.. Even the best plans.. ..

►▼◄

 

“So, Myrrhi Aes Sedai - do you have a good explanation for breaking into my Manor House and going through my private papers in the dead of night?”

 

●

 

The darkness of the room was partially lit up by the two candle lights the man they knew as Master Schirrù held in his hands as he stared hard at them there they stood beside his work desk, Elessar still holding onto some private papers he had found in the desk drawer and Myrrhi placing on the desktop the parchment she had been reading in the half-light from the moon outside.

 

Warder and Sedai looked literally taken aback by the fact they had been caught red handed!

 

Discreet indeed..

 

Caught like mice in a trap. Like pathetic amateurs, the Warder thought tempestuously, feeling shame.

 

And not only had they been caught, but the man knew Myrrhi by name.

 

Elessar and Myrrhi exchanged a silent glance, somewhat turbulent emotions flowing through the Bond.

 

This probably wasn’t my best idea, thought the Gaidin wryly but also guiltily as the silence lengthened.

 

●

 

It had seemed like a good plan.

 

At the time.

 

Two days earlier they had discussed their options. Myrrhi had been honest in saying that she did not think she - or they - could leave the situation with the imminent Darkfriend assassinations and head east straight away. At the time Elessar’s attention had for a moment been diverted to the far side of the room they had been seated in, his gaze hardening hearing a suspicious noise from the corridor, thinking of potential threats, but then his gaze had relaxed, understanding that it was likely nothing. Turning back to his Bondholder he had replied that he agreed with her. He did not either enjoy leaving unfinished business behind, especially when the Shadow was concerned.

 

When Myrrhi, seeing his reaction of before, had asked, half-seriously, half-teasingly, if he had just scared someone? he had replied with a lopsided grin but a fierce stare that he never scared people, he gave them stares that frightened them half to death! It was part of being a Warder-protector, he had added mock-seriously with a dangerous wide grin. Seeing the look in his eyes Myrrhi would have choked on her tea had she had any more left in her cup. She was glad this man was on her side!

 

They had drafted a plan once they had agreed on the next steps to take and subsequently had visited several of Myrrhi’s contacts in the Green Ajah’s local Eyes and Ears network. First Alaido, a local baker, whom Myrrhi had looked forward to meeting also for his delicious bakery, Elessar suspected. She had told him to wait outside, winking as she had informed him to not start a duel. He had swallowed his response, and she had already passed inside the bakery and had not seen his wry grin. Some time later Myrrhi had departed the baker’s shop, carrying a small box of pastries that looked marvelously delicious when Elessar inquired, and when he had insisted to have a taste or three she had been unable to resist him even though it was clear from her facial expression that she had wanted those little marvels for herself. When Elessar had asked for a fourth helping (trying hard to keep his face neutral and not to laugh at her expression) she had almost stuck her tongue out at him, but had kept decorum and for the rest of the day had guarded the few pastries left in the box with her life.

 

●

 

The next contact had appeared quite quickly - as they had been walking down a curvy Ebou Dari street - recognizing the green ribbon Myrrhi was wearing in her hair. Had the ribbon been black….. now that would have been interesting, Elessar had thought in a fleeting moment of wild contemplation.. The man, a richly dressed local merchant, had invited the Aes Sedai to his ‘humble store’ as he called it. Elessar had remained outside, again, only entering later. He had had the impression that Myrrhi was a little disappointed that there had been no delicious snacks there to enjoy, or perhaps it had just been his imagination. These were strange times after all.. After a while as the Aes Sedai and the merchant had talked, a customer had entered the shop and Myrrhi and Elessar had taken their leave. Back at the ‘Fallen Mermaid’ inn they had talked about what she had learned and had discussed options for a long time.

 

They had continued their discussion the next morning and afternoon. And that was when Elessar had come up with the ‘ingenious’ plan: they would go on the offensive, take the bull by the horns so as to speak, find out where this mysterious foreign Nobleman resided, and break into his Manor and find evidence of his complicity in the imminent assassination business. Myrrhi had, to tell the truth, been rather taken aback by his far from discreet plan of action, had kept most of her thoughts to herself, but trusting her experienced and usually wise and strategically sound Warder had gone along with the daring plan for the moment at least as he had explained the details. Further inquiries the following day had led to the knowledge where the Nobleman in question’s Manor House lay - on the western edge of Ebou Dar, close to the sea as it turned out - and they had discussed how to proceed, making a detailed plan, selecting the right time (dead of night, they both agreed was safest) and readying themselves.

 

A little past midnight, in the dark of night, they had cautiously entered the Manor grounds, crept past a couple of not-too-attentive guards slouching by the building, and had used a lockpick to open a back door (fascinating how useful some things learned over the years was, Elessar had thought amusedly) with no alarm being raised. They had further crept through the Shadows of the Manor, which had been quiet, until they had reached the office on the second floor. The contacts they had spoken to, who were familiar with how Ebou Dari mansions were built, had been adamant that that was where the office in all likelihood would be - and they were right. Elessar had picked this second lock too and they had entered the chamber, now confident that this daring venture would be a successful one. Myrrhi had in truth been torn between thinking this whole thing was insane and that it was exciting - but as they approached the work desk by the window her excitement had picked up. Now they would find the evidence they needed to stop the assassinations from happening! And they had indeed found written papers that were highly suspicious, correspondence between the Master and certain other parties of seemingly dubious nature, making them feel this very daring activity had been worth it.

 

●

 

All had been going well….. until they were discovered, caught red handed!

 

Master Schirrù, wearing his night robe but standing as stately as if he wore his finest shirt and coat, studied them both now in the light from the candle lights, his eyes tightening dangerously, waiting for the intruders to speak.

 

Elessar knew he was mostly to blame for this major cock-up, it had primarily been his plan after all which Myrrhi, perhaps partly grudgingly, had gone along with, and he knew it was only right that he try to save them from this highly embarrassing and volatile situation.

 

He was trying to think of the best way to come on the offensive in this rather precarious predicament, considering appropriate responses in his mind, when Myrrhi spoke.

 

▀▄

 

For PARTS 1 and 2 of this RP-thread see ->>

 

https://dragonmount.com/forums/topic/98565-a-bond-of-redemption-attn-myrrhi-aes-sedai/

 

https://dragonmount.com/forums/topic/105817-a-bond-of-redemption-part-2-attn-myrrhi-aes-sedai/

 

 

-----------

 

PART 3

-----------

 

 

..  A Return in the Light ..

►▼◄

 

They had difficult decisions to make.

 

Having discussed the matter the day before, they went over it another time over breakfast the following morning. The Common Room was half-empty and none of the other guests were close enough to hear what they were saying.

 

Should they pursue the dark matters they had been informed of here in Ebou Dar, the threat of assassinations by the Shadow, or should they continue eastwards towards their intended destination? Either choice would have consequences.

 

Elessar gave his opinions and then drank some water from a glass as he listened to Myrrhi’s arguments. His eyes meanwhile studied a man slouching by the entrance, a disreputable fellow with unkept hair and watchful eyes, but when the man noticed the Warder’s hardened gaze he swiftly turned and departed the Common Room. Elessar’s full attention returned to Myrrhi. He did not suspect the stranger to be a threat but he would keep a look-out in the streets, in case. One could never be too careful.

 

●

 

A little later they were standing outside the inn, enjoying the sunshine and the blue skies, when an Ebou Dari man who looked like a local shopkeeper (but was in fact part of the Green Ajah’s Eyes and Ears in this region) approached them, giving a respectful nod to the Aes Sedai. Myrrhi followed the man inside and was not seen for several minutes. Elessar, meanwhile, studied the busy streets, taking in the sounds and sights of this beautiful Capital here in the far South. His eyes were also on the look-out for the slouching man of before but he did not see him anywhere. A horse-driven carriage passed by, probably carrying a nobleman, throwing up dust in its wake. And down the street a scruffy-looking young lad with a thin body and shifting eyes hurried on an errand. Shopkeepers were busy talking to potential customers and local folk walked to and fro focused on their own business. Nothing was out of the ordinary as far as the Gaidin could see.

 

When Myrrhi finally appeared, the Ebou Dari man gave the Warder a quick nod, then headed swiftly down the street. Elessar met Myrrhi’s eyes and she nodded softly, then bade him follow her inside. They found a pair of available seats in the corner of the Common Room and seated themselves. The Warder waited patiently for his Bondholder to speak. He wondered what their next step would be.

 

●

 

That night Elessar slept soundly, as rain ran in rivers down the window of his room at the inn. He was once again swept up in dreams and memories..

 

●

 

Being hunted..

Again..

 

..Elessar hears shouts some way back and looks quickly about them for any way out. He exchanges a concerned look with Myrrhi and then turns to stare about him more thoroughly, cursing inside.

 

Is there any way out from this trap? For a trap it has become. A deadly one at that!

 

It looks an impossible situation.. but..

 

Shaking his head, his eyes sweep across the cliff face, the precipice.

 

There has to be a way..

 

Just as he is about to give up any hope of escape, and readies himself mentally to take as many Whitecloaks with him into death as possible (there is no other realistic solution in his mind; letting themselves be arrested and, probably executed, for their ‘crimes’, is not an option), he suddenly sees something off to his left..

 

Can it be..?

 

●

 

Closing his eyes..

And then opening them again..

So clear in his mind’s eye..

 

..Motioning for Myrrhi to wait, he jumped off his horse and walked carefully toward the edge of the cliff. Staring downwards he saw that it was a sheer drop of several hundred paces, making it hard to see what was down there at the bottom. But looking more carefully on the far left edge, he saw that there was actually a small, narrow path leading off the ledge, meandering downwards from the side of the cliff-face. It was almost hidden from view (his Warder’s eye for detail had spotted it) and could easily be overlooked by an untrained eye. It also looked exceedingly dangerous from what he could see, but no more so than remaining to fight a lot of fanatical Whitecloak soldiers there on the steep cliff.

 

“There is a small pathway downwards from the side of the cliff”, he shouted to Myrrhi as she dismounted and came towards him, a sceptical look on her face. “Yes, I know it’s not a walk in the park”, he added earnestly with a good portion of grim understatement as he saw her look with somewhat wide eyes at the narrow path leading off from the main part of the cliff, “but we have a bigger chance that way than facing all those Whitecloaks up here, that’s the truth of it.”

 

●

 

She nodded, perhaps a touch resignedly, seeing his point, adding though that since she was so tired after the day’s long ride and it would be too difficult to use the One Power to keep both of them and their horses safe on the path, they better use a rope for safety. The Gaidin nodded, seeing the sense of that. Shouts were coming nearer now and they had little time, he knew. Elessar only hoped their horses would manage this dangerous trail down the side of the steep cliff. He took out two pieces of cloth and bound one around each horses’ eyes, then spoke softly to his mount as Myrrhi did the same to hers. Binding a rope around his own waist and then Myrrhi’s, thinking for a horrified second that despite her aid of Saidar if he fell and stumbled he might very well drag his Aes Sedai to her death - No! Don’t think of that! You will manage. You will be safe - he smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile to his Bondholder.

 

Then they moved slowly toward the cliff’s edge, facing the precipice head on, walking carefully beside their mounts and holding tightly to the reins, their hearts almost missing a beat in the nervous exileration they both felt. Reaching the edge, their horses edgy, Elessar led Stormbreaker onto the narrow pathway on the side, if pathway it could be called. He tried to look ahead to see where the path led but all he could see was that it spiralled downwards at an angle. Taking a few tentative steps he whispered soothing words to his mount. Stopping after a dozen steps to look behind, he saw a somewhat concerned but stoic Sister of the Green behind him. She probably mirrored his own face at that point, he guessed, as he turned forwards again, trying to ignore the sounds of scouts close to arriving at the cliff’s edge.

 

●

 

Thankfully their path soon went around a curve or bend in the rocks and they could, he saw, no longer be spotted from up at the cliff. The Children could, however, find the path and come after them, he thought, but if they did they could only come slowly and one at a time. As he concentrated on their steps, one after another, down the spiralling pathway, he threw all thoughts of pursuit out of his mind as he focused on making safe progress. He tried to ignore the almost vertical drop hundreds of feet down into oblivion only three feet or so to his right, ‘pretending’ in his mind it was a wider neighbouring path. More voices were now heard from above, and much cursing. Elessar could only hope that they believed Myrrhi and he had gone over the cliff and lay dead at the far bottom.

 

Halting again a few moments later, he turned and looked at Myrrhi. She nodded as if to say that she was alright, understanding from the sound of voices from above that they ought to keep silent for the moment. The Warder felt encouraged that his young Aes Sedai was keeping up so well, though he felt her jumble of emotions through the Bond as was to be expected, One Power or no. Sharing a small smile, they soothed their mounts softly and then Elessar led his horse forwards anew, one careful step at a time.

 

●

 

Time had little meaning at that point, seconds and minutes tumbling around in inconsequentiality, as they moved ever so carefully forwards, doing all they could to avoid any fatal missteps. Elessar was grateful that the path was dry. Had it been raining recently, they would not have managed this feat on a slippery slope, of that he felt pretty certain. He was also grateful that full darkness had not come upon them yet. After a while the sounds from above receeded and then were gone alltogether. Either the Whitecloaks had left, he thought, believing them dead, or some of them were coming after them down this narrow, dangerous path. Stopping again to listen, the Gaidin heard no sound at all except a soft nicker from their horses (who though they could not see the sheer drop, probably felt it to some extent). He patted Stormbreaker softly on the side in encouragement, staring fixedly ahead, wondering at the same time who could possibly have made this narrow, spiralling path down the cliff face. It was not a general feature of nature, he had seen that straight away, and it must have been quite laborious - never mind dangerous - to shape.

 

His mood darkened as he walked, holding tightly the horse’s rein in his hand.

 

If we could only get safely off this blasted cliff face, he thought with some exasperation as he led his horse downwards around another bend, cursing inside.

 

Bloody Shadow Coast - and Bloody mountain! …

 

●

 

When he woke up the next morning, echoes of their trek down the side of that steep mountain still in his mind, his head was pounding. He realized he had overslept and hurried out of bed to get dressed. He poured water over his head from a small wash basin in the corner, trying to force the aches away. He had not been such a heavy sleeper before - it was not a good trait in a Warder, he thought, who should be somewhat alert even during the night, entering that half-sleep, half-awareness state that they were trained for - and he blamed himself for becoming soft. It was all these nights in comfortable Southern inns, he complained in his mind, though he knew he was himself at fault.

 

He had to become more focused, he knew, more alert, sharper - and as he swore to himself that he would do better, he sensed his Aes Sedai moving in the neighbouring room. She had probably been awake a while, he figured, letting him sleep. Shaking his head, hoping his headache would go away sooner rather than later, he put on his shirt and his boots, waited until an appropriate amount of time had passed, then went out in the corridor and knocked softly on Myrrhi’s door. Her voice coming from inside bade him enter and he closed the door gently behind him. She was seated on a wooden chair by the bed, fully clothed and with a determined look on her face. He gave her a Warder's bow, formal as always had been his way, then seated himself on the chair opposite her.

 

"Aes Sedai", he said, the hint of a smile on his otherwise hard face. "A new day beckons. A new chance to strike at the Shadow." His dark eyes tightened with anticipation.

 

Outside, in the crystal-clear Southern day, Ebou Dar was bathed in Light.

 

▀▄

 

13 minutes ago, Elder_Haman said:

There were major changes to LOTR that had ripple effects on the story too. People tend to forget about them or gloss over them. But they were there - just handled deftly by the writers.

 

And as the size of the project grows, the more changes become necessary. An entirely faithful adaptation is impossible and can't work on screen. There are too many characters, too many locations, and too many plot points that drift away into the aether. 

 

I think you have to try your best to think of this as another turning of the Wheel, or events from one of the mirror worlds. Otherwise, you are bound to be disappointed.

 

I have read the LoTR books several times but it's a while ago but though there of course were some changes/additions there (you call some of them 'major') I believe they are on another level of what we will/may experience in the WoT tv-show. 

 

As I keep saying, it's a matter of degree when it comes to changes. No one expects a word for word adaptation of a book so that is not even in the ballpark. As I mentioned, some changes are necessary (which includes removing less important characters, subplots etc). What however is central, is whether it will be a faithful adaptation (where you draw the line can be debated, but you get an indication what I mean from what I wrote above) vs a 'freer' adptation (which in extreme cases could be termed revisionism) where there will be many changes, both larger and small, many intentional, and it will be a re-interpretation or 're-inventing' of the story ('like a 'new turning of the wheel').

 

The question is where on this imagined scale/line the tv-show will land and as I and other likeminded WoT fans fear - and you also indicate - the adaptation will probably not be what most will consider 'faithful', it will be 'freer' in every way, and we should prepare for that.

 

You mention that as the size of the project grows, the more changes become necessary. Well, that is exactly why it is important to not make that many changes to begin with because the ripple-effects will be that much greater (which is why also it would be much easier to adapt one book at a time and make it a fairly 'faithful' adaptation - I would say GoT seasons 1 -3 are in this category - than to take parts from the whole WoT as it seems Rafe does and mix it altogether, parts from EotW, TGH and NS).

 

I think Rafe and his team have their 'WoT-heart' in the right place and are doing their utmost to create a great tv-adaptation, I just wish they would stick closer to canon and Robert Jordan's vision and not be intent on making a 'new turning of the wheel'. We shall see how it all turns out, but WoT deserves being done right and I hope it is.

 

As for an Aybara Aes Sedai, I can see the logic behind it as you describe. In general I cannot see good reasons or the necessity for adding new characters to the WoT Universe when we have several thousands to select from. It would be different if this were a small universe with few characters. But since they apparently have added a 'Laila Aybara' already, your ideas could be possible I guess and your point of her being in block 2 is valid. Adding such a character could in my opinion be a 'small' change and a 'major change' depending on what role the new character plays. I obviously hope for the former.

 

Making Moiraine and the White Tower more 'suspect' for our EM heroes than they are in the books for added drama is, not surprisingly, something I am dubious about with my viewpoints; I see why it can be done but wish for something closer to canon. Especially with regards to Moiraine, one of the true heroines of the WoT. Same goes for the ¨'reveal' of who the Dragon Reborn is. WoT is de facto Rand's story and the showrunners need to keep this in mind.

Some of us who want a faithful adaptation (it includes myself ref. some of my earlier posts in this forum) are in your category 2 above (not 3) and will definitely 'be bothered' as you say by major changes to the story. But it is always a question of degree. Small changes/additions like we saw in LoTR and say Game of Thrones (esp later seasons) will by most 'Canon-ists' (to use a term) be accepted because everyone knows some changes need always be made for a tv-adaptation (also removal of less important sub-plots -and characters) and can even make the production better (imo like say Arwen and more focus on Elves in LoTR, for WoT it could f.ex. be adding backstory to Logain).

 

It is, however, the major changes we who are in this category fear and would be critical of, changes that go far beyond what we saw in the LoTR movies and which will have ripple-effects in the story (f.ex. merging/removing Forsaken characters, removing major characters from season 1, changing character characteristics with regards to traits from the books, changing Rand's relationship with Elayne, Aviendha and Min, changing their inter-relationship, removing major events from the books etc).

 

What we have learned from Rafe and elsewhere (he wants to make season 1 based on the whole WoT, not just EotW) indicates the changes made to season 1 of this tv-show will go way beyond what we f.ex. saw in GoT season 1 and so it is understandable that part of the fanbase are concerned. Other WoT fans, however, are not concerned because they view this as a 'new turning of the wheel', possibly don't want a faithful adaptation to begin with, and are excited to see how WoT can be re-interpreted for a larger audience. I wish I was in this category, it would make things so much easier. As it is, I am in the same place as another member wrote here in this forum recently, I am 50% concerned and 50% excited to see what they come up with. I hope my concerns are unfounded, nothing would please me more.

.. Those Chosen To Rule The World Forever ..

►▼◄

 

Nerine ni Zethere e’Zahr, Protector of the Lances, Queen of Saldaea, got shakily to her feet when the Dragon Reborn told her she could do so.

 

Trying to retain some dignity in this whole mess of a situation, her hands went to the sides of her dress straightening it as she pulled herself to her feet. She kept her head slightly bowed as she slowly faced the tall red-haired man before her.

 

“We shall have a talk, you and I” the man said pointedly, studying her face. “I wish it was not necessary to do things this way”, he added, pointing around him at the Asha’man and at the still kneeling weary councillors, “but your refusal to see sense left me no choice.”

 

She accepted the rebuke as dignified as she could, knowing he was at least partly correct, and kept silent. Ter Sanduahl noted her silence and nodded to himself, trying at the same time to silence the voice that crept into the back of his mind. Brushing a hand through his short hair, he turned away from the Queen for a moment as he studied the Hall of the Sovereign as it was formally called. It was simple compared to the affluence and luxury of Southern courts, but still elegant and impressive in its own right. Such elegance so close to the Blight, he thought for a moment before the voice in his head started raving about killing everyone in the Blight. Kill them all, destroy the Shadow, make sure they are aaallll deeeeaad! He shook his head, willing the voice away, his eyes tightening as he turned back to face the Saldaean Monarch.

 

●

 

“Alright, let’s talk.” He ordered the Asha’man to remove the councillors from the Hall and the kneeling men seemed more than happy to oblige as they were pushed out the now open doors. The Asha’man stayed out, knowing the Dragon Reborn wanted some privacy for this, guarding the doors and barring anyone from entering. Not that anyone even considered doing so, seeing the ferocious looking channeling men.

 

Ter Sanduahl seated himself casually on the Queen’s throne and saw the glimmer of irritation on the Queen’s face before she smoothed her features again. She took a chair which stood a little to the side and placed it opposite him; not too close but also not too far away. He noted her posture - filled with uncertainty but attempting some dignity - and smiled inside. She would not like what he was going to propose.

 

“The Last Battle is coming”, he began in a smooth voice, “and we need to be joined in purpose if we are to stand a chance against the Shadow.” The Queen remained silent, and he felt sure she would be wondering where this was going. “We must all be loyal to this purpose.”

 

The Queen nodded silently, waiting for what else he was going to say. Inside she was debating with herself what tact to use with this young but powerful man. “We are all loyal here in the Borderlands”, she said finally, some pride coming into her voice. “We have stood against the Shadow for generations.”

 

Ter Sanduahl nodded. “Yes you have, and all the lands are grateful.” He sometimes wondered how it was that he now felt much older and less naive than only a year ago. Harder as well. Perhaps it was all the things he had experienced. Perhaps.. or perhaps it was something different. He preferred not to think about that part..

 

“Now however, a new challenge faces us all. Tarmon Gai'don is coming”, he said with emphasis, “and unfortunately I don’t have the time to peacefully and strategically gather all the nations to me as the Prophecies proclaim, time is short and I do what I must.”

 

●

 

Queen Nerine looked at him with some concern in her eyes now, fearing she would not like what was coming next.

 

“I was going to propose an alliance with Saldaea”, the Dragon Reborn then said, and the Queen’s heart sank at the implication, “but I now believe we need stronger unity and leadership to forge the strength we need in the time ahead.”

 

“You are not going to like it”, he added, and his voice turned harder, “but I see no other choice. I need Saldaea for what is to come - and Saldaea needs me.”

 

The Queen’s eyes tightened and then she closed them, her breath becoming shorter. She knew what was coming and it almost felt like a death sentence.

 

“I am relieving you of your crown, Nerine ni Zethere e’Zahr”, he said with formality. “I am the Dragon Reborn. I will be King of Saldaea.”

 

The words were like daggers in her heart. With one sentence he had stripped away her royal birthright and her whole body started shaking. She flushed angrily and had to work hard to pull herself together, but knew there was nothing she could do. She was in this young man’s power and he knew it. Her army was spread around the nation and what remained of it here in the Capital would not be able to overcome the Dragon’s army almost outside her walls. Especially not when he had 4 other male channelers here in the Royal Palace. If she did anything rash, he might do away with her. Self preservation won out and she calmed herself and nodded in abject silence, hiding the pain she felt inside.

 

Ter Sanduahl watched her closely and understood her complex emotions. He would have felt the same had he been in her place.

 

“That said, I will need your guidance in the days ahead”, he added. “You shall be my loyal advisor and caretaker-Regent when I am away from Saldaea.” The Queen nodded, appreciating the trust he put in her, but the pain of his decision was still too great for her to be able to appreciate fully his intentions.

 

“I do need your sworn loyalty though”, the Dragon Reborn said, his voice harder again.

 

●

 

And so it was that a little later that day, under the Dragon Banner, the Queen of Saldaea swore fealty to the Dragon Reborn before her assembled councillors and advisors and army commanders, as well as the Asha’man and some of the commanders of the Dragonsworn army, her stomach in upheaval during the short ceremony but relieved to still be alive.

 

●

 

Arementhe Senican, the Amyrlin Seat, studied the piece of paper she had been given earlier that day. Her eyes were tightened, her brow furrowed. The message from one of the Aes Sedai heading toward Falme to look for information regarding the Seanchan did not make any sense.

 

It said that there was strife and battle going on in Falme and that the town was close to being taken by outside forces. But they were not Seanchan. The Amyrlin shook her head. The Gray Sister had to be mistaken. It had to be those Seanchan come out of the western seas. Who else could it be? The party from Tar Valon was several days east of Falme but had come across refugees fleeing the town. The Amyrlin wondered how the Seanchan could have reached Falme that quickly. And how grave a threat did they pose?

 

Standing up from her work table in her private Amyrlin’s chamber she moved across to the window facing south. The afternoon sun was descending and soon twilight would be upon them here in the City of the Aes Sedai in the lee of famed Dragonmount. She looked down on the rooftops of the city, glimpsing the movement of people far below, thinking that she had to protect them all come what may.

 

I am the Amyrlin. It is my duty.

 

She turned back to her work table and found a pen and a small piece of paper on which she wrote a short reply. She rang the small bell at the side of her table and soon the door was opened and the Keeper of the Chronicles entered, her face expectant.

 

“Please deliver this message, Centhira”, she said, handing her the piece of paper. “I will, Mother” the Keeper said, gave a formal nod and a smile and departed as swiftly as she had entered. In the moment before the door closed the Amyrlin thought she saw a shadow outside in the hall, but it was gone in the blink of an eye and she guessed she had been wrong.

 

Seating herself again, bathed in the light of burning candles, her mind returned to the problem of those Seanchan and their Wilders.

 

●

 

Sendhira Sedai listened as the Queen of Altara spoke of mutual interests with the White Tower.

 

“But not so this time, Queen Mandhra”, the Red Sister murmured as she fixed the Queen with a stare.

 

Mandhra Theliana Selnobar, Queen of Altara by the Grace of the Light, Mistress of the Four Winds, Guardian of the Sea of Storms and High Seat of House Selnobar, stared back at the Aes Sedai, her eyes glittering with amusement.

 

“Perhaps not, Sendhira Sedai”, she replied with a lopsided grin. “But then again, it is not always easy to tell.”

 

“There is no need to be mysterious with me, Queen Mandhra” the Red Sister remarked, her own eyes glittering now. “The Amyrlin’s” - she was going to say insane but changed the word at the last moment - “controversial plans are known.” They were known to some so it was not a lie.

 

“Is that so?” the Queen mumbled as she stared mystically down into her cup filled with red wine for a long moment. “Then you may know why I may be.. reluctant to go ahead with them.”

 

Sendhira Sedai studied the other woman’s face, trying to read her mind. Having been the Tower’s representative in the Tarasin Palace for a good while she had gotten good at reading the Queen’s face, but this time there was some ambivalence in the Altaran Monarch’s features. Could it be that the Queen had declined the Amyrlin’s offer to join in her plans? Nothing would please the Red Sister more, but she had to tread carefully.

 

“I am of course loyal to the Amyrlin”, she said and believed she was within the Oaths saying so - she did after all support the Amyrlin despite their disagreement on this one issue - “but there could be.. dangers with some proposals like this.”

 

“I am glad you are loyal to your supreme leader”, the Queen said and there was bite in her voice and the hint of a sneer, “it is always important to know where your loyalties lie.”

 

“That said”, she added smoothly, “I think now may perhaps not be the best of times to go ahead with.. dangerous plans.” The Queen met the Aes Sedai’s eyes squarely. “Don’t you agree?”

 

Sendhira Sedai’s answering grin spoke more than a thousand words and she took a big sip from her cup of red wine, thinking also of a pair of violet eyes.

 

●

 

Cazar Elnovar listened to his second in command, Rahtim Andar, making his daily report but his mind was elsewhere.

 

He was leader of the Asha’man in the Black Tower in the Dragon Reborn’s absence and just the day before he had received a message from said person ordering him to send eight more Asha’man north to the Borderlands as quickly as possible. Cazar would obey of course, but he was not too pleased about it. There were several reasons for his unease.

 

First, he needed all the Asha’man they had to train the Dedicated and Soldiers in the Black Tower. Second, some of the Asha’man were becoming a little.. unbalanced at times. It was the Taint, Cazar knew, and as such he preferred having them close by to monitor their mental state. Third, on a personal level, Cazar felt some disquiet over a section of the Dedicated which seemed to be on a collision course with the rest, wanting to push harder and faster in their training than their teachers thought wise. Cazar wanted to have some trusted Asha’man to watch over those young men, to ‘guide them back on the right path’ as he saw it. If eight trusted Asha’man left to join up with the Dragon Reborn, fewer would be left to take care of things here.

 

His mind returned to the present as the Asha’man before him finished his report. The man was middle aged with dark hair and a bold nose. Cazar presumed some women found the man handsome. As far as Cazar was concerned, the man’s best quality was that he was trustworthy.

 

“What was that last part again?” Cazar asked, feeling it was important.

 

“The Seanchan forces have taken Tanchico”, the Asha’man repeated. “Or so at least our spies tell us.” He paused momentarily letting that piece of news sink in. “And they have done so with the aid of a good number of Aes Sedai”, the man added pointedly. “Or so we are being told.”

 

“Not Aes Sedai as we know it”, Cazar murmured, thinking also of the talks with the White Tower, as he considered the news. “But they might as well be, in the general order of things.” He met the Asha’man’s eyes squarely. “Then again, these Seanchan channelers could be even more dangerous.”

 

“Chaos is erupting everywhere”, the black-cloaked Asha’man said, and for a split second there was a dark gleam in his eyes, but Cazar did not see it as he contemplated the situation and how things could affect the Black Tower.

 

“Yes, you are right”, Cazar replied finally, getting up from his chair to walk across to the window facing the training grounds. He could see Soldiers and Dedicated training with the One Power in the distance. He touched the Gold-and-red Dragon pin on the right collar of his black coat, thinking of what it represented. “These are trying times indeed.”

 

●

 

Time stood still as the 13 Chosen stepped simultaneously out of gateways and surrounded the White Tower.

 

The gateways snapped shut behind them, slivers of light disappearing into nothingness.

 

They were all there, these most powerful of the Great Lord’s channelers and commanders, assembled against all odds, standing in a circle around the bastion of the Aes Sedai. Filled with the One Power which flowed from their hands in spectacularly complex and powerful weaves making them glow like fallen stars, there they stood exultant, facing the Tower.

 

Vanahl. Raphael. Deleyhna. Kieran. Serahna. Gerehl. Divara. Tervihn. Sinam. Vinadel. Kharin. Banohr. Issandra.

 

Names used to frighten children in this Day and Age. All believed to be bound in Shayol Ghul together with the Dark One, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the End of time.

 

Forsaken they were called by Lightfools - but they called themselves, Those Chosen To Rule The World Forever.

 

We have been Chosen to Reign, thought Raphael gleefully feeling the ecstasy of Saidin rushing through him. Woe to anyone who stands in our path!

 

●

 

And red fire blossomed in the air, swirling like a maelstrom, pushed by winds of Saidin and Saidar, forming at the base of the White Tower and flowing upwards, accompanied by a booming sound which rocked the island’s core and caused wide panic in the island city of Tar Valon. The fire embraced the white granite walls of the tall structure as it sped ever upwards and was soon met by thunder and lightning from the twilight sky which struck the top of the White Tower in a blast that shook the surroundings.

 

The 13 Chosen were almost ablaze in the One Power, hands outstretched, all channeling their strength using Angreal upon their person. For Raphael it was a dagger which he held in one hand which besides increasing his power also ensured he would not draw too much. He held onto it tightly as he channeled the weaves he needed, glorying in the might.

 

Assemble the others, and attack the White Tower.

 

That had been his explicit command from the Great Lord. And assemble them he had - despite Vanahl’s great displeasure at not being the one given the command, he was Nae’blis after all - the first such joint attack together by all the Chosen ever as far as Raphael knew. He had in truth doubted he could make it happen, it was a logistical nightmare to gather them all since they were spread around the continent and busy with their own schemes, but all the Chosen had heeded the Great Lord’s command and had obeyed.

 

As the wind of fire ascended towards the top of the White Tower and its flat-topped roof with a waist-high railing, Raphael redirected part of the flow he was channeling and lightning struck the huge entrance doors to the Tower in a blast which shook the building and destroyed the doors and part of the hallway beyond.

 

Soon lightning struck all parts of the White Tower as the 13 Chosen, standing at intervals around the structure, with triumphant eyes and ablaze in light, directed their flows for maximum destruction.

 

Thunder rolled and the skies ran red with fire, time almost standing still as moments were trapped within moments, tiny threads echoing with strain within the massive tapestry that was the Wheel of Time, as the Shadow struck out at the Aes Sedai in the sanctity of their home.

 

●

 

The Tower will bleed.

Black tears.

As what Was will Return.

Shrouded in burning light.

Prepare the way.

Oh, Glory to the Shadow!

 

Found written on the back of a stone statue in Aile Dashar,

 

An excerpt from,

The Prophecies of the Shadow

 

▀▄

 

.. Bound in more Ways than One ..

►▼◄

 

“Salihna Arinahl, come with me.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

In order to become Accepted, she had emphasized, the Novice must want to be Aes Sedai more than anything else in the whole world, enough to face anything, fight free of anything, to achieve it.

 

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

 

●

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

●

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Yes.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

●

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

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

 

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

 

Aes Sedai: Is she ready?

 

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

 

Aes Sedai: Does she know her fears?

 

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

 

Aes Sedai: Then let her face what she fears.

 

 

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

 

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

 

●

 

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

 

She was faced with difficult situations from her past; leaving her sick father in his bed back home, struggling against the man who had tried to rape her at age fourteen in a back alley of the town she grew up in, and facing anew the salivating dogs that had attacked her and almost killed her at the meadow she had walked across when she was a young girl. She faced her fears the best she could and when after a time she saw an arch appear thirty paces or so off to her right, glowing with a silver radiance, she ran towards it and entered, stepping back through the arch to return to the chamber below the White Tower. Her pulse was racing and she tried to get hold of her emotions.

 

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

 

Salihna then entered the second arch after the Mistress of Novices had spoken again, saying: “The second time is for what is. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

The second arch was even worse and Salihna had to face her worst fears of what was happening in the present, not the least that she would fail to become an Aes Sedai and have to live with the shame. When she emerged from the Ter’angreal this time, tears were flowing down her cheeks and she was exhausted, physically and mentally.

 

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

 

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

 

●

 

She knew the third arch would be the worst of them all, facing her fears about the future, but even so she was taken aback by the harsh trials she faced. On the battlefield facing Myrddraal and other vile Shadowspawn. Seeing her Warder crushed beneath the onslaught and feeling her soul cry out in anguish as the Bond snapped. Failing in missions for the White Tower, betraying trust. And worse.

 

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

 

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

 

She had passed the Accepted Test.

 

●

 

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

 

Salihna knelt before Arementhe Senican, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat who poured the third chalice of water over her.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

The other Aes Sedai present smiled as well and Salihna was quickly helped into an Accepted’s banded dress.

 

Her smile was radiant.

 

She was Accepted.

 

●

 

Chalor din Togara Evening Tide, Windfinder of the Atha’an Miere sea vessel ‘Ocean Dancer’, watched the skies in the horizon as the ship raced south-eastwards.

 

For a moment her idle thoughts went back to the ship she had served on before, ‘Wavesweeper’ with its Sailmistress Tarah din Coral Rising Wave. They were further north as far as she knew. The Sailmistress had been less than happy when she had been ordered to hand over her accomplished Windfinder to the new Sea Folk vessel, but orders were orders and she had acquired a new Windfinder for her beloved ship. The ‘Ocean Dancer’ was a larger and sturdier vessel, however, and faster which served Issandra’s purpose well. Shrugging off those idle thoughts, she stared into the distance, her mind focusing on more important matters.

 

She was Weaving the Wind, using thick weaves of Water and Air, to speed the vessel onwards. As always she masked some of her power and ability; she did not want to arouse suspicion with her capabilities as a Windfinder.

 

A little while later, Issandra’s mind centered on the previous night’s meeting with Vanahl.

 

She had been commanded to meet with him in the World of Dreams and such a summons could not be denied. However much she hated the arrogance of the man.

 

●

 

“So Issandra”, the Nae’blis had begun, some amusement in his voice, “what are you up to?”

 

“I am doing the Great Lord’s bidding”, she had replied smoothly, “as I presume are you.”

 

The fire in Vanahl’s eyes had intensified at her impish and slightly arrogant tone.

 

“I am told you are heading toward Falme”, Vanahl had added. “I have taken Falme. There is nothing for you here.”

 

She had looked at him, wanting to wipe the smug smile off his face.

 

What do you know of my plans? She had wondered, studying him, keeping her own face neutral.

 

●

 

“We are heading your way because of the rumours of an invasion fleet”, she had said. “Seanchan they call themselves apparently.”

 

The Nae’blis had wondered if she was as unknowing as she appeared, had then replied that the Seanchan would be taken care of. In due course.

 

“They are coming further south, in Tanchico.” Vanahl had added. “They think they are strong but they are weak. They will fall beneath our wrath. When it is time.”

 

Issandra had listened in silence, storing the things he said in her mind. “I am glad you are so well informed”, she had lied, envious of his sources of information. “But we all do as we must.”

 

“Do not oppose me, Issandra!” the Nae’blis had retorted, his voice harsh. “That would be a dangerous path to take.”

 

The glowing orbs of his eyes had intensified once again, flames burning. As always, she had felt unease at the power in those eyes. She knew he was much stronger in the One Power than her and she had to take care with her barbs. He was partially sane at best and one never knew what he might do if provoked.

 

“Oh, I would never oppose you, Vanahl”, she had replied, unable to completely remove the spite in her voice. “You need not concern yourself with me. I obey my commands.”

 

She had promised she would stay clear of Falme and take care of things with the Sea Folk.

 

“See that you do”, the Nae’blis had said before she had opened the gateway and left the partially flickering room in Tel'aran'rhiod.

 

He had watched the disappearing gateway for a long time, wondering how much or rather how little Issandra could be trusted.

 

When finally he had opened his own gateway and stepped into elsewhere, he had already decided that she had to be dealt with at some point regardless of her actions.

 

●

 

Arrogant bloody man!

 

Standing at the bow of the ship now, Issandra pushed irritated thoughts of Vanahl away and stared at the azure-blue waters of the Aryth Ocean. She was considering how to approach the current situation now that she knew that the Seanchan invaders were further south. If she told the Sailmistress what she knew, she would naturally be asked how she knew, and that she would be unable to answer. She needed to stay cloaked within the figure of Chalor din Togara Evening Tide until this mission was completed. Perhaps she could advise the Sailmistress, a grey-haired staunch woman called Salis din Sharama Three Stars, to head toward land north of Falme? Thereby she could go ashore and pretend to come across the information without stepping on Vanahl’s toes as it were. The more she thought about it the more this plan seemed to be the most feasible.

 

The decision made in her mind, she wove the winds so the far-away storm came toward them instead of turning it away, and used this as a pretence for heading toward land. Salis din Sharama Three Stars looked a little dubious, wondering why her Windfinder could not work the weather so they could pass the storm at a distance, but was convinced in the end, the safety of her ship always most important to her, when her Windfinder added that it could be that there would be useful rumours to be had ashore, and so a win-win situation.

 

Heading east they made landfall that same evening and Chalor din Togara Evening Tide was happy to report to the Sailmistress some hours later that she had come across credible information that the invaders, the Seanchan, were further south in Tanchico and they were a huge fleet. There was trouble in Falme as well, not with these Seanchan but some local strife, so it was best to stay away from there. Salis din Sharama Three Stars agreed after some persuasion and ordered that they head north again as soon as the storm passed to inform the Mistress of the Ships. The minor Compulsion Issandra had used on the Sailmistress helped of course.

 

As ‘Ocean Dancer’ sped northwards again a couple of days later, Issandra considered how this change would affect her plans. Her main purpose was to weaken the Sea Folk and make sure they did not join the boy Dragon in the coming conflict. Perhaps having the Atha’an Miere do battle with the Seanchan would further that purpose, but she had no such orders as of yet and would bide her time.

 

She would succeed with her plans. There was no other option.

 

●

 

“Where is my Queen?!” The King shouted and banged his hand on the table. “Where is she?”

 

Lord Rhemar stared back the Arad Doman Monarch silently.

 

The King paced back and forth for a long time, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

 

Elihna Tharan a’Satirelde, beloved Queen of Arad Doman, had disappeared and was nowhere to be found. The King had sent out a hundred men to look for her in the Capital but without success. No one could report even a whisper of anyone having seen her anywhere.

 

“She cannot just disappear into thin air”, the King continued, a desperate glint in his eyes. “Advise me, Rhemar”, he added as he stopped pacing and stared out of one of the huge windows in his private chambers that faced the royal gardens.

 

Sinam, in the guise of Lord Rhemar, shrugged. “We have looked everywhere”, he lied. “We have done everything we can. There is every possibility that she has somehow been abducted. Perhaps for ransom.”

 

Inside he grinned at the plausibility of what he was saying. They had indeed looked everywhere and she was nowhere to be found just as he had said. Unless you know where to look, of course.

 

“Ransom!? They would take her for ransom?” The King’s voice sounded dubious. “How did they manage to take her in the first place? No one is able to get into the Royal Palace, it is too well guarded.” 

 

“I cannot say”, Lord Rhemar lied again. “They must have found a way.”

 

The King mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, then turned and faced his chief advisor. “She must be found, Rhemar!” He said in a commanding voice. “Leave no stone unturned, she must be found!”

 

Lord Rhemar bowed low, his face serious as the circumstances demanded. “I will do my best, my King”, he lied for the third time, and turned to walk out of the room, his serious face turned away from the Monarch brightening considerably with a broadening grin as he left the chamber.

 

●

 

Serahna watched the Shadowspawn army marching eastwards.

 

A handsome woman with dark wavy hair to her neck, dark eyes and high cheekbones wearing her battle dress, dark of colour with inlays of armour, she stood regally like a Queen as the Captains saluted her walking by.

 

Myrddraal led the legions of Trollocs, shadows of black in front of rows upon rows of Trollocs of all kinds, some with eagle beaks atop human forms, others with wolf muzzles and others again with horned goat faces, but all ferocious and all heavily armed. It was an army to be feared.

 

When the final squad had passed, the Chosen turned away and walked back into the mansion she had occupied. The lady of the house still sat whimpering with terrified eyes in the corner, not daring to look up more than once in a while, while her husband groaned in pain on the floor. His left hand had been cut off and it lay in a pool of blood a few paces away. His arm was bound with a cloth to try and stem the blood flowing but it had been done hurriedly and with little success.

 

He raised his face upwards when he heard steps outside the door but when he saw that it was her his head sank to the floor again in abject misery. Serahna looked at the pitiful man and wondered at how weak men were in this day and Age. He had refused to divulge information about the local Lord of this region and had paid the price.

 

Instead of lying there feeling sorry for yourself, she thought disgustedly, you should be happy you just lost a hand, not your head.

 

●

 

“I will ask you again”, the Chosen said as she came to stand before him. “Where is the Lord of this region?” The man mumbled that he did not know, groaning at the pain that came from his hand or rather where his hand had been.

 

“That is not good enough.” She spoke softly but there was anger in her dark eyes. “Shall I cut off your other hand as well?”

 

The man whimpered and begged her not to.

 

She looked down at him disdainfully. Either he was very strong, withstanding the torture, or he simply did not know. Serahna suspected it was the latter. All they knew was that the local Lord had disappeared, probably gone into hiding as the Shadowspawn army was approaching. She wanted to find him and execute him publicly, it would bring fear to the Lords further east in Kandor and make their eastward march swifter. Shaking her head, she decided that there was nothing more to learn here.

 

Putting the old couple out of their misery, she slit the man’s throat with a thin weave of Saidar and used another lethal weave to make the lady’s heart stop.

 

Rest in peace, she thought scornfully.

 

Heading out of the Borderland mansion, she walked across to where her horse was tethered to a pole. It suited her purposes to stay close to the army for the moment and to be seen - and so she rode behind the army atop her white mare as they headed into eastern Kandor.

 

●

 

 

Deleyhna removed the shield that Arahna Sedai had placed between Adriahna and the Source and replaced it with a Domination Band around the young Blue’s neck.

 

The Aes Sedai was only partly conscious and aware of what was happening there she lay on the settee in Deleyhna’s private chamber in Caemlyn. 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, that in what they now called the Age of Legends.

 

It was a Ter’angreal used to control channelers. There was a male version and a female version and this one controlled women who could channel wielding Saidar. It consisted of the necklace or collar and a bracelet, leashless and practical, where the controller or leash holder used the bracelet, and the controlled or leashed wore the collar. They had been made during 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. Deleyhna 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, but Deleyhna and others of like mind had scoffed at the reluctance and had seen the value of this Ter’angreal.

 

●

 

Adriahna 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. You are caught like a mouse in a trap.”

 

The woman’s voice was hard but also filled with amusement.

 

Adriahna felt dread in her soul as she tried to take in her circumstance. Where was she? And who was this unknown woman in that seductive lavender dress with dark red, wavy auburn hair and glittering emerald eyes?

 

Then as her arm slowly moved to her chest 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, Deleyhna spoke. Her voice was as cold as the metal around the Young Blue’s neck.

 

“That, my child, is a Domination Band. It is a Ter’angreal that gives me the power to control your channeling. To control you in all ways actually.”

 

Adriahna felt shivers run down her spine and despite her Aes Sedai training fear overtook her.

 

●

 

Delayhna saw the fear in the young Blue’s eyes and thought scornfully how weak Aes Sedai were in this new Age.

 

“It means 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.”

 

Horror crept into Adriahna Sedai’s eyes. This was worse than being shielded as she had been by Arahna. 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.

 

She had never heard of such a Ter’angreal that could do that. 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 terror at the desperate situation she was in. It was all like some horrible nightmare that she waiting to snap out of.

 

Deleyhna watched the young Sister but there was no pity in her eyes. She let her move her hands and arms for the moment, enjoying 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, here is what happens if you try.”

 

An avalanche of pain hit the young Blue and it was as if a thousand needles stabbed her at the same time. She screamed inside, again and again and again, 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.

 

●

 

It took a very long time for her to raise her tear-stricken eyes to the Black Sister, for it had to be a Black Aes Sedai, who else would do this to her? When she did, she was almost unable to meet the other woman’s eyes, echoes of pain still reverberating through her.

 

The Chosen looked at her victim for long moments before speaking again.

 

Outside, Twilight was descending on the Andoran Capital. The Queen would be in bed early as she usually was, a routine Deleyhna as her advisor had encouraged. The men of the Queen’s Council would also be out of the Royal Palace by now. Deleyhna had some more matters to sort before the evening was over, but just now the young Blue had her attention.

 

“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.”

 

She is speaking to me as if I were a small child, the young Blue thought in indignation. I am no longer a novice! But she held her tongue, and with a dry raspy voice asked the first question that came to mind.

 

“Who are you, Aes Sedai? And why I am here?”

 

Her voice sounded weak to her ears, little more than a whisper, but it was a relief to be able to speak if even only for a short while.

 

“Who am I?” Deleyhna replied rhetorically. “I am no Aes Sedai!” she said with a sneer. Then her calm returned and she added with a lopsided grin, “You can call me Mistress Malah. And from this moment on your name is Lita. Be a nice little child, Lita.”

 

She leaned over and patted the young Blue on the head as if she were a pet. Adriahna’s face reddened in shame and indignation but when she began to protest she realized speech was cut off for her once again. Her eyes teared up again, her soul crying in anguish.

 

“As for why you are here”, the Chosen added after a long pause, her eyes narrowing shrewdly, “you will help me secure something that is mine, something that belongs to me.”

 

Her emerald eyes glittered in eager anticipation.

 

▀▄

 

 

.. From Twilight into Darkness, the Shadow Never Sleeps ..

►▼◄

 

The afternoon sun sent rays of shining light across the Ghealdan Capital of Jehannah.

 

It was a city of many sights and wonders though not on the scale of the most majestic cities on the continent like Caemlyn, Ebou Dar and Tar Valon. The swift-flowing River Boern ran through the city, meandering as it passed the different districts of the Capital. Upon the river boats of different sizes drifted daily northwards or southwards on errands of trade and other services and at its northern end the ancient Jhira Bridge towered over its blue-black waters.

 

From the bridge the splendour of the Jheda Palace could be seen in the distance, the Royal Palace of the King. Gazing toward the palace, the beggar’s piercing blue eyes glinted. Clothed in rags he leaned back toward the railing in an unconcerned posture as merchants swept by in horse-drawn carriages and townsfolk walked by giving him disdainful looks. It amused him to smile back at them, knowing full well that he could snuff out their lives if he wanted. It was an idle thought but somewhat enticing, as one particularly arrogant man glared and almost spat at him in disgust as he passed by, but the beggar had more important things to do. Not that he had not already carried out parts of his plan. Vinadel grinned darkly as he thought of the Ghealdan King’s 'unfortunate' death.

 

●

 

He had sent the Darkhound to kill the Monarch and of course King Gerard was no more. A Darkhound never failed in its mission. He pictured in his mind the moment of shock the King must have felt when he found the Darkhound in his private quarters.. quite the surprise indeed. He would have had only moments to consider his predicament before the beast would have been upon him, sinking its deadly jaws into his body. You shouldn’t have been so ambitious, Gerard. Once Vinadel had learned of the King’s plans to enlarge the Legion of the Wall - for of course he had spies in the King’s household - it had become necessary to remove him. Vinadel needed Ghealdan weak for what was to come and strengthening the Legion did not serve the purpose of the Shadow. My purpose.

 

He had long had his eye on Ghealdan but rather than setting himself up as an advisor to the King he had chosen to establish himself in Altara and watch from the shadows. Only Divara knew of his activities here and that was an arrangement of necessity. She also had certain.. interests in Ghealdan and so it suited them both to play their game in Jehannah. He knew she wondered why he moved about dressed as a beggar and not as a nobleman, but she would not understand if he told her it amused him to do so and it let him walk about in certain.. quarters without attracting undue attention. He enjoyed surprising people and actions like this easily made others underestimate him. That was never wise. Not at all.

 

Shifting his gaze from the palace to a river boat drifting idly by the Chosen thought about the next part of his plan. Weakening the Legion further would be prudent. He had an idea how to do so. And approaching certain.. nobles with propositions could cause further political chaos in the nation. Perhaps another death would add to the instability.

 

His grin widened greedily.

 

Yes, there was still work to be done in Ghealdan.

 

●

 

“NO, I CANNOT!”

 

Adriahna Sedai’s scream tore through the chamber as she stared belligerently at the White Tower Oath Rod and the knife. Her soul cried out in pain as she understood that she would not be able to make a choice.

 

Arahna Sedonai Sedai, Blue Ajah-Head, stared resignedly at her former Ajah’s newest Sister while the Green Sister and the Red shook their heads, their eyes hardening by the minute.

 

Adriahna’s tear-stricken face raised to face theirs.

 

“You can kill me but I will not betray the Light!” The conviction in her voice was clear. “I will not.”

 

There was a long silence - and then Arahna Sedai sighed.

 

“So be it.”

 

Her voice was emotionless but it was clear that the sentence had been passed.

 

The knife that lay beside the young Blue floated from the floor, borne on winds of Saidar, to point straight at her heart. She stared at it silently as it hovered in the air before her - and waited for her life to end.

 

One moment.. two.. three..

 

And then..

 

“STOP!”

 

●

 

The powerful command came from the doorway and the knife moving speedily toward its target was stopped in mid-air a few inches from the young Blue’s body.

 

Her eyes closed and turned downwards as she realized she had been holding her breath.

 

The woman who entered was cloaked in a shimmering light, making it impossible to see who it was, but raising her tearful eyes to look at the newcomer Adriahna’s mouth opened wide as she saw the aura of Saidar that enveloped the other. She had never seen anyone this strong in the One Power and that included the Amyrlin Seat. Gobsmacked her eyes widened even further when she saw all three Aes Sedai bow humbly before the shimmering figure.

 

“Great Mistress!” they said in unison, their voices abject.

 

The figure seemed to nod slightly and then to turn to study the young Blue Sister. Adriahna could still not make out who she was, even her dress was impossible to make out. Her aura of power was so strong that Adriahna was almost unable to comprehend it.

 

“So this is our young Blue”, the woman in the shimmering light said. Her voice was cloaked in some way also, because it sounded like the voice of three different women speaking at the same time. “You are a stubborn one, child.”

 

Adriahna stayed silent, still taken aback but at the same time wondering who this incredibly powerful Aes Sedai could be. Could it be the Head of the Black Ajah in the Tower? The thought made the young Blue’s skin crawl.

 

“She will not swear”, Arahna Sedai said matter-of-factly. “It is better she is killed here and now. There are others we can turn.”

 

“Not so quick, Arahna”, the figure in shimmering light replied. There was amusement in the voice now. “I will take care of this one personally”.

 

“Yes, Great Mistress!” the three Aes Sedai replied. They would obey and not question this change of plan. It was safest that way.

 

Adriahna only had a moment to take in what was being said and what it implied before she blacked out.

 

●

 

Arahna Sedai and the two other Sisters left the chamber as commanded leaving the unconscious young Blue in the Chosen’s care.

 

The figure in shimmering light studied the unconscious woman on the floor and her shrewd smile widened. Deleyhna dismantled the Weave of Illusion surrounding her, then promptly opened a gateway there in the chamber and dragged the young Blue through to the other side before closing the gateway behind her.

 

Her smile broadened at the thought of Divara’s shock when she discovered that she had been played, that another of the Chosen had pretended to be her in her White Tower and had stolen her prisoner. She would not be best pleased. Far from it.

 

The thought made Deleyhna chuckle inside as Twilight descended on the Andoran Capital of Caemlyn.

 

●

 

Kharin stared gleefully at the severed head of the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light on top of the long pole that had been placed on top of the castle wall for everyone to see. The cold blue eyes of the former Whitecloak leader stared sightlessly out at the barricades that had been erected around the area surrounding the Fortress of Light. The Chosen, watching through the eyes of the Amo’hra, leader of the Ayyad, nodded contentedly as she saw the Sharan legions, accompanied by women channelers, forming in the huge courtyard. They had been brought through gateways the day before, together with wagonloads of provisions, and now several thousand Sharan elite soldiers protected the stronghold and were ready to conquer the Capital Amador. And then we will kill some more men. The thought made Kharin’s eyes glint in satisfaction and hunger.

 

She had never questioned the extreme urge she had to bring pain upon men.

 

I will never forget.

 

It had all started when she was ten and she had been brutally raped by her uncle. She had lived in fear for many months after that occurrence and shame and inner pain had turned to anger and self-loathing and finally to madness though she would never admit that to anyone, never mind herself. What she had slowly developed was an urge to hurt men, because men were hateful beings who could hurt girls like her and her hate grew as she became older. When she was fourteen she killed her uncle, watching him die slowly and painfully from the fifteen knife wounds she had given him. No one had believed her when she had told of his rape of her four years earlier and no one believed her now as she explained that she had seen him stab himself fifteen times over. No one ever believed her and she did not care when she was put in a home for criminal children. She had had her revenge and her uncle would never hurt anyone again. The thought made her feel very happy. In her new home, however, she was beaten and molested regularly by some of the male attendants and it only confirmed her belief that all men were evil and worthy of punishment. She slit one of the male attendants’ throat before escaping from the home one late evening.

 

Months of flight and hardships followed until she finally managed to settle down in a small village in northern Tarabon, taken in by a kind old woman of small means but a big heart. It was there some months later that by seeming chance she was found by Aes Sedai looking for girls who could channel. Kharin had had some dizzy spells on occasion in the past year but had never thought much of it, her other pains - physical and mental - much greater. Now she was being told she was one of those born with the One Power and it had to be trained and nurtured for her to survive. She was promptly carried off to the White Tower and a young Kharin had little say in the matter. She had no notion of Aes Sedai or the One Power but the thought of becoming powerful and therefore being able to put fear into the souls of all men was deliciously enticing and kept her going and striving toward that goal in the years that followed. With training she calmed her occasional erratic behaviour and kept her madness from her teachers, hiding her vicious thoughts from everyone. In the darkness of the night, however, she gleefully thought of hurting men, killing men who were evil in their nature.

 

She would kill them all.

 

●

 

Nerine ni Zethere e’Zahr, Protector of the Lances, Queen of Saldaea knelt abjectly on the floor of her own Hall like a peasant, swallowing her indignation and humiliation.

 

It was outrageous, but there was nothing she could do about the situation at the moment. There were five - 5! - male channelers here in her Royal Palace right now and she was shamed to admit she was fearful. Who knew what these half-mad men could do.. and they were supposedly led by the Dragon Reborn.. All her advisors had argued that this was just another False Dragon and that she should show strength and defy him.. fools the lot of them! She could hear several of them whimpering in fear there they knelt deeply on the floor a little in front of her and despite her own unease she grinned inside. They deserved nothing better, those fools!

 

Once she got the chance she would have to sort this veritable mess with this.. Dragon.

 

The name gave her shivers, she could not help herself.. his army was outside her walls and with these channeling men at his side she was beat. And he knew it.

 

There was some banging on the doors to the Hall but no one was able to enter. The channeling men - Asha’man they called themselves - were obviously using the One Power to stop anyone from interfering. There was silence now as the foreigners studied the kneeling advisors and the kneeling Queen. The Queen felt the Dragon Reborn’s eyes on her and she caught her breath. Daring for a moment to peek up at him she saw that he and the others were normal sized again, understanding that their previous enormous height when they had entered had been a trick. She had been utterly speechless when she had seen them, first thinking they were Shadowspawn come to destroy her, then understanding it was the Dragon Reborn and fellow channelers. She had fallen on her knees before she was even aware of it.

 

She pushed her gaze down again, abjectly and humbly, so as to not provoke the young man. At the same time she wondered whether he was there to invade her nation, to take power, or perhaps to strike a deal. None of her advisors had thought it likely that he would come in strength to propose an alliance, but perhaps they were wrong. On the other hand, if he was here to propose some sort of deal, why had he humiliated her in this way? Then again, she guessed she had not given him much of a choice, arrogantly and defyingly closing the gates for him.

 

The silence lengthened as she remained kneeling and she waited for the young man to speak, hoping she would live to see the night.

 

●

 

Raphael walked onto the black slopes of Shayol Ghul, the gateway closing behind him.

 

He shuddered in spite of himself.

 

He had been summoned to appear before the Great Lord.

 

Above, dark clouds almost hid the sky, hiding the mountain’s peak. Thunder rolled and flashes of lightning came in several directions in the barren valley, up as well as down, and the slopes were near-cloaked by soft mists.

 

Releasing the One Power immediately, the man with blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a handsome face atop a tall broad-shouldered body, wearing a dark blue cloak with white fringes and symbols down the side, shifted his eyes to the opening in the rocks some way off to his right. He felt diminished without the One Power, yearning for its brilliant intoxicating sweetness as always.. but here it was too dangerous. To even think of embracing Saidin so close to the Great Lord would be to embrace Death itself.

 

The Chosen remembered well how this place had looked in the Age that had been his, before the Long Sleep. It had been an idyllic island in a cool sea, far from the bitter cold and desolate place it had become. How the world has changed..

 

Casting those idle thoughts away, he focused on the business at hand. He needed his wits about him when summoned by the Great Lord. More shivers ran down his spine, part excitement, but mostly dread. Few things in life frightened him - but this did.

 

He had to be careful here. Very very careful.

 

●

 

Stepping toward the opening in the mountain, he passed silently by the two unmoving Myrddraal that guarded either side of the rock entrance. Inside the path slanted gradually downwards, the tunnel floor marked by the passage of feet over time. As he walked Raphael felt the coldness from above slowly diminish and after a while it was replaced by warmth and heat coming from ahead. A dim light shone from crystals and minerals in the walls but the Chosen paid them no mind as he followed the downward-sloping corridor. As he neared his destination, the heat increased and jagged spikes hung down from the ceiling like pillars of warning, giving the impression that one was walking into a dangerous predator’s forbidden lair. The tunnel opened at last onto a wide ledge which stood above a lake of molten stone with dancing flames. Upward there was only a great hole that reached up the mountain into.. elsewhere..

 

This was the Pit of Doom.

 

Raphael felt momentary awe penetrate his dread and it was like it had been on his first visit here 4000 years ago when he had pledged his soul to the Shadow and taken the unbreakable Oath. Here he sensed the Bore, the hole that had been drilled through to the Great Lord’s prison all those many years ago. Here he felt the Great Lord’s closeness to the world and beads of sweat now ran down his forehead and chin, and it was not only from the heat.

 

There was a soft hum in the air but he could not pin point where it came from. Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. Time was meaningless here and he could not tell how long he had stood there when suddenly the air around him.. shifted. It was the only way he could describe it. There was no wind here and nothing different in what he could see with his eyes, or hear but his senses felt.. something.

 

His eyes widened, goosebumps running down both his arms..

 

And then..

 

 

RAPHAEL

 

●

 

Pain and ecstasy co-mingled in his brain and it was like an explosion of awareness and emotion as the voice crashed through his head like an avalanche.

 

 

Every single hair on his body now stood on end, every single nerve tingling, and he did not know whether to shout endlessly in glee or cry in horror.

 

 

ARE YOU LOYAL, RAPHAEL

 

With the almost cataclysmic emotions crashing through him the Chosen was unable to breathe, never mind answer. He tried to take a breath but was unable to. Fear made his blue eyes widen and his hands clenched as he fought for life. His lungs cried for sustenance. For air.

 

For survival.

 

An eternity of pain, a moment in time..

 

..and then.. death released its clutches on him and he could breathe again.

 

●

 

Falling to his knees, tears streaming down his face, his whole body shook as he coughed and slowly pulled air into his lungs. Finally he managed to raise his tear-stricken face, shrugging off the shame he felt at his weakness.

 

 

“I have always been loyal to you, Great Lord!”, Raphael replied when he had regained his breath. “I am always ready to do your bidding.”

 

YES YOU ARE.

 

The pain continued throughout his body but it was tinged by sweetness.. an impossible combination but true even so. His arm started shaking again and he struggled to make it stop.

 

Was there amusement in the Great Lord’s tone? He could not tell. The voice that was not a voice echoed still in his mind.

 

He waited for the Great Lord to say something more but for a while there was nothing but quiet.

 

●

 

Then, the silence in his mind was finally broken.

 

THE CHOSEN SPREAD CHAOS IN MY SERVICE. THEY PLOT AND THEY CONQUER. SO DO YOU. BUT ONLY THE STRONGEST WILL SURVIVE. ARE YOU STRONG ENOUGH, RAPHAEL?

 

The question crashed through his mind and he almost blacked out. He screamed in pain for what felt like an eternity.. then opened his eyes - had they been closed!? - and tried to form words and a sentence. It was difficult but finally he managed to whisper..

 

“I am strong enough, Great Lord.”

 

He did not want to appear weak before the Great Lord of the Dark but he was unable to stop the pain and the shudders that ran through his body. - Was he on his knees again? Had he been standing!?- Everything became confusing for the Chosen and he tried desperately to gain his bearings.

 

WOULD YOU BE NAE’BLIS?

 

●

 

The Chosen’s eyes widened and he tried to think coherently as a tidal wave of pain crashed through him.

 

He was dumbfounded for a moment, uncertain what to reply. He was sure the Great Lord could read his mind and sense his panic. For what could he say? To speak against Vanahl here could result in his death. But at the same time he longed to admit his hidden secret, that he indeed wanted to be Nae’blis and thought he deserved the title. The Great Lord would discover if he lied, he was sure of it. Conflicting emotions tore through him and he was unable to decide.

 

He screamed again and was falling.. falling.. and then he opened his eyes and found himself on the ground, his whole body shivering..

 

Raising his head he tried to find the strength to get up again but was unable at first. His heart was racing and he was finally, after some struggle, able to get on his knees. Gazing upward, he sealed his fate.

 

“Yes, Great Lord. If that is your wish.”

 

Another long silence followed.

 

Then..

 

IT MUST BE EARNED. ONLY THE ONE MOST WORTHY WILL RULE ONE STEP BELOW ME.

 

Raphael tried to catch his breath, brushing away the tears on his face. His mind was a swirl of emotions.

 

YOU MUST SHOW YOUR WORTH, RAPHAEL. THIS IS WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO.

 

●

 

The Chosen listened to the Great Lord’s commands, his eyes widening at the audacity of the plan, trying at the same time to stop the storm of dizzying pain that crashed through him from knocking him out.

 

As the final command was given Raphael felt a soaring but also agonizing ecstasy flood his senses and his entire body for a long moment.. until he finally blacked out.

 

▀▄

 

.. Schemes and Secrets and Dark Reflections ..

►▼◄

 

The man walked the streets of Jehannah as if he did not have a care in the world.

 

He was dressed like a beggar, in rags, but his piercing azure-blue eyes had an intelligence which did not fit a beggar, neither here in Jehannah, Capital of the great nation of Ghealdan, nor anywhere else for that matter. His gait, his manner of walking, was not that of a typical beggar either. He walked with the relaxed confidence of a soldier or a nobleman. He did not seem to care that to any experienced eye he would look conspicuous as he headed down one street and up another. His light-brown hair was cut in the typical style of the region but that was the only thing that did look local on this man.

 

He was certainly far from what he appeared to be, but it suited his purposes to dress as he did and to walk as he did. The ‘beggar’ rounded a corner, the dust swirling in the street from a horse and carriage that had just passed, and almost ran into a lady who had just come out of a local shop. He excused himself as he had to walk around her but in that instant their eyes met and anyone watching closely would have seen the apparent recognition in both their eyes. The lady, a blond-haired woman of middling years with green eyes and high cheekbones dressed in the fashion of the local nobility, watched the man continue down the street and then turned to talk to her male companion who seemed not to have noticed anything. She smiled inside, amused as always at how gullible men were. As the man took the lady’s arm in his, Divara stared imperiously at everyone as they walked past several shops and a local smithy. She enjoyed playing a local noblewoman. She wondered though if Vinadel enjoyed walking around in those beggar’s clothes though.

 

These were interesting times indeed.

 

●

 

The nation of Ghealdan stretched from the Great Blackwood, along the southern banks of the River Manetherendrelle, to the River Eldar in the south, and from the Mountains of Mist in the west to the immense ridge known as Garen's Wall in the east. Its Capital city was Jehannah, located on the banks of the River Boern. Ghealdan was a land of mountains and foothills in the west, the rocky lands along the ridge in the east, and large swathes of forest in between, such as the Dhallin Forest. Though one of the smallest Kingdoms, Ghealdan was a proud one and none more so than its current ruler and King, Gerard Aspel Segarin. He was advised by the Crown High Council, which consisted of lords and merchants, at least formally, but in truth he made most decisions on his own, at least most of the time, aided by his close advisors. He thought it only right. He was the King after all. And those old fools on the Crown High Council were just interested in intrigues and political gain anyway, they did not care much for ruling the nation.

 

King Gerard was in his early fifties and his once dark brown hair had streaks of grey now. His physical strength was weaker and his body fatter than it had once been as well and his face more worn. Even so he had a warm smile that won over any doubters and he had a good head on his shoulders. At least he was convinced of that himself. He chuckled as he walked down the corridor to his private chambers in the Royal Palace. He had had a great idea which he knew would infuriate the Council. He would triple the size of the Legion of the Wall! His grin grew as he anticipated the lords’ and merchants’ reaction to this bold new move.

 

Oh they will hate it, for sure! he thought with glee.

 

●

 

As a small country, Ghealdan did not possess a substantial standing army. Instead it had a small, professional force - the Legion - which protected the borders, policed Jehannah, and protected the ruler. In times of war the Legion formed the core of the Ghealdanin war effort and trained new levies to support its operations. In recent years the Legion had become less and less effective, however, since the Council in their endless wisdom had decided that the money could be better spent elsewhere in these peaceful times and the King though opposed had been advised to not push the matter. Now chaos was erupting everywhere according to the secret reports he received from his agents domestically and abroad and there would be need for a bigger Legion. He did not feel confident the Council would agree though, he knew they would call it  unsubstantiated rumours and would argue and stall the whole matter for months if they had their way, and so he was taking matters into his own hands. The thought excited him. Finally he would take the initiative and damn them if they didn’t like it!

 

Stepping into his private chambers, he immediately sensed that he was not alone. He did not see anyone there as he closed the door behind him but he felt eyes on him. Turning full circle his eyes searched for the intruder. His good mood was slowly evaporating but he did not feel any fear. No one who would want to harm the King would be allowed into the Palace, never mind his private room. It was probably his boy, Prince Cynric, who was hiding somewhere in the chamber. He had been told many times that he was not allowed in here, but telling a boy of eight such a thing only made him even more eager to try.

 

●

 

Sighing to himself, he looked more closely toward the wardrobe at the end of the room by the southern wall, thinking that that was the most probable hiding place for the boy.

 

“Alright Cynric”, he finally said with exasperation. “How many times have I told you not to come in here?”

 

His statement was met with silence.

 

“Alright, come out now”, the King demanded in a louder voice, tired of playing this game.

 

Still there was only silence.

 

Behind him though he suddenly heard a sound, a strange sound.. almost as if it were from an.. animal.. a predator..

 

Turning slowly, the hairs on his neck rising, sensing true danger for the first time, he just had a moment to realize that there was a creature of great size by the huge writing table on the left side of the room before the Darkhound, darker than night, eyes shining silver, and double the size of a wolf, leapt at him and sank its poisonous corrosive saliva-dripping jaws into his neck, ripping out his throat.

 

The King’s last bewildered thought before he descended into eternal blackness was that now he would never be able to increase the size of the Legion of the Wall after all.

 

●

 

Gerehl looked at the dark-haired, high cheek boned man with a semi-dark complexion seated opposite him in the chamber, wanting what he had. The title of Nae’blis. The power to rule the Chosen. At least as much as one could rule such a bunch of dangerous scheming backstabbing power hungry channelers. Vanahl’s eyes were pools of fire and they studied the other Chosen just as carefully. Gerehl had never understood why Vanahl had kept that scar that ran down his left cheek, but then again one could hardly understand anything that man did anyway. Now those pools of fire tried to draw him in and Gerehl had to focus hard to avoid it. Both men held onto Saidin of course, and it frustrated him always to know that Vanahl was the stronger in the One Power.

 

“And why did you go against my orders and involve yourself in the boy Dragon?”. The Nae’blis asked in an impatient voice, repeating the question.

 

“I have done nothing”, Gerehl replied, irritated that Vanahl was making such a big deal out of things. “All I did was mention to the other High Lords in Tear that the boy Dragon might come there next. They are highly skeptical towards the Dragon Reborn in any case, so what I said did not make much of a difference.”

 

It was a half-truth but it would have to do. They were indeed skeptical when it came to the Dragon Reborn and Aes Sedai, so were most people in Tear, but he had of course deliberately fanned the flames with his action in that council meeting. It suited his personal plans, not that he had any intention of telling Vanahl of them.

 

The Nae’blis studied him closely, doubtful that Gerehl was telling the truth. His own agents in the South had informed him that High Lord Istoril, who Gerehl was masquerading as, had made a speech in the council which had apparently made quite a stir. A speech about the Dragon Reborn. The Nae’blis was fed up with many of the Chosen disregarding his orders. Already some of them - he still did not know who - had made attempts to interfere with the boy Dragon and here Gerehl might have plans to do the same. Vanahl wanted to set an example but he dared not risk a full confrontation with Gerehl. That could turn very.. nasty. Even so, he needed to know if Gerehl was a threat to his own plans.

 

●

 

“So you say”, the Nae’blis replied smoothly, his tone reflecting that he did not believe him. “But should I believe you?”

 

Gerehl stared past Vanahl for a moment as the painting on the wall flickered, becoming momentarily almost transparent before returning to apparent solidity. They were in Tel'aran'rhiod, the Unseen World, so this was not an unusual occurrence. The chamber mirrored Gerehl’s private chamber in Tear and he loved that painting. It depicted a Borderland battle scene from the Trolloc Wars or so it was assumed. He had been surprised to find such a painting in his quarters there in the South, but something about it.. captivated him. Staring at this mirror-image of the painting now made him think of his younger days when he had wanted to become a soldier and a commander of soldiers. The military academy had not accepted his application, however, and this was a cause for bitterness which had stayed with him. Anger and envy had slowly built in him and when he was in his early twenties he decided to become a teacher of children in order to have his revenge: he would make sure those children became bad people, people who would never be accepted into the military either.

 

He soon found that he found a perverse kind of joy and satisfaction in making other peoples’ lives a misery and his constant bitterness turned nasty and vicious and cruel. Punishing schoolchildren for the smallest thing became a pleasure for him, he became good at turning them against each other, making them obsessed with grades, and finally he convinced them to murder a boy, the weakest in the class who he said was stopping them from greatness. And then a girl. And then a few more. All done in secret of course, sealing their silence with a pact, manipulating the children as only he could. Hatred and bitterness finally turned him to the Shadow as well, when he was discovered and put on trial by the other Aes Sedai and managed to escape before his execution, bowing down before the Great Lord in Shayol Ghul, pledging his soul for eternity. Among other Dreadlords he would not be scorned for his abilities and vicious enthusiasm, rather they would be encouraged, and in time he rose to the rank of Chosen and a new life. However, he could not become a military commander for the Shadow in the War of Power because of his lacking military experience - though he became a very good recruiter of Darkfriends - and if there was one vital thing he missed in his life, that was it.

 

●

 

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, echoes of his former life still swirling in the back of his mind, he re-focused on Vanahl’s face and repeated that there was no problem.

 

The Nae’blis studied him some more, trying to get an indication of whether Gerehl was speaking the truth or not. He wished he could use some.. persuasion, but no. He had to trust that this dangerous man would stay away from the boy Dragon. Even so, he would need to keep a better eye on him in the time to come.

 

“Alright, I believe you”, Vanahl lied, far from certain that the other was being honest.

 

“Good. There is nothing to worry about”, Gerehl replied, keeping his thoughts to himself.

 

When the gateway closed behind the Nae’blis, Gerehl turned in his high-backed chair and whispered conspiratorially, “You can come out now.”

 

A figure became visible behind him, ending the weave of invisibility. The figure grinned.

 

“You need to be careful with that weave”, Gerehl said with a small grin. “If Vanahl ever should catch you listening in on a private conversation like this, he will slice you up in tiny bits and have you for dinner.”

 

The figure’s smiled broadened.

●

 

Adriahna stared at the White Tower Oath Rod as if looking at a viper. Her eyes were fearful but she remained stubborn even in the face of death.

 

“I will NOT!” Her defiance was clear and the other Sisters present just stared at each other in silence.

 

She knew that they were capable of killing her; the days of torture had proven that to her, and having sworn new Oaths they were no longer bound by the Oath not to use the One Power as a weapon. But she would not forswear her Oaths to the Light and swear New Oaths to the Shadow.

 

She would not, no matter what! NO!

 

●

 

Arahna Sedai, Head of the Blue Ajah but in fact a Black Sister, shook her head at the young Aes Sedai’s useless stubbornness.

 

“Take the Oath Rod”, she repeated, a little more sternly this time. “Just get it over with. You can then serve as we do and there will no more beatings and interrogations.”

 

The young Blue just shook her head, tears running unashamedly down her cheeks. She would not! Her whole body ached from the beatings and she still tasted blood in her mouth. The One Power had been used on her as well, in very private places, and she had screamed for what had seemed an eternity, all Aes Sedai serenity and calm gone. She had cried like a child. But she had resisted, so far, and that was what counted.

 

Would they kill her now? Perhaps. She was slowly coming to a point where she did not care.

 

Learning that there was a Black Ajah in the White Tower had made her want to throw up. She had heard rumours before but had not really believed them. She could not fathom how any Sisters could embrace and serve the Shadow, it stood against everything the White Tower believed in.

 

●

 

One of the other Sisters present wore a Green shawl around her shoulders and a third Sister wore a Red one. Adriahna knew them all. The Green Sedai, one of the older women in the Tower, had been one of her teachers when she was a novice, a stern but fair teacher. It shocked her to realize that she was Black. She had also seen the Red Sister in the Tower, she was a Sitter as well the young Blue thought, though they had never spoken.

 

“You know what will happen to you if you keep resisting, Adriahna.”

 

Her Ajah Head’s voice was almost maternal as she spoke. It was a bitter irony thought the young Blue.

 

“You will never wake tomorrow”, she added matter-of-factly. “What a waste that would be, don’t you agree?”

 

“I will NEVER join the Shadow. NEVER!” Adriahna said, crying but her voice forceful.

 

My soul is my own.

 

●

 

Arahna Sedai shook her head again and removed a knife from her sleeve.

 

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

 

“The choice is yours”, the Blue Ajah Head said with a frown. “Swear your new Oaths, to your new Master, or the knife will end your life.”

 

Her voice became sterner. “This is your last chance.”

 

The tears kept flowing down Adriahna Sedai’s face as she stared long and hard at that knife.

 

“It is time, Adriahna”, said the Green Sister. It was the first time she had spoken since they had arrived in the secret chamber below the White Tower. “Yes, make the right choice”, the Red Sister joined in.

 

The young Blue dried her tears, the pain in her body hurting her, but the hurt in her soul aching much more.

 

She stared at the Oath Rod and knife in turn, holding her breath, sealing her destiny.

 

●

 

As they followed the military officer towards the Cordamora Palace, the home of the Saldaean Queen, the voice in Ter Sanduahl’s head became more and more aggravated. He wanted to shut it up but it kept whispering about killing and murder and betrayal and he was unable to stop it. He shook his head, wondering if he were truly going mad, and felt an enduring pain in his forehead. His mood was darkening as they headed up a long street, turned into another where people just moved out of their way with wary looks, and finally they saw the Palace in the distance. The combination of the infuriating voice and his headache had him in a sour mood and his temper was worsening as they approached the Palace gates.

 

Two of the Asha’man walking closest to him sensed his unease and exchanged concerned glances. Knowing themselves how difficult it was to keep the Taint from affecting them meaningfully, they watched the Dragon Reborn out of the corner of their eyes as they walked, hoping he was able to stay in control. The military officer spoke to the head of the guards and one of the soldiers there was sent running towards the Palace to inform of the Queen’s ‘visitor’. It seemed that it had been the officer’s intention that they wait until the soldier was back, but Ter Sanduahl had no intention of waiting. He pushed the remaining guards away and headed into the Palace grounds ignoring the shouts from the Saldaean head of guards behind him. The Asha’man followed him without a word, one of them taking up the rear again behind the last of their own soldiers.

 

Coming up to the Palace building, Ter Sanduahl barely gave it a glance and walked straight up the stairs leading to the main entrance where several more uniformed guards waited. One of them carried a lance and stepped in front of the oncoming men but Ter Sanduahl would have nothing of it. He was not in the mood for any more foolishness and told the guard to move aside. When the man protested, Ter Sanduahl just looked at him long and hard and it was obvious that the guard saw something in the tall young man’s blue eyes because he moved aside without another word and so did the other palace guards. The Dragon Reborn and his men entered the Palace and soon came upon the soldier who had been sent there to give word. Ter Sanduahl spoke to him swiftly, somewhat impatiently, and asked him where they could find the Queen. The young soldier said the Queen was busy and could not see them today, but that response only made the Dragon Reborn angry. -Kill him! Kill them all!- the frantic voice in his head whispered, and Ter Sanduahl felt his frustration increase.

 

“The Queen will see me now”, he said in commanding tones. “Whether she wants to or not.”

 

●

 

He began to move resolutely down the corridor and ignored the protestations from the soldier. The Asha’man followed together with the other men. At the end of one corridor which was more ornate than the others, with historical paintings on the walls and what looked like small crystal statues placed at intervals on one side, two more guards waited and these were armed with swords as well as long lances.

 

“You cannot enter!” one of the Royal Guards commanded but his eyes widened in shock as he was pushed to the side by nothing he could see!

 

Ter Sanduahl walked arrogantly past him, one of the Asha’man ending the weave of Saidin as they entered the Royal Hall.

 

The Hall was empty but for a handful of finely dressed male advisors talking to the Queen on her throne at the end of the huge chamber. They all turned and raised their heads in surprise when the party of foreign men entered and walked steadily toward the throne.

 

Their already wide eyes turned huge as dinner plates, mouths agape!, when the four black-coated men and the tall red-haired man in the middle of the group that they were flanking grew in size before their disbelieving eyes becoming twice as tall as any man.

 

Shivers ran down their spines as the men’s voices, amplified by the One Power, boomed out in unison:

 

“We are Asha’man! Kneel before the Dragon Reborn!”

 

●

 

The Lady of Twilight, she walks again. She fights the ancient war that never ends.

She seeks the one that was, that is, that will be. Her lover eternal. Glory forever.

Blood will mark her path. Death will follow, and the Waters will reflect darkness.

O’ Weep for your salvation. Blood shall run in rivers and screams echo ere the end.

 

Found written on an ancient pillar in Tanchico,

 

An excerpt from,

The Prophecies of the Shadow

 

▀▄

 

.. Taking Courage from an Ancient Aes Sedai Queen ..

►▼◄

 

Finally on the second day, on a late morning with sunny rays reflected on the Arinelle river, the main city gate to the Saldaean Capital Maradon opened and a horse and rider appeared.

 

The Lord Dragon, as his commanders had come to call him (he was not overly enthusiastic of the title but his objections had led nowhere so he accepted it), was quickly notified and stood ready to meet the messenger or envoy of the Queen as he presumed it to be.

 

The rider approached carefully and stopped ten or so paces from the assembled men. Beside Ter Sanduahl there were two commanders and an advisor. The rider carried a banner with the sign of Saldaea, three silver fish on a field of dark blue, and when he dismounted he planted the banner on the grassy ground beside him. He was middle-aged with dark hair, slightly slanted eyes and a bold nose and was casually dressed. The Dragon Reborn did not believe the man was of local nobility, but sometimes people were not what they appeared to be. It did not matter anyway. He was obviously a messenger and Ter Sanduahl was very interested to hear the message.

 

The Saldaean man studied the four people waiting before the army camp, trying to pick out the Dragon Reborn. His dark eyes quickly fell on the tall red-haired figure standing in their midst. The other three were older than the young man and he was the only one who suited the description he had been given. That had to be the man. The Saldaean messenger did not know what to think of the young man. He did not look particularly dangerous or threatening, but if he was the Dragon come again, the saviour and destroyer, a half-mad channeler, then it was only to be expected that his Queen was highly sceptical of this man and his army. Or could he be a  false Dragon stirring up trouble? They had enough trouble with Shadowspawn coming down from the Blight in the eastern part of their nation, they did not need any more.

 

●

 

He was not a common messenger, but one of the Queen’s personal advisors whom she had sent to get a better idea of what threat this so-called Dragon Reborn represented. He was to play the part of low-level messenger though and so he came to stand humbly before Ter Sanduahl and gave a bow of respect, handing him the parchment he had been given.

 

“This is a message from the Queen, Sir”, he said simply. “Your reply can be delivered to the city gate and they will make sure she gets it.”

 

With those few words he gave another small bow and then mounted swiftly, taking a good long look at the army camp and how it was set up and what he could see of soldiers and logistics, before riding back to the city gate and disappearing inside the walls.

 

Ter Sanduahl stared after the messenger and rider until he was almost back at the city gate and then shifted his gaze to the parchment in his hand. Opening it carefully, he read what was inside and then sighed. He exchanged glances with the others and they saw from his look that the message had not been what he had hoped for. Informing them that he needed some time to consider his response, he left them and headed for the tent that served as his command quarters. The men and women he passed gave him respectful nods but he did not notice, so preoccupied was he by the message and its contents. When he reached his tent, he nodded to the two guards standing outside and then went inside and directly to his work desk.

 

Why must everything always be so difficult, he thought to himself with another sigh and a frown, as he sat down in his chair, placing the parchment on the small desk before him.

 

●

 

That taunting voice that had come to plague him more and more often buzzed in the back of his mind, whispering of treachery and false messengers. He tried to shut the voice down but as usual he was not successful at first, and it took some time to drive the voice away. He tried not to think too much about what the voice was and what it meant, but it was not easy. Shaking his head, he brushed the echoes of the voice away and studied the short message in the parchment anew.

 

 

 

It simply read:

 

 

We do not welcome invaders to our land.

Nor false pretenders.

 

Leave before it is too late.

 

 

In the light,

 

Nerine ni Zethere e’Zahr

Protector of the Lances

Queen of Saldaea

 

 

 

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and tried to calm his thoughts. Either the Saldaean Queen thought he was a pretender, a false Dragon, or she used it as an excuse so she would not have to meet him. His advisors had told him of political games nobility liked to play, the Game of Houses as they had called it, and he wondered if that was what was going on here. No matter what, with the world moving into chaos, he did not have the time to stay here and wait for the Queen to come to her senses. But neither could he start a war with the country he was attempting to ally with. So what option was there?

 

He asked one of his personal guards to go fetch one of his commanders and the man arrived swiftly. He was well past middle age with grey in his hair but he had a good head for tactics and had proven to be a loyal and dedicated military officer. When he was told by the Lord Dragon about the message from the Queen and asked about his opinion of their options, he answered quickly that there was only one thing to do: to be bold and show that they meant business. Ter Sanduahl listened to his commander’s advice and then dismissed him, spending some time going over the other man’s suggestion. The more he thought about it, the more he agreed it was probably the only way considering the little time they had at their disposal.

 

The Queen would not like it, but she would have to accept it.

 

●

 

Leaving his command tent, he walked across the encampment to where the Asha’man were stationed. There were four of them in the camp and they each wore the Gold and Red Dragon pins of their rank pinned on the right collar of their distinctive black coats, opposite of the silver sword pin. Ter Sanduahl trusted them as much as he was able to trust any other male channeler and needed them for this task since he was literally going into the ‘lion’s den’ as it were. He explained the situation to them and told of his plan, then the five of them walked to the outskirts of the camp where the older military commander waited with six soldiers. All were armed. The Dragon Reborn nodded and the party of twelve mounted their horses and rode in the direction of the city gates.

 

One of the soldiers carried the Dragon Banner which rippled in the wind, making the Red Dragon move as if it were alive.

 

Ter Sanduahl held onto the One Power and could sense that the other Asha’man also were filled with Saidin, or perhaps it was just something he thought he sensed. His channeling teachers had been unclear or ambiguous on the matter, just saying it was different for channeling men than for channeling women. If this went smoothly, then it might not be necessary to use the One Power offensively. However, he would not take any chances or accept any foolishness on the part of the Saldaeans.

 

When they neared the city gates, they saw increased activity on top of the wall and several soldiers were pointing down on them with crossbows. The party of twelve stopped their mounts some way from the city gates. Gazing up at the closest guard on the wall, Ter Sanduahl shouted, using Saidin to amplify his voice:

 

“I am the Dragon Reborn. I am here to talk to your Queen. Open the city gates.”

 

●

 

The guards atop the walls shook their heads. The Captain of the guard sneered disdainfully as he shouted back:

 

“You are not welcome here. Leave while you can.”

 

Ter Sanduahl sighed and shook his head. The small voice in his head reappeared and whispered, -kill them all, kill them all!- but he tried to ignore it. Exchanging a resigned glance with the Asha’man beside him, he gave the prearranged signal. They would have to do this the hard way it seemed. So be it.

 

“Stop this foolishness”, he shouted up to the guards again. “We have come in peace, in the light. But we don’t have time for games. Let us in or face the consequences. This is your last chance.”

 

The Captain of the guard mocked him in reply, shaking his fist in defiance, and gave the order to use the crossbows against them.

 

The Dragon Reborn nodded to the Asha’man beside him and watched as the black coated man raised his hands and threw a fireball at the main city gate, destroying it in a fiery explosion.

 

●

 

Screams of fear and outrage came from the men atop the wall but the arrows they aimed at the black coated group outside the wall were stopped in mid-air. Another of the Asha’man had thrown a protection shield over the group and nothing came through. Heading towards the now open city gate before them, leading his horse carefully, Ter Sanduahl used Air to move everything, rubble and stone, out of his path. Two of the Asha’man rode beside him, also removing any physical obstacles in sight, but making sure no people were harmed as he had commanded them. The other two male channelers brought up the rear behind the soldiers and the commander.

 

Walking through the city gate they headed up the nearest street, a street paved with cobblestones, ignoring the screams and shouts and soldiers running toward them from all sides. The soldiers were thrown back by the shields of Air surrounding the whole group and watched agape as the procession moved slowly towards the city’s centre. The buildings on both sides of the street were low as was often the case here in the Borderlands, not too ornate but practical and sturdy. And none of the people they saw watching - with surprise and uncertainty in their eyes - the procession along their route wore hoods or wide headcloths of any kind, keeping to the Borderland tradition that everything should be transparent, all faces should be seen. They passed a monument of sorts, a huge statue of a crowned woman with a sword in hand facing north, and stopped when they saw a military officer  standing by a local shopwindow pointing at them and swearing furiously.

 

The Dragon Reborn walked slowly up to him and looked at him sternly for a moment.

 

“Take us to the Cordamora Palace”, he commanded. “Right away.”

 

The officer was taken aback, but understood that these men were obviously using the One Power - it was the only explanation for what was going on - and he could not stop them. Biting back the curse he had on his lips, trying to ignore the horror he felt at standing beside channeling men, he simply nodded and bade them follow him.

 

Ter Sanduahl nodded back and followed resolutely with his group of men.

 

Finally he would meet the Saldaean Queen.

 

●

 

The Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, Lord Evrem Santhin, stared hatefully at the woman before him. The 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 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.

 

Kharin the Chosen, in the guise of the Amo’hra, leader of the Sharan Ayyad, stared with hatred but also 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 blooded, 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.

 

“Do your best, witch - you vile Aes Sedai!”, he shouted 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!” Kharin spat back, her mouth twisted sourly. “You are a fool if you think so.”

 

●

 

She could see that this despicable creature of a man did not believe her, but she did not care. He would soon be dead in any case. He had not told her much of use, but the little she had pressured him to say gave her a good overall picture of the Whitecloak defences and what forces they could expect would try and retake the fortress.

 

“I will not replace the gag of Air”, Lord Captain Commander”. She spoke his title with a sneer. “I want to hear you scream.”

 

Her eyes lit up in pleasure as she tortured him some more, his screams increasing in strength as she used her knife on his limbs.

 

She finally tired of the ‘game’ as she saw it and with a final hateful glance at this horrid man she slit his throat, watching with elation as all life left the Lord Captain Commander’s cold blue eyes and the blood ran down his white cloak in streams of crimson.

 

●

 

Elihna Tharan a’Satirelde, Queen of Arad Doman dried her tears and tried to compose herself.

 

Looking at herself in the bedroom mirror she felt she had aged in the week or so since her daughter’s death. Her long brown hair was unkempt and her face looked drawn and tired. She looked thinner than usual in her night dress. Her brown eyes were sorrowful. I look a mess, she thought studying her reflection.

 

She was still devastated by the sudden death of her beloved daughter and her soul cried out in pain. She had avoided her husband in the past days, she just could not face his shared pain. She needed to be on her own to try to come to terms with the fact that her daughter, Athania would never again throw her arms around her in great affection and smile lovingly at her.

 

She felt pain and also anger that this could happen. She knew somehow that she ought to be furious with Lord Rhemar. He was her riding teacher after all and was there when it took place. The responsibility for her safety had been his. But however much she wanted to, she was not able to blame him. Instead she admired him.. she did not really know why she did, but she did.. and knew that he had done everything he could. He was to be commended in fact..

 

Puzzled by her muddled thoughts she removed her night dress and undergarments and threw them on the bed behind her.

 

●

 

She stared at her naked body in the mirror, wishing she were fifteen years younger, her breasts firmer, her tummy smoother. Her fingers traced a line between her breasts going downwards, wondering if her husband, the King, truly found her desirable anymore. Their love-making did not seem to give him any thrills, they were just going through the motions as it were. She loved him, but she had begun to doubt if she could satisfy him the way he deserved.

 

She shifted her gaze upwards again - and her heart almost stopped! as she suddenly saw the image of a man’s face -  a blond-haired, green-eyed attractive but very unfamiliar man with a leering lustful smile - reflected in the mirror behind her.

 

The Queen screamed in shock!

 

Her eyes grew wide in disbelief when she turned quickly, covering herself with her hands, and saw no one else in the bedroom with her. She was agape as she faced the mirror again and saw that she had not imagined it.. the male face was still there, grinning lewdly, eyes indecently fixed on her naked body. Her breath came in short gasps, fear and disbelief enveloping her.

 

When the man stepped out of the mirror, his body moving through the glass as if it were simply air, hands outstretched ready to grab her, her mind could not take it anymore and she fainted.

 

●

 

Banohr opened the gateway and three dozen armed Trollocs, some with boar-snouts, others eagle-beaked or wolf-muzzled, stormed onto the Aiel Waste with a black-caped Myrddraal at their side.

 

The Chosen appeared as Sei’ad, Chief of the Spine Ridge Sept of the Sen’dahl Aiel, tall, red-haired with piercing blue eyes and with his spear in hand. They were on the outskirts of the Aiel village and took the scouts totally by surprise.

 

When they saw their Sept Chief they shouted a greeting, but when the Shadowspawn were upon them, battle-axes flying, they cried out in anger and despair, understanding that they had been betrayed. The Chosen grinned darkly behind the ‘mask’ of the Aiel Chief and closed the gateway behind him. He followed slowly as the Trollocs quickly drove the Aiel men back. They were very able fighters the Aiel, better than most, but against such numbers and such foes they did not stand a chance.

 

Some of the Aiel recognized their Sept Chief and screamed at him to help them, their hopes turning to disbelief and then to horror as they saw him join the Shadowspawn in killing the villagers. Banohr cut down any fighter that came near, sometimes using the spear, sometimes the One Power. He had held back for so long and now he enjoyed the killing spree.

 

●

 

Not far away, the Myrddraal - its eyeless stare striking fear even into staunch Aiel fighters -  tore through the defenders with lightning quick moves, its black-bladed lethal sword - dipped in the black river that ran through Thakan'dar - swinging.

 

Blood flowed in the Aiel village, turning the dry desert ground red, and the screams did not stop until every single Aiel man, woman and child was dead.

 

Banohr nodded to himself with satisfaction and glee once it was all done. This was only one village, one step, but more would follow. Many more.

 

In time, he felt sure, the entire Aiel nation would Fall under the Shadow.

 

●

 

It was early evening as Arementhe Senican, the Amyrlin of the White Tower, leafed through the ancient book and its texts, written by White Tower historians in Ages past, and tried to gain courage.

 

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 was alone in her personal chamber, seated by her work table which was lit by two candle lights, one on each side of her old book. She had been absent-minded all day and had retired to her chamber early, after saying goodnight to her concerned Keeper. There were so many things on her mind and she felt inadequate to the task.

 

What to do about the Dragon Reborn was uttermost in her mind. And she still could not decide. The matter with the Black Tower also made her concerned, and then you had the war fleet with channeling wilders coming out of the west. On top of this there were rumours of war and chaos on the continent, not the least in the Borderlands with the Shadow advancing according to reports.

 

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.

 

●

 

One of the historic Aes Sedai that she had always admired and enjoyed reading about was Eldrene ay Ellan ay Carlan, the last Aes Sedai Queen of lost Manetheren.

 

What would you have done in my place? she wondered contemplatively, as she returned to the chapter in the ancient book about the historic Aes Sedai Queen, one of the greatest of all time or so historians claimed.

 

As she read, the White Tower historian’s words almost jumping off the page, she was reminded again of the history of Manetheren.

 

Manetheren, the historian wrote - descriptively and with great detail - was located in and around the southern Mountains of Mist, stretching from the River Arinelle to the north and the River Eldar and Damona Mountains to the south, the Arinelle and Manetherendrelle to the east and the Mountains of Mist and Lake Somal to the west. It was bordered by Aridhol to the north and Aelgar and Eharon to the south, then Coremanda to the east and Safer to the west. Its Capital city was also called Manetheren and was located in the mountains between the headwaters of the Tarendrelle and the Manetherendrelle. Its other major, Ogier-built cities included Corartheren, Jara'copan, and Shanaine.

 

In the centuries following the signing of the Compact of the Ten Nations, the historian wrote, Manetheren flourished. It was in this time that Ogier were invited to assist in the construction of the nation’s Capital which was built high and secure in the peaks of the Mountains of Mist. It is said that once completed the Capital of Manetheren was a true marvel to behold and that Ogier stonemasons would come to the Mountain Home simply to stare at it in wonder. The city contained an Ogier grove accounted as the second most beautiful in the world behind the grove in Tar Valon, as well as a waygate providing easy travel to a multitude of sister cities and Stedding.

 

●

 

During the Golden Age of Manetheren, the historian continued, the country produced many goods and resources which it traded throughout the Ten Nations. Farmers and craftsmen abounded and harvested a cornucopia of agricultural goods from the nation's verdant heartland. To help facilitate trade, Manetheren engineers built vast networks of paved highways and bridges to provide easy travel within national boundaries. Though Manetheren was rich in agricultural goods, its true wealth lay in the Mountains of Mist. Gold and silver abounded in the range along with baser metals such as iron and copper. Precious metals mined from the mountains provided the basis for Manetheren's economic strength.

 

The Amyrlin was captivated as always by reading about this great ancient nation in the western region of what now was Andor - and its Fall always saddened her. She did however take courage and find hope in the valiant fight against the Shadow that the nation, under its brave King and Queen, had put up.

 

What an Aes Sedai Queen you were..

 

Eldrene ay Ellan ay Carlan, the White Tower historian wrote, was the wife of King Aemon al Caar al Thorin. She was an Aes Sedai of exceptional strength in the One Power, one of the most powerful of all time, and a beloved figurehead of her people who named her Ellisande which translates from the Old Tongue as "The Rose of the Sun". The Aes Sedai Queen possessed tremendous beauty, her hair was alike to spun gold and any man who gazed upon her was easily smitten. It was said that wherever she went, flowers bloomed at her feet to make her smile. Histories relate that she was kind and patient and loved her subjects dearly. In turn she herself was greatly revered and it is known that soldiers of Manetheren frequently invoked her name in battle as a rallying cry.

 

●

 

Manetheren was destroyed circa year 1800 after the Breaking of the World amidst the upheavals of the Trolloc Wars and Shadowspawn army conquests. The White Tower historian noted that some historians thought it happened closer to year 1750 after the Breaking, but that he adhered to the official view. Manetheren's doom was sealed, he said, when King Aemon's army was driven back to a crossroads. In a final desperate last stand, Aemon and his army were overpowered in a one day battle that came to be known as the Battle of Aemon's Field. The moment Aemon perished Eldrene felt the severing of the Bond with her beloved husband.

 

Alone in the evacuated Capital city she became consumed by grief and thus she began to draw upon the True Source. With her exceptional channeling ability fully unleashed, using a powerful Sa’angreal to increase the flow, Eldrene Aes Sedai poured forth devastation and Balefire at what remained of the Shadowspawn army. In a display almost reminiscent of the Breaking of the World some historians postulate, Eldrene destroyed almost all the Shadow's forces - including all the Dreadlord generals. Those few Shadowspawn that survived fled to be hunted down and exterminated in other nations. But in her final moments Queen Eldrene Aes Sedai had drawn to herself more of the One Power than any human could wield even aided, and as the enemy generals died, so did she; the fires that consumed her, also consumed the empty city of Manetheren, even the stones of it, down to the living rock of the mountains it was said.

 

●

 

O’ brave Ellisande! thought the Amyrlin as she re-lived in her mind the ancient Aes Sedai Queen’s final moments. You fought against the Shadow with your last breath, destroying the enemy that had killed your beloved and had come to invade your land, and you made the ultimate sacrifice.

 

Arementhe wondered if she would have been as brave in a similar situation. So many depended on her now, just as so many had depended on the Aes Sedai Queen back then.

 

I wish I could have your strength and courage, Ellisande..

 

The last chapter about this historic figure in the ancient book included a poem which had always moved the Amyrlin to tears - due to its strength, emotion and as a moving tribute to the Aes Sedai Queen and to brave Manetheren. According to the White Tower historian, no one truly knew who the poem’s author was or when it had been written, but it was believed to be authentic from that Age and that it spoke of the historic events surrounding the Fall of Manetheren, seen through a poet’s eyes.

 

It was heroic and sad, dramatic and overwhelming, but Arementhe Senican, the Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat drew courage from the beautiful and forceful words of historic poetry, taking inspiration and strength from brave Manetheren and the resolute, wise and legendary Aes Sedai Queen Eldrene ay Ellan ay Carlan, the ‘Rose of the Sun’.

 

●

 

►▼◄

 

Rose of the Sun (The Fall of Manetheren)

 

“Carrai an Ellisande!” For the honour of the Rose of the Sun!

The Shield against the darkness, the Hammer weight to Stun.

The Sword that could not be broken. Was shattered in the End.

As valiant Manetheren, no longer could Defend.

 

Brave fighters of the land. Fought with pride and with Heart.

Under Red Eagle banner, they resisted Shadow’s Start.

Until Mountain Home was taken. No one came to their Aid.

Weep for Manetheren!, all their allies were Afraid.

 

King Aemon and his men ran to aid from Field of Blood.

Countless miles they covered, daring river huge and Flood.

Slaughtered beasts of Shadow. Crying battle cries of Might.

“Carrai an Ellisande!” echoed everywhere in Sight.

 

Brave warriors, brave King! They fell to Darkness’ Yoke.

When Aemon husband died, Queen Eldrene’s heart Broke.

Woe to the Shadow! With anger, grief and Pain.

An Aes Sedai of might, she struck out like Insane.

 

She filled herself to bursting. The Power oh so Sweet!

The Sa’angreal beside her, glowed brightly with its Heat.

She was an awesome figure. Her arms she lifted High.

And then she threw her Balefire and Storms of Lightening Nigh!

 

A harbinger of death. She destroyed the Shadowspawn.

The messengers of Darkness disappeared from Battle’s Lawn.

But her body came on fire. Flames of Saidar burned her Soul.

In her agony she cried out, for Manetheren, her Goal!

 

The destruction levelled all. Old Manetheren was Dead.

The Rose of the Sun, she was gone, it was Said.

But she would live forever. In many people’s Hearts.

And Manetheren’s bravery, is eternal in its Parts.

 

Oh Ellisande! Greatest Queen, we won’t Forget!

Your fight against the Shadow and the death you Met.

Mourn for Manetheren! The bravest place of All.

Honour to the Mountain Home! Your enemies shall Fall.

 

►▲◄

 

▀▄

 

“Sendhira Aes Sedai.”

 

The Master of Ceremony’s voice was loud and clear as he banged the ornate ceremonial staff three times on the floor, announcing the visitor to the Queen.

 

The Queen of Altara by the Grace of the Light, Mistress of the Four Winds, Guardian of the Sea of Storms and High Seat of House Selnobar looked up as the Sister of the White Tower approached her throne, passing several dozen people dressed to the nines that comprised her court. Sendhira Aes Sedai glided across the floor of the Hall like a Queen herself, her Red shawl across the shoulders of her soft magenta-coloured dress, her whole posture regal and stern.

 

She stopped ten or so paces before the throne and her steady gaze met the Altaran Queen’s. She waited for the Queen to give a bow of respect first before inclining her head ever so slightly in return. She saw the small frown on the Queen’s face, knew that the sovereign hated to bow to Aes Sedai, and smiled inside. Thrones had always bowed to Sisters of the White Tower. It was the way of things. How could it be any other way?

 

“We need to talk, Queen Mandhra” the Red Sister said, getting straight to the point. The tone of her voice was serious and business like.

 

“Yes, we do, Sendhira Sedai”, the Queen of Altara replied in a similar tone. “We do indeed.”

 

There was a devious glint in the Queen’s smile and her large dark brown eyes sparkled.

 

 

“So”, Raphael murmured as he for a moment tried to take his eyes away from the seductively curved body of the woman with dark red, wavy auburn hair and glittering emerald eyes slouching in the opulent settee, “how did the Queen take it when the boy Dragon insisted on building his so-called Black Tower?”

 

They were in her personal chambers in Caemlyn. Outside the midday sun shone in a sapphire-blue sky that enveloped the Andoran Capital.

 

Deleyhna turned slightly in the settee, meeting his lustful eyes. “Oh, she took it quite well. After I gave her some.. incentives of course.”

 

Raphael grinned in spite of himself. Incentives indeed. Deleyhna was highly accomplished in the use of Compulsion, using delicate weaves manipulating the mind, Raphael had no doubt she had the Andoran Queen well in hand to do her bidding.

 

“There were some.. rumours that she had reacted rather.. unfavourably to the whole idea”, he added, enjoying the look of her. “That she had kicked up quite a fuss in fact.”

 

There was some amusement in his voice but it also gave the impression that he was not really that interested in the answer.

 

 

Deleyhna studied the handsome but dangerous man seated in a chair by the table. She knew as always what effect she had on him and she loved teasing him. The potential threat he represented only added to the excitement as she saw it.

 

“Oh, she did throw a tantrum”, she replied smoothly, changing her posture on the settee ever so slightly, “until I convinced her otherwise.” Her smile became cunning. “She behaves well now, does our Queen.”

 

Raphael wondered what advantage the Black Tower gave Deleyhna here in Andor, her Seat of power, since she appeared so positively inclined to it, but he did not ask. She had her secrets just as he had his. Personally Raphael thought having a Black Tower full of half-mad male channelers was a nuisance, something which possibly also could disrupt his own long term plans, but Vanahl had insisted that the Black Tower be left alone, he would deal with it. These Asha’man, as they called themselves, would aid the Shadow once he was done with them, Vanahl had added.

 

Could Deleyhna and Vanahl have a plot brewing to disrupt or corrupt the base of the boy Dragon’s power? Raphael would not put anything past them. All the Chosen were enmeshed in plots and counter-plots and Vanahl and Deleyhna were no different. Perhaps I should watch the Black Tower more closely, Raphael thought to himself as he took a long sip from the cup of red wine on the marble table. He tasted the grapes of Tarabon on his tongue. It was a decent vintage he thought, nothing like the splendid red wine he used to enjoy from the nation of Seihm Back Before.., but not bad for this Age. Not bad at all.

 

“I am sure she does”, he replied smoothly, placing the cup back on the table. The Andoran Queen would behave indeed. Deleyhna would make sure of it.

 

His gaze moved momentarily to a painting on the wall behind them. It was an abstract picture of geometric shapes and figures, the kind of artistic expression outside ordinary boundaries and rules that he had seen her favour before. It was not of this Age that painting, of that he was pretty certain. He wondered where she had found it.

 

He considered asking her, but then changed his mind.

 

“Another rumour I came across”, he asked instead, this time with feigned disinterest, “says that the boy Dragon is somewhere in the Borderlands.”

 

He studied her closely to see her reaction. Her face was smooth but he thought he detected a slight colouring of her cheeks for a tiny moment. It was gone in an instant though.

 

“Is that so?” Deleynha replied, her voice indifferent. “I did not know that.”

 

 

The way she quickly denied any knowledge of the fact made him certain that she knew. She had always been infatuated with Dar Keran - damn that man! - and he strongly suspected the infatuation had carried over to this boy Dragon who called himself Ter Sanduahl. She had not given any indication it was so, but he knew her well..

 

A more honest and humble man might have admitted that he felt some jealousy at her attraction to another man, and that man especially, Raphael however would never admit such a thing, not even to himself.

 

Deleyhna kept her emotions carefully hidden as she replied to him. She gave him a long, careful look.

 

Did Raphael know? That it was she who had aided this Dragon Reborn at the start when he had gotten the channeling sickness? She who had ‘guided’ him to those channeling men so that he could learn to control Saidin and thereby survive and conquer? And that she had met and spoken to him in Tel'aran'rhiod? He could not know, no one could. She had been so careful. Even so, she suspected that Vanahl had his suspicions. Then again, Vanahl suspected everyone of everything. Thinking of the boy Dragon gave her a thrill. She had been in love with Dar Keran back in their true time and place, the Age that now was called the Age of Legends, had had an affair with him in fact, a relationship that had been destroyed by the Dragon’s cursed wife.. In this time and Age she is no longer here to meddle in things, Deleyhna thought with great contentment.

 

No one will stop me this time for claiming what was always mine, the female Chosen thought with determination. Dar Keran, you may look different and name yourself different in this Age, but I know it is you. We will be together again. Soon.

 

Raising herself from the settee, the unique lavender dress setting off her hair and eyes beautifully as always, clinging to her delectable figure, she moved across to his chair and stopped beside him. His desire mounted as she looked down on him seductively. Dar Keran would be hers. But it did not hurt to have a little.. fun with Raphael as well.

 

“I am sure we can find a more.. interesting topic of conversation than the boy Dragon”, she whispered invitingly into his ear.

 

He felt his whole body respond to the warmth and desire in her voice as he met her in a passionate embrace and lustful kiss.

 

 

Tenya stared dispassionately at the dead woman before her. The Lady of the Castle. Lady Ceriahna, former Head of House Terenaga. Her long dark hair was blooded and half the woman’s face was gone, smashed in by a Trolloc’s battle-axe. The army of Shadowspawn had taken the Kandori castle easily once the squad of armed defenders had been lured out in a fateful attack. Driven by Fades, Myrddraal in their black unmoving capes, the Trollocs had stormed the castle and now it was in Shadowhands.

 

In Serahna’s hands in fact.

 

Throwing off the guise of Tenya, the advisor to the Lady of the Castle, she assumed her true appearance. A shimmering aura enveloped her as the weaves of the Mask of Mirrors dissipated until the change was made. She stood there, a handsome woman with dark wavy hair to her neck, dark eyes and high cheekbones wearing her battle dress, dark of colour with inlays of armour. She raised her arms and channeled Air, lifting the body of the Lady from the stone roof of the castle where it lay and threw it over the side. She felt neither relish nor sadness at the Lady’s death. Fool woman, was the words that came to mind. Hearing soft movement behind her, she turned to face a Myrddraal. The Eyeless One gave a quick bow, then remained standing before the Chosen.

 

“You have done well”, Serahna said, her eyes hard and determined. “Move the army eastward tomorrow to the appointed place”, she commanded, her voice stern. “There is more work to do.”

 

The Fade nodded, then gave another quick bow and disappeared almost without sound down the back stairs leading to the level below.

 

Filthy creatures, thought the Chosen as she descended the stairs herself.

 

She had never been fond of them, and always felt unsure of their loyalty however much they bowed and seemingly obeyed, but they had their uses same as the brutish dumb Trollocs and the sly Draghkar that Vanahl often used.

 

Coming to a stop before a Borderlander in full armour, a dark-eyed man in middling years with black hair dusted with grey and a forked beard, her eyes tightened. The Kandori man immediately came to his knees, his head bowed.

 

“Great Mistress”, the Darkfriend whispered. “How may I serve you?”

 

Serahna smiled darkly at one of the Captains of the Shadowspawn army. He was a traitor to his kind and so obviously only to be trusted so far, but he was useful. Very useful. Her smile widened connivingly as she told him what his new mission was.

 

 

Chalor din Togara Evening Tide, Windfinder on the Sea Folk vessel ‘Ocean Dancer’, channeled, Weaving the Winds, so that the lean Raker avoided a storm and ran smoothly through the currents south-eastwards. Flows of Air and Water combined just so, and the ship literally flew through the ocean. Issandra the Chosen, in the guise of the Windfinder, had assisted the Sailmistress in plotting the course based on her knowledge and experience. Issandra’s plans for the boy Dragon, to disrupt negotiations between the Atha'an Miere and the Coramoor, had never materialized and now she was uncertain what her next step ought to be.

 

At least there was no alliance with the boy Dragon, the Chosen thought to herself. That at least was good.

 

As for the rest..

 

With news that a huge fleet of ships from a continent supposedly called Seanchan far to the west was heading toward the mainland, ‘Ocean Dancer’ had been ordered south-eastwards to investigate. The Sea Folk dominated the seas, they had always done so, and so they viewed any substantial sea-faring nation with scepticism. It also represented a danger to the Atha'an Miere if the rumours of so many warships were true. Especially at this volatile time. The Sailmistress’ face was serious and determined on the top deck as she stared contemplatively into the horizon. She touched her black hair which had touches of grey in it, framing a face with brown eyes with fine wrinkles on the corners of them. This was the biggest danger to her people in many a year and she wondered deep inside if she would survive it. Her orders from the Mistress of the Ships had been clear: investigate but do not engage. She would follow the instructions to the letter.

 

Issandra had her suspicions about what was going on, but kept her thoughts to herself. For the moment she focused on her Windfinder duties as Chalor din Togara Evening Tide and waited to see what they would encounter further south-east. Perhaps this could all be to her advantage after all.

 

Like on so many occasions, her thoughts as she Wove the Wind returned to an earlier Age, to an earlier life, when she was a successful research-assistant to the Lyr Nahm, the leadership of her science facility, carrying out important research on wind power and accelerated particle division in the science facility of Ner Khalid.

 

 

High Lord Istoril Ghalara was present at the council meeting, seated among his colleagues, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Gerehl, in the guise of the High Lord, could not take his mind off the lost male Sa’angreal Neminahl.

 

Where was it?! Where did it lay hidden?

 

He was unable to get over his unsuccessful hunt for it in Far Madding with Banohr. It had to be there somewhere.. he had to find it! He clenched his fists without being aware of it and a fellow High Lord seated next to him, misinterpreting the gesture, commented that he did not know that High Lord Istoril was such a strong supporter of the proposition under discussion. Gerehl unclenched his fists and murmured something noncommittal, calming his thoughts. The topic being debated concerned raising taxes and the Council of Tear was divided on the issue.

 

Gerehl had more important matters on his mind. The missing Sa’angreal for one. But also rumours that had drifted south to Tear that the boy Dragon was gathering forces in the far North. Vanahl had ordered that they all stay away from interfering with the boy, but Gerehl had always had his own plans and he feared the Nae’blis was underestimating the Dragon Reborn as he called himself.

 

Dar Keran, is that you, masquerading as this young inexperienced man? he wondered not for the first time. Have you returned as well?

 

 

Like the other Chosen he had hated the Dragon for his self-righteous ways and for Sealing their defeat in the War of Power. Now he had another chance to take revenge on the Dragon. The thought made him warm inside. But it had to be done with patience and care. Disobeying the Nae’blis could be.. unwise. Disobeying the Great Lord could be.. lethal.

 

His eyes took on a cunning gleam as he considered the first step of a plan.

 

The tall and lean brown haired, dark eyed man of middle age that was the High Lord Istoril brought his thoughts back to the present just as the vote was beginning.

 

“My High Lords”, he said in a strong voice interrupting the voting proceedings, “I suggest we postpone the vote.”

 

He got to his feet and walked to stand before them. The other High Lords seated around the huge round table in the council chamber all fixed their eyes on him. He was the most influential High Lord and usually he carried the vote. Seeing their attentive looks, Gerehl smiled inside.

 

“We have a more important matter to consider.”

 

 

He saw interest in many faces and also sour scepticism in some. There were some who always worked against him in the council, ‘the usual suspects’ as he had come to think of them, and he would deal with them in time.

 

“The Dragon has been Reborn. Yes, the rumours are true”.

 

The silence in the council chamber was so complete that one could have heard a pin drop.

 

“He is in the far North right now, assembling his forces.” His High Lord voice became stronger and more forceful as he spoke. “But soon he will set his eyes on the South - and on Tear.”

 

Several High Lords were muttering, shaking their heads, their faces darkening; some were part way out of their high-backed chairs.

 

“He will come and he will destroy our world, shatter our homes, our families in a new cataclysm as was foretold in the Prophecies of the Dragon, him and his witches and sorcerers!”

 

“Will we permit this, High Lords?!” High Lord Istoril screamed forcefully. “What say you?!”

 

The thunderous roar of defiance that erupted in the council chamber at his powerful words almost made the walls tremble.

 

Gerehl the Chosen grinned broadly inside.

 

 

3 hours ago, Taishar Hawaii said:

Like everyone has expressed, my biggest worry is not getting the full story.  Adapting 14 books is a monumental task.  Biggest concern: they try to squeeze in as much as they can, fearing it won't go more than 3-5 seasons, and you get a watered down mess that barely resembles the story we know.

 

This is one of my many concerns/worries as well. As previously mentioned I am also genereally concerned that it will not be a faithful adaptation (and by faithful I don't mean with no changes at all, but the right changes, so no major changes with regards to main characters (keep them as in the books, no merging of characters, changes in gender/orientation etc), story-arcs and the main plot, rather removing less important descriptions from the books, less important sub-plots / characters etc).

 

The Wheel of Time is so monumental in detail and intricacy and nuances that it will be an almost impossible task to do it justice on the tv-screen. So this will be a huge challenge for the showrunners (and let's hope they don't give us a watered down or, even worse in my humble opinion, a revisionist take on Robert Jordan's characters and story/canon).

 

As for tv-seasons and the books, I would have ideally preferred 1 book per 10-episode season kinda like Game of Thrones (until the end) but it was seemingly obvious from the start that we would not get 14 tv-seasons. So what do I think we need to do this majestic fantasy saga some justice?

 

Season 1: Book 1 + 1/3 of book 2

Season 2: 2/3 of book 2 + book 3

Season 3: Book 4 (huge encompassing story needs 1 season)

Season 4: Book 5 (huge encompassing story needs 1 season)

Season 5: Book 6 (huge encompassing story needs 1 season)

Season 6: Book 7 + 8

Season 7: Book 9 + 10

Season 8: Book 11 + 12

Season 9: Book 13 + 14

 

That makes 9 seasons and I am concerned this might also be too little to tell the full story completely / proficiently as it deserves, but seeing as many think we might end up with 7-8 seasons in all (if we are lucky) I should probably be happy if we did get 9 seasons of the tv-show. Time will tell.

 

 

 

Adriahna Sedai’s dark oval eyes widened in disbelief! and she cried out in shock as a shield was slammed between her and the Source!

 

She could still sense Saidar inside her, like a shining light that burned beautifully, but she could no longer reach it. It was as if an invisible wall stood between her and the One Power.

 

She could not believe it. It was impossible!

 

She looked frantically around for whoever was responsible, all acquired Aes Sedai calm gone for the moment, but saw no one in the corridor. She was in the Blue Ajah quarters in the White Tower, having just returned from a meeting with some of her Sisters. There was no one about at this late hour.

 

Or so at least it had seemed!

 

“Who’s there?” she cried out, trying in vain to break through the shield keeping her from the Source. It was like trying to push a rock the size of a carriage with her bare hands. An impossible task.. but she could not give up.

 

There was no response, only silence.

 

Trying to compose herself, keeping in mind her time under duress in the Testing, she ran her fingers through her dark hair and moistened her dry lips as she leaned back against a wall and gazed hard down the corridor both ways to see who was doing this to her. Candle lights placed at intervals lit up the otherwise dark long corridor to some extent, but even so there were shadows where a person could stand unseen until you came really close.

 

Why was anyone doing this to her? What was happening?!

 

Searching hard for any gaps in the shield that kept her from touching the One Power, feeling utterly helpless, she found none. Saidar was closed off to her.

 

She considered running but knew she would not get far.

 

She was caught like a mouse in a trap.

 

 

Finally a shadow detached itself from the Shadows off to her left and a familiar woman clad in a dark blue dress and a Blue shawl came to stand before her.

 

“Arahna!” the young Aes Sedai cried out in recognition, “help me!”

 

The momentary relief she had felt at seeing the First Selector, Head of the Blue Ajah, quickly turned to disbelief and unease as she saw the other woman’s face, her merciless sapphire-blue eyes and vicious sneer, realizing that she was the one shielding the young Blue.

 

Adriahna could not believe it, her mouth gaping open, but the older Aes Sedai’s facial expression affirmed it. And there was no one else about. The Head of her Ajah was doing this to her.

 

“Arahna!”, Adriahna cried out, drawing herself up from her partial crouch, “what are you doing? You are shielding me!”

 

The First Selector stared coldly at her.

 

“Doing to you, Adriahna?” she replied mockingly. “Am I doing something to you, my dear?”

 

Adriahna stared back at her gobsmacked. The older Sister seemed like a different person to her, not the same woman who had welcomed her to the Ajah not that long ago. That face, that voice.. it was almost..

 

Light, what is going on here!

 

There was a long pause.

 

Adriahna struggled against the shield, a part of her hoping somehow that this was some sort of bizarre Blue Ajah initiation ‘game’, but knowing in her heart it was not. The First Selector’s next words affirmed it.

 

“There are new lessons to be learned, my child”. Arahna’s voice turned even colder, her mouth twisted, her eyes hard as stone. “You did not think you were done with lessons, did you?”

 

The former Blue Sister paused before adding,

 

“Or Oaths?”

 

 

The way the Head of her Ajah spoke those last few words made Adriahna’s blood run cold.

 

She tried to get her head around the dangerous - impossible! - implications but all her thoughts were muddled and she started to cry out for help, sensing that she was in great danger, but was too late. Arahna channeled and a gag of Air made it impossible for the young Blue to utter a sound and she felt her whole body become heavy, her arms bound involuntarily to her sides, as further weaves settled on her.

 

Light help me! She was unable to keep panic at bay, staring with wide eyes at the First Selector.

 

The young Blue was pushed further into the corridor and practically thrown into a small room at the end. She stumbled hard to the floor, her arms flailing and her face crashing violently into the wooden leg of a chair, producing a bad cut and with some blood flowing, and lay still.

 

Dizzy after the fall, crying soundlessly out in pain and shock, she barely heard Arahna Desonai Sedai’s chilling final words before she blacked out.

 

 

The Warder’s blade sliced through the young man’s body, crushing his heart and other internal organs and pushing all the way through his back, and he was dead before he hit the ground.

 

The bloodlust in the Warder’s face mirrored that in his Aes Sedai’s. She looked with relish at the blood rushing out of the corpse, enjoying the moment.

 

Her green travelling dress was travel-stained and mud-specked from days of hard riding but she did not care at that moment. Carzahna Sedai, the Green shawl across her shoulders, exchanged a warm glance with her beloved bonded Gaidin, then turned her attention back to the woman bound by flows of Air to a tree trunk. She was a young woman in her early twenties who once had been pretty. Now, however her broken nose and many smashed teeth as well as the blood in her long dark dirty hair gave her quite a different appearance. Her light-brown eyes stared in fear at the Aes Sedai before her. She knew almost nothing of Aes Sedai, but the little she had heard had not prepared her for this horrible, vicious woman.

 

“Why are you beating me!?” She cried desperately another time. Tears flowed from her eyes.

 

“Are you going to kill me too?”

 

 

Her eyes shifted to the dead body on the ground twelve or so feet away and she shivered. “I told you,”, she added brokenly, “I don’t know about this.. man you keep asking about.”

 

The Dragon Reborn.

 

The name almost made her quiver. Did he even exist? Would he be their saviour or their destroyer? Her grandma had once told her a scary bedtime story when she was a little girl, something about prophecies and the Dragon and the Creator and the Shadow, but when the village Wisdom had learned of it she had scolded the old woman to the extent that she had never mentioned it again to her grandchild.

 

She knew nothing of this so called Dragon Reborn but the Aes Sedai had not believed her, and she and her Warder had taken turns beating her severely. She tasted blood in her mouth and could not stop the steady stream of tears.

 

“Please let me go”, she begged, her voice desperate. “Pleaaase, I know nothiiing.”

 

 

She did not know the dead young man either. He had been a stranger, someone from Amadicia in the South he had said, who had joined her on the road to the village she was visiting here in Northern Andor, and they had talked a little casually as they walked. Even so, she was horrified that they had killed him. He had not been able to give them any helpful answers either, even after long sessions of torture, had in fact spat at the Sister of the White Tower, cursing her for being a bloody witch, whereupon the Gaidin knocked his teeth out and then ran him through with his broadsword.

 

The sun was moving across the horizon and in an hour or two twilight would descend on them all. She feared she would not live to see the night.

 

Carzahna Sedai stared at the broken young woman and chuckled to herself as if reading her mind. “Oh, you will suffer some more before you are done, girl.” Her voice was filled with scorn. “And then you will have your blessed rest.. a permanent one.”

 

The Black Sister looked forward to torturing this girl some more. She loved prolonging a person’s suffering and this was one of the traits she shared with her Warder. Her dark grin broadened viciously at the thought.

 

The rumours said he was heading north toward the Borderlands, but they could not be certain. She would learn the whereabouts of the boy Dragon, one way or another.

 

Producing a sharp knife from her sleeve, she brought it slowly toward the young woman’s face. She enjoyed using the knife in her interrogations, it was a primitive tool but effective. The knife drew blood, a stream soon running down the victim’s face, and the young woman’s cries became even more desperate.

 

The Aes Sedai’s smile grew with each frantic scream, pleasuring her Black heart.

 

 

The huge Trolloc’s blade almost cleaved the defending soldier in two.

 

One second the young man’s deep brown eyes were alive, filled with a mixture of exhilaration and fear in the face of this sudden fearsome attack, the next all light was gone from them.

 

His crushed blooded body fell to the ground, his armour shattered, his sword broken, his life and all his plans and hopes and dreams destroyed, and the huge boar-snouted fierce-looking Trolloc swept past and headed resolutely down the streets of Falme.

 

Shadowspawn poured into the streets, fists of Trollocs driven by several black-cloaked Myrddraal - muscular and serpent-quick with their lank black hair, waxy-white skin and eyeless stare - leaving death in their wake. Draghkar dropped from the sky, swooping upon intended victims, singing in their soft crooning voice, lulling them into a daze before their ‘kiss’, sucking the very soul out of them.

 

Valiant town soldiers tried to stop the onslaught, their captain spurring on his defenders, but to no avail. They were brushed aside as Trollocs of all kinds - some with wolf-snouts, others with goat-horns and yet others with eagle-beaks but all monstrous in size and heavily armed - smashed through the town’s defences. The screams of terrified and dying men and women and children filled the sloping streets as the hours went by, blood flowing in streams down toward the harbour and the ocean, and by nightfall the town of Falme had fallen to the Shadow.

 

Vanahl, the Chosen and Nae’blis, cloaked in black as dark as the night except for some ornate golden fringes on the sleeves of his coat, watched from a height above the city, nodding in satisfaction. His plan had been a success. His strategy had worked. The pools of fire in his eyes burned intensely.

 

The Great Lord would be pleased.

 

 

Lord Taighan, dark of hair with his handsome features and calm exterior, stared with feigned sadness at the dead body of  the elder son of the High Lady of House Sirindred, slouched over his dinner table. His face was buried in the mashed potatoes and gravy on his plate, his features twisted in death. A thin line of blood ran from the side of his mouth. The glass of expensive red wine beside the plate stood untouched.

 

What a pity the young man ended his life.

 

With a little help, of course.

 

Eating poisoned mushrooms is never a good idea. Young man, you should have known better.

 

Kieran hid the glee he felt inside at the removal of this final obstacle to his plans. The young man had tried time and again to turn his mother from the course, suggested by Lord Taighan, she had chosen, gaining the ear of several leading members of the House including the High Lady’s high-strung brother, and in the end the Chosen had found no other solution than to have him killed. Unlike several of his Chosen brethren Kieran did not enjoy or relish killing. He had always been level-headed and scientifically minded, the proper scholar - and had turned to the Shadow only to be able to experiment and show his genius, to create masterful new living beings, something which had resulted in his legendary successes with Trollocs and other Shadowspawn.

 

He did see the necessity though of removing obstacles when it was necessary and this had been such a case. Lord Taighan, resplendent as always in his dark blue coat, commiserated openly with the High Lady at the tragic loss of her elder son, his face sad and drawn, his voice sorrowful, while inside Kieran chuckled with delight.

 

The final piece was sorted. House Sirindred would fall in line.

 

The alliances of Cairhien were now broken, the Houses at each other’s throats, fighting for power and influence on their own. Chaos was spreading and Kieran was thrilled.

 

The Shadow would soon be Rising in Cairhien.

 

 

Reeya Eldhem Sare Paendrag, the Daughter of the Nine Moons and heiress to the Seanchan Empire, watched with hunger in her eyes from the top deck as the Seanchan warship neared the shore of these lands they were taking back, lands that had been stolen from her ancestors.

 

Behind them came the rest of the fleet, the force that comprised The Corenne, the ‘Return’, the war-mission for the Empress Tirana Elem Sani Paendrag, blessed of her name. Beside the Daughter of the Nine Moons stood the ship’s Sailmistress, keeping her eye on her crew and the work they were doing, and the Captain-General Rital Deltan, a tall man with his white hair in a crest, its tail plaited to his shoulders. His eyes were fastened on the handful of ships confronting them here at sea defending the seaside city of Tanchico. Behind the token force lay Tanchico Bay. In truth he was more interested in the military forces on land; the few war vessels here at sea would be brushed aside easily, of that he had no doubt. His eyes swept to the peninsulas and hills surrounding the bay and he considered strategic positions for placement of his army units once they were conquered.

 

Further down on deck Selecin, the Truthspeaker to the Seanchan Empress, stood watching the shore in the distance with mixed feelings. From behind the eyes of the Truthspeaker, Tervihn watched and considered. The Chosen was still angry at himself  that he had botched the attempt to kill the heiress, but on the other hand he had gotten the Seanchan to war as the Great Lord had commanded and chaos would spread. The Daughter of the Nine Moons would be dealt with later.

 

On a lower deck dozens of Sul’dam and Damane, leash-holders and leashed channelers, stood ready, the leashed women holding onto Saidar as commanded. Some of the Sul’dam were petting their Damane like a favoured dog, calming them before what was to come, and the Damane seemed to appreciate the loving attention. A hundred armed soldiers or more stood on deck, weapons ready, under the watchful eye of their captains. And high above the dark waters of the Aryth Ocean in the azure-blue early afternoon sky Raken, huge winged beasts of war, flew parallel to the ships below, ridden by accomplished Morat’raken.

 

 

They were soon within range of the defending ships - and with a feral scream the Raken descended toward the ocean far below just as the Damane threw lightning at the enemy from the deck of the ships, destroying several vessels in the first wave of the attack. The remaining defending ships tried to resist and fight back but had no chance, their sails and masts afire and swiftly sinking, brushed easily aside just like the Captain-General had expected. Soon the conquering war fleet rushed into Tanchico harbour and the coastal region to the north and south and reached land.

 

Stepping carefully onto the Tanchico harbour docks, Reeya Eldhem Sare Paendrag knelt and kissed the stone foundation. She remained on her knees as the Deathwatch Guards watched the surroundings attentively and vigilantly. They were the elite personal guards who protected the Imperial Family. Easily recognized by the green on their armour and carrying dark green tasseled spears and dark green lacquered shields, the most honored and valued of the Imperial da'covale, they were always willing to lay down their lives for the Imperial Family. All the people on the docks had scarpered in fear at the approach of the warships and they were now empty.

 

Beyond the harbour, however a force from the local garrison was gathering and there would be further military resistance in the city, the Commander of the Deathwatch Guard expected, with heavily guarded fortresses. He wore a winged golden helmet and the insignia of his rank on his uniform shoulders. His armour mirrored that of his elite soldiers. His name was Aidal Catal. He was in his early fourties, a strong and capable fighter and leader. He was good at what he did. Very good indeed.

 

After a few more moments the Daughter of the Nine Moons rose to her feet, the soft western breeze brushing against her short black hair. Staring resolutely toward the city beyond, her brown eyes sparkling in anticipation, she placed the Royal Banner of the Seanchan Empress that they had brought, beside her.

 

“We have Returned”, she whispered into the wind. Her voice was soft but it carried and everyone heard. “Carai an Corenne!”

 

 And behind her everyone on the ship and on the docks - lowborn and highborn, da'covale and those of the Blood - bowed low.

 

 

Soon the streets of Tanchico, Capital city of Tarabon and one of the oldest known cities in the world, embraced by the Verana peninsula to the east, the Maseta in the center, and the Calpene nearest the sea, were running red with blood.

 

And echoes of war cries were heard everywhere in the city, amid the thunder of explosions and lightning destruction by damane, screams and shouts and chaos, as battles were fought between armoured soldiers: young and old, hardened and frail, defender and invader.

 

“Los Seviementi!” “Los Sevieahrin!”

 

Forward the Empire! Forward the Empress!

 

 

The Dragon Reborn.

 

That was who he was.

 

It was a truth he could no longer escape.

 

Ter Sanduahl, a red-haired, tall young man of nineteen years with piercing blue eyes and a strong chin, ran his fingers through his hair as he stared in silent contemplation at the city gates of Maradon, Capital of the Borderland nation of Saldaea, a quarter mile or so to the north-west.

 

His army was camped behind him, tents in rows and with banners swirling in the soft north-easterly breeze near the swiftly flowing Arinelle River. They were twenty thousand strong, filled with men and women, soldiers and commoners, who had flocked to his Dragon banner.

 

He was waiting.

 

 

It had been a year, and for a fair part of that time he had not been totally sure that he truly was the one Foretold, the saviour of the land. And the Breaker, he had thought grimly, having read the Prophecies of the Dragon.

 

He had long been in denial about his Destiny, it had simply seemed impossible that he, a young man with nothing to his name, could be the prophesized man.. the Dragon born again, destined to go mad with the Taint but also destined to save the world from the ravages of the Dark One. He had denied it as long as he could, but he had gradually understood that he had to face the truth.

 

Pain was evident in his blue eyes as he raised them to the azure-blue afternoon sky above - and remembered.

 

 

It had started a year or so before in his home village of Welton Brook in western Andor with the ‘spells’ as he called it, those moments with heat and cold alternating and with his emotions going haywire, something the village wisdom had had no remedy against. 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 wisdom, a staunch woman in her mid-thirties, had been beside herself, frustrated because she could not find the cause of his condition. He had finally regained consciousness and the wisdom 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. He could not understand what was happening to him and it made him very frustrated and bewildered. He wanted answers - and he soon got them, though from an 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 travelling dress and her long dark hair cascaded down her back. Her dark eyes studied him closely, almost as if in recognition, before she spoke.

 

 

“Ter Sanduahl”, she began in an almost seductive voice. She spoke his name almost as if she had expected an other. Her face was handsome rather than beautiful, he thought. But it still captivated him even in his poor state. “You must listen to me”, she said. “What I have to say is important. It will sound crazy perhaps, but you must believe me. I know what is happening to you.”

 

He looked back at her, his mouth open. 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 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 it did not 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.

 

Puzzled, confused and more than a little wary, he 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. “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 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 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. “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 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, but deep inside he feared that she was not. After all, even the wisdom 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? 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 4000 years ago had Broken the world! And now he was supposed to be one of them!? Screams of denial began back 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 sympathy in her eyes. He wanted to scream at her but something in her look made him stay silent. There was something.. “What you must do”, she went on, “is find some of the other male channelers, those who have learned to control Saidin. Only they can teach you. They are living in secret, hiding from the Aes Sedai. Red Ajah scouts are everywhere.” Her mouth twisted in a sneer when she said the word Aes Sedai. “But I know where some of the men are. 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, as if an afterthought. Her smile was amused again. “You are the Dragon Reborn, prophesized to save the world.”

 

Ter Sanduahl lost consciousness again.

 

 

In the days that followed the young man lived in denial. His momentary logical reasoning 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. 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 north-east. 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, 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. Ter Sanduahl 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 western Andor 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 ‘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 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, 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 Ter Sanduahl 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. Ter Sanduahl 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 Ter Sanduahl 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 three weeks and they soon began teaching him how to channel safely. 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 days 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.

 

 

After the three weeks had passed, they told him that they could not teach him anymore. He had a certain control over Saidin now but he still needed to learn more to be absolutely safe from the channeling sickness or ‘black tide’ which the men called it. He needed, they said, to see another more experienced male channeler who lived further west. Personally Ter Sanduahl was surprised to hear of all these male channelers; before the events of the past weeks, he had not really thought many were around, but right then he was just pleased to get the help he needed. He got directions from the men, thanked them heartily, and continued his journey. A few days later he came to another small undistinguished village and found the man in question. When he explained who had sent him, the man relaxed somewhat and welcomed him into his home. Ter Sanduahl told the same story he had told the other two men and this new male channeler listened in silence, nodding a few times as the younger man spoke.

 

The other man was older, maybe in his early 40s, and seemed slightly erratic to the young man. He wondered deep inside if the other man was entirely sane but the man seemed focused as he asked some questions and began to tell his own story. It was not that different from the story the older man in the previous village had told, but this man had been a channeler longer and had learned the mental exercises needed to teach another male channeler how to be safe from the channeling sickness, the ‘black tide’.

 

Ter Sanduahl stayed and trained with this man for another couple of weeks until he was told that he now had the necessary basic skills and was safe with regards to the channeling sickness. The young man was relieved. Very relieved.

 

 

He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he could channel the One Power, that he was one of them; reality was slowly sinking in. He understood this was not something he could run away from and as the days went by he adopted a positive stance. This was a new challenge for him and one 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 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 teacher, as he had come to think of him, he travelled across country, from place to place, trying to come to grips with his supposed Destiny. Without really knowing how, gradually he 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 a dream 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 had praised him for the steps he had taken and had told him to stay true. He had already fulfilled one prophecy, she said. He would fulfil more on his path. She had 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.”

 

And so he came to a point where he felt he could no longer deny it. It had to be true, after all. It had to be who he was. He would be an ignorant fool if he remained in denial. Taking on the burden of saving the world was almost too much to contemplate, but there was no one else to do it as he saw it. He had no idea how he would accomplish what needed to be done, and part of him was terrified at the daunting task ahead of him, but he had to try.

 

There was no other option.

 

 

He started alone, one man.

 

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 weeks went by and he was formulating plans in his head. His thoughts often went back to the channeling men who had taught him to control 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.

 

Several weeks later he had assembled the channeling men who had helped him, as well as a dozen others who had somehow felt ‘compelled’ to come to him, 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 of Maradon in the distance, Ter Sanduahl felt certain that Cazar Elnovar, 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 Cazar 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 teacher in that village had told him the facts. That according to certain ancient histories, the Dark One tainted Saidin as a counterstroke to the acts of  Dar Keran, the Dragon and his two hundred Companions, sealing the Bore to the Dark One’s prison. As a result, all male channelers, present and future, were doomed and would suffer insanity and slow death. 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 was this Taint though, 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 Saldaean rulers would welcome him and his army. Advisors in his camp had informed him that the Cordamora Palace was the residence of the rulers of Saldaea. The nation was presently ruled by a Queen, they said. He had had no word from the Queen or anyone in the day he had been camped outside the city, though it was clear from the battlements that they were aware of the army camped outside.

 

He had decided to wait to see if the Saldaeans 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 western Borderlands to forge an alliance with the Saldaean rulers. Word of armies of Shadowspawn further north and east in Saldaea and in Kandor concerned him greatly and he wanted to discuss this matter also with the Saldaean Queen.

 

If she ever appeared.

 

 

Sighing, Ter Sanduahl 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 a 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 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, Ter Sanduahl’s facial features tightened and he clenched his fists, hardened himself and faced the taunting voice.

 

 

Arementhe Senican, the Amyrlin Seat, held the ancient parchment - one of the oldest in the White Tower - in her hands and her eyes tightened as she read the words of prophecy. They were sentences from the Karaethon Cycle: The Prophecies of the Dragon. Only a few were aware that these prophecies were a collection of Foretellings by ancient Aes Sedai rumoured to be from before, during, and after the War of Power, that cataclysmic event that changed the world forever, which ended what was now known as the Age of Legends 4000 years ago.

 

She knew that some of the prophecies were vague, perhaps deliberately so, and many could only be understood in hindsight. Prophecy was never a certainty as she thought of it, merely a possible outcome, a vision of a possible future. Prophecies could never be fully trusted and had to be interpreted with care, and these prophecies in particular. Any prophecies concerning the Dragon Reborn were avoided by most people in this day and age and in some countries any telling in public of the Karaethon Cycle was banned and could result in the person being put in prison.

 

She had read this ancient text many times in the period since the Dragon Reborn had suddenly appeared, Signs of Prophecy - war, strife and building chaos - paving his Path. It filled her simultaneously with hope and dread. The world would Break again to be Saved if this ancient Prophecy was to be believed. And she felt deep inside that it was so.

 

She was in the Amyrlin’s office. Outside, twilight was almost upon the Island City of Aes Sedai, Tar Valon, day slowly turning into night, but here inside there was plenty of light coming from burning candles spread around her workspace and time did not have the same meaning. She was working late and had told her Keeper, Centhira Susmihnen, to leave for the night. Seated in her high-backed Amyrlin’s chair, the ancient parchment in her hands, the leader of the Aes Sedai, the stole of seven stripes upon her burdened shoulders, wondered for the hundredth time whether it was safe and prudent to let the boy Dragon run free in the world or if the Tower should capture him, control him, guide him.

 

 

The Hall of the Tower was split on the issue. The Reds were pushing hard for the channeling man to be taken. The Amyrlin feared that some Red Sisters might be tempted to gentle him on the spot if given the chance, never mind the consequences. There were several among the Red Ajah after all who believed he was a False Dragon, someone who had to be ‘pacified’ as they called it. She knew what they meant by ‘pacification’. Opposing them were the Greens, her former Ajah, and Blues who believed the boy Dragon had to be free to fulfil the Prophecies and that the risk of ‘interfering’ with him, as they put it, was too risky and could put the future in jeopardy. The other Ajahs were mostly split on the issue and so the matter was undecided. So far.

 

Arementhe had at one point been ready to try and take the boy Dragon into custody, something she had shared with her Keeper of Chronicles. She had simply felt the risk too great to have the Dragon Reborn, possibly half-mad through the Taint on Saidin, roam the world free. They needed him to be ready to fight the Last Battle and alone, without guidance, he might do something foolish which might, worst case, result in his premature death and their doom. After a while, however, she had changed her mind. Her Keeper had been insistent that they not ‘interfere’ with the boy Dragon and as she considered the matter over several days and nights she was finally persuaded and came to the conclusion that it was better to wait. And as long as there was a stalemate in the Hall, she had time on her side to make a final decision. She feared that rumours of her original intention had spread in some circles, but no one had confronted her on the issue which made her feel that perhaps another potential blunder - she had not forgotten her original Black Tower proposal - had been avoided.

 

Even so, reading the text another time, she felt shivers go down her spine.

 

Light, help us! She thought, her eyes widening, trying to keep her Aes Sedai calm. Help me make the right decision!

 

The time was coming. The Shadow was Rising.

 

Soon, the Last Battle would be upon them all.

 

Tarmon Gai'don.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The hundred feet wide gateway opened right there in the air before an astonished company of armed Whitecloaks that was ready to depart on a mission - and thirty female channelers of the Ayyad stormed through, weaving Saidar as they threw fireballs and lightning at the defenders!

 

A shout of “Witches!” came from several places in the enfolding chaos before the walls of the Fortress of Light in Amador, Amadicia. Soldiers wearing the white cloaks of their order drew swords and tried to defend against this powerful surprise attack but they were unable to stop the onslaught. Kharin, in the guise of the Amo’hra, led them ferociously on as they pushed onward in the direction of the huge fortress gate. She channeled powerful weaves of destruction and relished the sight of men dying in blood before and around her.

 

Cursed men! - who also considered her kind, channelers of the One Power, an abomination.

 

She took great pleasure in killing the Whitecloaks who tried in vain to defend against this sudden and unexpected threat. She saw a couple of her Ayyad channelers fall along the long line of women, deadly arrows in their chests, but it did not stop their momentum. This was her personal pleasure, to weaken this despicable army of men who, blindly fighting for the Light, could easily become more than an annoyance when the Last Battle arrived. This action had not been commanded or approved by the Great Lord nor by the Nae’blis, but it would further the chaos in the lands and so would serve the Shadow, as she saw it.

 

She would explain it all to the Ayyad women as a threat of zealous male power that would eventually set their sight on channeling women in Shara, a threat now being diminished, and she believed none would question her authority. If any did, they would be dealt with.

 

In a deadly way.

 

 

Bolts of lightning struck the fortress several times leaving destruction in their wake, explosions abounded and screams and shouts were heard everywhere. She 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 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 cutting their legs from under them. The Children that remained standing cursed the witches, regrouped and then retreated into the fortress, shouting commands all along their diminishing line, and the gate shut hard 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 gate of the fortress.

 

The Chosen, in the guise of the leader of the Amo’hra, studied the scene of bloodshed and dead white-cloaked men before her with glee and contentment. Almost the whole company had been obliterated, only a few had escaped behind the fortress walls.

 

The Fortress of Light, stronghold of the Children of the Light, was theirs for the taking.

 

 

The Amyrlin walked the White Tower gardens in silent contemplation.

 

The day before had been a happy day, welcoming another Aes Sedai into their ranks. They needed every Sister they could get because Arementhe Senican felt in her bones that the Last Battle was coming. Chaos was brewing many places as had been foretold. She knew the Prophecies of the Dragon well and did not believe this boy Dragon was a false one, as some of her Aes Sedai Sisters did, and she wanted them to prepare for the final confrontation with the Shadow.

 

Thinking back to her meeting with the Black Tower envoy three days before, she sighed. What he had told her complicated things even more. As if she did not already have enough on her plate with the Black Ajah, the boy Dragon and the Black Tower, now in addition was the matter of the massive fleet of warships, an ‘armada’, the Asha’man had called it, that was coming out of the western seas heading for this continent. Who they were the Black Tower envoy could not say, or chose not to divulge, but there was little doubt that the Black Tower saw this as a threat to stability and the ‘balance’ that had existed between the Towers. Because, he said specifically, that these warships carried channeling women in huge numbers. Channeling women? Wilders!? A hundred thoughts had run through her mind at the same time as she had taken in this incredible news and its implications.

 

She had struggled to keep her composure as she had listened to what he had to say. She knew from history that there were said to be lands far far to the west, rumoured to have been populated by descendants of Artur Hawkwing, but no proof of such existence had seen the light of day as far as she knew, neither from Sea Folk ships roaming the Aryth Ocean nor from other seafarers. Could it be true!? Could it?

 

 

The Amyrlin had hidden the momentary relief she had felt when he had told her of the reason for his visit, having been certain he was there to condemn her and the White Tower for de facto planning war against the Black Tower, but her inner relief had turned to astonishment and deep concern when he had told her his news. She had agreed that this new threat need be investigated further and the Asha’man had departed with the knowledge that they would talk again.

 

She was sure that rumours of warships would flourish in no time as the fleet neared land, and probably before, and so she brought the matter to the Hall of the Tower without delay. Was this a prelude to invasion? Could this news be trusted? How should the White Tower react? And what might the Black Tower do? The Sitters argued long into the night what to do about the matter, some discarding it all as ‘filthy rumours’ as one Red Sitter said, clearly not trusting anything being told by channeling men, others taking the threat more seriously, saying the White Tower had to send Sisters as soon as possible to Tanchico and Falme, the two suspected towns where the ships - if there were indeed ships coming - would arrive, to get a clearer idea of what was happening. The majority in the Hall had agreed with the Amyrlin to send Sisters - it was only prudent as many pointed out - and they had been dispatched swiftly. It was a long ride to the western coast, however and she wondered in her heart of hearts if they would make it in time.

 

 

What nobody brought up, though it was certainly in Arementhe’s mind, was what - if anything - the boy Dragon would do? The Dragon Reborn. There were rumours that he was building an army somewhere and he had formed the Black Tower, after all, and could, potentially at least, have many Asha’man fighting for him in that army. It was a prospect that would terrify many Sisters of all colours. She had mentioned the boy Dragon in passing in her conversation with the Black Tower envoy, almost as if it were an afterthought, and the Asha’man had replied that they had not seen him in the Black Tower in a good while. First Asha’man Cazar Elnovar was running things in the Black Tower, he said. He could be lying, of course, but somehow the Amyrlin felt he was being truthful. The Asha’man’s arrogant behaviour made her think he would have boasted about it if the Dragon Reborn was indeed in the Black Tower.

 

Sitting down in the early afternoon sun on a white wooden bench among some small maple trees and in front of several beautiful flower beds, resplendent in their seven Ajah colours, the Amyrlin now thought of all the present threats to the White Tower, from near and afar, and she despaired inside. Her hand went to the bodice of her dress, feeling the fine fabric, thinking of her beating heart beneath. These were indeed troubled times as she had said truthfully to the Asha’man. And the times were more troubled than even he was aware of.

 

 

She was an old woman and the pain in her bones, getting worse every year, left her cranky and weary. Studying her reflection in a handheld mirror, the long grey hair framing an old wrinkled face, she saw little of the fair beauty that had been her appearance in her youth here in Falme, when she had been a proficient maker of local embroidery for both rich and poor.

 

Ah, my home town. She sighed, thinking about the town and the region that had been her home for over seventy years.

 

Falme was a harbour on the Aryth Ocean in the west. It had always been the largest town on Toman Head and on the Almoth Plain, and had been independent since the fall of Almoth. Historians knew that the town had formerly been known as Miereallen while a part of the nation of Safer during the Compact of Ten Nations, but for the old woman it had always been Falme. The unwalled city contained streets of cobblestone, dark stone buildings, and docks also of stone. The city rose up from the high cliff slopes of the hollow that made the harbour.

 

She had always been content here, and had not travelled to far away places like many of her friends had. Falme had been enough for her, a safe and secure place.

 

Her home.

 

Change was coming now though, she could feel it in her tired old bones. Also there were rumours in the markets of a Storm Coming and not necessarily of the natural kind. It was ominous, she thought to herself as she slowly climbed the stairs to the floor above and to the bedroom of her grandchildren. They were her primary pride and joy now in the winter of her life. She heard the twins giggle as she neared the bedroom door and then their cries of joy when they saw her. They were six years old, Gerard and Victoria, almost mirror-images of one another. They jumped out of bed and threw themselves joyfully at their beloved granny who held them close, chuckling at their boisterous enthusiasm.

 

 

“Now then, you two scoundrels”, she said finally, “get back into bed and I will tell you a bedtime story.” They screamed with glee, jumping back into bed, loving the stories their granny told them - and the old woman seated herself in a wooden chair by the bed. “What do you wish to hear today?” She asked, seeing their excited faces.

 

“Tell us something epic”, Gerard said, always the most eager of the twins. “With battles against the Shadow!” The old woman shook her head softly, fearing that they would have problems sleeping if she told them something very scary. “I think perhaps a different kind of story is more appropriate”, she replied smiling.

 

“Noooo”, screamed the boy in true disappointment while his twin sister remained silent. “I want to hear stories about battles, about fighting the Shadow, about the Forsaken..”

 

The old woman’s face hardened hearing those last words. “Don’t you mention the evil Forsaken, little Gerard”, she said, her voice stern. The boy’s eyes grew larger, unused to this tone of voice from their granny while the girl slid beneath the bed covers. “Or one day”, she added, “they will come and get you, little one.” Her voice was partly serious, partly playful and the adventurous boy felt part thrill, part fear at her words.

 

She mouthed the ancient incantation under her breath: "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. The hand of the Creator shelters the world, and the Light shines on us all.”

 

“Now then, I have a better story for you, little ones.” The old woman’s smile was back and her eyes glittered. “This story is exciting as well..”. She went on to tell a story of a princess in a far away land who fell in love with a blacksmith whereupon they eloped and were chased by her angry sword wielding royal brothers..

 

So caught up in this story were they all that they did not register the sound of ominous thunder and lightning - and screams of terror - in the far distance.

 

 

The Sehn Rha’ad has been found.

 

Serahna’s voice echoed in Raphael’s mind.

 

Seated in his private chambers in Illian, his thoughts went back to the meeting with Serahna and Deleyhna a few days before. Serahna had been secretive and had been reluctant to say any more about this discovery, but it had certainly piqued their interest. Agreeing to the alliance between the three of them had been useful in the circumstances, the male Chosen thought, and this news of the Sehn Rha’ad made it even more interesting.

 

Who would have thought the Sehn Rha’ad would survive 4000 years?

 

Seated beside his writing desk, he signed the parchment before him before putting it aside with the others. They were invitations to several of the councillors on the Council of Twelve in Illian. Raphael - or rather Lord Serafehl - was convening a meeting, outwardly to work on strategy to bolster the defences of the nation, but in reality to secretly further weaken the Illianer army and thereby increase the current chaos. Time and again his thoughts returned to the matter of the Sehn Rha’ad though. It was a wonderful discovery, but most importantly they had to ensure Vanahl did not hear of it. If he did, he would demand that they hand it over to him.

 

It had to be kept a secret.

 

 

He set pen and paper aside and put on his dark cloak, the one with silver fringes at the bottom. Smiling at his attractive reflection in the mirror, the guise of Lord Serafehl dispelled for the moment, his grin darkened as he thought of the matter at hand and he turned facing the far wall. Weaving Saidin, channeling the complicated weaves, a gateway appeared right there and then in his chamber, showing a village in northern Illian, and he stepped through, Traveling in an instant hundreds of miles. Stepping out of the gateway, it shimmered behind him for a moment and then disappeared entirely. He was standing at the outskirts of the village behind a large mansion owned by Darkfriends. Walking up to the back door he knocked three times and the door was quickly opened. “Great Master”, whispered the man within and bowed deeply as Raphael walked past him into the building.

 

“Where is he!?” commanded the Chosen and the tall middle-aged man pointed up the stairs. Raphael headed up to the floor above and stopped before a huge oak door. Smiling grimly he opened the door and went inside. A man bound to a chair stared at him with fear in his eyes. He was bound hands and feet and gagged as well. Blood streamed down his rugged face and upper body.

 

“So”, began the Chosen as he came to stand before the bound man. “You are the traitor who planned to tell the authorities of this man’s allegiances.” He nodded to the mansion owner who stood silently in the background, eyes fixed on their prisoner. The bound man shook his head in denial, babbling incoherently into his gag. “Oh, there is no need to deny it”, Raphael added darkly. His eyes tightened dangerously. “We have proof.” The man continued shaking his head, his eyes watering from pain. “To break your Oaths to the Great Lord carries the penalty of death as you know.” The Chosen’s face hardened even further. “But first we need to make an example of you, so that others of our..flock do not get similar notions.” His grin broadened as the bound man screamed into his gag, knowing that he would be tortured for a long time before death would claim him. And then the Great Lord might give him eternal pain.

 

 

Raphael channeled tiny threads of Saidin into the bound man’s body, needles of pain that hit every nerve and gave unending agony. The man screamed and screamed in futility, his heart-wrenching shrieks only partially stopped by the gag. Using the One Power skilfully, the Chosen prolonged the traitorous Darkfriend’s pain for a very long time until finally cutting through flesh and bone, legs and arms, and rupturing the man’s heart, lungs and bowels. Raphael sighed with satisfaction, his blue eyes gleaming, looking at the bloody corpse. It was done.

 

“Pick up all the remains”, he commanded, pointing to the bloody mess on and around the chair, “and leave it in the shed outside for the rest of our people to see. Tell them what happened here.” It would make the others think twice before considering betrayal. A shadow rose from a dark corner of the room and nodded, bowing deeply to the Chosen. It was he who had interrogated the man on Raphael’s orders. The mansion owner bowed deeply again as the Chosen walked past him and down the stairs. Raphael left the mansion, his business done, opened a gateway and Traveled back to Illian.

 

Stepping out of the gateway, the Chosen entered his chambers again. The thin vertical light line in the air disappeared behind him. It was twilight outside in the city, day gradually becoming night, but Raphael’s mind was far from focused on the time of day. His thoughts were on these traitors among the many Darkfriend cells, as he thought of them, around Illian. There had been several such instances in the time he had built his power in this region and they were becoming a concern. Betrayal from within had to be stopped swiftly and harshly. It was not yet time to be open with their true allegiance.

 

The time was coming, but not yet.

 

 

Dorinha Aes Sedai watched the gleeman performance in the Ebou Dari inn seated beside her concerned Warder but her mind was far away. She was thinking of her many fruitful years in the Green Ajah, the many missions she had been on which had been successful for the White Tower, her many years of service for the Light.

 

And now this shameful debacle.

 

The Amyrlin had trusted her with this important task and she had failed miserably. Not only had she failed, but now she was almost possessed with the thought of the Queen’s advisor, the man called Lord Elahron, drawn toward him to the extent that she was hardly able to think of anything else. She was behaving like a love-stricken novice, for crying out loud! She felt ashamed and knew her Warder could feel her strong emotion through the Warder-Bond, though she shielded him from her personal feelings. What is happening to me!?

 

She could not fathom what was going on - and it almost made her tear her hair. Her Warder had more or less forced her out of the Palace that afternoon to get some fresh air, seeing her bewildered frustration and being unable to do anything about it, and they had walked the streets of Ebou Dar for several hours before ending up at this inn. Some food and entertainment might be good to get his Bondholder in a better mood, Cardhan Gaidin had thought, but the meal had seemed tasteless to the Sister of the White Tower and now she looked at the performing gleeman, a short-haired handsome man in his late twenties, wearing the cloak of many colourful patches that bespoke his profession, without really seeing.

 

Cardhan was near beside himself with worry. He knew there was more to it than just his Aes Sedai’s disappointment at the Altaran Queen’s dismissal and non-acceptance of the Aes Sedai proposal, but she would not talk about it however much he insisted. He had never seen her this upset in the many years since he had accepted her offer of service as her Warder, she seemed utterly bewildered which was very unlike her. She appeared lost in her own thoughts even here this early evening, a far-away look on her face, and after a while he broke the silence, wanting to engage her in conversation.

 

 

“Aes Sedai”, he said, being formal as he often was around her, “do you know the story behind Altaran Marriage Knives?” She looked at him as if she had not heard. “Knives?” She murmured, as if it were a strange word. “Yes, these knives have a cultural significance here in this region”, Cardhan Gaidin added. “It is a more interesting topic than one might assume.” She drew her thoughts back from whence they had been and focused on her Warder’s face. She saw a small grin there and knew what he was trying to do. “Alright, I can see that you will tell this story whether I want to hear it or not,”, she replied with a small grin on her lips, “so let me have it.”

 

Her Warder was glad he had her attention now and that he could take her mind off her problems at least for a moment. “Ah yes, Altaran Marriage Knives." He began. “They do have some very peculiar customs down here. The knife their women carry tells any who care to look a great deal about the wearer. A white sheath means the woman is widowed and does not intend to remarry. A blue sheath means she will consider offers. Jewels or glass beads set into the knife represent children of the wearer, white stones for sons and red for daughters. And they love their duels.” He went on after taking a sip from his ale. “If a child dies in a duel he or she has died honourably, they believe. However, many women remove their children’s stones, effectively disowning them, if they refuse a duel past the age of sixteen.”

 

“Strange notions of honour they have indeed, the Ebou Dari.” There was undisguised mirth in his voice now. A man of the Borderlands, he knew much about honour. “Though there are many strange customs around the world, and we have both experienced many, this must surely be one of the weirder ones.” He added. ”Another Borderlander I once knew stated flatly that the Ebou Dari are insane.” A small chuckle escaped his lips and he thought he saw his Aes Sedai’s face relax somewhat, her mouth twisting slightly in a wry grin. Cardhan was glad to see it.

 

A moment of inspiration came upon him and he excused himself for a moment walking through the Common Room toward the small stage where the gleeman was concluding a musical performance with a flute. Once he was finished, he bowed to the applause of the inn’s lively guests. The Gaidin caught him before he left to take a break, whispered something in his ear, handing him a few coins. The gleeman nodded and Cardhan headed back to the table where Dorinha Sedai waited. She looked questioningly at him and his grin broadened as he sat down opposite her.

 

 

“The gleeman will be back in a moment”, he said, “I am sure he will perform something interesting.”

 

She could see his secretive smile and it made her wonder what he was up to. He did sometimes like to surprise her and this was obviously one of those occasions. She just hoped it would not be something embarrassing.. like that one time when..

 

Her train of thought was stopped as the gleeman was back on stage, saying to the gathered crowd that he would now make a special performance, telling a humorous tale apt for this place.

 

“For those of you fond of Daggers”, he ‘whispered’ conspiratorially - and the guests roared in appreciation, guessing which song was coming.

 

Cardhan listened with amusement as the gleeman spun his satirical tale of the ‘doomed’ Ebou Dari husband, and his traditional Ebou Dari wife.

 

He was glad to see his Aes Sedai’s face and being lighten for a time as they, and everyone in the Common Room, listened to - and enjoyed - the comedic, satirical poem and song performed by this talented gleeman.

 

 

 

 

"Adriahna Meryhn, you are summoned to be tested for the shawl of an Aes Sedai. The Light keep you whole and see you safe."

 

Tarihna 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 Altaran woman staring back at her recognized.

 

Adriahna’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 fifteen 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.

 

 

Adriahna kept her composure as she arrived at the Testing room. Walking through a doorway she saw the 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. 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, Adriahna Meryhn. How would you depart?"
Adriahna: "In knowledge of myself."
Mistress of Novices: "For what reason have you been summoned here?"
Adriahna: "To be tried."
Mistress of Novices: "For what reason should you be tried?"
Adriahna: "So that I may learn whether I am worthy."
Mistress of Novices: "For what would you be found worthy?"
Adriahna: "To wear the shawl."

 

Adriahna then hurriedly undressed, 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 Blue 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 weave and a powerful hum permeated the circular chamber.

 

Naked, focused in on herself, composed as well as she was able to, Adriahna 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 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 where she saw some clothes hanging on a line in a backyard. She grabbed some underclothes, a white shirt and a long green skirt which she pulled on, breathing more easily. She was glad she had managed to remain fairly composed, but now she looked around to see if the first six-pointed star was anywhere close. She did not see it at first but when she took a few steps further down the alley she suddenly saw it off to her left. It was carved into the ground by a low concrete building. She hurried toward it and stood on it as she performed her first weave. Once it was done she walked to the end of the alley, glancing around. Something shimmered to her right, fifteen or so paces away, and she saw it was an arch. Once she stepped through, the alley was gone and in its place were unfamiliar woodlands. Her clothes had changed as well, now she wore 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 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 whatever it was to miss her. Suddenly a six-pointed star shimmered 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 she managed to remain 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 sorrow and regret in her eyes she hurried toward the arch and ran through.

 

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. She swallowed some water and her head went under for a moment, but she managed the calm that was expected of her in such a stressful situation. Then she channeled.. 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 about 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 Adriahna 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, Adriahna 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, 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, 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. And so she headed back from where she had come. 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. She felt weariness inside at the sight.. but felt composed and ready even so.

 

And then there was suddenly a scream from somewhere behind her.

 

Turning swiftly she saw a Trolloc 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 little child screamed again and the Myrddraal came at her from the other side. For a split second she was 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 regret for the little girl.

 

Adriahna almost stumbled as she stepped out of the Ter’angreal, her face drawn, 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. Adriahna 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 room 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. Adriahna 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.

 

Arementhe Senican, 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?"
Adriahna: "Adriahna Meryhn"
Amyrlin Seat: "For what reason do you come?"
Adriahna: "To swear the Three Oaths and thereby claim the shawl of an Aes Sedai."
Amyrlin Seat: "By what right do you claim this burden?"
Adriahna: "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."

 

Adriahna 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 Adriahna’s hands. She channeled Spirit into the Oath Rod and Adriahna 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

 

 

Adriahna 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. Adriahna 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?”

Adriahna 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. The youngest of the Blue Sisters, a young-seeming blonde Andoran woman, then lay the Aes Sedai shawl on Adriahna’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, Adriahna’s eyes watered. This was what she had worked for so many years in the White Tower, the culmination of her dreams, her ambitions and hardships.

 

She was finally Aes Sedai.

 

6 hours ago, Delirium said:

@Elessar

Road to Perdition

@Delirium

Yes, you are correct. Well done!

 

 

Visvana Loratehl.

 

That had been her name.

 

Arementhe Senican remembered how amused several of the Sitters had been when she had announced in the Hall of the Tower that she was taking on a new name upon her ascension to the Amyrlin Seat. It was an unusual thing to do, but the Aes Sedai histories told of it having happened a few times before so it was not totally without precedent. Her reason for making the change had not been outwardly known, but was in truth an inner desire to make a fresh start in her new position among the Sisters of the White Tower.

 

Also, she wanted a fresh start from her troubled past.

 

She had been in the Tower ever since she was found with the spark by Aes Sedai when she was 15 years of age and taken to Tar Valon. Her childhood had been a difficult and painful one, living with an abusive father and a mentally struggling uncaring mother, and she would never forget the countless hours she had hidden in a closet to get away from her life of despair. Being taken away and to the White Tower was, in truth, a blessing for her, but her past remained in her mind even after all these years, her parents now long gone, and her name was a constant reminder of that horrible past. She felt better with her new name, the memories remained but it was as if she had cloaked herself in a new identity, a new and better persona, and it did not bother her that some of the Sisters in the Tower still gave her sly looks whenever her current name was spoken or announced in ceremonies.

 

She did not know why she was thinking of this right now, as she was walking steadily down the stairs to the guest hall where the Asha’man waited, but memories of Visvana Loratehl and her difficult past were uppermost in her thoughts until she entered the guest hall itself, the seven-coloured stole of the Amyrlin on her shoulders, seeing her Keeper and the male channeler seated there.

 

Then she pushed everything else to the back of her mind and she focused totally on the present and on the potentially precarious and dangerous situation she was in.

 

 

Vanahl, his eyes burning pools of intense fire, watched the Dragkhar as it swooped down on its intended victim.

 

An assassin of the Shadow, the Dragkhar had been created by Kieran and some other scientists in what was now called the Age of Legends, using the One Power on human stock, corrupting and re-shaping. These Shadowspawn had unnaturally large eyes, pale skin and a pair of leathery wings. They were slender and tall with very thin, frail arms and hands that were tipped with sharp talons. A closer look at a Draghkar's almost white face would reveal that in addition to the soulless, huge eyes and gaunt cheeks, it possessed a misshapen mouth of blood red lips containing sharp pointed teeth.  Vanahl could hear it sing to its victim in a soft, crooning voice, and knew it was lulling the victim into a hypnotized state, sucking the very soul out of the person, leaving it an empty husk. After devouring the soul, it would drain the life out of the victim as well.

 

The Nae’blis knew some of the other Chosen felt they had little use for Dragkhar, preferring instead to use Myrddraal and Trollocs in all their dark schemes and machinations, but Vanahl liked to use Dragkhar in some of his undertakings because of their special stealth and agility. Looking past the Dragkhar, the Chosen saw the Myrddraal, a muscular caped eye-less figure, that was controlling it. On his orders of course. On his command. Nothing was done without Vanahl’s instruction and permission. The last Myrddraal that had disobeyed him had suffered a very painful death.

 

And so they had assailed this local lord’s castle just outside the town of Falme on Toman Head where many lords and ladies that were high in the power structure of this region, as well as  several local military leaders, were gathered for talks and festivities. Falme was a strategic place in the time to come - and the Great Lord had commanded Vanahl to seize the town. This was the first step, to cripple the command structure. There were more to come.

 

The evening sky was black but the ground was turning red with blood. Several men and women finely dressed lay unmoving on the ground, their bodies broken, their eyes without light. The lord who had just been ‘kissed’ by the Dragkhar slumped to the ground unmoving too and Vanahl’s grin broadened. This was going very well indeed. Without thinking, he touched the scar that ran down his left cheek, the scar he had left there as an important reminder not to trust anyone. His eyes burned in the night.

 

He watched until all the lords were dead.

 

Chaos was spreading, the Shadow was rising. The Great Lord would be pleased.

 

 

Taramandha Sovey, Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah, was a fairly non-distinct Sister, neither among the most powerful healers in her Ajah, nor among the most influential politically. She was what would be considered average in every way, a person you did not take much notice of. This suited Divara well. The real Taramandha lay dead and buried several miles outside of Tar Valon and the Chosen had taken on her identity for her business in the White Tower. She used the Mask of Mirrors so her face and appearance was Taramandha’s and she had watched the Yellow Sister over a period of time, hiding in plain sight as it were, learning her mannerisms. She masked her true strength and ability with the One Power to avoid suspicion and immersed herself in this new identity to the extent that she sometimes almost forgot who she really was. One of those Chosen to Rule the World forever.

 

The woman who had once been Danya Lehvin Bardhine, renowned doctor and surgeon at the Tihran Medical Facility in Gheriahn, opened the door to her quarters in the Yellow Ajah section of the White Tower and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Staring at her reflection in the huge mirror that took up most of a wall, her thoughts swept her momentarily into the past. Back to the time before the long sleep..

 

Her face hardened and a vicious smile came upon her lips when she thought of how she had been sacked, ridiculed and then prosecuted by the other Aes Sedai for her ‘extreme and unethical methods’ as they called it. They had not appreciated, upon discovery, Danya’s experiments on humans to combat deadly diseases, had not understood, as Danya saw it, that some sacrifice was necessary to gain vital success and progress in the field of medicine. She had been imprisoned but, with the help of others, had managed to escape, fleeing the region and heading to Shayol Ghul to pledge her service and life to the Shadow. She wanted recognition for her great ability as a surgeon and her impressive work, not spite and becoming outcast, and she wanted power and influence and for this she was willing to turn to the Shadow. She had found likeminded people among Darkfriends and had made further progress in her experimental work. She had also gradually found that she got some thrills and enjoyment in experimenting on humans, enjoyed seeing the effect of pain and suffering on the human body, also in part in bitterness over how despicably she had been treated by the other Aes Sedai. She did not question her mental state, but became harder and more vicious as time went by.

 

 

And then.. it all went wrong.. the War of the Shadow lost, and the blasted Dragon sealed them all in the Bore for the long sleep..

 

Anger swept through her as it always did when she thought of Dar Keran.. she had admired him once, a strong and fearless leader, attractive and forceful, but ever since his betrayal as she saw it, ever since that.. she had hated him.

 

And now the Dragon had been Reborn.. in a boy called Ter Sanduahl..

 

Her eyes tightened. Vanahl had ordered the boy to be untouched, but Divara had plans of her own and they included capturing him and making him suffer.. for everything. She had almost managed to capture the boy a while back but her plan had backfired and now she was pretty certain that Vanahl suspected her involvement though he had no proof. She cursed inside at the mistakes she had made, trusting people who could not be trusted, but she swore to herself that the next time she would succeed.

 

The Dragon Reborn would pay.

 

Gazing into the mirror, she watched as her reflection gradually changed, turning from a dark-haired oval-faced woman with brown eyes and high cheekbones into a blonde-haired woman with shoulder-length hair, blue eyes and a handsome face. She smiled as the weave set and she could see her true appearance in the mirror.

 

All that’s missing is a nice fashionable dress, she thought to herself, her mood lifting, as she moved a few steps to the side, as if in a remembered dance.

 

 

“Damn!” The King’s hand slammed hard down on the table. “How could it happen!?”

 

His anger and grief were evident in his red twisted face as he looked at his Chief Advisor.

 

“You were supposed to protect her, keep her from harm!”

 

Lord Rhemar stood with a bowed head, faking deep regret, as the King continued to show his anger and frustration at the sudden death of his beloved daughter. Only Lord Rhemar’s assurances that it had been an accident, and his trust in the character of his advisor, had kept the King from imprisoning the man. He still was flustered how this could have happened, even though he knew riding accidents happened on occasion. Even so, his poor young daughter had just been learning to ride.. just beginning her life. Now it was all lost.

 

“My deepest apologies, my King”, Sinam the Chosen heard himself say, as his face took on feigned grief. “One moment she was riding safely and well, and then.. she was falling. She must have lost her balance. And she fell badly..”. He paused momentarily for added effect. “There was nothing I could do. I am so sorry. She was a precious girl.”

 

Inside Sinam was grinning about his performance.. it was important that the King believed him so he could continue to manipulate events in Arad Doman in the guise of Lord Rhemar.

 

The King, a noble man of 47 years, with dark hair that was slowly turning grey framing a handsome though worn face, stared at his advisor and saw the other man’s pain. He controlled his temper, his brown eyes lowering, and he nodded. “Yes, I know. There was nothing you could do.” He turned and gazed out the window. They were in one of the King’s private chambers. The palace grounds were almost empty at this mid-afternoon hour, slivers of sunshine pouring down from the sky, since the King had declared this a week of mourning. The pain he felt inside was almost unbearable. His wife, the Queen, had closeted herself in one of her private rooms and had not been seen for days, but servants whispered that cries of grief and despair were often heard from that room. The King was unable to look his wife in the eye at the moment, feeling guilt, and understood that they both needed more time.

 

“Leave me”, he said finally, turning back to his advisor. Lord Rhemar bowed deeply, his face sorrowful and drawn, then he turned and walked slowly out of the chamber. His face, now not seen by the King, was gleeful as he closed the door behind him.

 

 

Her Keeper came swiftly to her feet and gave the proper bow of respect to the Amyrlin. “Mother”, said Centhira Susmihnen, touching her long green skirt with one hand, while the Asha’man remained seated, staring wryly at the Leader of the Aes Sedai as she approached. The Keeper’s face became hard, her mouth twisting, at the disrespect the Asha’man was showing by not greeting the Amyrlin properly. Arementhe could see that her Keeper was about to give the man a tongue-lashing and so she intervened smoothly, welcoming the Asha’man to the White Tower. The man’s lopsided grin did not change but a dark gleam came to his eyes. He had deliberately provoked a reaction from the Keeper. Arementhe noticed it, and inwardly she was not amused, but she feigned ignorance.

 

“We are glad the Black Tower wants a line of communication”, the Amyrlin began carefully. “These are troubled times..”

 

“I think we need to speak privately”, the Asha’man cut in, in a deep voice, and his eyes became more serious. “There is much to talk about.”

 

Arementhe trusted her Keeper, as much as anyone could trust anyone these dark days, but even so she had not shared everything of her plans regarding the Black Tower with her. This was a very delicate matter and so it suited her well to take this talk in private.

 

“My Keeper of the Chronicles is to be trusted”, she replied smoothly, giving Centhira face. “But since you insist, we can talk in the next chamber. It is more private.”

 

The Asha’man nodded, giving no other reaction, while Centhira exchanged a long look with the Amyrlin before giving a quick bow and leaving the chamber.

 

Outside, as she walked toward her own private chamber, she wondered what it was that the Amyrlin did not want her to know.

 

Arementhe walked to the other side of the ornate guest hall where there was a door to a smaller room. This room was locked and the Amyrlin produced a key which opened the door. Stepping inside, she watched the Asha’man enter the chamber and then she closed the door behind her. She seated herself in one of the high-backed chairs around a center table while the black-cloaked man seated himself opposite her. There were geographical maps and small historical paintings on the walls and some shelves on the walls behind them with books. A small window at the far end had a view of the island city. Other than that, the room was empty apart from them.

 

 

“Now then”, the Amyrlin began smoothly. “Please tell me your name and the nature of your business. I have warded the room so we can speak freely and privately without anyone listening in.”

 

Her tone of voice managed to be friendly and firm at the same time. It was her ‘Amyrlin-voice’ as some of the Accepted whispered when they did not think she heard. She did not discourage them.

 

Looking at the man opposite her, a tall middle-aged man with light-blond hair and green eyes, a prominent nose in an otherwise handsome face, she was not quite able to remove the fear she felt when close to a man who could channel. She could not tell whether he was holding onto Saidin right now. She was holding onto Saidar, enjoying the sweetness of it, but she did not know if she was in danger. She highly doubted an Asha’man would try anything inside the White Tower, but these men were only partially sane so one could never know. It was necessary to speak to this man regardless of risk, to hear what he had to say and to confront any accusations he had if he had any. She cursed inside her premature plot to attack the Black Tower - What a fool I was! - and hated the fact that rumours of her original intentions, thankfully not carried out, had spread. Did the Black Tower know? Was that why this man was here now?

 

She tried to keep her face smooth and hoped this envoy did not see or sense the turmoil inside her.

 

“My name is Vector Sendrihn.” The Asha’man grinned. “I am the envoy the Black Tower sent this time.” The Asha’man pin on his black cloak spoke of his position and standing.

 

“As for the nature of my business.. these are indeed troubled times as you said, and some very important news has come to our attention..”

 

His green eyes became fierce and his face hardened.

 

The Amyrlin steeled herself for what was to come.

 

I am glad to say I have finally returned to some DM RP, adding another new chapter today to my Revolution 1 'Magnum Opus' many character-filled dark Solo-RP 'Chosen to Reign', my most ambitious and demanding RP-undertaking in 20 years of Wheel of Time RP. I hope to add further to this ambitious project over time.

 

As for my oldest DM RP character, the many-times before bonded IC Warder Elessar, he is currently unbonded and in hiatus (inactive). Perhaps in time he will be active again, will have to wait and see.

 

Raphael stared with desire at the beautiful red-haired woman seated opposite him.

 

Deleyhna stared back at him with amusement in her emerald green eyes. They glittered as they often did in his presence and she knew very well what effect she had on him. And as always she felt drawn to him, to his attractive good looks and knowing he was a dangerous man. It excited her and she felt a thrill run through her body as she imagined him in bed with her. She knew he felt the same way and she loved teasing him, holding back just so, keeping him from having what he wanted.

 

An impish grin came upon her red lips as she repeated her question.

 

“Are you sure you want to join this alliance, Raphael?”

 

Raphael grinned slightly as he took a sip from the goblet of wine in front of him. Placing the goblet on the table, he considered his reply. He had thought about the matter for some time. Was there much benefit in this alliance in truth? He could not tell. All the Chosen were in alliances, it gave added strength and support at least for a while. In the Game of Power appearance was just as important as true strength, it kept your opponents on edge and though united in purpose for the Great Lord Raphael did see his Chosen brethren as opponents. Dangerous ones at that. But it suited him to be in alliances right now, and so he was curious what Serahna had in mind. And he had to admit that Deleyhna’s involvement enticed him.

 

“Oh, I am sure I will find it pleasurable, Deleyhna”. He grinned darkly. “A threesome could be quite.. interesting.”

 

Deleyhna knew exactly what he meant and she laughed. “Dream on, Raphael.” She grinned mischievously. “Knowing Serahna, she would wear that armour of hers. It would become a nuisance I should think.”

 

Raphael chuckled. She was probably right. Her armour was probably such an integral part of Serahna that she probably slept in it. He had certainly never seen her without it, even back Before..

 

 

His thoughts went momentarily back to the time before the long sleep.. to the world that had been theirs, in the Age that now was called The Age of Legends.

 

Echoes swept through his mind as he remembered..

 

“Breaker of Faith!”

“Traitor!”

 

They named me well, those lightfools, and I embraced the name they gave me. For I did betray the Gates of Karan, I did carry the Shadow into the heart of Davelle. Oh yes.

 

Fire.

 

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

 

Storm.

 

If only I had gotten to destroy you, Dar Keran! You proud and self-glorifying man! You destroyed the world sealing the Great Lord and us away, you and your two hundred mad Companions.

 

Chaos.

 

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

 

 

He pulled back from his strong memories, his hands clenched, his face hardened. Like every time it felt so real when he immersed himself in what had once been. He took another sip from his goblet, not tasting the wine.

 

The amusement grew on Deleyhna’s face. She has seen the momentary change that had come over Raphael. Taking a sip from her goblet, she leaned back in the high-backed chair. Serahna was late which was quite unusual and not in character. The Borderland-based Chosen was soldierly in all manners, including punctuality. Perhaps something had come up, Deleyhna wondered.

 

Staring past Raphael, her eyes fastened on the large elaborate painting which hung on the wall behind him. The painting flickered, becoming solid and then less solid, in a never-ending circle of motion as was common here in Tel'aran'rhiod. She was so used to it, as were the others, that she did not think of it ordinarily, but it caught her attention now. The painting depicted a scene of war in the Borderlands, probably a scene from the Trolloc Wars, and she knew it was one of Serahna’s favourites. She wondered where the real painting was, where Serahna’s stronghold was. They all knew it was somewhere in the Borderlands but Serahna had never admitted exactly where. Deleyhna had her suspicions but she kept them to herself. Let Serahna keep her secrets, she thought with amusement.

 

It is not important, at least not yet.

 

 

A chime rang suddenly in the chamber announcing the arrival of the third party in this alliance. Stepping through what looked like a Gateway Serahna came to stand before the two others.

 

“Sorry I am late”, she said perfunctorily as she seated herself in the third chair around the table. Grinning slightly, she looked them each in the eye. “Glad you both made it.”

 

Deleyhna gave a small nod, her eyes showing some amusement, while Raphael gave Serahna a lopsided grin. “Glad you could make it too”, he said with a hint of sarcasm.

 

Looking at the handsome woman, he wondered what she would look like in a pretty dress. She had dark wavy hair to her neck, dark eyes and high cheekbones. She wore soldier-outfit though, fitted with armour, as she often did. It made her less attractive in Raphael’s eyes, but he was used to her apparel and would have been surprised had she worn anything else. Deleyhna looked at the other woman and grinned inside. She liked the fact that the other dressed the way she did. That way no one would ever find her as attractive - or desirable - as Deleyhna herself.

 

Serahna took a sip of wine, setting the goblet on the table in front of her. Her eyes studied the faces of her Chosen brethren. She wondered which of the two was the most dangerous. Raphael probably, though she would not like to have Deleyhna as an enemy. Both these two were dangerous as vipers. Which was exactly why it was beneficial to include them in an alliance. In the Game of Power Serahna had learned that it was wise to choose the right.. partners so to speak. Perhaps things would change later, but for now an alliance of these three of the Chosen was.. prudent, as she saw it.

 

 

“These are perilous times..” she began smoothly. “An alliance is.. wise.”

 

She saw that she had their attention. Her eyes took on a conspiring gleam.

 

“An unexpected door has opened.. the Sehn Rha’ad has been found.”

 

Serahna enjoyed the look of surprise on both Raphael’s and Deleyhna’s faces.

 

It was time to tell the rest.

 

 

Arementhe Senican, Watcher of the Seals, The Flame of Tar Valon, The Amyrlin Seat paced in her private chamber in the White Tower. She was a troubled woman. For what seemed ages she had gone over any and all choices left for her regarding the perilous situation, but she had still to find a good answer. Her doubt in herself was tearing at her and did not make the situation any easier. She could trust no one and that was the main problem, she had no one to confide in, no one to share her strong suspicions with.

 

That the Black Ajah had infested her White Tower.

 

She knew it though she had no proof. She could feel it deep inside. Sisters had disappeared, never to be seen again. She had read the secret histories. And some of the decisions recently made by the Hall of the Tower just felt.. wrong. They were meant to strengthen the Aes Sedai, so the Sitters said, but Arementhe felt they weakened the Tower and, more importantly, the Amyrlin Seat herself. Who were the Black Sisters? The idea that Aes Sedai, women serving to protect the Light and all that was good in the world, would sell their souls to the Shadow and betray everything they stood for, made her skin crawl. And her soul screamed in frustration at being unable to root them out. On top of this there was the matter of the Black Tower.. and, not the least, the boy Dragon.

 

What am I to do.. she wondered silently.

 

 

She touched the stole about her shoulders. It was a long strip of silk about a hand wide, the symbolic regalia worn over her dress as Amyrlin, leader of the Aes Sedai. The stole was striped with all the seven Ajah colours: in order - Blue, Green, Yellow, Red, White, Gray and Brown. She was of All Ajahs and None. She was the embodiment of Aes Sedai and all they stood for. But right now, she did not feel up to the task. Not at all.

 

She kept pacing for what seemed an eternity, when suddenly there was a knock on the door to her chamber. She was seldom disturbed here unless it was something important, so she collected herself and her face was smooth, in control as she faced the door and bade the person enter.

 

Centhira Susmihnen, Keeper of the Chronicles, stepped into the room and gave a small curtsy to the Amyrlin. “Mother”, she began. “There is an.. envoy from the.. Black Tower to see you.”

 

Raised from the Green, Centhira was a fierce woman of one hundred and fifty years, formerly a Sitter for the Green. She was a Borderlander woman through and through, and she had been a very capable Keeper of the Chronicles under Arementhe.

 

 

The Amyrlin stiffened when she heard who the visitor was. She kept her face smooth though, but inside she almost quivered at the thought that the Black Tower somehow knew of her original intentions, what she had planned to do..

 

“Thank you, Centhira.” She replied carefully. “I will see the envoy in a short while. Bring him to the guest hall and give him some refreshments.”

 

Centhira nodded, giving a small bow of respect. Inside she wondered why the Amyrlin seemed a little on edge.. not that it was that apparent, most would not have noticed, but Centhira knew her so well that she recognized the slight unease in the Amyrlin. Not that it was so strange, considering that one of them.. the Asha’man.. was here in the White Tower.. but even so. Few things rattled the Amyrlin.

 

Giving another small bow the Keeper left the Amyrlin’s private chamber and walked down the stairs and into the entry hall where the envoy waited. Three Aes Sedai stood close by, watching the man closely. One of them was a Red Sister and she looked ready to jump on him and gentle him on the spot. This was only the second time an emissary from the Black Tower had come to the White Tower. Half the Hall of the Tower had been in uproar the first time it happened some months before. It would probably be no different this time.

 

Approaching the black-cloaked man, Centhira tried to still the butterflies she felt inside at being so close to a man who could channel. She waved for him to follow her as she led him into what they called the guest hall, a large chamber used for entertaining guests to the White Tower. The man followed silently. As they rounded a corner, a girl in a novice outfit almost jumped out of her skin at the sight of the hard-looking man and Centhira had to stop for a moment to calm the terrified girl down. Finally the girl collected herself and continued on her errand while the Keeper and the Asha’man walked up to the chamber in question and seated themselves in some comfortable chairs.

 

 

“The Amyrlin will be with you shortly”, Centhira said once she had handed him a drink.

 

The man nodded his thanks and took a sip from the glass, his eyes dangerously focused on the Aes Sedai at the other side of the table.

 

“That is good”, he replied smoothly. “We have much to talk about.”

 

His eyes glittered darkly of a sudden and Centhira felt anew those butterflies in her stomach. She was not easily rattled either, but she could not put aside the unease she felt at the proximity of the Asha’man.

 

This was a dangerous man.. and he was in their midst.

 

 

Gerehl was in an angry mood.

 

Together with Banohr he had searched the Plains of Moredo for the lost male Sa’angreal Neminahl but with no success. It had been an almost impossible task to begin with, but the clues they had found in an ancient text had indicated that was the place to look. He had hoped they would somehow.. sense it, but no luck. They had looked in many areas in the region before finally giving up. As long as Raphael has not found it, he thought for the hundredth time. The region was close to Illian where Raphael had settled. He could not be sure, but he felt that Raphael would have boasted about it if he had come across the Sa’angreal. He would not have been able to resist the temptation, Gerehl thought wryly.

 

But the question remained: where was this powerful artefact?

 

Standing on the balcony, staring down at the city below him, he wondered for a moment what he would do if he did find the Sa’angreal. He would then be the most powerful of them all, the new Nae’blis. They would have to follow his lead then. The thought made his pulse rise and heart quicken. It would be no more than he deserved.

 

I will then have what is rightfully mine!

 

 

His eyes shone as he left the balcony and re-entered the chamber inside. The blonde haired woman lay where he had left her, half-naked in the twin-sized bed. She stared up at him with large eyes, strands of Compulsion flowing, wanting to please him in every way. “My Lord”, she said seductively as he knelt down on the bed to kiss her. He felt desire in his loins and pulled off her remaining clothes. Undressing quickly, he joined her and they embraced in the fashion of lovers.

 

 

Seida din Parede Four Moons, the Mistress of the Ships and ruler of the Atha’an Miere, listened as her advisor spoke, then dismissed her. Heading up to the main deck of her ship, she walked its length as she thought about the news she had received. Her features hardened. Her very dark eyes were fierce as she stared out across the waters of the Aryth Ocean. Where are they? She wondered silently, her hand going to the six rings in each of her ear, which signified her high station, and to the numerous medallions on the chain connected to her nose. Why have they come now to mess things up, now that we were so close to contacting the Coramoor?

 

She almost felt close to tearing her whitening hair. They had received word a while back that ships coming from the far west had been spotted, but only recently had they been told that it was an armada of war-ships and that they were coming here. Her advisor’s most recent news had been confirmation of the fact and the Mistress of the Ships now had an important decision to make. The Sea Folk had many ships themselves, but not as well equipped for battle and nowhere near enough to be able to overcome this major threat. Perhaps they could find and ask the Coramoor for help, but they still were not certain where he was, never mind what he could do. The thought of cowardly running made her skin crawl, but she had to do what was best for her people.

 

I will do what I must, she swore silently to herself, her face a mask of iron. What must be, must be.

 

I do hope they keep the 13 Forsaken as in the books and canon and in accordance with Robert Jordan's vision.  It will also make for interesting and dark intrigue on screen. There will be more than enough (too many some of us believe) changes elsewhere in the tv-adaptation, and if they start merging Forsaken characters or dropping several of them, individual storylines will be affected which will affect the story as a whole. 13 is also a special number in The Wheel of Time as we all (incl. Rafe) know, and should not be tampered with.

 

If it's not possible practically to 'act out' 13 different characters in the tv-series, I hope they will at least let them all 'exist' in that universe (just that we don't see some of them on screen, but we know from dialogue that they are about and plotting).

 

It's about time we get some Forsaken casting also for the tv-series (imo the first ought to be Ishamael as Ba'alzamon ref. Rand's dreams), hope we will see some in the coming months.

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

Knowing it is an *adaptation*, I am prepared for and willing to embrace necessary changes, and even some unnecessary ones. We can't have everything we want! The only thing that tamps down my enthusiasm is this lingering doubt regarding what Brandon Sanderson may have been referring to when he bluntly said that the show contains at least one big change that he, for one, was not too thrilled about. (I forget his exact words, but I think I am interpreting his claim fairly.) I have a lot of respect for Brandon as an author (his Writing Excuses podcast makes it quite clear he knows his craft inside and out) which makes me wonder all the more, what could he be referring to?

 

Very interesting subject matter you bring up, I have thought about this myself also since I have lived with the Wheel of Time for almost 30 years and wish the tv-adaptation to be done right. Being a fan of staying close to canon in the tv-series (but, like you say, understanding the need for some changes in a visual medium; I just hope the changes are necessary and minor on the whole personally) I too was somewhat concerned when I heard what you mention.

 

PS. I see another member writes that he believes Brandon was not 'as blunt' (at least not quoted that way) as you say about disliking one particular change, but my impression from what I have heard (having followed Wheel of Time podcasts and blogs for months on end) is as you say that there was one particular element which displeased him somewhat (he was not that happy about) and which could upset part of the fanbase (though he was very supportive of Rafe's vision overall). 

 

And on this basis I will share my reflections on this matter.

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

I know a lot of people have speculated about this; I am curious what all of your thoughts are, now that production is as far along as it is (and now that we know Min is alive and well), not only as to what the big, bad change may be, but how much it might impact your enjoyment of the final product?

 

The most likely theories I have come across (or made up) which I am merely speculating may have been *serious* enough to warrant Brandon's comments include:

 

- Adding a bunch of modern-day swearing. (I just have a hunch that Sanderson would find this distasteful, especially when Jordan explicitly chose not to write one, single modern day cuss in a multi-million-word series. That was so clearly a deliberate choice, I think this would really not sit well with the man who was tapped to finish the books for the one who first created them.)

 

I agree on this, I too think Brandon would not be too pleased (for the reasons you mention) with adding a bunch of modern-day swearing to the tv-series. However, I am somewhat doubtful that this is what Brandon had in mind with his comment, since I think doing this change would only irritate parts of the fan community (some of the purists) while others would not care (and newcomers to the tv-series would kinda expect some at least modern-day swearing in a tv-series like this I guess). 

 

(personally this is a change that would not bother me that much unless it goes too far into vulgarism)

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

- Changing the whole Eye of the World / Greenman / Forsaken / Tarwin's Gap showdown at the end. (Although, if I had to guess, I would think that if Rafe had well thought-out reasons to do this, that Brandon would not have made such a strong comment, even if he disagreed with Rafe's exact rationale.)

 

This is another possible change that Brandon could have been somewhat unhappy with as you mention. I too, however, wonder if he would have reacted strongly to a (possibly necessary) plot change. The fanbase would be split I think on issues like this (some wanting few changes, some being open to many changes) and most fans of the saga expect a number of changes. It does depend a bit on how the changes would play out though, how fan reaction would be. The greater the change, the greater the reason (hypothetically) for Brandon to react. It is one thing to change the order of things at the Eye of the World and Tarwin's Gap or make minor tweaks, quite another if say the two Forsaken at the Eye are dropped from the tv-adaptation and the whole Eye plot from the book is revised. All in all I am doubtful if this is what Brandon had in mind, but it does depend somewhat on how big a potential change we are talking about in this instance.

 

(personally I would be very displeased if a major change was done to the Eye plot and that at Tarwin's Gap, say removing the two Forsaken from the story + the Greenman, revising much)

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

- Making Moiraine's and Thom's romance more 'telegraphed' from the beginning.

 

This is another possible change as you mention. Purists might react at such a change (especially those who were not that keen on this romance to begin with, and/or hoped the whole romance might be skipped in the tv-adaptation) while pragmatist might not mind. I don't think it is such a big deal either way that Brandon would react strongly to it, so I don't think this is what he had in mind.

 

(personally such a change or addition would not bother me that much; I am one of those who thought it was nice/charming to see Moiraine find some happiness in her personal life after a lifetime of working for causes for the White Tower, it made her somewhat more 'human' in a way, but it would not have mattered that much to me if this romance had not happened in the books, and so I am relaxed as to how they depict this matter in the tv-series)

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

- Changing Min's gender identity dynamic.

 

Another possible change as you mention. I have seen others mention this too. I don't know how big a deal such a potential change might be for Brandon. It also depends on what is the change. If Min becomes a transperson in the tv-series, that would be a major departure from canon and also influence how one views Rand (if the two are in love like in the books). If she is depicted as bisexual, that might be a slightly smaller departure but still far from canon. If she no longer is in love with Rand in the tv-series, that would be another big change. I think if there is a major change with Min, that could easily be the 'one big change' Brandon is talking about. As for the fanbase, again I think it would be split between those who would be very displeased by any major changes in Min's gender identity / relationship with Rand, and those who would not mind (i.e. who see the tv adaptation more as a separate telling of the story and so are fine with a huge departure from canon)

 

(personally I am in the first category here, and would be very displeased with any major changes to Min's character in the tv-series; this goes for all our heroes/heroines from EF as well as Elayne and Aviendha; I want to see the characters with their traits from the books on the tv-screen.. 'smile')

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

- Cutting Gawyn altogether, or combining him with Galad. (I know a lot of people have posted on other forum boards about this, and whether or not it makes sense from a show-running standpoint, I can see Brandon, as an author himself who got to write both Gawyn's and Galad's final scenes, feel strongly that there was a relevant place for both to be included in the show.)

 

Another potential change as you mention. I agree with you, I too feel such a major change from the books might make Brandon very displeased, also seeing (as you say) that he himself got to write them both at the end of the story. This could be what he had in mind when he mentioned the 'one big change'. Here too I think the fanbase would be somewhat divided, some being fine with such a change, others thinking it's too drastic. Neither of these two characters seem to be overly loved by the fanbase in general is my impression, but I think also many of those who are not great fans of them would like to see them both in the tv-adaptation.

 

(personally I want, as mentioned, to stick as much to canon as possible when it comes to the main storyline, main characters and the main events in the books, and so I would be unhappy if they combined the two characters or dropped one or both from the story; they each serve a purpose in the story)

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

- Drastic changes to the World of Dreams. (If for no other reason than it may be difficult to incorporate such a nebulous realm on an 8-episode TV show, especially when, looking down the line, T'a'R plays such a major role in future books.)

 

Interesting point. I would very much understand if Brandon would react strongly to a major change with Tel'aran'rhiod, say removing it altogether from the tv-series or changing it in a major way. I do, however, highly doubt Rafe would make such a drastic change since the World of Dreams is, as you mention, an integral part of the Wheel of Time going forwards. So I don't think this is what he has in mind.

 

(personally I would be very displeased indeed if they removed the World of Dreams from the tv-adaptation, neither would I be happy if they changed this concept too much; I am excited to see how it does play out on the tv-screen)

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

Some theories I think would be less likely to have evinced such a strong reaction from Sanderson include:

 

- Cutting the Trakands from Season 1. 

 

- Beefing up Logain's backstory and overall presence in Season 1. (I can't imagine Sanderson being disappointed by this.)

 

- Nudity. (I don't know Sanderson's personal feeling on this topic, but it cannot be denied that there is a lot of implied nudity in the books. Although he may feel that shoehorning it into Season 1 just to catch some of that 'Game of Thrones' buzz would be distasteful.)

 

- Cutting 2nd tier characters, like Hurin, as some people in other posts have suggested. (Just doesn't strike me as major enough to elicit Brandon's comment.)

 

- Cutting the Voice of the Creator from the ending. (Who knows, just wondering!?)

 

I agree that these points above are also potential but less likely changes that would elicit such a comment from Brandon. Cutting the Trakands would upset part of the fanbase I think (say removing Caemlyn) while the more 'pragmatic' fans might not care that much. Beefing up Logain's backstory etc seems to be something most fans believe will happen and I can't either see this would upset Brandon (quite the opposite I would imagine). Nudity on screen: this might be divise among fans, but I agree with you, don't think this would be a major thing for Brandon (it will be interesting to see how far they do go with nudity on screen though, since as we know there is much nudity in the books but much of a non-sexual nature). I don't either think cutting 2nd tier characters would upset Brandon much either, he understands that this is necessary with the huge amount of characters in the books. I don't think potentially cutting the Voice would upset him that much either (will be interesting to see if they do keep it in the tv-adaptation; is important in that case that it does not become cheesy I think most would agree).

 

(personally I hope they keep the Trakands and Caemlyn in season 1, I like the idea of having more of Logain's backstory even if we don't have much of it in the books; I have no strong opinion on nudity in the tv-series but I feel natural nudity (f.ex. with the Aiel sweat tents etc) was an element in the books that could be included in the tv-series without going the 'all-out sexual route' of Game of Thrones). Cutting 2nd tier characters is the kind of change I am fine with in the tv-series, it will be necessary in many cases. As for the Voice, if done right I would like to keep it but it's not a big deal for me if it's removed)

 

18 hours ago, Borderlander said:

 

So, any thoughts? I probably shouldn't dwell on this, but it is like someone going to a see a movie, coming out, and telling you the film was absolutely amazing... except for one key part. Kind of steals the spotlight, so to speak. 

 

I agree with you, you are not alone in your musings. We all want the best tv-adaptation we can get. For most fans a major change in the tv-series will not be a dealbreaker, but it sometimes depends on the change and one's personal opinions. I used to be of the opinion that it is preferrable to have read the books first and then watch a tv-adaptation (you know the story and can enjoy the visual presentation), but I have gradually moved to the opposite view, that it actually is better not to have read the books which the tv-series is based on, that way you can enjoy the tv-adaptation for what it is without bias or preconceptions (or high demands and sky-high expectations). Others may disagree but that has become my opinion. 

 

 

A couple theory-additions of my own:

 

- Reducing the number of Forsaken in the tv-adaptation

 

We touched upon the matter with the 2 Forsaken at the Eye, but say Rafe decided to opt for keeping just a few of the Forsaken in the tv-series (say 6 out of the 13), that I could easily see Brandon would react strongly to. As with the other matters discussed above, the fanbase would be split on this I think, some reacting strongly in major disappointment, others not caring that much since it is an adaptation. The number 13 does have a special meaning in the Wheel of Time though as we know, so cutting down on Forsaken, combining Forsaken characters or similar, would certainly be a major change. Will it happen? It might, for practical purposes (fewer actors needed, more focus on a smaller number of Forsaken) and storywise (some of the Forsaken are, as we know, less involved in the story/saga and, in some cases, get killed off quickly). It will be very interesting to see how this matter is handled in the tv-series.

 

(personally I very much hope they keep all 13 Forsaken in the tv-series, even should we not see them all acted out (but we are told they are there); 13 is as mentioned an important number in this universe and here I want the showrunners to stick to canon as to names, character traits etc)

 

 

- Not going for distinctive language traits for inhabitants from various parts of 'Randland'

 

Rafe might decide that it is too complicated and too much to expect from the actors that they all speak acccording to the region whence they come, and so lets them all (incl. f.ex. the Illianer characters) speak 'the New Tongue' generally. It would not surprise me if Brandon would react to this being an author himself and thereby very concious of language and nuance. At the same time he knows that with the multitude of nations, characters etc in 'Randland' this may be too great a challenge and might even perhaps confuse viewers (who become fastened on language/dialect more than the story). I don't therefore think this is likely to be the 'one big change' but I thought I would mention it. I think most of the fanbase would understand if all characters speak 'the New Tongue', without dialects etc though it might be fun to hear some 'Illianer-speak' and, of course, 'the Old Tongue' from some of the Forsaken, Mat etc.

 

(personally it does not bother me how they speak, but I want some 'OId Tongue' like in the books from Mat and some of the Forsaken, it kinda bridges the gap a little between the 2nd and 3rd Age as I see it)

 

 

That's all I can think of for now. Thanks for starting this interesting thread and subject matter. It is a 'clean' reflective discussion which should please everyone.

 

I don't personally think she looks that old myself either, but then again it is often difficult to judge age and my impression (being a westerner) is that Asian women often look somewhat younger than they are..

 

I was not sure if it were allowed or frowned upon to post external weblinks here at DM, but since you ask I presume it is fine. The info I found was in a UK newspaper article (reputable/respectable London Evening Standard) where it says in an article called 'Meet the new generation of acting stars on the rise this autumn' posted on 6 September 2017:

 

 

Kae Alexander

 

GoT fans, look closely and see if you recognise Alexander. Granted, it’s not easy, given that the 32-year-old played one of the Children of the Forest, Leaf, in series six: so heavily made-up, with prosthetics glued onto her entire body, that ‘I was getting picked up at midnight to get into make-up at 1am, to be on set for 10am!’ Born in Kobe, Japan, at the age of 10 she moved to north London, where she became obsessed with Pineapple Studio classes and, aged 14, got into acting after she was dragged down to an opening day at the BRIT school by a friend..

 

 

This is the beginning of the part about Kae in the article, you can read the rest about 1/3 down the page in the link below:

 

https://www.standard.co.uk/lifestyle/esmagazine/meet-the-new-generation-of-acting-stars-on-the-rise-this-autumn-a3627211.html

 

As mentioned, I can't confirm if this info is correct, but it looks like a serious article on up and coming acting stars from 2017 from a pretty reputable source.

 

There is nothing wrong with looking up info on persons/celebrities on the internet. Millions do this out of natural curiosity and a wish to know more about people they admire. In this time and age we are told to feel shame/guilt about so many things in life and I think that is wrong.

 

According to a UK news article I came across on the internet (I have the link) this actress was 32 years old in 2017 which would make her around 35 years old now, presupposing the article was correct. But as someone said before, age will not matter here since make up artists will have no problem making her look a bit younger if that is necessary.

 

I am more intrigued to see how the showrunners are going to make the Aes Sedai faces smooth and ageless (and thereby clearly different from that of other women incl. the female Forsaken) like it is depicted in canon.

 

As for Min, I am glad she is finally cast and hope she will stay the same character in all ways as in the books.

I am partially lurking at the moment, intermittently checking the boards, got a little 'burn-out' after heavy RP-writing with my Revolution 1 Chosen-character over a period (my DR Warder character is on hiatus) but hope to return to more active RP soon.

Yes, that is correct. According to the WoT Companion, Warders' cloaks are made from fancloth, a synthetic fabric that duplicates its surroundings for a full camouflage effect. This material is produced by a Ter'angreal in the White Tower.