. He kept mumbling that she was wrong wrong wrong wrong - The word echoed in his mind - wrong wrong wrong but deep deep inside he feared that she was not. After all, even the healer woman had no idea what was wrong with him and she knew everything with regards to sickness as far as he knew from his upbringing in the village. It had to be something very unusual, something not widely known, and what else could it be? No, I am must be mad to think of this, to accept it. It cannot be!! It just cannot!! Like others in the village, he had on occasion heard whispers of such young men, cursed individuals, who had been found to be male channelers and who would go mad. Hunted by the Red Ajah Aes Sedais these young men often jumped off a cliff or slit their throats to end it before they became dangerous to everyone around them. Cursed with the taint ever since the Dragon, Thranduil Alahr Sehn, a name never forgotten, had broken the world those thousands of years ago. False Dragons had almost destroyed the world on several occasions since, or so the village storyteller old Sevin had told him in secret when his mother had not been around (she would have whipped the old man had she known the stories he was telling). No sane person wanted anything to do with the One Power and certainly no men. That was all there was to it. Just thinking about it made him shiver and he kept shaking his head in denial. He lay there for about an hour, flitting in and out of dizziness, sleep, dreams and fogginess, aching to just have peace and forget everything the woman had said. When he finally woke again, his head clearer than before, she was still there. She was looking down at him with that strange expression on her face, as if she ought to know him but could not quite place him. She remained silent, understanding that he needed time to process the information. He wanted to ignore all she had said but a small voice in the back of his head whispered that she was telling the truth. Closing his eyes in anguish, and knowing that the bad “spells” would return, and fearing deep inside that whatever was happening was killing him slowly, he finally accepted her words. ● When he tentatively asked the woman if she could help him control whatever was happening to him, she replied that she could not. Only a male channeler could do so. The concept gave him chills. Male channeler. Those mad male channelers thousands of years ago had Broken the world!! And now he was supposed to be one of them!? Screams of denial began once again in his throat, all logical reasoning gone for a moment, his eyes tightening in fear, but she forestalled him. “There is no use being in denial”, she said, her voice a touch harsher now. “That will only make it harder for you.” Her gaze met his pointedly. It was hard to say whether there was any sympathy in her eyes. He wanted to scream at the world but something in her look made him stay silent. “What you must do”, she went on carefully, “is find some of the other male channelers, those who have learned to control Saidin. Only they can teach you.” Faolahr’s eyes grew wide. Other male channelers.. “They are living in secret, hiding from the Aes Sedai”, the woman continued. “Red Ajah scouts are everywhere.” She paused, looking to see his reaction. His eyes were the size of saucers but he kept silent. “But I know where some of the men are”, she added smoothly. “I will give you directions.” She spoke softly now, for his ears only, giving him the name and location he needed. “Oh, and there is one more thing you need to know”, she added, almost as an afterthought, as she was leaving. Her smile was amused again and her grey-green eyes glittered. “You are the Dragon Reborn, prophesized to save or destroy the world.” Faolahr lost consciousness again. ● In the days that followed the young man lived in denial. His momentary logical reasoning and acceptance had evaporated and panic had set in, he could simply not accept what he had been told. Not only was he supposedly a channeling man, but he was the Dragon Reborn, fated to destroy the world but also save it! It was just too much. It could not be true. Whatever his “spells” were, it had to be something different. It just had to be!! As the days passed, he convinced himself that it had all been a dream, a very realistic dream but a dream even so. A dream brought on by the sickness. But then the pain and dizziness gradually returned, the cold and the heat, the weakness and the tiredness. After the third evening in a row with painful dizzying “spells” he was so beside himself that he was ready to sell his soul to the Dark One to make it all stop. Crying in his sleep, silent tears running down his face during daytime, he finally admitted to himself that he had no choice but to seek out those men the mysterious woman had talked about. Whether he was a channeling man or not, perhaps they could help him. He did not know anyone else who could. ● Packing a little food and some travelling essentials, he said goodbye to his dear father, pretending he was only going on a week-long journey to neighbouring towns. He did not want to worry his father and so did not tell him the real reason for his departure. Saddling his horse, a brown mare of good temperament, he rode slowly out of the village early one morning and headed for the southwest. While he rode, he went over in his mind what the strange woman had told him, but no matter how much he considered it, he could not accept those facts. He, the Dragon Reborn, destined to save the world!? It was ridiculous! And if it were somehow true, then he might as well throw himself off a cliff somewhere. The burden placed upon him would be far too great. The mysterious woman had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived; no one had apparently seen her leave, he was told when he inquired. Very strange indeed. He felt sure she must be Aes Sedai though - her touch had lessened his pain, who else could do that? - and if so, what she had spoken was truth. Aes Sedai could not lie, that much he knew from lore and stories, though the stories also added that what the Sisters of the White Tower said was not always what you thought it to be. Even so, he could not yet face what she had said about him. He focused on covering as many miles as he could while there was still daylight, his mind on the men he was trying to find. At any other time, he would have thought himself insane to seek out men who could channel, men like those who Broke the world. But he was desperate to find help for what was happening to him, and would seek it anywhere he could. A week later he found the men he was looking for. They were living in a nondescript village in northern Andor, a long way from any major city. Dust flew into the air behind him as he rode into the village beneath a cloud filled sky. Scruffy-looking children gazed at him from behind unkept picket fences and working men in worn clothes and with rugged faces glanced at him dispassionately as he rode past. He stopped outside an inn near the center of the village and tethered his horse. He threw a coin to a stableboy and told him to give his horse some hay and care and then he headed down the village street past a row of houses to one building that stood a little apart. It looked as shoddy as all the rest, perhaps even more so, but this was the place he was looking for. Knocking several times on the door, he waited for it to open. When it did, an ordinary looking somewhat older man stared back at him. Faolahr spoke a few words and saw the other man’s eyes widen. Then he was hurriedly shown inside. ● The man was not alone in the building. Another man, middle-aged, waited in the living room. The young man from Cairhien seated himself in a chair and gazed silently back at the two men. His emotions were in turmoil, part fear of these two men - if they were what he believed they were - part desperation. His bad ‘spells’ had increased in the past days and he had had to stop many times during his journey. He just wanted the sickness, whatever it was, gone. He was uncertain how to start the conversation and waited for them to speak first. Finally, the man who had met him at the door asked him who he was. He replied honestly. They were cautious at first when he approached the subject of why he was there and they wondered how he had found them. He explained what he could (leaving out certain bits) though they seemed as puzzled as him at mention of the mysterious lady. When he told them of his predicament, the bad “spells” and the headaches, leaving out the talk of the Dragon Reborn for the moment, they listened in silence though he saw a look of recognition pass between the two men. When he was finished, a long silence followed. He knew he needed to win their trust but he was getting desperate and pleaded with them to help him. The older of the two men finally nodded and brought him to a guest bedroom at the back. It was very small and simple but it had a bed and a small window which let in some light. The young man lay down gratefully and soon fell asleep, fully clothed, exhausted from his long journey and his ordeal. When he awoke several hours later, it was getting dark outside. He could see the sky darkening through the bedroom window. He could also hear voices from the living room, a discussion taking place. He could guess what they were talking about. Was this young man to be trusted? Was he a threat to them? He would have reacted similarly if he were in their shoes. They were keeping a low profile from authorities and especially from the White Tower; could they risk the truth with this supposed channeling man, should they help him? The voices stopped as he entered the living room. He seated himself again and told them that he understood their doubts and their uncertainty. But he needed their help. The older man nodded once more, looked at the other man who reluctantly acquiesced, then reassured the young man that they would help him. ● They explained that they kept to themselves and kept their abilities secret. It was safer that way. Faolahr could understand that very well. The older of the two men then spoke of similar ‘spells’ he had had years before but that he had somehow managed to control it after a while. He did not know how but mental exercises learned from combat - he had been a soldier in the regional army once - had helped him. He had been as horrified as Faolahr upon suspecting that he was using the One Power in some way but had gradually accepted what he was and focused on staying alive. In time he had met others like him and they had taught each other how to wield the One Power safely. Listening to him talk the young man felt horror at the thought that this was most probably happening to him now - the strange Aes Sedai woman had been right! - but his thoughts soon centered on what could be done to help him with the “spells”. He stayed with them for seven weeks and they soon began teaching him mental exercises to help him control the One Power. The purpose was to show him how to channel safely and thereby to stay alive. It was a strange experience, unsettling at times and difficult, and part of him still resisted the idea that he was one of those cursed channeling men, but the dizziness and bad “spells” lessened as the weeks went by, as he worked the One Power with the two men. It was hard to know what to believe but in truth he was just happy to feel better for the first time in weeks and if this training was going to save his life, who was he to complain. A small bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered that he would go mad in the end though, but he ignored the voice and worked hard at the practice sessions with the two male channelers. At the end of the seven weeks Faolahr had sufficient control over Saidin, they told him, to be able to take the final steps on his own. Saidin was like a torrent in him when he channeled, and it had taken a few weeks for him to gain enough experience to handle the weaves with care. He was to continue the training on his own for a few more weeks and then he ought to be safe from the channeling sickness. This would keep him alive, they said, though they did not add anything about sanity. They themselves had seemed sane to him, but could madness be manifest even if it was not apparent? He preferred not to think anymore on that subject and was just glad most of the pain and headaches and dizziness were gone. It was a huge relief to him and overshadowed the fact that he had gone through the entire seven weeks without telling the two men that he was the Dragon Reborn. ● Travelling to new villages, he spent a few hours every day doing the mental exercises they had taught him as well as the channeling exercises he needed to complete. He did it all in secret, of course, ensuring no one had any inkling if what he was and what he was doing. He was gradually coming to terms with the fact that he could channel the One Power, that he was one of them. Reality was slowly but surely sinking in. He understood this was not something he could run away from and as the days went by, and then weeks, he adopted a more positive stance: this was a new challenge for him and he just had to make the best of it! There was nothing else to do. He was still the same person as he had always been. Now he just had an added ability. He kept telling himself that. He kept telling himself that time and time and time again. As for supposedly being the Dragon Reborn, that part still rankled him. It still seemed too incredible to be true and part of him just did not want to believe. Even so, what the Aes Sedai woman had told about being able to channel had been true, was it likely that the second part was untrue? Aes Sedai told no lies, no? ● In the months after he left his teachers, as he had come to think of them, he travelled across the country, from place to place, trying to come to grips with his supposed Destiny. Without really knowing how, or intending to, he gradually became more and more convinced that he really was the man the prophecies spoke about, that it was all true. Even his dreams seemed to indicate it. A recurring dream had him walking beside a mountain that looked like fabled Dragonmount and a whisper in the surrounding mist calling out to him. To the Dragon. To the Saviour. To the Destroyer. She came to him in dreams as well. The Aes Sedai who had placed him on this path. The woman who had told him about the channeling sickness and that he was the Dragon Reborn. She praised him for the steps he had taken and told him to stay true. He had already fulfilled one prophecy, she said. He would fulfil more on his path. She told him to embrace and cherish the Power for the Glory would be his. “You are who you are”, she whispered to him as she faded into nothingness. “Never doubt it.” As the days passed, he felt more the fool for remaining in denial. A small part of him still urged to run away but he more and more convinced himself that he would be an ignorant fool if he ignored the signs and portents. Taking on the burden of saving the world seemed almost too much to contemplate; all he could do was take one step at a time and see where that would take him. It felt daunting and part of him was terrified, but he had always been a stubborn man who needed to succeed with all tasks. This would be the biggest task of his life. ● He started alone, one man wandering. But soon there was a group of them. Then several groups. Had he known it, he would have understood that this happened because he was Ta'veren, a person around whom the Wheel of Time specifically weaves the Pattern with all surrounding life-threads. They were ‘drawn’ to him these people without knowing why, only knowing that his path was their path - and they followed him as he travelled, strong in the belief that they were doing the right thing. His confidence in himself and in what he was doing was growing as the months went by and he was formulating plans in his head. His thoughts often went back to the channeling men who had taught him the basic steps to controlling the One Power and he soon had a vision for them all. It was necessary, not the least if they were to have any chance against the Shadow. They needed channeling men. They needed the One Power. He knew there was risk involved, and possibly danger, but it seemed the only way. The first task was to find them. Months later he had assembled the channeling men who had helped him, as well as two dozen others who had somehow felt ‘compelled’ to seek him out, letting them all know who he truly was, the Dragon Reborn of prophecy, and he shared his vision, an ambition for everyone of their kind: a safe place for men like them. And a base to build Power. A Black Tower, as he called it. In Andor. ● It was built with the Queen’s blessing, or at least her acceptance; it depended on who you asked. The Black Tower grew from a few small houses to greater buildings and soon had an enclosing wall nearly three square miles around the structure. Barracks were subsequently added as they managed to find and ‘recruit’ many more channeling men using a new testing method. Scouts were sent out in all directions gathering men and their number grew. The initiative was time-consuming - and the Dragon Reborn was frustrated that there was not a faster means of travel than by horseback - but it was important to assemble all men who could channel for the Last Battle. In time, the Black Tower was organized almost like a shadow of the White Tower: with leadership and a Hall of the Tower, with Asha’man (fully trained men with advanced skills), Dedicated (partially trained men with intermediate skills) and Soldiers (‘rookies’ with beginner skills). Teachers trained the men and their skills with the One Power grew. Rumours of the new Black Tower spread across the lands and also reached the White Tower. Thinking of the Black Tower now, his hand touching the sword at his side, his gaze returning to the battlements in front of him, Faolahr felt certain that Tiram Ralnovar, the First Asha’man and leader during the Dragon Reborn’s absence, had everything in hand. He was a very capable man and leader, the right man to leave in charge. He knew that Tiram wished him to be more present in the Black Tower, and he was not alone in that view, but that he also understood that the Dragon Reborn had other tasks and duties, prophesized as he was. ● And then there was the Taint. Whenever he thought of male channelers he thought of the cursed Taint on Saidin. His channeling teachers in that village had told him its history. When he had asked, somewhat timidly, if there was any way to avoid the taint, they had answered that unfortunately there was no way around it. It was a nightmare and something the young man usually kept out of his mind. The slight ‘wrongness’ he felt with Saidin though was this Taint, he felt certain of it. He looked for signs of madness in his Asha’man and also in himself. He felt in control of himself, but whispers appeared in his mind at times and it frightened him though he kept it to himself. Knowing madness would slowly creep up on him was a terrible strain on his mental state, but he had so many things he had to do so he tried to ignore it. He became fatalistic after a while, resigning himself to the fact that something was going to kill him anyway, at the Last Battle if not before. He only partly convinced himself. ● There was still no activity by the main gate that he could see. He wondered if the Arad Domani rulers would welcome him and his army. His advisors had differing opinions, some believing he would be welcomed once they had ascertained he meant them no harm, some believing they would view him as an enemy out of fear. He had decided to wait to see if they would send a messenger to him. He had thought they may be more comfortable that way, that they could initiate negotiations since this was their homeland after all. His army was camped far enough away to not be misunderstood for an invading force. Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake. In the past months he had often wondered how it was that he was going to gather nations and armies to him, to be able to fight the Shadow in the Last Battle as the prophecies said. He was no Battle-General, after all. He was just a young man who had had this massive mission for the world thrust upon him. But his growing number of followers believed in him, Battlesworn they called themselves, and gradually he had built an army, soldiers and would-be soldiers coming from near and afar. Now they needed to grow further and so the Dragon Reborn had travelled into the West, to Arad Doman, to forge an alliance with its rulers. Word of armies of Shadowspawn further south, gathering around a supposed False Dragon, concerned him greatly and he wanted to discuss this matter also with the Arad Domani King. If he ever appeared. ● Sighing, he closed his eyes and opened himself to Saidin, focusing on a point of light within him in the way he had been taught, and it rushed into him like a flood, like the usual torrent, filling him almost to bursting. He readjusted the flow, as he liked to think of it, his skill with the One Power having increased in the last months, and the pressure lessened. It was wonderful to hold onto the One Power though, everything felt more real, more crips, more detailed and alive. He did also feel that odd ‘wrongness’, that sensation that he now understood to be the Taint. It was like a foul oily substance on clear water, a touch of sour bitterness among the surrounding sweetness, but he was able to ignore it. Letting go of Saidin after a while, he felt somehow diminished. When the whispers began again in his mind a little later, whispers of an Age long past, whispers of a man long dead, Faolahr’s facial features tightened and he clenched his fists, hardened himself and faced the taunting voice. Driving that other voice away, Faolahr Sahrin unsheathed his battle sword and held it high! Flashes of Saidin glinted on the sword tip and light danced along its shiny edge as slivers from the sun bathed it in brilliance. I am the Dragon Reborn! ● ►▼◄ ● And it shall come to pass that what men made shall be shattered, and the Shadow shall lie across the Pattern of the Age, and the Dark One shall once more lay his hand upon the world of man. Women shall weep and men quail as the nations of the earth are rent like rotting cloth. Neither shall anything stand or abide... The Shadow shall rise across the world, and darken every land, even to the smallest corner, and there shall be neither Light nor safety. And he who shall be born, according to Prophecy, he shall stretch forth his hands to catch the Shadow, and the world shall scream in the pain of Salvation. All Glory be to the Creator, and to the Light, and to he who shall be born again. May the Light save us from him. Yet one shall be born to face the Shadow, born once more as he was born before, and shall be born again, time without end. The Dragon shall be Reborn, and there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth at his rebirth. In sackcloth and ashes shall he clothe the people, and he shall Break the world again by his coming, tearing apart all ties that bind. Like the unfettered Dawn shall he blind us, and burn us, yet shall the Dragon Reborn confront the Shadow at the Last Battle, and his blood shall give us the Light. Let tears flow, O ye people of the world. Weep for your Salvation. From The Karaethon Cycle: The Prophecies of the Dragon Year of Grace 231 NE, 3rd Age ▀▄

.. An Echo of Shadows .. ►▼◄ Standing on the dark plain just outside Shayol Ghul, as thunder rolled and flashes of lightning came from several directions at once in that impossible way of this place, Amaranth held the ancient disc reverently in his hand as his dark cloak folded itself around his body. The disc bore the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai, a white teardrop and a black teardrop conjoined, the Flame of Tar Valon and the Dragon’s Fang. It was almost new-looking, as if it had lain protected in the ground for generations. One of the Great Seals on the Great Lord’s prison The Chosen’s smile broadened as he gazed at it. Though only the size of a man’s hand, this was one of the few remaining Seals - or rather focal points for the actual Seals - that held the Great Lord confined. Created by the cursed Dragon and his countless minions during the War of Power, the Shadow had ever searched for these remaining discs of cuendillar or heartstone. And now they had found another one!! The discs were meant to be near indestructible but as with all things they weakened over time. As the Great Lord gradually exerted his influence on the world, the Seals softened, just as Amaranth had suspected all along, and could now easily be broken. Hidden well across the centuries, several had, however, been found over time. There were still a few Seals out there.. somewhere.. that needed to be found and broken.. but for now, Amaranth took great pleasure in this precious object which he held in his hand. His violet eyes sparkled as he placed the disc on the ground before him. Among dust and red soil, and tiny pebbles that somehow seemed out of place in such a desolate location, the piece of cuendillar looked stately almost, there it lay atop the dust of the Great Blight. Thinking only of its destruction, the Chosen ignored its ancient grace. Speaking ancient words of triumph and glory, praising his Great Lord of the Dark, Amaranth stamped on the cuendillar disc, the Great Seal, with his boot and it broke into a dozen pieces! ● Just then the ground started heaving and cracks appeared along the rock walls. The thunder increased, lightning streaming across the heavens in blinding flashes and for a slight moment reality seemed to.. shift. There was a shiver in the air as if the world was tilting - and Amaranth felt all the hairs on his body rise in exultation!! Then, slowly, gradually, the world seemed to steady itself again, the here and now returning, reality re-asserting itself almost with a sigh of relief on the soft wind, and the ground stopped heaving. For a long moment a deadly stillness enveloped Shayol Ghul and the deadlands of the Blight, the thunder and lightning suddenly gone, the skies going grey and indefinite, as if the world was waiting. Waiting.. Waiting.. The Chosen finally dried the unbidden tears from his eyes, still feeling the thrill inside and along every nerve of his body! Then he collected himself and gradually breathed more easily. There was more work to be done. Important work. Vital work. For the Great Lord. For the Shadow. Deep inside though, as the silence was finally broken and “normality” returned, in as far as “normal” could be said of anything in this very special place, Amaranth felt that this was A Moment of Transition ▀ As Shadows and Mists Merge The Dead will walk Again And Storms of Thunder will herald His Return Seals will Break And What was will come Again To Darken the Path of Blood Twisting the Paths of the Pattern Folding the Spikes of Time Burning the Web of Destiny Stand ready for His Glory Bask in the Shadow of the Great Lord Rejoice on that Momentous Day! From The Prophecies of the Shadow 277 NE, the 3rd Age Written in blood on a cave wall in Aile Somera Author unknown ● Serehstra Aes Sedai stared out at the blue-green waters of the Aryth Ocean and wondered what secrets it held. Running a hand through her long light-brown hair, her blue eyes gazed from horizon to horizon, the sapphire-blue skies merging with the ocean in the far distance. Standing at the docks in the city of Ebou Dar, the soft afternoon wind making the heat of the day less palpable, the seamen and dock workers passed her in wide circles, whispers having been exchanged as to what she was. She ignored them, they were of no importance to her. What was of importance was finding out what was going on out there. She still did not know after all the time spent in this southern city though she did know the rumours. She did not know whether to believe them, however. Just as importantly, she had not discovered who had tried to have her assassinated. Her hands went to the Red shawl atop her pale Red dress and her eyes tightened angrily. Why? Was still the question that she asked herself countless times each day. What danger do I make to anyone? A dock worker carrying some fishing nets came toward her, but seeing the dark glance she gave him he thought better of it and suddenly seemed to have business elsewhere, returning from whence he had come. Serehstra smothered the small grin on her lips and then turned and headed for the building where the Harbour Master resided. When he saw her enter, his face paled and he took a step backwards. “I still know nothing”, Mistress Adela - it was the name she had started using in the city –-“there have been no new news.” He ran a hand through his short dark hair, his sunken eyes wide and wary. She met his stare squarely and she shook her head. “That is not good enough, Master Hibbin.” Her eyes tightened. “I told you.. in no uncertain terms.. that I need answers.” The Harbour Master started to protest but she cut him off. “You know everything that happens here at the docks. And out there.” She pointed through the window at the ocean. “Get me some answers.” He promised that he would do his very best and she left without saying another word. Why is everyone so tight mouthed? ● Heading away from the docks, she found a plaza with some benches and sat down to think. People walked silently past and she ignored them, lost in thoughts. Word had come from the Red Ajah Eyes and Ears that more evidence had been found to implicate certain Cairhienin Noble Houses in certain.. dark activities. Her eyes tightened as she thought of the Shadow Rising. It disgusted her that evil had taken hold of Noble Houses in her homeland Cairhien. Aes Sedai were supposed to embrace Tar Valon and the White Tower as their new home, and so she had done, but it was still difficult to forget whence she had come and her homeland would always have a special place in her heart. A couple sparrows landed on the stone ground before her. They had the smooth, round head and rounded wings of their kind. They were brown and striped which meant they were females. Serehstra had been fascinated with birds when she was a little girl and had learned much about them. They gazed up at the seated woman and chirped and sang as if for her alone. At that moment, with all her worries taking up all her time, this simple expression of birdy life and joy made her smile. Where there is life, there is hope. ● As the rain poured down from dark, heavy clouds in never-ending streams, the lost boy and girl, both scruffy-looking and wide-eyed, the excitement of adventure in the woods replaced by despondency and fear, sheltered in the giant, stone hand of Artur Hawkwing's ruined statue. They did not know its history, of course, and in truth did not care, but they appreciated the small shelter it gave from the rain and the wind. Had they looked a little further into the woods, they would have come across the other shattered parts of the giant stone statue of what had once been an infamous monument to this man who had conquered the world and created an empire. Artur Hawkwing's remarkable success in unifying all the lands under one rule, and his belief in universal suffrage and equality, proved, however, extremely unpopular with the nobility. During the War of the Hundred Years, a devastating series of overlapping wars among constantly shifting alliances, precipitated by the death of Artur Hawkwing and the resulting struggle for his empire, every statue and memorial to him, and almost every book which mentioned his name, was destroyed. This stone monument north in Ghealdan, near the Mountains of Mist, was no exception. The giant stone pieces littered this part of the forest, distant reminders of glory gained and glory lost. A Hawk, with a Grey back and a rusty brown underside, gazed from high above at the broken remnants of the ancient statue. It had a long tail and short rounded wings and it floated on the wind currents as if born to do nothing else. Its dark eyes sparkled as it took in the vista below, glinting in the harshness of the pouring rain, but then it turned its head and gazed Westward, as if seeing a revelation in the horizon. ● Watching Calia wander through the familiar grounds of her family home and mingle with her distant (in time) but still close relatives made Elessar happy that they had decided to visit Four Kings on their journey South. It was the most direct route southwards by way of the main trade roads but there were alternatives that some used instead. It was a good choice. He thought to himself. For several reasons. There was most often a smile on his bondholder’s face and a lightness to her steps as she walked around and he felt contentment and peace from her through the bond. She seemed at ease in this place and he would even go as far as to say she seemed happy. They had not been bonded that long but even so he felt he could sense her mood; the way her blue eyes sparkled when she talked about her past, the way she smiled and laughed when reminiscing something particularly funny; the way her face radiated calmness when she considered a matter. It was not as if she had suddenly turned into a different person, of course, but to him it felt as if she had stepped out of the dark reality of their quest for a precious moment to enjoy life and hope and joy with her relatives and in her family home. It pleased him to see her relax and enjoy herself. Just like with the other citizens, life was to be enjoyed even in dark times and perhaps especially in dark times. To find the Light within makes you stronger to withstand the Shadow without. It was something his grandmother had once said in the Borderlands when he grew up and it had stayed with him through the years. The saying was true. And important. People needed some joy to build that inner strength, some belief, some faith, to assemble the layer which would aid against any darkness. He and Calia were journeying into danger and darkness, he had to admit that it was so, and any inner Light they could bring with them would add to their strength and increase their chance of success. ● Calia’s serving duties which at first had shocked him had given her joy, he had seen it in her face as she had moved expertly around the Common Room taking care of the customers. The way she had presented him to the family gave him the impression she was proud to have him at her side. Just as proud as he was to be at her side. The connection and oneness he had felt with her for long felt even stronger now. It felt “right” to be bonded to her, in the same way it had felt right to be bonded to his former Sedais.. but at the same time their.. connection.. felt even stronger, even more.. precious. It was the only way he could think of it. When Calia invited him to join her in the apple orchards, he understood that those places were special to her. Not only for the apples but just as much for the delicious adventures and fond memories. He also understood when she started talking, speaking of her life as a young girl in Four Kings, that their.. connection.. was precious to her too. As she spoke of personal experiences and adventures, her words honest and truthful, he felt the trust in the sharing and appreciated her openness. He smiled with her as she told of the joy and peace she felt when beside the two special trees, the Red (the’Family Tree’) and the Green (Calia’s ’Special Tree’), and he sensed that showing him these special places was sacred for her and not something she did for just anyone. She was, he felt, honouring their bond in her personal way. That made him appreciate being there with her even more. It also made him think of the apple trees back home on his family estate in Kandor. Those apples had never been as sweet or as succulent as those found farther south, the climate for apple orchards was not the best in the Borderlands, but even so he had enjoyed the red apples they had plucked from the few trees every year. Seeing the joy Calia felt when talking about and showing him these very special ancient trees made him glad inside. “They are definitely far, far older than I am”, she had said with a broad smile and a sparkle in her blue eyes. This was life as well, trees that had stood for many generations, producing fruit to be enjoyed, scents to be savoured, with colourful leaves and flowers in the orchards. It was for orchards and pastures and fields and colourful gardens and forests and ponds and brooks and rivers and oceans that they were fighting. All were part of Life in the Light. ● The ’Family Tree' was the largest and oldest of the Big Reds, where the name and/or hand of every child and life partner of a Luins in the area had been making its mark, recorded in living history, as it were - even generations and generations before Calia’s own. It was obvious to see the length of the history there - the tree must've been well over 200, maybe 300 or even more, years old. Many, many generations of names had been marked into the wood of the trunk, or cut into stones the size of closed fists and piled and gathered around the trunk instead. Calia’s ’Special Tree’ was one of the Greens. For an apple tree, it was still particularly broad, and tall, and strong. And its branches still seemed to produce enough fruit to fill a large amount of barrels. Calia wondered out loud, not for the first time, if her immediate family members might have often 'stressed' this tree in the long absences of those who had actually carved their names upon it, in the not-so-silent hopes that helping this tree grow strong through stretches of stress would also, somehow, help the others while they were away, doing their best to survive stress and beatings of their own. Calia admired the Green tree for a while and then plucked an apple from a hanging bough. She checked it and spoke with knowledge about its skin, ripeness and condition. She shared her joy and finds with the Warder and her blue eyes sparkled anew when she mentioned how suitable these Green apples had been for aspiring Greens in the White Tower. Elessar shared her joy and enjoyed the interesting information she was in possession of. Learning new things had always interested him, besides stories, poetry and history. These apples were in a different league to the ones he had grown up with and he told his bondholder so. She smiled joyfully and handed him the large green apple she had been holding and he took a big bite and complimented her on its juiciness. A great Green apple for a great Green lady, the Green Gaidin thought to himself as he enjoyed the delicious apple. Leandreen, you would have liked her. He imagined his first bondholder replying with a lopsided grin, She’s a good’un, but I ain’t sharing. ● Wondering what had suddenly made him think of his dead bondholder, a fiery and proud red-headed woman and passionate Aes Sedai who had never had much appetite for apples, his train of thought was disrupted when Calia spoke again. "I'm not usually one to stand on ceremony," she began with a smile. "And, I haven't done this for decades... But... " Calia fished deep into a concealed side-pocket on her pants and retrieved a small wooden box. Inside was a small, robust rock chisel - at least as old as herself and always many-many times more sharp. She held the tool out, offering it to Elessar. And then she followed through with a smooth rock. "But, since it is Sunday, and you are here... ", she added, "Would you, Elessar Gaidin, do this family the honour of adding your name, and at some of your strength, to this tree?" ● Elessar understood that this was important for her and an offer not given to everyone - and to him it felt like a precious moment, almost an invitation to join a select group of people close to Calia’s heart. He was stoic of nature, had always been so, Borderlander-bred to be hard and unyielding, but he had learned over the years the value of humanity, empathy, kindness. Poetry had also given him joy and perspective, history likewise, and his Sedais had over the years “mellowed” him a little. In their time together Calia had “mellowed” him further, he thought, bringing more Light into those parts of his soul that had their Darkness, and he was very grateful. Now with her generous offer he felt an inner pride and appreciation. She is, in a way, inviting me into her family. It was his primary thought. That is what this means. It shows how much she values me. He valued her just as much. This time Leandreen’s emerald eyes smiled at him in the back of his mind. “I will be happy to, Calia Aes Sedai”, he replied equally formally and with great respect. There was a small smile on his lips directed at her and a glint in his dark eyes. He tried to convey through the bond how appreciative he was of this gesture - of the trust and care, of the honour - that he was grateful and found it precious. “The honour”, he said, “is mine.” Using the rock chisel, he added his name, Elessar Telcontar Gaidin etching it forever on Calia’s Special Green Tree in that beautiful apple orchard in Four Kings, where it could stand as a symbol of Life, a symbol of their Unity and togetherness in purpose and value and action for the White Tower and their Oneness in the Light. ● He had always been a diligent soldier and when he had joined the famed Children of the Light his family in southern Amadicia had been so proud. Donning the White Cloak, his conical helmet shining, his blade a Blade of Truth, he had felt a thrill such as he had never experienced before. His pride had shone in his green eyes and the pride had only become stronger as he has risen to higher rank. His superiors had seen the merits of an officer in him and he had received ever more difficult tasks for the Light, tasks he had performed expertly. Several years later he had risen to the rank of Lieutenant, second in command of a platoon, and then some years later he had become Captain of a company. At the age of forty he had finally achieved his life-long ambition, to become Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light. It was a position he had held for several years but which he would not hold for much longer. He knew he was dying. ● Where his left arm should have been, was just a bloodied stump. He was losing blood by the second. His right hand missed several fingers. His right sword-arm was broken. And he was blind on one eye. The evil witch had actually made him eat his right eye. He stared at her with his left eye, a burning stare in which he put all his hate toward the evil Aes Sedai. “You may have destroyed me, you evil witch!” he spat. “But you and your pathetic Amyrlin and White Tower will fall beneath the flood of Light in the days and months to come.” His voice was as filled with Truth as it had been on that first day he had joined the Whitecloak ranks many years before. His one working eye shone with the Light of Truth and it gave him some pleasure to know that, even when he died, he would win. In the arms of the Creator, he would look down and soar in his soul as the Darkfriend Aes Sedai were smashed in the Last Battle! The Amo’hra chuckled inside at the Whitecloak’s words. He was a brave one, this one. Foolish and fanatic but brave. She admired bravery and so decided to not torture this man anymore. She would give him a clean death. “You are a fool”, Silvahria said with honesty, “but a brave fool. You have given me the answers I craved, so I have no need for you anymore. I will give you the honour of falling on your sword.” Her mouth twisted wickedly as she unceremoniously pushed his body onto the broadsword standing up from the marble floor. The tip of his shining sword pressed through his brain and as he descended into oblivion the Lord Captain Commander of the Light saw only a White plain of unending Death. ● “We are all saddened by Lord Charon’s tragic death”, Lord Sandhar said in a sad voice, the lie coming easily to his lips. “The ocean currents of the Sea of Storms are particularly dangerous this time of year as we all know.” The other Lord and Ladies present nodded in agreement. “I spoke to him yesterday afternoon”, he added, “and warned him against swimming, but he needed his weekly swim, he said, and you all know how stubborn he could be when he set his mind to it.” Again, there were several nods. “Unfortunately, this time the currents took him and we lost our good Lord. And friend.” His voice was somber and he almost convinced himself that he meant what he was saying. “We will remember him as a sound Lord”, Lord Sandhar added, “a man of integrity, a man of sound advice, and a strong supporter of Illian.” Many present nodded, approval for his kind words, though a couple Lords looked at him with a sly look, wondering why Lord Sandhar was so magnanimous toward a man who had been his enemy. A few present thought deep inside that perhaps he had had something to do with what had happened.. but those were accusations best kept unspoken. Lord Sandhar was the most powerful man on the Council and not someone you made your enemy. ● Leaving the Council room, Lord Sandhar walked over to Erihna who waited in the outer hall. She wore an almost see-through dress. Her long blonde hair smelled of lavender and her red lips of strawberry. He kissed her long and hard, pressing his body tightly onto hers, then led her from the hall and swiftly back to his personal quarters. There she slipped quickly out of her dress and stood naked before him, a glory to behold as always. He stared at her radiating face, her wonderful curves, lovely breasts, and at the golden patch between her legs. Her smile was lascivious and hungry as he took her in his arms, his lips on hers, and held her tight. It was time to celebrate. ● “We welcome you to the White Tower.” The Amyrlin gave a slight nod in respect. Her voice was smooth as silk but inside she felt those butterflies in her stomach. Calming herself, she studied his dark eyes. He seemed stoic and reminded her of a Warder. Just that this black-coated man was even more dangerous since he could channel. Channel Saidin, the male part of the One Power. The tainted part, soiled by the Dark One in hos counterstrike when the Dragon and his 100 companions successfully imprisoned the Dark One and The Forsaken at Shayol Ghul but which resulted in the Time of Madness and the Breaking of the World. She was unable to stop the slight shiver when she thought of that time and how the world had changed. A world that female Aes Sedai had rebuilt over centuries. Saidin. The taint. The One Prophesized. And the Asha’man. The man met the Amyrlin’s eyes squarely. “Thank you”, he replied. His voice was deep and steady. “It is an honour to be here.” ● It was impossible to say whether he meant it or was just being polite. She noted that his nod of respect was short of what was to be expected - noted also by the Keeper standing in the background, her face radiating disapproval - but it was not important. These Asha’man, these men of the Black Tower, were said to be a proud and arrogant lot so this was to be expected. “Please sit”, the Amyrlin said and indicated a high-backed chair by the table opposite her. He seated himself while the Keeper remained standing off to the side. She studied the man some more. He seemed calm and collected - he seemed sane! - but there was a gleam in his eyes which gave her the impression he was more impatient than he looked. Perhaps he was just as.. uncomfortable.. being with her as she was with him. This was an awkward situation for them both.. but it was necessary. She kept telling herself that. They were both holding onto the One Power, of that, she was sure. The feeling of Saidar gave her added confidence. Though she guessed he might be stronger than her - men were most often the strongest in the One Power - she felt certain that if worst came to worst she would be able to defend herself long enough before help came. In any case, this meeting was based on trust and trust would stand between them. Mutual trust was imperative. After a long moment’s silence, she spoke. “These are challenging times.” She began smoothly. “The Shadow is Rising around the world and we must unite to stand against those forces.” She touched the fringes of her seven striped stole as if to gain courage. “Alliances need be forged”, she added, her eyes hardening slightly. “Only together do we stand a chance against the Gathering Storm.” She stopped there, waiting to see if he would respond. He said nothing, just stared back at her. “Neither you in your Black Tower” - her mouth twisted slightly when she said “Black” but he did not seem to notice - “or we here in the White Tower should stand alone.” “Therefore”, she added. “I confirm the White Tower’s wish for an alliance with the Black Tower.” ● The Asha’man studied the proposed text of agreement that the Keeper brought forth and they spent the next hour going through the various sections which detailed what they were agreeing on. Tea was brought and they sipped to it as they negotiated the various points. It was vital to make an agreeable arrangement to seal this important alliance. Finally, they both seemed content and the Asha’man confirmed that he had the authority to sign the papers on behalf of the Black Tower. He signed the document and used a stamp seal he carried on his person to make it formal. The stamp had an image of a Dragon. The Amyrlin signed on behalf of the White Tower, her stamp seal had the image of the Flame of Tar Valon. As soon as it was done, she felt in her bones that something momentous had happened. Change was Coming. She shook the Asha’man’s hand and a smile came upon her lips. There was a touch of a smile in the black-coated man’s dark eyes though his face remained stoic. Handing the signed documents to her Keeper, she watched her leave the chamber and shut the door behind her. Tarah would take the documents down to the Tower Archive and return with a copy for the Asha’man. Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat felt a thrill inside. Now that the alliance was created most of her doubt was gone. There were risks, of course, dealing with men who could go mad at any minute, huge risks.., but risks that needed to be taken as she saw it. Desperate times required desperate measures. And this alliance would increase their chances of standing against the coming Tide of Darkness. I have saved us!, she thought triumphantly as she stared past the Asha’man at the shelves with old books and chronicles telling of Amyrlins who had protected the Tower and ensured its survival. Her smile widened and it was as if a sun had blossomed inside her. I have saved the White Tower! ● Just then Four slivers of light sliced through the air around the Amylin’s private chamber, Gateways opening and Four persons emerging. At the same time a shield slammed between the Amyrlin and Saidar! and likewise between the Asha’man and Saidin!, as the four powerful figures channeled in tandem stepping into the room. The Amyrlin, goggle-eyed, and the Asha’man, very wide-eyed, were immobilized and gagged with Air and they could only stare near dumbfounded at the two men and two women who surrounded them as the Gateways shut behind. The tall blond-haired man had violet eyes, his black cloak folding itself around him as he walked. His gaze was hard but also triumphant as he studied the Amyrlin. “Well, well”, he murmured. “An Aes Sedai and an Asha’man.. together. Who would have thought.” Amaranth ran his eyes over them both. “And making an Alliance no less.” Behind him Nymeria grinned darkly. She had set her long blonde hair in a bun and her blue dress complemented her sapphire-looking eyes. She looked condescendingly at the Amyrlin, ignoring the Asha’man. “Such an Alliance will simply.. not.. do..” the beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed woman standing opposite Nymeria said as-a-matter-of-factly. Qariahna wore green this day, a beautiful dress which framed her body perfectly. Her hair the colour of night glistened as if she had come straight from a bath. “Indeed”, the second male agreed. His dark complexion made him look exotic, his short black hair slick, his dark brown eyes inquisitive. Kalessin stared hard at the Asha’man as if ready to ask the bound man a million questions. He completely ignored the Aes Sedai. Amaranth channeled and small flames danced upon his palms. The flames gradually turned violet in colour, matching his eyes. “And so..” he added calmly, “your precious Alliance is.. ended.” ● His grin broadened. “Even as we speak, your signed documents are being removed from the Tower Archive below and any and all copies destroyed.” “So in effect”, the Chosen added with wicked delight, “Yours was an Alliance that Never Was.” Kalessin chuckled at Amaranth’s words, finding a poetic reflection in them, while Qariahna and Nymeria stared triumphantly at the bound Amyrlin, like dark spiders having caught their prey in their net and relishing it. “As for you, Aes Sedai”, Qariahna said, sneering at the title, “I am sorry to tell you that you.. are Mother no more.” Nadhene Sedai, the Amyrlin Seat, the Watcher of the Seals and the Flame of Tar Valon, tried to ignore the barb but deep inside she felt that this would end in tears. Her Aes Sedai pride kept her looking defiant though, not wanting any of these people, these channelers .. whoever they were .. - and who are they!? How did they manage to shield us while we were holding onto the One Power? And how in the world has the lost Talent of Traveling been rediscovered!? - .. to see her weakness and fear. “I can see that you want to say something”, Qariahna said taunting, looking deep into the eyes of the leader of the Aes Sedai. “But silence is an underappreciated virtue.” Nymeria chuckled darkly inside, rolling her eyes, thinking of all the times she had wanted Qariahna to just shut up. “Do not worry about your Keeper”, Nymeria added as if an after thought. “She will be kept alive. If for nothing other than our.. amusement.” Her grin was vicious. ● “It is time.” Amaranth said finally. He stared at everyone in turn, his gaze fastening on their two captives. His violet eyes gleamed. The flames dancing on his palms disappeared and soon also did the ward he had placed on the chamber. Two Gateways opened behind them, slivers of light slicing the air, each showing a grand chamber behind with pillars and luxurious carpets and marble floors. Removing the chairs, the Amyrlin - face despairing but trying hard to stay courageous - was pushed through one Gateway, and the Asha’man - anger in his face now but also proud defiance - through the other. The four Chosen followed, walking like Kings and Queens, Majestic in dark Glory, and then the Gateways shut behind them, Light swallowed by the Dark. All that remained was an Echo of Shadows. ▀▄

.. A Question of Light .. ►▼◄ The hundred feet wide gateway opened right there in the air before the Fortress of Light in Amador, stunning a company of armed Whitecloaks that was ready to depart on a mission and thirty brown-cloaked, fierce-eyed female channelers of the Ayyad stormed through!, weaving Saidar as they threw fireballs and deadly lightning-nets at the defenders and the fortress, stronghold of the Children of the Light! Fervent spiteful shouts of “Witches!” came from several places in the enfolding chaos before the walls and soldiers wearing the white cloaks and iconic shining helmets of their order drew shiny swords and tried to defend against this powerful surprise attack. ● The tall and slim dark-skinned leader of the Ayyad, the Amo’hra, her face tattooed in the tradition of the famed Sharan channelers but with the added unique personal triangle-tattoo upon her forehead signifying her high station, threw thunderbolts at the castle walls while also keeping an eye on how things were proceeding along the long line of female channelers. She smiled inside, as always glorying in the feel of Saidar running through her, and as always regretting that she needed to mask some of her power when among these Ayyad Sisters. Khraa’malia she was thought to be and it suited the Shadow’s purposes that she remain so for the time being. It did not matter. What mattered was to carry out the orders she had been given. Bolts of lightning! struck the fortress several times - again and again! leaving destruction in their wake. Watchtowers toppled, explosions abounded and screams and shouts were heard everywhere amidst the dust and the blood. The Amo’hra erected a protective shield around herself using the One Power and arrows that flew at her hit the invisible shield and dropped aimlessly to the ground. One of the Captains of the Whitecloaks, a tall caped man swinging a shining sword, changed tactics at one point and directed a counter-attack at her, understanding that she was the person commanding the invading force, pointing at her - the tall, slim dark-skinned woman dressed in brown who led the attack - but the mounted Whitecloaks fell before her, their horses dying from deadly weaves and lethal nets cutting their legs from under them. The Children that remained standing cursed the witches, regrouped, made a few weak attempts at attack that went nowhere, and then commands were shouted all along their diminishing line to retreat. They did so in small groups into the fortress. Shields and helmets and white cloaks were turned blood red and dirty, pale smudged faces filled with anger and reluctant defeat stared hard at the hated witches at they shut the main gate behind them. Holding up her arms with finality, her voice of command boosted by the One Power and carrying to all the women along the line, the Amo’hra stopped their advance and the women channelers from Shara came to a halt where they stood, many panting from the exertion, but still holding onto Saidar. There was a deathly silence before the main gate of the fortress. The Chosen Silvahria, in the guise of the Amo’hra, leader of the Sharan Ayyad, grinned broadly, her white teeth shining. The Fortress of Light, stronghold of the Children of the Light, was theirs for the taking. ● The Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, Lord Enthar Mehrin, stared hatefully at the woman before him. The Tar Valon witch! She was a tall and slim woman dressed in brown, of very dark complexion with short curly hair and fierce brown eyes. For a second he wondered where she was from, she had a very exotic foreign look, but he did not really care. He was bound to a chair in his personal chamber by invisible bonds and gagged the same way, unable to move a muscle. He despised the fact that the Fortress of Light had been overrun so easily by these evil Aes Sedai, for they could not be anything else! He had always said to anyone who would listen that one day the evil witches would attack them here in Amador. That they had apparently popped out of thin air right before their gates spoke of powerful witchcraft and now they were going to kill him, he felt sure of it. Their so-called three oaths were meaningless, pure lies of deception, just as he had always known. His only regret was that he would be unable to take some of them down with him. The Amo’hra stared with some amusement at this captured commander of these Children of the Light as they called themselves. His white cloak was full of blood from the..sessions she had had with him.. and his conical helmet lay discarded in a corner of the room. His grey hair was bloodied, his face was swollen and blood also ran into his grey-black beard. There were cuts on his cheeks and on his forehead. He gave her a baleful stare. She lifted the gag of Air from him for a moment to let him speak, but kept all the other invisible bonds in place. He spat at her and cursed her for a witch. “The Council of the Anointed will have you whipped for your evil deeds!” He sneered. She chuckled in response which only seemed to make him angrier. “Do your best, witch - you vile Aes Sedai!”, he said scornfully as his eyes took on the fanatic light and inner fire of his kind. “The White Tower will learn nothing more from me!” “I am no Aes Sedai!” the Chosen in the guise of the Amo’hra spat back, her mouth twisted sourly. “You are a fool if you think so.” ● Turning away from the Lord Commander, she picked up a knife from the Whitecloak’s writing table and tested its sharpness. It drew a little blood which made her smile. Sharp indeed. Turning back to face the bound prisoner, she went over in her mind how she had deceived her Ayyad Sisters that this attack was necessary for their cause. She had planted a seed in their minds some weeks before that outlanders had dangerous plans to make war on Shara and they, the Ayyad, needed to quench those plans at the root. The invading army, she had told them, would be a military force called the Children of the Light, fanatics that believed so strongly in their Cause that they would be willing to do anything to accomplish their goals. They hated Darkfriends, followers of the Shadow, and had been indoctrinated to believe that Shara was filled with Darkfriends and forces that would bow to the Dark One. They were a threat that needed to be removed before they moved against Shara. Even in her own mind it sounded a bit far-fetched, but she had gradually convinced several of the more gullible of the Ayyad women of this threat, they had then worked on some of the rest, and finally they had all agreed that action had to be taken. And so here they were, the fortress in their possession, the Whitecloak leader their prisoner. It had taken longer than she had thought to take over the fortress, the soldiers within had fought vehemently and had been in larger numbers than expected, but finally they had given up and the remaining several dozen Children had been taken prisoner, seven of the Ayyad Sisters dead. The remaining twenty-three channelers were proud though of what they had achieved, and the dark-skinned women walking around the fortress smiled to one another, pleased at this victory. But it was just a victory, the battle had not been won. There were several more companies of Whitecloaks out in the land, so the Lord Commander had finally admitted under pain, and the Amo’hra knew it would be difficult to hold this fortress over time. Allies of the Whitecloaks may come to their rescue, not the least military forces of Amadicia but perhaps also other.. mightier friends. The main thing though, for Silvahria and the Shadow, was to lessen the threat of this force of Lightfools in the coming Last Battle, to weaken the forces of Light, and so this mission had served its purpose. They had killed many, many soldiers and several of the leaders of the Children and now it remained to be seen what she was going to do about its Lord Commander. She was tempted to slit his throat and be done with it, or she could of course give him a much more torturous death, but something told her that he would let slip more secrets if she were a little more patient. Walking up to him she stared deep into his eyes, the knife in her hand pointing at his face. “Now then, my dear stubborn Lord Commander”, Silvahria whispered, her voice filled with resentment, as her knife cut into his chin. “Will you answer my second question, or shall I remove your.. say.. left eye..”, her face became sadistic, “and then make you.. eat it?” ● “Hey, handsome.” The woman had long blonde hair, an oval face that would have been beautiful if not for some freckles and a not straight nose. It was still pretty and her blue eyes were filled with mischief. There was rose-bloom in her cheeks and she eyed Elessar up and down, clearly liking what she saw. “Wanna fool around a little?” she added, her voice sensuous and inviting. The Warder studied the woman in some detail, noting her tight blue dress (a little too tight and a little too short) and her ample attributes barely hidden by her blouse. His grin was disarming as he said, “Well, in that case, you must not let that serving girl over there”, he nodded his head in the direction of Calia who at that moment was between customers, watching him, “catch you trying to whisk me away.” His grin broadened. “She has been eying me all night and given me suggestive looks.” The woman stared at Calia, weighed her in her mind, and decided to go after an easier - if not better - catch. Elessar chuckled inside and wondered with some amusement if Calia had caught anything of the conversation. He was sure she would have been amused. Earlier there had been a moment when he had seen a somewhat drunk customer grab Calia around the waist. He had watched carefully, ready to intervene, if necessary, but had seen his bondholder twist elegantly out of his reach. She had exchanged some words with the man and had then nodded toward Elessar. The man had looked at the Warder and had blanched, at least that was what it looked like to the Gaidin, and the accompanying feelings of merriment and mirth that came through the bond from Calia made him guess she had said something that was amusing but perhaps not so amusing to the man. He grinned inside, enjoying the playful side to his Aes Sedai. As for Calia’s serving girl role this evening.. it was something he had never expected to experience. Not with any bondholder really. Serving at tables, especially with somewhat drunk and sometimes grabby, rowdy and impolite customers, was as far from something he could imagine a Sister of the White Tower doing. Kings and Queens bowed to Aes Sedai. And here Calia was running around serving drinks and meals as if she had never done anything else. His first thought was that it was scandalous (which it, of course, was if one knew her station in life) and very unfitting.. his second thought was that he had to put a stop to this nonsense.. his third thought was, she will do this over my dead body.. He would simply not let his Aes Sedai demean herself in this way. Seeing her eagerness though when she told him what she intended to do, the glint of playfulness in her sparkling blue eyes, her smile and glow in her face and pleasure at being ‘home’ and among these people, added to a certain Green Sister stubbornness to her jaw, he put aside all his concerns and nodded with a smile. He would not be the one to spoil her evening. He had enjoyed the poem about Maragaine and the joyous applause from the inn’s customers had made him smile widely. He had joined in, understanding the pride these people felt for their homeland and the heroic Queen of the past. He had watched Calia’s skill with trays and glasses with impressed eyes. She had told him some of her past but it must have been many decades since she last performed such duties. Clearly, she had forgotten nothing as she almost danced around the room, swiftly and deftly in every way. Through the evening he kept an eye on her and on the other customers present. She had told him that Four Kings was known for being a place where behaviour, especially toward women, was often very rude though Joem and Amelie, according to Calia, had done much to enforce and grow a reputation for a more ‘well-mannered’ location and establishment. Looking around the Warder saw what she had meant. On the whole, this place was decently orderly. And the place was buzzing with energy, right down to the sound of clinking mugs, hearty laughter and the accompanying bright notes of the gleeman's flute - and more. ● Mid-way through the evening, as he was enjoying the local apple-ale by the bar desk, Calia suddenly swung by his side and gave him a cheeky wink in the passing, like so many serving girls had given him before, and Elessar almost choked on his ale. It pleased the Gaidin to see people enjoying themselves, living a little even in these strange times. Most were unaware of the coming storm and the Shadow Rising around the world and in a way the Warder was glad to let them lead their lives without that added burden. Soon everyone everywhere would have to pitch in if the Darkness was to be stopped, but for now these locals and families in Four Kings could enjoy nights such as this. Outside in the garden, the bonfire burned bright and fierce near the centre of the yard, flames dancing ever-higher into the night sky as it defied the Darkness and kept watch for the Light. Children darted here and there between adults, their laughter ringing out as they played game after game in the firelight, the sounds of mirth mixing with the crackling of the fire and hum of conversations. Townsfolk and travelling merchants mingled on the lawn, sharing stories and toasting the shortest night of the year. Night deepened and yet the bonfire's glow seemed to grow, pulsing with the rhythm of the music, challenging the Shadows and casting Light into their world. This was a celebration of the Longest Day of the year and Elessar knew it was celebrated in many places around the world, especially in smaller towns and villages. It had seldom been celebrated in his home in Kandor, initially for fear of not being vigilant if Shadowspawn decided to raid the place, later it had become tradition to keep any celebrations to a minimum. Life was harsh in the Borderlands and priorities were different. People need some joy in their lives though, Elessar thought as he watched these people enjoying the night. This is what we are fighting for. As dawn broke, Elessar joined Calia by the dying bonfire. They stood together and took a moment to Thank the Light for all life and everything that existed, as tradition detailed, before the bonfire died out. All gathered turned their faces to the breaking dawn, the sun beginning its rise in the horizon, Calia shared a smile - of life, of joy - with Elessar and the others. In her radiant face, a feeling that echoed through the bond, he saw the gratitude she felt for this place and these people, for her home town and this celebration of life. This place would, despite a seeming dusty and dour exterior, always have a special place in her heart. Now it was time to rest, each person filled with the Light, Wonder and Opportunities of a New Day in the Turning of the Wheel. ● “Astrophysics is the science that employs the methods and principles of physics and chemistry in the study of astronomical objects and phenomena”, the lecturer tells the class of motivated students. Four-dimensional prisms float high above their heads in colours of blue and white as chemical formulas interchange in an endless line of proton symbiotic revelance. Aran Dheran has been the primary lecturer in this field of scientific research for a decade or more at the Scientific Prime University (SPU) in Emar Dal and his research has been lauded by everyone in the field. “This science”, he continues, his voice loud so it carries to the back of the auditorium“seeks to ascertain the nature of the heavenly bodies, rather than their positions or motions in space–what they are, rather than where they are. We study the Sun (solar physics), other stars, galaxies, extrasolar planets, and the interstellar medium. We also study the quantum space between the realms of matter and anti-matter, where space ends and dark space begins. Emissions from these objects are examined across all parts of the electromagnetic spectrum, and the properties examined include luminosity, density, temperature, spectral velocity, perusion and chemical composition.” “Because astrophysics is a very broad subject,” he concludes, “astrophysicists apply concepts and methods from many disciplines of physics, including classical mechanics, electromagnetism, statistical mechanics, thermodynamics, quantum mechanics, relativity, subpermanent thasing, thermosynthesis, nuclear and particle physics, and atomic and molecular physics.” His distinct voice echoed in her mind through the centuries, a lecturing voice which made you listen attentively to every word. She had listened with fascination, already interested in astronomy and physics, and had studied hard those six long years at university and had become a famed astrophysicist, one of the few top-field women in this field of science. Oh, what wonders we researched! Oh, what discoveries we made and advances that have been lost in time! She remembered the space stations she had lived on; she remembered the journeys to far away stars she had made, making use of the quantum discoveries of inter-space tunnels that revolutionized space travel. She remembered it all and it made her both sad and angry that it had all been lost in the thousands of years between that time of wonder and excellence and this time of.. mediocrity. ● Gazing up at the ceiling in her room at the inn in Mayene, Qariahna, once a renowned astrophysicist in the Age of Legends, reminisced and tried to ignore the regrets that also were a part of her. Her eyes, pools of darkness, tightened when she thought of the betrayal of her colleagues who had informed on her when she had pushed the limits on human capability for space travel. To advance, risk needed to be taken and there would have to be some sacrifices made. The leaders of the Institute, fools the lot of them, had disagreed and had warned her about ethics and misconduct but she had not listened, continuing her scientific research. Using the One Power to modify atom-splits to prolong the vital secondary particle divide, she had advanced quantum physics, producing discoveries that she was certain would never be made if one did not accept some loss of life in the process. In the end her superiors contacted the Aes Sedai leadership and through sources she learned that she was to be arrested and tried. Having no choice but to escape, wanting to confront her accusers but knowing it would be in vain, she joined a few likeminded scholars at the Institute and departed quickly, hiding in Shadows for a few weeks. Hearing about discontent elsewhere, and that some rebels were assembling further north, she headed that way and her journey did not end before bowing before the Great Lord of the Dark in Shayol Ghul. Anger and spite had filled her soul in the past weeks, a fury at fools who thought they knew better, at the arrogance they showed when it came to new ideas and to pushing boundaries, and so bending knee to this new power, a power which embraced her talent and her person and what she could achieve, was very satisfactory. Here she would be accepted. Here she would be admired, not scorned. Here she would have power and be able to use it properly. And so the woman and astrophysicist once called Caitriona Sandher Neidhar, who was to be better known as Qariahna, became one of those Chosen to Rule the World Forever. ● The Banners of Illian, Twelve Golden Bees on a Field of Green, atop the Palace called the Great Hall of the Council danced in the strong wind coming in from the Sea of Storms. The men streaming out of the council chamber ignored the beautiful blonde-haired woman standing by the door. They had learned the wisdom in not running their eyes lustfully over her sensual body. She grinned mischievously as they passed her by, knowing exactly what they all wanted to do with her. In truth she would not have minded a little.. fun.. but he would not approve. Certainly not. Finally, Lord Sandhar approached her and there was desire in his blue eyes. He wore his dark coat with golden fringes, it was his favourite she knew, and he grinned when he saw her. “Erihna, my darling” he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a gallant kiss. “Have you seduced many young men today?” It was a private joke between them, both knowing she would enjoy mightily seducing lots of young, virile men. “Only a handful today, my Lord” she replied seductively, her green eyes twinkling, drowning in his warm embrace. They shared a hot, inviting kiss on the mouth but then the Lord pulled away. “Erihna, I have some matters to take care of.” He smiled his special smile, the one that always made her go weak at the knees. “But I will see you later, my darling.” Her face glowed in return and she threw him a kiss as she moved away, elegance in motion. Staring at her back, he wished he could go with her and enjoy her.. charms.. but he had another matter he needed to take care of. ● Heading down the corridor he turned a corner and walked up to a door. He knocked and waited for it to open. Lord Charon opened the door. There was a sour look on his face but Lord Sandhar was let into his private chamber. It was a matter of etiquette and since Sandhar had asked for a private meeting, Charon had to oblige. He was one of the few Councillors who did not think as highly of Sandhar as many of the others seemed to do. They had fallen under the Lord’s spell, Charon thought to himself. It was something he would never do. He was several years the other Lord’s senior, in his late forties, and his brown hair had grey at its edges. He was also overweight by a fair amount and did not in any way resemble the charming and handsome Lord Sandhar. This added to his irritation. “Lord Sandhar”, he said drily. A slight bow of the head as to an equal. “Lord Charon”, Sandhar replied in the same manner, giving the same slight bow. “Your proposal to move a good part of our armed forces into our border-region in the north was rather .. rash”, Charon said carefully, beginning the conversation. He was going to say foolish, but decided to be a little more tactful. “We ought to have considered the matter further before the motion was passed.” “You think so, Lord Charon?” Sandhar replied with a slight edge to his voice, not liking the man. “Is it not prudent to guard our northern borders when we hear tales of troubles and unrest? The north has been neglected for too long, I believe, and it was time to do something about it.” Sandhar said smoothly. “Troubles and unrest .. , my Lord Sandhar.” Lord Charon said. “That is just rumours .... just rumours ... and we need to be alert should those fools in Tear suddenly decide to war upon us again. You never know with them.” Lord Charon held the neighbouring nation of Tear in as low esteem as most Illianers, and should Illian ever be thrown into a war it would be with Tear, he felt certain of that. ● “My Lord Charon”, Sandhar said patiently in reply, “Tear is no threat to us.” He could see from the other man’s return-stare that he did not believe him. It did not matter. “And should Tear at some point in the future become a nuisance,” Sandhar added for the lord’s benefit, “we have enough of our armed forces down here south so we can deal with it. The majority of the councillors agree with my assessment of the situation”. In a somewhat smug voice he added, “Only you and Lords Buran and Keyer were in fact against the motion.” The other man’s lips tightened. Most of the other councillors thought he was a weakling, he knew, but he still had some fight left in him. “Yes, this time we lost. This time.” With those final words and casting the other man a challenging stare, he made it clear their conversation was over. Lord Sandhar nodded. “I understand my hope to get you to join our side was in vain. Have a nice evening.” He gave the other man a slight bow before passing him and leaving the room. As the door closed, Lord Charon went and sat in his high-backed chair. There was something about that Lord Sandhar that put his teeth on edge. He was a sly one, that one, that was for sure, politically very able, but Charon - who came from one of the oldest families in Illian and who had been a councillor for many years - felt in his bones that there was more to it than that. He bears watching, he thought grimly as he poured himself a glass of red wine from a decanter and took a big swallow. Back in his personal chamber, Lord Sandhar walked onto the balcony and stared out onto the twilight of the city. He had not really expected Lord Charon to change his mind, he knew that the other man despised him. It had been politics at play. That he was shown to reach out to his opponents would be smiled upon in the council. Appearance was everything. However, the more he thought about it in the following days, the more he wondered if the older Illianer Lord ought, perhaps, to meet with an unfortunate accident. The ocean currents of the Sea of Storms were particularly dangerous this time of year. ● Smashing his knife into the younger man’s throat, blood flowing in rivers down the man’s white shirt, the rough-looking thief with several scars on his face shoved the body out of the way as he continued walking down the dark alley, past the shabby Rogue Hustler inn, the knife back in its sheath at his side. No one seemed to have heard the death scream but then again he did not expect anyone to. Death and murder were a part of Lugard life. It had always been so. Heading down one street and then up another, the thief saw another member of the local Thieves Guild up ahead and gave a small hand signal as he passed him. The job had been done. That was all there was to it. He had been a thief all his life, at least as long as he could remember. His mother had died when he was just five years old, his father having left by then. His aunt had thrown him into the street, unable to take care of another child (she had three herself), and if a kind older man had not taken him in, he would have perished in the Lugard slum. This man it turned out was a thief and he taught the young lad how to pick-pocket from an early age. Soon the boy gained skill and as he grew, he became quite proficient. In his mid-teens he joined the Thieves Guild, first as an errand boy, later as a full member. In the years since he had become one of the Guild’s most experienced and deadly members. It was not for nothing that they had begun to call him Lethal Jim. He was indeed lethal as many people had learned in the years gone by. A killer. An Enforcer. And he took much pride in his craft. It was who he was. It was his life. ● Amaranth stared into the abyss between the three standing stones and his violet eyes sparkled with excitement. A keen observer might also have noted the slight twitch to his mouth which indicated that he was not entirely confident. He was all alone though in the stone chamber, only the few flickering lights at intervals along the stone walls keeping him company. Finally, he straightened and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, his hands holding onto the sides of his silk coat, he filled himself with the True Power, drawing as much as he could handle, glorying as always in the incredible thrill that enveloped him. A red gleam appeared in his eyes for a moment, the burning fire of the True Power shining, but then it was gone leaving a momentary residue, and darkness seemed instead to reflect from within, It is time. Raising his arms, the First among the Chosen spoke commands not uttered in the Stone of Tear for millennia. ER’ANYA I SILEY’HNA VIRUBHEL! Lowering his arms slowly, he waited. At first nothing seemed to happen, but then the standing stones began to glow with an inner fire, stronger and stronger, their inner light soon so strong that Amaranth had to lower his eyes. A buzzing sound then came from the abyss, the darkness between the standing stones, and the Chosen took a step back. Gazing hard at the point between the stones, several powerful weaves at his fingertips, he held his breath as something rose from its dark depths. It was a spectre, a hollow figure all skeletal and cowled in black. Shadows of claws crept out of darkened sleeves and where eyes should have been there were empty sockets with a yellow gleam as if from eyes long lost. The figure appeared to study the mortal before it and pointed toward him. Not many things had ever frightened the Chosen, but this.. being.. made him decidedly..wary. The lights on the stone walls dimmed suddenly and darkness enveloped the chamber. Even so, Amaranth could easily see the spectre, a shadow within shadows. The being seemed to suck in its breath and an icy wind swept over the Chosen. Then came a hoarse whisper, as if a voice coming from a grave, “What is the key, mortal?” ● Please, Great Lord, Amaranth thought, focusing on the spectre while holding hard onto the True Power. Aid your loyal servant. VANI’DHEN, RENIE’YSA. SAAL! His powerful words of power, aided by his Master, reverberated in the dark chamber and the lights within the standing stones now beat in response to his command. Raising his arms again, the Chosen channeled, white symbols appearing in the air, cris-crossing triangles that glowed and inter-connected. The spectre seemed to hesitate, its empty eye sockets seeming to search for something.. and as the triangles of deadly light moved toward it, it took a wary step back. Then, as one of the triangles disentangled itself from the rest and sped toward the spectre, the being gave a bone-chilling shriek as Amaranth’s ancient weaves of Banishment caught it in their grip, crushing inwards. Pouring all his might into those weaves, feeling the strain but not letting go, he watched with satisfaction (and, though he would not have admitted it to anyone, some relief) as the spectre became smaller and smaller, becoming a hollow shadow that swirled like dust before the Chosen’s violet eyes. Finally, with a last shriek, the spectre and Guardian of the Dharan was gone and all that was left was silence. Amaranth breathed more easily now. What he had done had never been attempted as far as he knew. That he had succeeded pleased him mightily. The spectre was not dead, the dead could not die, but it had been Banished for the time being and would not bother him anymore. It guarded an entrance that was not meant to be used, a path for what lay ahead. ● A dark smile came upon his lips as he closed his eyes once again. Small flames of the True Power danced in the palms of his hands as he gazed at the tall standing stones which stopped glowing, their inner light retreating inside the monuments. Speaking new commands in the Old Tongue ARA’HL! SUDI’TJELMA! the dancing flames increased in brightness, and a prism of Air surrounded him, making the runes running down his coat sleeves glow. Opening his eyes, he spoke a single word and was now in the darkness between the three standing stones, his cloak merging with the blackness of the abyss. The violet of his eyes drowned for a moment in blood-red as he swam in the glory of the ocean of the True Power. Amaranth, the Chosen then clapped once - and was gone. ● The Amyrlin closed the book on the table before her and wondered for the hundredth time what she was missing. Somewhere in these many Tower books was the answer she was seeking. She was confident of it! But so far, the answer had eluded her. Running a hand through her newly-washed hair, her mind turned to the other matter at hand. One of the Sitters for the Green had approached her earlier that day, advising that she put aside this plan she had devised and which a majority, a slim majority but majority still, of the Hall had approved. But the Amyrlin would not do so. She knew that plan had its risks but the world was heading toward a precipice, that she felt in her bones, and this action dangerous as it was, was necessary. The Green Sitter had departed without saying another word, her Aes Sedai-face smooth, but her blue eyes burning with fire. I have no other choice. Do I? It was the question she had asked herself ever since the decision had been made and she still saw no alternative. The many-coloured stole about her shoulders felt heavy this evening too. A long strip of silk about a hand wide, it was the symbolic regalia worn over her dress as Amyrlin, leader of the Aes Sedai. She was the embodiment of Aes Sedai and all they stood for. Have former Amyrlins doubted themselves too? She was certain of it, it was human after all to sometimes be uncertain because of difficult choices, hard choices, even if no Amyrlin would ever admit it or if so to very, very few confidants. I must be strong. For myself but most of all for my Daughters. It was how she thought of her Aes Sedai. She was their Mother, after all. Nadhene rose from her chair and started pacing. It was something she had been known for doing ever since she took on the mantle of Amyrlin. This evening was important and she had to work hard to keep the butterflies silent in her stomach. ● When, sometime later, suddenly there was a knock on the door to her chamber, she stopped her pacing and stared silently toward the door. Breathing slowly, taking hold of her emotions, she made sure her face was smooth and calm. Then she bade the person enter. Tarah Sanighar, the Keeper of the Chronicles and second in command of the Aes Sedai, stepped into the room and gave a small curtsy to the Amyrlin. She was a short woman, brown of hair and eyes, but staunch and utterly loyal. Nadhene gave her a small smile before her face becoming Amyrlin-serious again. “Mother”, the Keeper began. Her voice sounded slightly uncertain to the Amyrlin’s ears but then again that was not surprising in this instance. “There is an.. envoy from the.. Black Tower to see you.” The Amylin Seat nodded silently, quenching the rising butterflies in her stomach. This was the moment of truth. The man who entered was in his mid-twenties. Dark hair, dark eyes, he looked pretty ordinary but his eyes were piercing and his face shone with confidence. He wore a black coat with a Gold-and-red-Dragon pinned on the right collar. She stared for a long moment at the pin, thoughts of dread but also hope streaming through her mind, then caught herself, drew herself up in Aes Sedai pride, and shifted her eyes to his face. She knew what he was and what he represented. An Asha’man.

.. In Honour of Maragaine .. ►▼◄ Lightning flashed across the heavens and thunder crashed shaking the world in its inner folds, as powerful, valiant horses, bred for battle, bore Oceans of Green Ajah Sisters to War! Their green cloaks streamed behind them like raised banners, and a hundred Warders or more rode at their side - t h u n d e r i n g - across the barren lands of the Blight! Before them awaited a Battlefield of Death, but they rode on proudly, strongly, unyieldingly, with Passion, Life, Strength and Hope, the vanguard of the main White Tower Forces; their Battle Ajah banners held high, ready to fight for the Light and vanquish the Shadow in this long prophesized Last Battle! !Tarmon Gai'don! ● Opposing forces of Dreadlords, Darkhounds, Myrddraal, Trollocs and Darkfriend soldiers in uncountable numbers met them head on, like an avalanche of Darkness; and the Power unleashed as swords clashed with swords, axes struck axes, and lightning fires of the One Power crashed in the skies above as the thunder kept roaring made the earth tremble in its heart. This was what they had trained for.. what they had lived for.. what the Battle Ajah, of all the various Ajahs of the White Tower, had always stood in readiness for.. and for Calia Aes Sedai and Elessar Gaidin, storming forwards in the endless Sea of Green, this was the moment they had been waiting for! Elessar’s blade was raised high as he screamed proud and fierce battle cries of Kandor, his nation of origin, and Calia’s eyes sparkled like sapphires as never before, her whole face elated and so filled with determination and steely purpose that it almost shone! They rode to Destiny. Finally, the time had come! Finally!! ● Galloping into the Horde of the Shadow, the Kandori Warder’s sword sliced into a Trolloc as he passed and almost removed its arm. His black warhorse Stormbreaker, trained for battle, stormed into the melee and trampled a Darkfriend in the passing as Elessar’s blade struck out at more foes, left and right. Balls of fire streamed across the skies, Dreadlords hurling them at the Aes Sedai who deflected them using various combat weaves, and who retaliated with deadly lightning bolts that struck down amid the Forces of the Shadow. Several Trollocs exploded before him, blood and guts and body parts raining down on him as he rushed by, his sword moving in another arc to behead a brute of a Darkfriend who tried to thrust his sword into his horses’ side. The evil minion managed to duck just in time, the Warder’s sword cutting the air above him, but then he was destroyed by a Green Sister’s deadly combat weave of Saidar. A little further ahead a Trolloc with its animal snout suddenly stepped into the horses’ path and swung its huge battle-axe in an arc and smashed in the face of an oncoming Warder, but was then engulfed in flames from a furious, screaming Aes Sedai who threw lightning bolts at the Trolloc until it was utterly destroyed. The Aes Sedai, a tall, regal woman with flowing hair the colour of flame, threw herself into a cluster of nearby Shadowspawn, leaving Death in her wake. Across the Battlefield there was Death and Screams Flames ablaze! Also Sisters of the White Tower and Warders were slain, mostly by Dreadlord attacks but also by Myrddraal and Trollocs, sometimes also by Darkhounds, when they were simply overwhelmed by numbers. Blood filled the barren slopes of the Blight. A Sea of Blood. An Ocean of Death. ● Calia, in the middle of the Chaos, hurled Flames of Saidar at an oncoming Myrddraal and it’s black flowing cloak came afire with deadly shrieks. She deflected weaves hurled at her by Dreadlords some way off, shielding herself and her Warder, and used all her learned combat weaves to fight the Shadow. Another Green Sister, a blonde-haired Andoran woman with piercing eyes and a short temper, threw a fireball towards a cluster of Trollocs and Myrddraal and saw to her great satisfaction that they screamed and howled in death though it would take long for the Fade to die completely. Her three Borderlander Warders, tall and strong men, raised their fists high in the air, crying out in elation and celebration of their Aes Sedai’s successful strike, then swung their swords at the attacking Trollocs. Elessar hacked off the head of an oncoming Darkfriend soldier, gave a fierce eagle-snouted Trolloc a mortal wound, and battled a mounted Myrddraal hard, finally defeating the Halfman. The stink of blood and death filled his nostrils but he remained as calm as possible within the Flame and the Void as he battled his enemies. Only his wide eyes showed the thrill of battle that he felt. Calia fought hard and strongly by his side, her valiant mare keeping up with his warhorse, throwing fireballs and other deadly combat weaves at the Shadowspawn and obstacles in their path. With several scores of forceful Green Aes Sedai, they stormed into the heart of the enemy forces! ● Elessar, his side now bloodied but not lethally, fought the Shadowspawn from atop his warhorse as time lost meaning, his sword rising and falling endlessly with deadly precision. But the path of Death swerved away from his bondholder then and.. Suddenly .. out of the corner of his eye, Elessar saw - almost as if in slow motion, time slowing down - Calia scream and fall out of her saddle some way off to his side! It happened so quickly that he barely had time to react - was it a lethal blow or weave aimed at her? - as he shouted in her direction and then turned Stormbreaker sharply toward her. A few moments later - but it felt like an eternity - he was beside her, dismounting hurriedly and throwing himself to the ground beside her. The battle crashed on around them, the skies filled with fire and lightning, the battlefield filled with screams and horror, but for Elessar it was as if the whole world was gone. All that was left was Calia. She was all that mattered to him right then. ● Shouting worriedly to her if she was all right, looking for any signs of injury though she lay on her side and it was difficult for him to tell, feeling her pain through the bond, he took her in his arms and cradled her to his chest. She looked paralyzed, her body limp, her pulse slowing.. and she only stared up into his dark eyes, a solitary tear running down her cheek.. ..then another tear.. her eyes sad.. oh so sad.. Oh Calia! Elessar thought, his soul dying. His heart bled tears. He held her close, only now seeing the hole in her chest, as the light of life left his dear Aes Sedai. The bond snapped. In the Storm of Death around him, her Warder was alone, drifting like a leaf. ● Touching his dead bondholder’s cheeks caringly, he kissed her forehead and closed her unseeing eyes. Forgive me, my bonded. Forgive me, Calia. Then .. the Blood rage took him. His dark eyes going black, Elessar of Kandor was Death! incarnate as he stormed into the Shadowspawn like a ferocious Whirlwind, no care left in the world for his own safety only intending to take as many of them as possible - I will kill them all!! - with him into the Beyond!.. ● The blonde-haired, green-eyed woman looked down at the corpse and a small smile came upon her lips. “Lady Carahna”, she whispered deviously as a cold northern wind made the banners on top of the castle walls ripple, “I guess you should not have taken my advice, after all.” The Noble Lady’s face was twisted in death, one eye missing and her jaw crushed by a Trolloc’s hammer. Her long dark hair was cluttered by blood, her dress was torn and her legs bloodied. There was nothing noble about her now. Taking the fight to the Shadow army had been a huge mistake, of course, just as Sirih had planned. The five hundred men the Noble Lady had sent to attack the oncoming force had been slaughtered. Myrddraal, Trollocs and Darkfriends had waited in the night and had ambushed the castle soldiers. The remaining three hundred soldiers protecting the castle and town had had no chance. Lady Carahna had fought valiantly, a warrior woman to the core, but had not been able to dispatch of two Trollocs coming at her from opposing sides. Her death meant the remaining five dozen valiant castle soldiers lost all hope but they fought to the last man, Borderlander-proud as they were. Afterwards, all that remained was blood and death. The Trollocs feasted on the dead bodies, their huge cook pots brimming with spices and liquids and meat and the smell wafted across the castle grounds like an echo of death. Sirih turned away from the Trollocs, disgusted by the eating frenzy, and walked toward the Myrddraal in charge. The Fade was wearing black armour with overlapping scales and a black cloak which did not stir in the wind. It was muscular with lank black hair and waxy-white skin. The eyeless face turned toward the approaching woman and she felt its condescending look. She could not quite rid herself of the fear she always felt when in the presence of these Halfmen, but she kept up the pretence. ● “I did as I was ordered”, she said curtly, looking at a space just to the left of the Fade’s face. “I have served the Great Lord well.” The Myrddraal remained silent as it watched her closely. These Darkfriends were useful after a fashion, it thought, but the Great Lord should be careful since these.. humans could not always be trusted or counted upon. This female had performed well, however. “The Great Lord is pleased”, the Fade hissed between jagged teeth before waving her away. She was just as glad to get away from this Halfman Battle Commander and return to her own room in the castle. This part of the building had not been much damaged by the fighting and as she closed the door behind her she shut out the sound of feasting Trollocs and post-battle celebrations. Removing her cloak, she sat down in one of the chairs and poured herself a drink of red wine. The vintage was not the best but it would do. Sipping from her glass, her mind went back to that time five years earlier when she had pledged her soul to the Great Lord of the Dark. She had felt the Shadow spreading in the Borderlands, a power that one would not be able to withstand, and she wanted to be on the winning side for once. Good, Evil - it meant little to her. What mattered was survival. And so she had become the first member of this Kandori Darkfriend-cell. “Here’s to you, Lady Carahna!”, she said loudly, raising her glass in salute. Sirih’s eyes sparkled like glistening emeralds. ● Darkness filled the sky above Falme. They had been playing cards all evening and he kept losing. He had lost more than he could afford and he knew his wife would berate him for it. Damn! He had never been a master card player but this evening he had lost much more than usual. He just could not understand it. How could all his luck have run out? His older mate, Feran, had done much better. He had only lost 80% of his money. Sighing heavily, Erath looked at the last coins on the table before him and decided to go all in. The other players, seeing his look, grinned, recognizing it, looking forward to getting the last of his money, but he tried to ignore them. His three queens had to be the winning hand! ● Smoke filled the private chamber but he ignored that too. His mate loved his cigars and they were used to the partial haze, or at least so they pretended. Studying his cards closely, he made up his mind. Just as he was about to make his bet.. Something made him stop.. A moment of utter silence.. but then the table in front of them seemed to tremble slightly.. Gazing at it closely, Erath thought for a moment that it had just been his imagination. But then it happened a second time. And a third! And this time the beer glasses started rattling. Staring at the other men seated around the card table, he saw their eyes widen too in surprise. The glass before him started moving on its own. A few inches, a few more. He stared, spellbound. But when the cards started dancing on the table, following the rhythm of the men’s heartbeats, his jaw dropped to the floor! The Black Queen of Spades danced opposite the Red Queen of Hearts, bouncing on the table for several long moments. And when the Black Queen suddenly changed direction, pointing straight at him, he gasped but could do nothing more as the card flew straight at his throat, severing the common carotid artery or jugular vein, killing him where he sat. His blood flowed onto the black card in streams of red, painting the Black Queen in crimson. ● It was early evening, twilight having come and gone, as Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat leafed through the ancient texts, written by White Tower historians in Ages past, and tried to gain courage. She was a short woman, 5 ft 3 inches tall but what she lacked in height she more than made up in forcefulness. Arad Domani, she had short brown hair, piercing brown eyes and high cheekbones. One hundred twenty years old, she wore her ageless features with pride and had been Amyrlin now for fifteen years. Raised from the Gray Ajah, she had managed to control the Hall of the Tower to such an extent that Sitters had spoken behind her back of an Amyrlin of steel and tact, partly in admiration, partly in frustration. She had long been aware of these whispers but they had only pleased her. If she managed to run the White Tower through strength of character combined with some cunning, then that would do. Some of the Ajahs had been against her becoming Amyrlin from the start though; the Red, not surprising, since they most often only supported their own candidates, the White, more surprising, since they rarely bothered that much with Tower politics, focusing on logic and common sense, besides study, as they usually did. The Yellow and Brown had been neutral on the matter. The greatest support she had gotten from her own Ajah, the Gray, the Green and the Blue. It had been enough to tip the scale and she had prevailed. And so she was the Amyrlin, the supposedly strongest Aes Sedai in character and judgment, strong in the One Power and wise in its usage, she was their Mother and the one everyone looked to for strength, wisdom and guidance. And yet, at the moment she felt like a ship adrift on the ocean, uncertain of herself and of her choices and decisions. ● She could not appear weak though; that could be the death knell for her time as Amyrlin. The Hall would act if they felt the Leader of the Aes Sedai was too weak or unsuited to the position. Their scheming would increase and they would move to remove her as Amyrlin. And that would certainly not do. So, she had to give the impression that she was strong, certain and forceful. But deep inside she had doubts and wondered if her latest decisions had been the best. She was alone in her personal chamber, seated in a high-backed chair by her work table which was lit by two candle lights, one on each side of the old parchments. The stole striped with all seven Ajah colours that she wore as a symbol of her station felt heavier than usual. She had been absent-minded all day and had retired to her chamber early, after saying goodnight to her Keeper and friend, Tarah. There were so many things on her mind and she felt inadequate to the task. Were those who criticized me for lack of judgment right? She wondered, running over in her mind the latest proposals she had given to the Hall. Am I overreaching as some of the Sitters believe? Her latest proposal had indeed been bold. But what other choice did they have, in truth? She needed the courage and wisdom of former Amyrlins and other Aes Sedai who in the past had faced great challenges with dignity, strength and power. And so, she had spent the last few evenings delving into old histories, trying to get inspiration, clarity and some wisdom. If I am wrong, she thought sternly, brushing her hand through her hair, it could be the death of us all! ● Qariahna stared out the window of her room on the third floor of the Ocean Mistress inn in Mayene. It was one of the largest inns in the city, clean and stylish. It was one of the most expensive too, but cost was not on the Chosen’s mind. It was late afternoon and intermittent clouds littered the sapphire-blue sky above. She ran a hand through her long dark hair and enjoyed its softness. It was always that way after a long, hot bath. She could still smell the herbs that had been in the water, that lovely scent of Solariah, the flower of spring. And that always made her think of home. V’saine. And the magnificent flower gardens of R’hien’kahrt, close to the Collam Daan, the great university of silver and blue domes that no other had ever bested. A huge elaborate garden with beautiful sections of trees and flowers of all colours; from Orange to Purple; from Maroon to Teal; from Yellow to Green. And everything in between. In a myriad of exquisite combinations and scents, placed in elevations and axis in a way which sometimes defied gravity and people’s senses, in a kaleidoscope of colour and breathtaking beauty. People had come from all over the world to experience these famous, stunning flower gardens, enhanced by the One Power. The memory made Qariahna smile, but her smile was as always tinged with regret. For her home that was gone for all time. For the world that had irrevocably changed. Not for the first time she thought this Age was a pale shadow of what had once been. ● Brushing those thoughts away, she focused on what she could see in the distance. She glimpsed several ships at anchor at the docks and what looked like a Seafolk Raker, long and sleek, heading into the Sea of Storms. There were a couple fishing boats coming in with their cargo and people running to and fro on the docks. In the nearest streets she saw vendors hawking their wares and people rushing to buy. Carriages drawn by horses disappeared in the distance, probably Noblemen out on errands. And people of all kinds - local or foreign, rich or poor, adults and children - went about their own business. It was a typical late afternoon in this city-state of Mayene. The Chosen stood there thoughtful for a long while, also considering her missions here in Mayene and what she had accomplished, before finally returning to the old wood desk at the other side of the room. Seating herself in the comfortable low-backed chair, she dipped her pen in ink and continued writing the letter she had begun earlier in the day. It was addressed to: Ledosian Anarigo, High Lord of Tear It began: Thank you indeed for your invitation, Lord Anarigo. It is most gracious. I am sure we will find something we have in common. These are exciting times.. ● When she was finished writing some time later, she put the pen away and opened the hidden drawer underneath the table. Removing a small leather pouch, she opened it and stared greedily at the object within. It was a small marble white figure of a woman wearing a sword and a crown. Touching it tenderly, she tried to keep her elation at bay. This was the main reason she had come to Mayene. To acquire the Thalion, this ancient Angreal long thought lost. It was unique in that it could be used by both men and women who can channel. Such objects of power that could be used by both had been rare even back in the Age of Legends. They were almost unheard of in this time and Age. When she had heard whispers from her personal Eyes and Ears in the South that an object sounding very much like it had been discovered, by chance, in a sealed iron box in a hidden, secret vault in a Mayene Nobleman’s private library, she had decided right away that she had to have it in her possession. It was far too valuable to fall into the.. wrong hands. And so necessary steps had been taken.. and the object acquired. And now it is mine. The thought made Qariahna’s pulse rise and her near-black eyes sparkle with glee. ● Calia and Elessar were welcomed by a merry-eyed bearded man with bushy eyebrows. Sand-coloured hair was peeking out from under his hat and he looked surprised to see them but not unfriendly. He greeted Calia in a familiar way, giving Elessar the impression that they had met before. His bondholder smiled brightly at the man and it pleased the Gaidin that what could have become a very awkward situation had been avoided. The sudden sound of footsteps passing in the corridor behind the man stopped abruptly at his words. In the same instant, a look that Elessar read as slight worry washed over his face. The footsteps rushed in their direction, a dramatic drumming on the wooden floor. Calia took a step back even as Elessar stepped forward, bringing the two of them into a balanced line. A woman appeared at the man’s side, clutching his arm as if for support even as she attempted a curtsy with skirts that were not yet settled. Her blue eyes scanned past the Warder and Sedai, and then her gaze returned, full of trepidation, to meet Calia's own, before glancing back at the man beside her, at Joem. Words and glances were exchanged, of which Elessar understood little, though he sensed from Calia’s posture that she understood. They were welcomed inside, the man extending a hand towards the Gaidin. "And you too, Warder”, he said, a rumble of deep bass in his voice, “- Welcome and happy Sun-day." ● Elessar was pleased that Calia seemed to take it all in her stride. Meeting her relatives who she might not have seen in years. And replacing potential awkwardness with warm smiles. Something had passed between them - a name had been mentioned - but once inside everyone seemed friendly and at ease. He wondered how long it had been since Calia had met these relatives but it was her story to tell. Again, the age perspective between the Aes Sedai of more than a hundred years and these people was.. daunting. Or perhaps it was just so in his mind. They had an early supper, one which Elessar enjoyed a lot - and which he praised, making Amelie smile with barely hidden pride - and afterwards he spent some time alone in the guest room, understanding that Calia would appreciate some time on her own with her relatives. He thought he could feel her gladness through the bond, smiles for being back in the place where she grew up, and that made him smile too. He thought she deserved some smiles and happiness in these dire times. To live! Once again, the thought struck him that it was indeed for such moments they were fighting! They retreated to their rooms but first Calia spoke to him some more about her past and her little sisters. Elessar listened carefully and did not interrupt her as she talked. He appreciated her honesty when she talked of her time as an Accepted and then visiting her sister many years later. Leaving the White Tower without permission before being Raised had serious consequences and there would be serious lessons learned. When he was alone, Elessar thought about what she had said and then spent some time sharpening his sword, an activity which also gave him time to think about their journey this far and what lay ahead. Ebou Dar lay countless miles to the south and there was no certainty that it would be their end destination. They would travel as far as needed to complete their mission. ● Later he felt Calia approaching, the bond telling him she was only seconds away, and so he put aside the short story he had been reading (an amusing humorous piece called “Is Lugard really as shifty as people say?”) and exited the room adjacent to hers. She smiled warmly at him and he smiled back at her. "Nice of you to join me, Warder-mine!" her grin was teasing as she turned with him towards the stairs. Inside though, they were one, and the sincerity of her words flooded through the bond with feelings of gratitude and the hope for Life! It made his smile widen - and he felt the Oneness between them. That special connection. A Passion and Gratitude for Life indeed! “I would have it no other way, my bonded Aes Sedai”, he replied with a grin and a wink as they descended the stairs. Their unity flowed through the bond with sincere feelings of Life! ● Entertainment at Joem and Amelie’s inn included a gleeman in the Common Room telling stories and playing his flute. Wearing a cloak made of many colourful patches as was tradition in his trade, he was Andoran by his looks, a fair complexion, blue eyes and blond hair, a tall man who smiled a lot and who truly enjoyed entertaining. After some jaunty tunes he started singing and telling stories. The inn’s guests showed their appreciation by banging on tables and cheering the gleeman on. Some of the local patrons who wished for an even more lively atmosphere were in the alehouse next door, a separate building that Calia had told Elessar about, but the Common Room was almost packed too which showed the popularity and sincerity of Joem and Amelie’s hospitality. Several of the gleeman’s stories were appreciated (stories of princes running away with blacksmith’s daughters and being hunted by her angry brothers or one-legged prostitutes having it on with one-armed dwarfs bringing much laughter) but the one that was most special, the one that captivated them all the most, was the one about Maragaine, the legendary Queen of Andor. Elessar smiled inside, knowing how appropriate it was for the gleeman to sing of Maragaine in this place. Here in Four Kings where she had battled hard for Andor. ● The Warder knew quite a bit about her from history books. She was said to have been the fifth Queen of Andor, succeeding Queen Termylle in FY 1054. There was some uncertainty as to whether Maragaine was Termylle's daughter, though several historians suspected as much, but she was without doubt a descendant of Queen Ishara Casalain, the founder of the kingdom of Andor. In FY 1063, during the War of the Hundred Years, Andor faced the gravest threat to its survival since its founding when Four rival Kings, envious of the growing power of Andor, united their armies and invaded the kingdom from the west, marching on Caemlyn. The battle that ensued was to be known as “The Battle of Four Kings”. Queen Maragaine bravely led the Andoran army into battle, meeting them some distance west of the River Cary. In a furious battle, in which Queen Maragaine is often depicted personally leading a charge, the Andorans broke the invading force and routed it, securing the future survival of the kingdom. The Andoran town of Four Kings later grew up on the site of the battle, thereof its name. The gleeman’s voice rose in pitch as he sang the name of the Queen, drawing in all the inn’s captivated guests there in the Common Room. A name that would not be forgotten in Andor. A name remembered in honour and pride. The Nemesis of Four Kings. The Queen who Conquered for Andor. Maragaine ● ►▼◄ Queen Maragaine: The Battle of Four Kings Four Kings with armies fought To vanquish the Andoran foe Numbers would count, they thought But resistance was strong, even so Envy of Andor’s might United the armies in steel Certain of victory bright Attacking with force and zeal The White Lion banner held High With screams of Andor! Around Forward! Our Queen! The Cry Echoed on the Battleground Sword at the ready, they Charged Maragaine leading the Way Bloodied death they Discharged Strategy giving them Sway Her blonde hair streamed in the Wind Her passionate face glowing Strong A storm unleashed and Twinned By soldiers’ courage, for Long To me! She cried in Force Fighting for her kingdom with Strength Behind her the army, on Course Pride in their eyes, at Length Like a Warrior Queen of Old Maragaine’s eyes Blazed Brave as few and Bold She destroyed the threat they Faced Forward the White Lion! For Andor! Were the battle cries of Might At Four Kings so says the Lore Maragaine conquered in Light! ►▲◄ ▀▄

.. A Dream Fulfilled .. ►▼◄ The sky was sapphire-blue, a canopy of ocean waves running from horizon to horizon, and the wind from the south feather-light as Calia and Elessar rode westward towards the historic town of Four Kings. They rode in silence in early afternoon, refraining from putting into words what they were both thinking: they had been betrayed and there was with a great probability Shadow now in the White Tower. The image of their assassin being carried from his watch-house cell, very much dead, dried froth still coating his lips, early that morning stayed with the Gaidin. He exchanged a few silent glances with his bondholder, several thoughts running through his mind, but said nothing. Perhaps there was more information that could have been gotten from the man; perhaps not. He would never speak another word. ● In mid-afternoon they stopped to rest their horses. Sitting with their backs to a pair of tall oak trees they ate some dried beef and drank a little water. A few clouds had appeared in the sky as they had come further west but it was still pleasant travelling weather. Turning toward Elessar, Calia spoke. She told him that she thought he had been right about the betrayal. He could hear some strain in her voice; it was clear that this was something she admitted with a heavy heart. "I cannot believe it would be Liss, though, Elessar.” She added, “Truly, I cannot," But she added, that it had to be someone from inside the Tower. This echoed his thoughts of before and he nodded softly, his dark eyes tightening. Her bright blue eyes were hard as ice, for all they shimmered momentarily like they were at risk of a sudden melt. Anger mixed with some despair at this reality. She went on to say that it was unthinkable that something like the Vileness might be happening again. Looking at him squarely, she ended by saying that for once she was at a loss on what to do. ● Elessar appreciated her honesty. It showed her respect for him. They were together in this, a team working together in every way, and he had felt some weariness and conflict from her through the bond. They needed to trust one another and with trust came truth. As her Gaidin and protector he needed to know what exactly they might be in for, so he could prepare and be ready to protect her from any danger, and he was glad she realized and valued this. He did not respond immediately because he sensed that she had more to add. She paused for a moment, but then looked at her Gaidin, feeling the flow of connection and emotion through the bond. "Elessar”, she said, her voice serious - “it could be you and me alone on this, against the world!” Her blue eyes appeared to tighten but her voice was resolute. "I don't think we can warn, or trust, those at the Tower with any of our updates now”, she said, “until our quest here is absolutely done... do you?" ● Elessar took a long moment to respond, going over in his mind all that she had said. Picking up a twig from the ground, he ran it between his fingers as he considered his reply. He had been in several dangerous situations in his many years as a bonded Warder, close to death a few times as well. He had fought the Shadow all his life. “Thanks for being straight with me, Calia.” He began honestly. “We are in this together and to succeed we need to work in tandem.” He looked at his bondholder and gave her what he thought was a reassuring smile. “It might very well be that we have been betrayed”, he added, “and the Shadow is a sly and dangerous creature, but we will outsmart our enemies.” “The Shadow, which I have fought all my life, will not get the better of me,” he said emphatically, “that I can promise!” He shifted the twig to his other hand and looked at it closely. It was part of a small branch of a brown bush, only 4 inches long, rugged to the touch. It made him think of the bushes that had grown beside their house in Kandor when he had been growing up. Bushes that they had cut every season on the Telcontar estate, also seasons when they had had Trolloc raids. His eyes tightened in anger at the thought of those vicious beasts. “The Shadow is Rising, this we know.” His voice was calm but resolute. “I have confronted it in many shapes and forms, among lowborn and highborn alike, through the years. Power is seductive.” The Vileness. He had never heard the word before and he wondered at its meaning. He knew more than the average man of history, but he also knew that some stories and truths were hidden and secret among Aes Sedai. Leandreen had hinted as much when he had asked her many years before. He deduced this was one such hidden fact. And in the way she said it, he sensed it had to do with the Shadow. The Shadow was a vile beast. A beast that could be found anywhere. ● Even in the White Tower, Bastion of the Light? So it seemed. “No place is safe from the Dark One’s touch”, he whispered, his eyes hardening again. He met her eyes squarely. “Not even the White Tower, however foul it feels even to say it.” Calia’s eyes seemed to tighten at his words but he saw sad agreement in her face. “The Shadow must have infiltrated our Home,” he added darkly, his mouth twisting in disgust. The White Tower. Tar Valon. Home. Their Sanctuary. “It stands to reason we have been betrayed from within and, as you correctly point out, we dare not trust anyone there for the moment.” “So for now, it’s you and me.” He paused for a moment. Then he added, “But our mission is a difficult one and later we may have to re-evaluate who we can trust.” Trust was a three-edged sword he had heard someone say once. That might very well be true. He added that they would need to be extra careful now that they knew they were being hunted, but that their mission was too important to call off. He tried to convey reassurance through the bond, wanting also to show the respect he had for her, and thought any doubt she might have had quenched when he saw a small smile on her lips and a sparkle in her bright blue eyes. The way she returned his gaze told him she appreciated his words and his being there with her. He felt her strength through the bond but standing together in the storm increased that strength manyfold. We are one Throwing away the twig, Elessar sprang to his feet. A sparrow chirped in the trees high above, singing a song of joy, a song of hope, and it made him smile inside. His eyes fastened on his Aes Sedai and now they were filled with determination. “And remember what I told you just after we bonded up in the Borderlands”, he said in a stronger, emphatic voice and winked at her, his grin broadening, “Woe to anyone who stands in our way!” ● Later that day as they were nearing Four Kings, tall wide shadows in the far distance, Calia suddenly stopped her mare in mid-stride and turned to face Elessar. There was a playful grin on her face. "Elessar Gaidin, my dear bonded," she began playfully. "I propose it is high time we all really stretch our legs!” He stared back at her with a lopsided grin, not used to this playful side to her. Stretch our legs? he thought. They were almost alone on the road and had been so for the last half mile or so. Far ahead he could see a few people walking along the road but there was plenty of space. Always ready for a challenge, the Warder grinned. “What if you and Stormbreaker beat me to the Chestnuts?” Calia went on. “If you do, you can have as many as you like, and I'll tell you the story of their great revenge!" She spurred her Brown mare into action with a laugh and raced away down the road. Elessar set off after her with a broad grin, Stormbreaker running like the wind and soon catching the smaller mare. He was the stronger horse and leapt ahead, enjoying the run and the exhilaration. As did his rider who threw a winning grin over his shoulder as the warhorse kept the twenty strides lead all the way to the Chestnuts. When they dismounted, Elessar felt the thrill of his bondholder through the bond and he saw it on her face as well. A Passion for Life! The thought ran through his mind and made him smile. With all the doom and gloom of their current situation it had felt good to forget it all for a moment and just.. live! Seeing the joy on Calia’s face, an almost youthful exuberance, he was pretty sure that had been on her mind also. It made him think back on a similar moment of joy and thrills a time back with his then bondholder Myrrhi. She had been Green too, with a Green’s heart, and like all her Sisters had had a passion for life. Riding fast into the wind, without a care in the world for a few precious moments, had given Myrrhi much joy and in a way a release - her joyful laughter echoed in his memories - and it had bound him even closer to the Green Ajah. A little later, with a handful of chestnuts in her lap, Calia laughed and conceded she would tell her Warder the story of the Chestnuts' Revenge. ● The clump of trees, she explained, were almost as old as her - the result of an obnoxious, overly handsy, pushy Chestnut merchant throwing his last two bags from the wagon in rage after discovering they'd been topped up with sheep droppings - the Twin's idea of 'fair punishment' for the way the man had behaved and the insults he had flung when he was caught backing Calia and Kaylan into a corner against their will. The fact that the trees were still standing, so long after the man would have passed on gave her heart, since they were both proof of the power of protection and that good things could spring up anywhere, even from the middle of a pile of dung! The allegory was not lost on him. Their situation was pretty crappy too but hope always existed and something good could spring up anywhere, one never knew! He thanked her for the story, enjoying it and the handful of chestnuts she gave him. When they arrived in sight of Four Kings, Elessar nodded to himself. He had been there several times through the years on journeys south but had seldom stopped there for the night. It was a town with residences and inns, some shops, a few carpenters (useful for repairs to wagons and carriages), a blacksmith and a couple main roads. Some thought of it as a drab, careworn place used mostly as a stopover by merchants' wagon trains but Elessar had always liked the place for its history; the Battle of Four Kings. It would be different for Calia though. This was her hometown. Or at least it had been so a hundred years or so before. The Warder had often wondered what it was like for Aes Sedai to cut all ties with family and friends. Living way past the time of their families. He did not know if Calia still had family or relatives here in town, he supposed she had, or if she had any interest in visiting them. Living many generations made Sisters of the White Tower special.. but it also meant they would see friends and family turn to dust. It felt somewhat surreal to Elessar but none of his bondholders had spoken much about the matter and he had felt it too sensitive to approach. He thought he sensed some ambiguous feelings through the bond which was not surprising. He could guess that Calia felt both some joy to be home again and some sadness at the changes to the town. He did not know how often or seldom she had been here over the years. Neither had she spoken that much about her past though he did recall a conversation in Caemlyn when she had talked a little about her father and her family, smiling at the memories. Calia pointed out some places as they rode into town, Stormbreaker and the Aes Sedai’s brown mare riding slowly side by side, dust in their wake. ● They finally arrived outside a local inn and dismounted. A look Calia gave the building gave him the impression this was a place she knew well. With his Aes Sedai by his side he tied the stallion’s reigns to the rail of the 'Queen's Stand', mirroring Calia beside him, and then she started up the side path to a secondary door. Elessar gave her a quick glance, wondering for a moment why they were not going in the main entrance, but she only smiled back and he followed a step behind her. She rapped the brass knocker, one-two-three times. Soon the door opened and a figure appeared. ● Physically entering Tel'aran'rhiod, closing the gateway behind him, Kalessin moved slowly across the marble floor of the chamber and seated himself in one of the two ornate high-backed chairs facing each other. Between the chairs was a glass table with a marble chess board on it. The chess pieces depicted famous rulers from the Age of Legends. It was a favourite game of Amaranth’s. A game of Strategy. A game of Tactics. A game of Power. And this chess set was over 3000 years old. How Amaranth had gotten his hands on it Kalessin had no idea, but it was the First of the Chosen’s pride and joy. On the white walls hung objects of light. Otherwise the walls were bare. The room flickered in the strange way things often did in the World of Dreams, a reflection of the real world, caught between moments. Kalessin waited in silence. He would have loved a cup of delicious red wine but Amaranth did not allow any drink in this place though he had never divulged the reason. So instead Kalessin’s mind drifted and he thought of his plan that had been set in motion. Finally, a chime sounded and another gateway opened, dangerously close to the glass table. Amaranth stepped through, his piercing violet eyes sparkling, his posture arrogant, his dark ornate coat swirling around him as the gateway snapped shut. “I see you are here”, the First said smoothly as he sat down in the opposing chair. Kalessin remained silent. Amaranth’s mouth twisted with distaste, having always disliked this dark-haired academic man who always wore an air of superiority because of his philosophical prowess, but he said nothing more as his attention was caught by the elaborate figures on the chess board. His right hand touched each marble figure on his side of the board, correcting their placement almost lovingly so they each stood right in the center of each square. Kalessin still said nothing, just watched calmly, almost smugly, until the other man was satisfied. Studying the other man, holding onto Saidin as he knew - and felt - Amaranth was doing too - neither man trusted the other an inch - he thought again that the Great Lord had chosen the wrong man to lead the Chosen. A mistake which could turn out to be costly. If not deadly. ● Amaranth’s eyes met those of his opponent’s - powerfully in chess as in all walks of life - and he smiled darkly. “Good”, he whispered softly and then made the first move with his white pawn. E2-E4. A standard opening. They played these games at intervals, when Amaranth wanted to speak privately with Kalessin. Amaranth was the better chess player but on occasion Kalessin beat him which always enraged the First Among The Chosen. Were he tactical, Kalessin would let Amaranth win every time, to keep the other man satisfied. But Kalessin hated losing and loved the few occasions when he managed to beat the other, a man he would never respect, so he always played his best. Black pawn E7-E5. The standard retaliatory move. Amaranth looked across at him, ran a hand through his blond hair, and grinned. “Not too daring a move, Kalessin.” He said. His voice sounded very amused. “Are you losing your nerve?” Kalessin grinned back. “We shall see”, he replied smoothly but his brown eyes were hard, accepting the challenge. The First looked at the board for a few moments, then moved his knight G1-F3. Another common move. As Kalessin considered his next move, his attention was broken when Amaranth asked if he had seen Nymeria lately. The question made Kalessin pause. “Nymeria?” he said in feigned surprise. The other man nodded, a speculative cast to his features. “No, I haven’t”, Kalessin replied, studying the man opposite him shrewdly. “Any reason I should?” he added. Amaranth shrugged. “No particular reason”, the First said. “I just haven’t gotten hold of her lately”, he lied. “So, I wondered if you knew where she was.” His violet eyes became more intense as he scrutinized the other Chosen’s face. “I have no idea”, Kalessin replied after a few moments. “You know Nymeria, that stubborn woman minds her own business and cares little for anything or anyone else.” This was also not quite true but it served his purpose to give that impression. Amaranth nodded, knowing it was a lie. It did not matter. This was not the time to press the issue. Strategy. Know when to attack, know when to retreat. His suspicions that the two were in some kind of secret.. alliance.. would have to wait. “If you see her..somewhere..”, Amaranth added smoothly, gazing at all the pieces on the chess board, “tell her I want to talk to her.” ● Kalessin nodded, keeping his own thoughts to himself. How much does he know? He moved his own black knight B8-C6, a move that mirrored the other. It was a cautious stand-off at the moment between the white and black armies. This was often the case when they played. And it reflected the way it was between them in reality. A tentative stand-off. For now. But I have my black Queen, Amaranth. Kalessin thought shrewdly. She can change the game. The chess pieces flickered at times, as they always did in this place, but both players were so used to this by now that it hardly registered in their minds. They both studied the chess board with all the grand pieces with seeming great interest, but were in truth thinking strategy, in the real Game of Power: How to gain the Upper hand on the other, how to Conquer - and how to Destroy. ● Sandana ran laughing through the colourful meadow, the soft green grass caressing her feet and toes, the butterflies surrounding her with wings of silver and gold which sparkled in the golden rays of the warm sun above. Birds of all colours flew from tree to tree, sparrows and finches, pardalotes and robins, and several sapphire-coloured hummingbirds diving towards her and bringing joyful tears to her child’s eyes. She giggled and smiled and could feel the thrill from her head to her toes, as a tingling sensation enveloped her and colourful dust, like tiny, tiny remnants of stars, surrounded her. I am the Octagon. The thought broke through her near-ecstasy but did not diminish it. It gave her added fulfillment and she basked in the glory of it all, becoming one with the radiance. I can see it all. A beautiful hummingbird, part sapphire-coloured, part emerald-coloured, part ruby-coloured, stopped before her radiant face and remained in place flapping its brilliant wings. Staring into the bird’s deep eyes Sandana felt beauty and awe, and as she was slowly being drawn into those eyes - was she getting smaller or the bird larger!? - she was not surprised to hear the hummingbird speak in her mind. The voice was crystal-clear, in musical beauty. The voice was love. You are the Heart of the Wind. ● Peering into the darkness between the three huge standing stones, the blonde-haired woman frowned. She hated not knowing what was down there. She had her suspicions, of course, but it was impossible to say for certain. Unless she channeled.. and that she dared not do. At least not yet. Clutching her dark cloak in irritation, her blue eyes pensive, she continued to stare into the dark depths. Nothing much frightened her in this world but this place, this focal point of the Dharan, made her.. weary.. No sound could be heard from anywhere in the Stone of Tear though she sensed the guards standing watch in the tunnels. Passing them in silence, using delicate weaves of Saidar, had been no problem. Solving the puzzle of this.. darkness.. however, would be much more.. difficult. Carefully touching one of the standing stones, she drew her hand back quickly as a soft buzzing noise enveloped the chamber. The sound disappeared after a while but stayed in her mind as she took a step back and sighed. The stones were warded. But who had made the wards - and when? She was tempted to try again but changed her mind. Shaking her head in frustration, she withdrew from the standing stones, gazed for a moment at the intermittent lights glowing on the rock walls, and then headed towards the nearest exit. It could be that the ward had warned certain.. parties.. and in any case, she had other matters to attend to. Passing silently by the young Tairen guard and Defender of the Stone, who suddenly felt an urge to gaze into the rock wall beside him, Nymeria the Chosen headed down the tunnel and departed the Stone of Tear in silence. ● Serehstra left The Swordfish and walked hurriedly down the streets of the Rahad, streets that reeked of refuse and violence, keeping a close lookout for trouble, and back to her room. She had moved to a new inn a little further away from the docks. This was the Silver Crown, an inn with a polite innkeeper, who ran a tight ship so to speak, and decently clean rooms. Heading up the stairs to the level above, she went over and over in her mind what she had learned. Which was not as much as she had hoped for. Not by any reach. She had pressured the dubious innkeeper of The Swordfish inn as much as she could, to learn who it had been that had sent the assassin to kill her, but he had remained reticent and stubborn in his silence. All he had admitted was that it was an Outlander as he called him. Someone from far away and certainly not Ebou Dar or Altara by his attire, looks and slurring accent. The man had paid the innkeeper for some information, had stayed only one night, and had then been gone. Blast! Cursing inside, the Red Sister headed up the final few steps of the staircase and turned right on the second floor in the direction of her room. ● The reality was, she had no idea who had sent the killer! No idea at all! And why try and kill her in the first place?! The questions she had asked around had just been about the rumours of strange tidings in the Aryth Ocean. What was so dangerous about that? Opening the door to her room, channeling softly to pass through the ward she had set, she entered and shut the door behind her. Removing her cloak and the Red shawl she always wore, Serehstra headed across the room to the small balcony outside and stood with hands on the rail for a long time staring out at the nearby houses and alleys, her blue eyes intent, as Twilight slowly crept up on the southern city of Ebou Dar. As the Sun was setting in this part of the world, the Sun inside her kept blazing as strongly as ever. A storm might be coming.. a storm unlike any other.. but she would weather that storm come what may, of that she was very certain! ● Blood flowed onto the white marble floor of the hall in streams. Red and Plentiful. It was a stark contrast to the white marble pillars and white marble statues that adorned this Palace of the First of Mayene. The dead woman’s dark long hair spread behind her and her green eyes stared emptily into the beyond. Her white robe was stained by blood where miniscule weaves of Saidar had torn through her chest and her left hand still held onto the artefact. Qariahna grabbed the Ter’angreal and placed it in an inside pocket of her cloak. She did not bother to hide the body of the Councillor to the Ruler of this city-state on the Sea of Storms. The woman would be found soon and rumours would spread that murder had come to the palace. Speculations would begin about who the perpetrator could be and it would add to the chaos in the world. The Chosen smiled darkly with satisfaction. ● This particular Councillor, Sethia Lerian, had spoken to the First, the Lady who ruled here - a direct-line descendant of the founding ruler Tyrn sur Paendrag Mash- era - and had several times in the past month, it was whispered, argued that they get an Aes Sedai presence at court. The Ter’angreal could be an indication that she had had interaction with a Sister of the White Tower. An alliance such as this would simply not do. It suited the Great Lord’s plans well to have Mayene isolated and on its own. It was not the greatest of nations, far from it, but alliances with more powerful powers, the White Tower not the least, would not be beneficial for the Shadow. And so, this potential alliance had to be quenched at its root. Throwing a final cold glance at the corpse, Qariahna walked away and down the hall. It was empty. Touching her dark cloak as she turned a corner, ignoring the historical paintings on the walls of the province of Moreina and Artur Hawkwing’s military victories in the distant past, she almost bumped into a young male servant who came carrying a meal on a platter, presumably for someone at court. Giving the short, dark-haired young man a sly seductive look, touching his cheek tenderly, the minute weaves settling on him making him forget her face and that he had ever seen her, she continued walking down the corridor, now running a hand through her beautiful long dark hair. A dark smile came upon her face, a face which most men would find stunning. Her eyes, wells of near blackness, glinted in the afternoon sun as she left the Palace behind, the guards never remembering that she had ever been there, and headed into the busy city streets. She had a second piece of business to take care of in Mayene. ● "Sovenhia Taralth, you are Summoned to be tested for the shawl of an Aes Sedai. The Light keep you whole and see you safe." Garihna Semendhei, the Mistress of Novices, was formally dressed wearing her fringed shawl as such an official occasion demanded. Her voice was matter-of-fact, her face smooth but there was a glint in her blue eyes which the young dark-haired Arad Domani woman staring back at her recognized. Sovenhia’s heart stopped beating for a moment, her breath shallow. She had known this moment was coming soon, her training to become an Aes Sedai close to completed, but even so she was taken aback now that it was time. Time to take the test to become Aes Sedai. ● She had been an Accepted only sixteen years which was less than usual in the Tower, her steady progress had been lauded by the Sisters, and she had anticipated this moment in her mind a hundred times in the past months, but now that it was here her mind went momentarily blank. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. She blinked, trying to collect her thoughts, her hands going nervously to her fringed Accepted dress. Finally, she got hold of herself and curtsied to the Aes Sedai. She was then escorted down into the basements of the White Tower to the room where she was to be tested. She knew the procedure and went over in her mind what awaited her. In order to become Aes Sedai an Accepted had to complete a test that assessed her ability to weave Saidar and her ability to remain calm under extreme pressure. If an Accepted failed, she was put out of the White Tower, there were no second chances. I will not fail! she swore to herself as she walked silently down the steps to the lower levels. She knew that during this time she must remain silent unless spoken to; she must also show no emotion and remain composed. She would be led to a large circular room on the lowest level of the Tower in which seven Sisters would be waiting, one from each Ajah. ● Sovenhia kept her composure as she arrived at the Testing room. Walking through a doorway she saw the huge Ter'angreal, the object of the One Power, in the middle of the room. The Sisters were waiting. She recognized them all, several were Sitters in the Hall of the Tower. She remained silent, not exchanging glances with any of the Aes Sedai, her eyes fixed on the Ter'angreal. She had been told of it, but this was the first time she actually saw it. It was a great oval ring, shimmering in a multitude of colours; a span high and a pace across. The colours seemed to be constantly changing. The Ter'angreal stood alone with no support. It was, she had been informed, activated by the channeling of all five Powers by seven Sisters. When this happened the Ter'angreal would change colour even faster than it did when not in use and would begin to revolve slowly. The air within the oval would turn to a pure white that seemed to draw in light from the room. She had also been told the basics of the test. She remembered the Mistress of Novices’ lecturing voice: ..An Accepted must step through the Ter'angreal into a 'reality’ that is determined in appearance by the Sisters operating the Ter'angreal, she had begun. From here she must find a six-pointed star carved into the ground and stand on it; she will then be required to create a weave. One hundred weaves are required for the test - these the Accepted has been taught - and so she must find one hundred carved stars. The weaves must be completed in order and must be woven within the star. Each weave must be completed correctly for the Accepted to pass.. With echoes of those words in her mind, she came to stand in the place allotted to her. ● The Sisters quickly formed a ring around her and the Mistress of Novices - and then began the ancient ritual: Mistress of Novices: "You come in ignorance, Sovenhia Taralth. How would you depart?" Sovenhia: "In knowledge of myself." Mistress of Novices: "For what reason have you been summoned here?" Sovenhia: "To be tried." Mistress of Novices: "For what reason should you be tried?" Sovenhia: "So that I may learn whether I am worthy." Mistress of Novices: "For what would you be found worthy?" Sovenhia: "To wear the shawl." Sovenhia then hurriedly undressed. She had to enter the Ter’angreal naked which symbolized that she trusted the Light to keep her safe. She then removed her Great Serpent ring. The Mistress of Novices then faced her again and gave her instructions of what she must do during the test. The White Aes Sedai intoned: "Remember what must be remembered". She repeated it four times in all as was tradition and cast a weave on the Accepted. The seven Sisters now activated the Ter’angreal using Saidar in a complex and intricate weave and a powerful hum permeated the circular chamber. Naked in every way, focused in on herself, composed as well as she was able to, Sovenhia stared for a moment at the great revolving ring, the air within turning the pure white .. and then she took first one step, then another.. and another into the ring.. and was lost from sight. ● She was walking down a street. It seemed somehow familiar but she could not quite make out where it was. It was only as a man came around the corner and looked lustfully at her, his grin wicked, that she realized she was stark naked. Light! She resisted the urge to cover herself or sprint off in panic, and instead walked with as much dignity as she could muster past the man, then turned down an empty side alley and stopped. Some children were staring at her with wide eyes and an old lady who was emptying a bucket in her garden stopped and looked at her worriedly. “Are you alright, child?” she asked seeming genuinely concerned. Struggling to stay composed she replied quickly that she was fine and continued down the alley. When another man, a scruffy middle-aged fellow with dark hair, sunken eyes and a big nose, suddenly appeared, staring fixedly and lecherously at her breasts and the dark patch between her legs, she felt her cheeks redden. “Have you never seen a naked woman before, mister?” she said in a straight-forward tone of voice, hiding the embarrassment she felt. He kept staring, his grin broadening until she swept past him and turned a corner. Twenty paces or so ahead of her she saw a familiar face. The neighbour boy of her childhood. He was fifteen and a couple years older than her. He stared goggle-eyed at her and she swallowed hard. She passed him with as much dignity as she could muster and continued walking as she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye what looked like her family’s old house. She did not have the time to feel pleased with herself for having remained fairly composed in very embarrassing situations because just then something made her glance to her right. Twenty feet or so away she saw the first six-pointed star carved into the ground by a low concrete building. She hurried toward it, running on bare feet, and stood on it as she performed her first weave. Once it was done, she walked to the end of the alley, glancing around. There was only the sound of the wind. She no longer saw any people around. It was as if they had never been. Then something suddenly shimmered to her right, thirty paces away. Looking closely, she saw that it was an arch. Sprinting toward it, she stepped through. And realized she was in another place. ● To her sudden relief she saw that she was now clothed. She wore a dark brown riding attire which surprised her somewhat since she had never been overly fond of riding though she did know how to ride. Slivers of sunshine came through the canopy of trees and branches above, it was mid-afternoon she thought, but she noticed there were no sound in the woods, no sight of any woodland creatures either. A feeling of danger suddenly came upon her! and she held Saidar ready. She walked a few tentative steps forward, looking around for the threat, and suddenly a shadow stormed at her from her right! Her eyes widened but she managed to step smoothly aside just in time for deadly claws to miss her. Something made her turn and she spotted a six-pointed star shimmering off to her left. The shadow, now growling dangerously not far away, made her weary but she managed to stay composed as she reached the star and made her second weave. She turned swiftly as the beast leapt at her and threw a Net of Saidar on it which caught it and left it immobilized, growling in pain. An arch shimmered off to her left and so she stepped quickly past the beast, whatever it was, and entered the archway. On and on it went, familiar and unfamiliar situations and places, testing her will, strength, ability, endurance and concentration. Lightning striking her from above, gale winds slamming into her body, deserts with monstrous heat that made her lightheaded, knives and short-swords thrown at her in combat, being buried in the ground with only her head visible, stumbling in huge castles and buildings in utter darkness. On and on it went. And each time, sometimes through force of will, she managed to remain fairly composed and in control and found the six-pointed stars, performed the correct weaves, and survived, continuing through new arches. ● At one point her dying father screamed her name as he begged her to help him, but having made the appointed weave under duress she suddenly saw the arch shimmering outside the door to their house and knew she had to reach it before it disappeared. With deep sorrow and regret in her eyes, tears flowing, she hurried toward the arch and ran through. At another point her brother begged her to kill him since he was one of those dangerous men who could channel who would destroy the world, but she was unable to do it, she could not kill her brother no matter what! and she ran from his desperate cries choking on her misery as she almost dove for the shimmering arch outside their home. She found it harder to focus as she completed the final weaves. Her body was tired and her mind was exhausted. But she knew she had to finish this, she had to find strength she perhaps did not know she had, or she would be lost. Finishing the ninety-nineth weave, there was only one more to go. Passing through another arch she found herself suddenly in a storm-filled ocean, struggling to keep her head above the stormy water. The waves were huge and they slammed down on her as she tried to keep afloat. She had never been a good swimmer and the thought of swimming in the ocean far from land had always frightened her, but she focused on breathing correctly and managed to keep some composure in this - for her - very demanding situation. Suddenly she swallowed some water and her head went under for a moment, causing momentary panic, but then she broke the surface and breathed more calmly as she slowly regained control. ● She channeled then.. instinct grabbing hold of her.. and felt the world change around her. There was light.. and then the ocean was gone. She stood on dry land, in a desolate place which she knew to be the Blight. She had never been there, but it had been described to her in class and this could be nowhere else. Her clothes, an Aes Sedai travelling dress blue of colour (she had chosen Blue?), were dry and framed her body well. There were some foothills in the distance and she started walking towards them. Everything around her seemed barren and dead, a wasteland bereft of hope. She knew, however, that this was a place of danger. Coming past a small ridge she saw what appeared to be a swamp of sorts off to her right. Something drew her instinctively in that direction, she could not tell what, but as she came nearer, she saw what seemed to be a six-pointed star in the ground near the edge of the soggy, dirty waters. She approached carefully, but then suddenly a huge creature with very long tentacles emerged in the swampy water and headed straight for her! It was incredibly quick for its size but Sovenhia was ready and composed! She threw fireballs at the creature and threw a ward around her just as it reached her. It pounded on the invisible barrier she had erected but was unable to breach it. Using the One Power, she threw another weave at the creature and heard it cry out in pain. She then moved to the side and twisted her body, attacking it again from another angle. This time she took it by surprise and her deadly weave hit it straight on and it sank silently beneath the dirty waters and was not seen again. Breathing a little more heavily from the exertion and exhilaration, she was nevertheless pleased she had removed the danger and been composed in the circumstances. Taking another look around to ensure there were no more immediate threats, she went to stand on the star. Fully focused she completed the right weave. It was a most difficult one that had to be completed just right but she managed it. Shining, colourful specks of light shone in the strange twilight for a moment as the weave came together, then dissipated. ● She nodded to herself and looked around for the archway. It was nowhere to be seen! Her eyes widened in momentary startlement.. but then she took hold of herself. Turning in the direction from which she had come, she started walking back. The colours of this place were strange, she noticed again, there was no sun in the sky, a kind of permanent twilight with neither night nor day beckoning. She had walked for quite a while (though time here could not be measured) when she of a sudden saw something to the south-west. Someone or something was approaching. Steadying herself, she held onto the One Power as the figure came closer. It was a Myrddraal. From descriptions of Shadowspawn by Brown Sisters in the Tower she knew that this could be nothing else! Her body tensed as the creature came closer and she readied her weaves. It stopped twelve feet ahead of her and she saw its muscular body and eyeless face, its lank black hair and waxy-white skin. She kept the instinctive fear at bay, keeping focus and readying herself. But then there was suddenly a scream from somewhere behind her! Turning swiftly, she saw what had to be a Trolloc, a huge beast with a bear-like snout, twenty feet or so away and it was about to crush the skull of a little girl. At the same time there was a buzzing sound off to her right. It was the archway! The poor little child screamed again and the Myrddraal came at her from the other side. For a split second she hesitated, uncertain what to do, but then she acted! She threw a weave of lightning at the approaching Myrddraal who was thrown forcefully back and turned to throw a fireball at the Trolloc. It barely missed them both. She knew she had to reach the shimmering archway before it disappeared, however, and so she sprinted towards it, leaving the others behind, and threw herself at the arch seconds before it was gone. Her last thought was one of deepest regret and sorrow for the little girl. Sovenhia almost stumbled as she stepped out of the Ter’angreal, her face drawn, tears falling, her mind and body totally exhausted, and after a few trudging steps fell into the caring arms of a waiting, smiling Mistress of Novices. ● After her night of contemplation, seven Aes Sedai, one from each Ajah, summoned her to be Raised. Sovenhia knew she must be alone when the Aes Sedai came to collect her and so she waited expectantly in her Accepted quarters. She was then escorted in silence down into the basements of the Tower to the chamber where she had taken the test. It had only been yesterday that she had completed the test, but to her it felt like an eternity. When she arrived, she saw that there were many women present as was custom. The Amyrlin Seat, the Keeper of the Chronicles and the three Sitters of each Ajah accompanied by the newest member of each Ajah. All the Sisters wore their shawls and the Keeper held the Oath Rod on a cushion. Sovenhia walked slowly into the room and stopped at the appointed place. She now had to ask to be Raised, she knew. It was the final step. Nadhene Carahnas, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat, of all Ajahs and yet of none, wearing her seven-striped stole over her dress, broke the silence. Her blue eyes glittered. Amyrlin Seat: "Who comes here?" Sovenhia: "Sovenhia Taralth" Amyrlin Seat: "For what reason do you come?" Sovenhia: "To swear the Three Oaths and thereby claim the shawl of an Aes Sedai." Amyrlin Seat: "By what right do you claim this burden?" Sovenhia: "By right of having made the passage, submitting myself to the will of the White Tower." Amyrlin Seat: "Then enter, if you dare, and bind yourself to the White Tower." Sovenhia walked to the Amyrlin Seat and passed through the Ter'angreal, not active now, and knelt before her. The Keeper then passed the Amyrlin Seat the Oath Rod and she placed it in Sovenhia’s hands. She channeled Spirit into the Oath Rod and Sovenhia had to swear the Three Oaths: To speak no word that is not true To make no weapon for one man to kill another To never use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, or in the last extreme of defending her life or that of her Warder or another Sister ● Sovenhia swore the Three Oaths, her voice steady and clear, and they settled tightly into her skin, becoming part of her, the binding Oaths of an Aes Sedai. She felt great pleasure and a rewarding sense of achievement, her smile widening. She returned the Oath Rod to the Amyrlin. Only the final part remained now. Her choice of Ajah. She had been ‘courted’ by Sisters from several Ajahs over time and had had time to think about where she thought she belonged. Some Accepted made their choice early, having decided on the kind of service they wished to provide long before being Raised, while others were more uncertain and did not make their final decision before the very end. Sovenhia had from early on discarded several Ajahs that did not fit with her personality and philosophy. Discussing logic with the Whites was just as unappealing to her as was studying history with the Browns. She did not want to be stuck in the Tower Infirmary with the Yellows either and hunting men who could channel with the Reds was not her calling. Spending her time with treaties for the Grays, being go-betweens in conflicts, did not really appeal to her either. So, the choice was between the Blue Ajah, fighting for causes for the Light and Tower, and the Green Ajah, carrying out missions for the Tower out in the world and above all standing ready for the Last Battle. Both these Ajahs and their commitments appealed to her and in the end she made her choice based on her gut feeling. The Amyrlin looked into the face of her newest Aes Sedai and saw strength and commitment there. She smiled inside though her face was outwardly smooth and formal as she began the final part of the ceremony. Amyrlin Seat: “In which Ajah will you serve?” Sovenhia Sedai: “I have chosen the Blue Ajah. That is where I will serve. If they will have me.” ● The ceremony now over, she walked happily over to the Blue Sisters there who welcomed her heartily. The Amyrlin Seat, the Keeper of the Chronicles and the other Sisters, all smiling at the new Sister, left the room and let the Sisters of the Blue Ajah speak with their newest member. One of the Green Sitters, Leihda Sedai, glanced shrewdly at the new Aes Sedai before she left, her lips pursed, her blue eyes sparkling dangerously. The youngest of the Blue Sisters, a young-seeming blonde Andoran woman with a fair complexion but kind eyes, then lay the Aes Sedai shawl on Sovenhia’s shoulders and they escorted her to her Ajah quarters for a proper welcome from the entire Blue Ajah. As she walked up the stairs to the levels above, her hands touching her blue-fringed shawl caressingly, Sovenhia’s eyes watered and her Smile was radiant, shining as brightly as the Sun. This was what she had worked for so many years in the White Tower, the culmination of all her dreams, her ambitions and hardships. She was finally Aes Sedai. ▀▄

.. Mirror Mirror, on the Wall .. ►▼◄ Mirror Mirror, on the Wall Will you Rise or Will You Fall Your Reflection Bright as Light In the Glass, is Life and Might She whispered the words she had found in the book, that ancient leather book with runes on the front, reaching into the mirror glass, feeling something beyond. It felt like liquid water just thicker, denser - and alive. Her blue eyes widened in excitement, the thrill of the moment running through her entire body. But then It all changed. Something in the mirror was pulling at her hand! She gasped! ..and tried to withdraw her hand but was unable. She tried to stay calm, to not panic, but her pulse was rising and her heart beat faster. She tried to pull back her hand again but it was stuck in the mirror. A tear of frustration ran down her cheek as she bit her lip. Come on! Come on! The words ran through her mind as she pulled and pulled but to no avail. She suddenly felt a great pain in her hand! It felt like claws ripping into it - claws and razor-sharp teeth! She screamed but it was a scream that no one heard. “Heeelp me!!” She cried in desperation, frantic with worry. “Pleaaase!!” Something was biting into her fingers in the mirror, the skin of her fingertips being ripped open, and she screamed as pain shot through her arm like needles. Her screams increased as she felt her arm and then her entire body being slowly pulled into the glass of the mirror “NOOOOOOO!!!” A moment of pure terror as her face was drawn into the glass, a final horrifying piercing shriek - and then she blacked out! ● Keyraa Erem Sani ne Paendrag, the Daughter of the Nine Moons and heir to the Seanchan Empire, gazed into the far distance as the Seanchan warship danced on the waves of the Aryth Ocean. Her eyes, dark brown and green the colour of emerald, glinted in the late afternoon sun, but her mind was elsewhere. She was back in Seandar, the Imperial Seanchan Capital, on that fateful afternoon eight months earlier when it had happened… Seated in her resplendent divan in her large private chamber in the Palace of the Empress, she had had several so'jhin, personal upper caste slaves, attending her. One had been polishing the heir’s lacquered nails while the other had been fanning her with a large feathery rod of a sort, ensuring the future Empress of Seanchan was comfortable. They had been pretty, young women with half-shaven heads, as befitted their station, their remaining hair plaited into a long braid. They had looked excited at carrying out their duties, excited and appreciative. The Daughter of the Nine Moons herself had been bored…. She yawned as she thought of the endless lessons her mother made her attend, her private teachers trying hard to make her learn history, law, customs, languages and all the many many things a future ruler of the Empire ought to be well versed in. None of the subjects interested her; weaponry was more to her taste, to her mother’s disapproval. A knife lay beside her on the divan and as soon as the subservient woman before her finished doing her nails she picked it up and held it in her hand, feeling the sharp edge with her other fingers. It had become a daily routine for her, to her mother’s disgust, and she found it eased her mind. She was very good with knives, having been taught to fight with them from an early age (her mother sick of her daughter’s constant pestering and finally relenting), and she always wore one on her person. Sororicide was not unheard of in Seanchan noble circles and both of her elder sisters, she felt sure, were going to attempt to kill her at some point since they had been passed over for the honour of becoming heir to the Empire. She would make sure she killed them first. ● When the attack came a few days later, it was the knife she carried that saved her life! She could find no other explanation. The special crystal-hilted knife was, in fact, an old Ter'angreal which suppressed weaves of Saidin, deflecting them, a secret she had come upon (and had confirmed) years earlier and which she had ordered her servants to keep secret on pain of death. Though she shared the disgust most Seanchan held for Damane and scepticism of the One Power and all the havoc it could cause in the world, she understood the value of the chained - and controlled - Damane in warfare and she also saw the value of artefacts of power. She had held onto the Ter'angreal partly out of curiosity (it was an historic object) but also in part in case it would one day be needed to defend against a man, an enemy, channeling Saidin (it did not protect against Saidar for some reason). It was a horrifying thought of course, but even so a wise precaution, also in view of certain secret Prophecies she had come across, and today it had saved her life. She could not see from where the attack came, but felt the knife at her side go ice-cold and a slight icy burning sensation came in her side as she sprang up from her divan and threw herself to the side before the table beside the divan exploded in a thousand pieces. She screamed a warning to her so'jhin but was unable to see if they managed to get away in time. Staying put, a mixture of anger and fear flowing through her, she waited while fireballs flew above her head lighting up the decorative curtains behind her. Shouts were coming from outside but still some way off. An ancient vase shattered close to her shoulder and the small table upon which it had stood broke and fell to the floor as she lay low, not daring to raise her head to look for her assailant. Screams came from the other side of the room now and more shouts from outside. A moment later several soldiers rushed into the room followed by two Suldam with their Damane, and finding the Daughter of the Nine Moons safe though shaken they breathed a huge sigh of relief as they hurried her out of there to safety. Keyraa cast a quick glance over her shoulder as they ushered her outside and saw one of the women who had attended to her dead, her eyes glazed and blood oozing from her head, and another crying hysterically from pain, one arm gone and part of a shoulder badly damaged, as she was being tended to by one of the Damane. ● Two thoughts remained in her head that entire day. One: it had to have been a man channeling the One Power - a man not collared! - who had attacked her, however unlikely that seemed. A man who must be found and leashed - or killed - for the safety of everyone. The Ter'angreal was not wrong. Could it have been him? The prophesized one? She shivered at the thought. And Two: could her jealous sisters somehow be involved? It seemed unlikely, for how would they get a channeling man to cooperate? But they hated her and would certainly want her dead. Shock replaced fury as day turned into night and she swore on her mother’s life that she would find whoever had attempted the assassination and would have him or them whipped naked through the streets of Seandar before beheading the person(s) publicly in the central square. The Empress, for her part, had the entire military squad patrolling the palace grounds executed for their ineptitude in keeping her daughter and heir safe. She also had a whole division of the Ever Victorious Army, aided by a dozen Suldam and Damane, out hunting the channeling man. The Commander of the Royal Family’s personal guard was demoted to da'covale, a slave of low rank, whipped and paraded around the grounds on his bloodied knees. When the day was over, he wished he were dead. ● We never found the channeling man, Keyraa thought to herself now as she stood by the rails of the warship. But whoever he was, I bet he was hired by one of my sisters. For who else would dare to kill the Daughter of the Nine Moons? She had been doubtful at first, but over time she has come to the conclusion that it had to have been one of them. The crystal-hilted knife she always bore on her person was a constant reminder of the threats she faced. Having it close at all times made her feel safer. Especially when travelling into foreign lands. A few more days and they would sight land. And not Falme as had been the original plan. But Tanchico, further south along the coast. The Captain-General, Meiahl Kereb, had been surprised by this revelation, as expected, and had argued against it, as expected. And he had obliged politely, as expected, when she had told him that if he did not obey her order, he would be thrown overboard but would first be stripped naked on deck and receive one hundred fifty lashes from the whip that some of the Suldam carried on their person. The Daughter of the Nine Moons thought he had chosen.. wisely. ● Calia studied the blond-haired muscled man closely. So, this was an assassin sent to kill them. A Darkfriend. His icy cold stare told her this was a veteran and someone who would not scare easily. Elessar’s threats, a very convincing act by her Gaidin, had not frightened this man but she had observed that he looked at the Warder as if seeing someone just as dangerous as him. He would be cautious for that reason. She knew that she would not be able to threaten him with things that would be lies and so she needed to be tactful.. What they needed above all was to get confirmation that he had been sent by the Shadow.. and if possible, to learn who he had received his orders from. Calia had experience from interrogations over the years and knew she needed to use some clever tactics to get this assassin to talk. Balancing it all with the truth, of course. Elessar stood a little behind her but she felt through the bond the absolute loyalty he had to her and belief in whatever she was going to do. He had her back and that increased her confidence. “So, big man”, she began smoothly. “We are to believe you are an assassin.” Her eyes looked sceptical. “But what assassin is as mediocre as you with the bow and arrow?” He had missed several times, after all. She saw his eyes widen slightly at the remark but his face remained the same stoic as before. She smiled inside. “Elessar, have you seen little girls showing this weak ability with the bow and arrow?” He replied that he had and, playing along with her line of questioning, he added that surely this man could not be an assassin with such pitiful skills. ● The man’s face hardened at the barb and it was just the reaction Calia wanted. She was aiming at hurting his pride. Pride in their craft was something all craftsmen - not the least assassins - valued highly. And they did not take criticism lightly. “Perhaps you are not an assassin after all”, Calia said smoothly, “and just a poor country boy”, she emphasized the boy, “out to rob travellers on the road.” His mouth twisted at the words but he remained silent, a sullen look on his face. “He is just a child”, Elessar added in the silence that followed. “A pathetic little boy playing at being a brigand. See the tears coming in his eyes. He wants to go home to mama.” The man made a grimace of disgust at this remark and Elessar could see anger building up in him. Calia saw it too and her smile widened inside. Her face was smooth though as she spoke again. “Perhaps we should take him to the next village, Elessar, and let some of the small girls teach him how to use that bow of his.” She smiled openly now. “His poor ability might.. amuse some of the five-year olds.” ● The man could not hold his anger anymore. “You pitiful Lightfools”, he shouted. “I am great at what I do!” He glared at them both, his pride hurt mightily. “Why else do you think they sent me to do the Great Lord’s bidding..” He stopped abruptly, realizing the trap he had walked into. His glare intensified. “So, they did send you to kill us.” Calia added, her blue eyes sparkling. “You are not a country boy playing brigand after all.” “You trapped me!” He spat, his whole face going red. “You Tar Valon whore!” In two quick steps Elessar was in front of him and he slapped him so hard that the man’s jaw was almost dislocated. Kneeling down before him, the Warder’s knife pressed against the assassin’s chin and drew a little blood. “I told you”, he said in icy dangerous tones, “no disrespectful remarks aimed at this Aes Sedai.” His eyes darkened. “If you do that again, I will not be as lenient.” Drawing more blood, he then held the knife before the man’s eyes for a long moment before stepping back and moving to the side. “I am sorry for the interruption, Calia Aes Sedai”, he said formally and with much respect. He was smiling darkly. “But I will not listen to such blatant disrespect.” A small smile came upon Calia’s lips but it was gone almost at once. She stared at the assassin again, ready to continue the interrogation. They had confirmation now that the Shadow had sent this man to kill them. They had to try and learn who he had gotten his orders from. And so she continued with her questions, with Elessar adding some dangerous threats intermittently. ● Together they goaded him into admitting that someone higher up in the Caemlyn Assassin’s guild had given him the orders but no matter what threats they gave he was unwilling to say anything more. He was a professional in that way and knowing the kind, Elessar was glad they had gotten any information out of him at all. They brought him tied across the back of Elessar’s warhorse, Stormbreaker (who kicked the assassin in the nuts as he was being hoisted up on the horse’s back; something that made the Warder grin inside) to the nearest town where he was delivered into the hands of the town watch with orders to have him subsequently brought under guard to the authorities in Caemlyn. So, the Shadow is after us, Calia thought to herself musingly as they rode along the dusty road in the direction of her hometown. They would arrive there around midday the next day. ● Serehstra walked into the noisy inn and looked around. The Common Room was filled to the brim with cheerful and drunk patrons, banging tables and singing lustfully. By the bar most men leaned over their glasses of ale seemingly oblivious of the gleeman’s jaunty tunes while next to the entrance door two bouncers stood like rocks, ready to throw out any troublemakers. They were big, bearded, muscled Ebou Dari men with hard eyes who no one wanted to argue with. And then there was the innkeeper, a heavy set Ebou Dari man with a smooth smile on his lips who wore an apron and seemed to follow every single movement in his establishment. He was now talking to one of the serving girls, a voluptuous red-head with long legs and a short skirt who liked to flirt with the customers. So, this is The Swordfish. Serehstra thought. The roughest inn in Ebou Dar or so the rumours went. It lay in the Rahad, on the other side of the River Eldar. It was locally known as the area of Ebou Dar where the less fortunate in life made their living. The streets in the Rahad were often narrow alleys, with buildings standing as high as five or six stories above the ground. The streets were filled with the refuse of the inhabitants. The Rahad was no doubt a very dangerous place. Not only were duels very frequent there, some adversaries did not even bother with the formalities and simply stabbed their victims in the back. A rough neighbourhood indeed, thought the Red Sister as she walked further into the inn. She was spotted now by the innkeeper who came bustling toward her in quick steps. Gazing into her face and half-nodding to himself, he gave a polite bow and welcomed her to his inn. “We are not used to customers of your high standing, Aes Sedai” he said smoothly though his eyes belied his discomfort. “We are pretty full this evening”, he added, “but I am sure we can find a comfortable room for you.” Serehstra waved the offer aside. Her smile was feigned. “No need, my good innkeeper”, she replied politely. “I don’t need a room for tonight.” Her eyes tightened slightly. “What I do need, however, is some information.” ● He glanced at the red shawl she wore atop her light-red dress, at her light-brown hair and finally again at her smooth face which he had learned was that of a Sister of the White Tower. Her piercing sapphire-blue eyes were watching him like a hawk or at least that was his impression and he wet his lips. He had never been comfortable around Aes Sedai. He did not think of them as witches as good folk thought in neighbouring Amadicia, but neither did he enjoy their company. He tried to keep his dismay off his face as he replied. “Information you say.” His eyes took on a shrewd look. “What information did you have in mind?” Serehstra recognized the look in his eyes. She had seen it many times before. It was the look of a man who was thinking about secrets he should not tell but also how much money he might earn if he were to divulge some information. A greedy look but also a cautious one. “Oh, I think it is something we should talk about in private, my good man.” Her tone of voice brooked no nonsense. Seeing her determined gaze, he nodded softly and then led her across the room and through a door to the small office behind. It only had a desk, a couple of chairs and some shelves on which a handful books were stacked. A small window at the back let in some light but otherwise the office was very plain. In a drawer he had his ledger for his business but it was safely locked and only he had the key. When he was comfortably seated behind his desk and she had sat down in the chair opposite, he spoke. His eyes were still shrewd but inside he was feeling weariness. He did indeed know secrets that were very private. “How may I be of assistance”, he said smoothly, his hands resting on the desktop. Serehstra considered the man before her. His black beard covered much of his face. His brown eyes were deep set and there was a scar on his left cheek. His hair was short and greasy. She had seen many such men in the Rahad, often sailors, sometimes not. But very often unsavoury. “I know you are aware of everything that happens in your establishment”, she began. “And so.. you can tell me.. who it was here among you who sent that man to kill me.” The way she said it matter-of-factly disturbed him much though he tried to hide it. Her smile was dangerous and her face hardened. She was not going to leave this room without an answer. ● “Papa, I love you”, Sandana said as she buried her face in her father’s chest. “I love you too, sweetheart”, he replied lovingly, his hands caressing her hair. Sandana’s face was radiant and she cherished the comfort of her father’s warm embrace. After a long silence she spoke softly. “Papa, what is an Octagon?” Argam seemed surprised by the question and replied that he did not know. Sandana frowned for a quick moment, but then her smile was warm again. She was not sure if the ceremony with the white-robed women had been real or just a dream. It had felt real at the time, very real, but thinking back on it she wondered if it had been just a fantasy, a dream such as girls often had. Of being a princess or a queen on a beautiful throne. It did not matter. It had been magical either way. She had woken in her bed and had felt the love of those women caressing her soul. A tear had flowed down her cheek, perhaps of loss but mostly of wonderful remembrance. “There is beauty in the world, Papa”. She said, her smile widening. “There is beauty in our souls.” All Argam could do was smile warmly in wonder. ● Walking along one of the tunnels that led far into the Stone of Tear, Tiragh Rendiana wondered not for the first time what was inside the locked room near the centre of the massive structure. Only the High Lords had the keys to that room and the room was sealed in more ways than one. Rumours had spread over the years what was hidden within but the Captain of the Stone had never put much stock in rumours; he wanted cold facts. When he had approached one of the High Lords with the question, he had only received an empty look in return and so he had let the matter be. It did not mean he stopped wondering though. Coming to a stop at the end of the tunnel, he turned the corner and entered a chamber. In its centre was another mystery. Three huge standing stones made up a triangle and inside was a darkness which could not be penetrated. Gazing into that darkness the Captain could see nothing but he felt sure there was something there hidden from his eyes. To touch the standing stones was forbidden though so he was not able to investigate any further, and so he passed them by as he always did on his rounds, throwing a glance over his shoulder as if expecting something to appear from the dark depths. Nothing ever did. Heading down another tunnel, the stone walls on all sides almost glowing in red granite, he could imagine the footprints of Captains of the Stone embedded into the rock from their countless rounds through this massive structure over the years. And if he stopped and tried to listen ever so carefully, he sometimes thought he could almost hear their whispers flowing along the tunnels and corridors like echoes of times gone by. Turning another corner, he came upon another door. This one was guarded by a Defender of the Stone who came to attention when his commander approached. Giving the Captain a bow of respect he opened the door and let the older man through. Stopping just inside this larger chamber which was lit by a dozen lamps giving ample light, Tiragh Rendiana’s gaze went to the locked granite door. Are the rumours true as to what lies within? Running a hand through his short dark hair, his grey-green eyes widened momentarily at the thought but then he caught himself and shrugged. It did not matter. His job was to guard and protect the Stone regardless and he would do so with his life. Passing the locked granite door, he moved to the end of the chamber where a door led down another corridor. A guard stood outside and he too gave a respectful bow to his commander and much-admired officer. The Captain gave a nod back with a smile and continued down this new tunnel. Some time later he departed the huge structure, walked out into the afternoon sunlight, and headed down to the officers’ barracks. He did not see the woman entering the tunnel he had just left, her dark cloak disappearing into shadows. ● Lady Carahna was a Noble Lady and Head of House Lenaga, one of the five big Houses of Kandor. Standing at the castle walls, staring with her deep brown eyes in the direction of the Plain of Lances in the far west, her long dark hair flowing in the cold wind sweeping across the Borderlands that late evening, she thought once again about the battle, and subsequently war, that was coming. It filled her with dread. Kandor was one of the four Borderland nations which lay on the threshold of the Great Blight, sitting between Saldaea to the west and Arafel to the east. The nation was formed early in the War of the Hundred Years when the governors of Hawkwing's five northern provinces met and agreed to form stable nations to preserve the peace and defend against the Blight. Kandor was one of these nations. And Jarel Soukovni had been its first King. Now Kandor was ruled by a Queen. The question was how long she would sit on the throne. A month or so ago the bodies of fallen Kandori soldiers had begun to arrive here in the western town of Ferala. Fallen soldiers from the battle further west. It had been an important fight against the Shadow, she had been told by the Aes Sedai who had stopped in the town before going east to the Capital. The Kandori soldiers had fought with honour, it was said, and it made her proud. It had been just one battle though. The war was coming. Of that she had no doubt. She knew that the town garrison consisted of about eight hundred men of which four hundred would defend the castle, the heart of the city. But against an army of Myrddraal, Trollocs and perhaps worse she did not believe they would stand for long. She had sent word to the Kandori Queen to send additional forces west but had received no reply. This worried her more than she would admit. Oh, she was warrior-bred and hard as steel as everyone around her knew, but she was also a realist and knew when opposition forces would be too strong. Turning her mind away from the inevitable defeat that was echoing in her head, she left the castle roof and walked down the stairs to the level below. There she stumbled across her advisor Sirih, a Borderlander woman of iron and wisdom who had given the Lady much good advice in the past months. “Sirih”, she greeted the slightly younger blonde-haired green-eyed woman. “Walk with me.” The woman called Sirih walked beside the Lady of the Castle along the corridor and down another level. As they walked, the Lady talked. “Advise me”, she began. “An army of Shadowspawn will be outside our gates in perhaps a week or so I am told by our scouts.” Her eyes tightened darkly. “How are we to stand any chance against them?” The other woman thought for a long moment before answering. Her dark eyes had a shrewd look but the Lady did not notice, staring ahead as she did. “The odds are not very good”, she admitted, “but.. I think you should take the fight to them!” ● Lady Carahna stopped in her tracks and looked at her advisor, her mouth agape. “You mean, we should.. attack!?” She finally uttered, disbelief in her voice. “They will have overwhelming superiority in numbers if what we surmise is correct. How can we stand a chance attacking them on open ground? And who will defend the castle?” Sirih remained calm as she answered. “Lady, an attack is exactly what they will not expect!” She smiled cleverly. “You will take them by surprise! I think the numbers we hear rumoured are inflated, and even if you don’t succeed in defeating them their forces will be somewhat depleted. They will not be anywhere as strong when they reach the castle here.” It sounded logical the way her advisor described it, but something made her doubtful, as if there were a flaw in that logic. But she trusted her advisor and mulled over what she had heard as they continued along the walkway which led down to her personal quarters. Stopping just outside her door, she turned toward her advisor a final time. “You really think we can take them by surprise?” When Sirih nodded, the Lady added, “And the castle will stand a better chance that way?” “Yes, my Lady, that I believe”, Sirih lied. Her face was smooth. “This way you will save more of your people.” That seemed to make an impression on the Lady of the Castle because she nodded, a small smile appearing on her face. Sirih, the advisor to the Lady, left her standing there by her door and headed up to the level above, passing several Kandori soldiers on the way. Some winked at her but she pretended not to notice. Once she arrived back in her own quarters she quickly moved across to a small cupboard and poured herself a drink. The red wine tasted particularly delicious this day. ● Whispers ran through the Dark room like a wraith moving in a dance with Death. Soft laughter seemed to come from within the glass of the tall, heavily decorated mirror that stood alone in the chamber. Like a sentinel. It was close to midnight, the silver moon shining brightly in the night sky, when the whispers became everything. Mirror Mirror, on the Wall Into Shadow, you may Fall Step beyond and conquer Fear Fail and feel the victim’s Tear ▀▄

.. A Broken Bond: Part 1 - Destruction and Disbelief .. ►▼◄ Lost in intense, vivid, and powerful Dreams, painful - ever so painful - Memories of the Past flashed again in Elessar’s mind, like needles piercing his brain.. His muscles twitched involuntarily and he trembled in his almost feverish Dreams.. Memories… ● In that timeless period between one second and the next, the Warder-Bond snapped, like a razor sharp knife slicing through the thinnest of paper, leaving only emptiness behind. Of a multitude of emotions filling Elessar’s mind right then, above all he felt shock. Utter and incredible shock. And disbelief! His world came crashing down upon him. He swayed where he stood above a fallen Trolloc, his sword deeply embedded in the creature’s side. The Shadowspawn, a twisted blend of animal and human stock, with a wolf’s muzzle and beastly features, was huge in stature and like all his kindred had been a ferocious fighter. Though far from bright, Trollocs knew some tactics and were brutal creatures as Elessar and his Sedai had experienced several times over the years. This one would reap no more havoc in the Borderlands. Rage and anger swept over him then, replacing the shock, and roaring in defiance he moved like a madman, with surprising agility considering his many wounds, swinging his sword in widening arcs, clearing a path to his Sedai. He was unaware of the bodies he left behind, some also human - Darkfriends! - , of the redness painting the landscape in the colour of death. All his focus was on reaching his Sedai. All his focus was on reaching her. It couldn’t be.. it just couldn’t be.. Oh dear Creator. Noooooo! Cradling her head in his arms, a moment later, wetness on his cheeks, he saw the lifeless emerald eyes staring into nothingness, the deadly arrows protruding from her body. Too late. The thought registered in his mind but he barely noticed it. I am too late. ● Staring into her face, the face that had laughed with him so many times during their journeys and missions, the face that had scolded him at times, the face that had set him in his place when he had overstepped himself but which had always looked upon him with respect and friendship, he saw that he hardly recognized her now. It was almost as if this was some other woman. Almost as if this was a nightmare from which he would soon awaken. But he knew better. Even now, on the brink of insanity and a path into blackness, he knew. Oh Leandreen.. I am so sorry. So sorry. The bitter irony of it all was that they had chanced upon this group of Trollocs - and their allies - by accident there in the foothills north-east of the Arafel city of Shol Arbela. On their way toward northern Shienar, on a mission for the White Tower, they had followed some tracks and had stumbled upon the creatures, heading foolishly into an ambush - and battle had arisen. Elessar had felt the taint of the Dark One from a way off, as Warders were gifted with through the Bond to a Sister, but partially distracted by something Leandreen had commented on, partially focused on the next part of their mission, he had misinterpreted the direction of the danger - a fatal mistake - and before he could assess the situation further it was too late. Leandreen was a proud and capable Sister of the Battle Ajah and had fought valiantly against the Shadowspawn, shielded but on the attack, felling a good number of them with the One Power just as others fell to Elessar’s deadly sword-action some distance away. He was driven apart from his Bondholder but there was nothing he could do about it as he fought hard with the Shadowspawn before him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her fight proficiently as well and seemed more than capable. A momentary lapse of concentration due to exhaustion, however, made her suddenly trip over a fallen body and that was enough for her to let her defences down for just a second; two deadly poisoned arrows, whether by intent or sheer luck, found their mark in her upper torso, her Warder too far away to intervene. Death took her swiftly. Oh Leandreen.. Forgive me.. ● Sadness was replaced by grief for Elessar. Utter grief and a feeling of desolation. Grief quickly turned to anger. At himself for failing her. At the Shadow. At the World. Anger turned to hatred and all the blackness buried deep within him erupted in a roaring scream of incredible fury. His eyes blacked over. And laying his Aes Sedai carefully to rest on the bloodied ground, he picked up his sword and turned to face the remaining half-standing Trollocs some way off to his left. There was death in his dark eyes and death in his blows as the whirlwind that had once been Elessar Gaidin of Kandor threw himself into the Shadowspawn with no regard for his own safety. He was a harbinger of death. ▀▄