It was like a déjà-vu. Back on back with his brother again, katanas bared, the ringing of cold steel clanging around them, cutting the silence that suddenly had fallen on the outskirts of the Warders Yard as though already foreboding what was to come on this quiet rainy day only the dark deep-hanging clouds casting their shadows on the lands beneath making the slopes of Dragonmount invisible shrouded in shadowy fog, only adding to the fearsome appearance of the mountain whose rising was as unnatural as the story circling around its origin.

 

Dorian didn´t even register the now heavy rain making his clothes sudden from the light coat he was wearing to his very smallclothes. He wasn´t aware of anything but was was ahead of them. Who was at both his and his brother´s side, baring sharp steel against them, already having tired both of them by inflicting several cuts on the two Altarans, minor, yet still bleeding and painful. They wouldn´t last long like that, that much was clear, nearly a year of training or not. Even their previous experience, battle-proofed as they were even before they had entered the Warders Yard, hadn´t prepared them for the two attackers that had suddenly materialized seemingly out of nowhere the same as the weather had turned all of a sudden as though it had sat on their predators´heel to emphasize their evil attempt to take both their lives once and for all. Something their predecessors somehow hadn´t managed. Getting rid of the two heirs of the House of Grey, only minor Altaran nobility, yet already notorious for their filthy schemes and rivalries. So far the two boys had always managed to wriggle their way out of the increasing attacks of the assassins put on their heels by members of their own family. So far.

 

After their father had been openly murdered in the streets of Ebou Dar, the two twins had been sent away from home, been made to abandon everything they had once called their home or held dear, to seek refuge in the only place their one-time mentor Carl Ranoch had deemed safe enough. In fact the Warders Yard was a place as safe as one could be and until now they had spent the last year too much absorbed in training and new hopes and fears to bother much about taking care to stay hidden and out of notice.

 

A mistake that might be fatal now. A mistake they had no time to fret about now though as they were too busy staying alive, trying everything they had learned in those past twelve months under the harsh yet strengthening tutelage of both their mentors. Twelve months of safety. Of finding a new home, a new life, even new loved ones, both of them as Dorian had just been told a few minutes ago. Almost ironic it seemed now that Danian had finally blunted out about exactly how that one night, that one encounter both of them had had with two novices that had left a lasting impression on them, just before they were attacked and had to worry about something very different than the women they had helplessly fallen in love with, against better knowing and after having been punished rather severely.

 

Secrets they had kept even from themselves. Something they usually never did, one knowing the other inside out as they were never seen apart. Even though both of them remembered their father once telling them that one day they would be seperated in some way, that seperation of the two heirs of the House Grey would be inevitable, both of them stuck together like glued onto each other, giving each other company, reassurance and always an understanding ear for whatever worry might ail the other one.

 

As it was right now though, both of them had to worry about the exact same thing. Or rather didn´t have the time to worry as time seemed to be their worst enemy in this fight that drained both of them with exceptional ease.

 

Despite the icy rain beating down on them, somehow only adding to the blows of their adversaries´ weapons, Dorian felt sweat covering his body, like a second coat as he tried his best to keep up with the speed his brother used opposing to his own strength as Danian lacked the unhindered function of his right arm, ironically his sword-arm, whereas Dorian´s blindness kept him from any fast reaction, having to rely on his hearing that was even more negatively affected by the howling storm raging about them. Unable to hear his opponent approaching, Dorian once more had to rely on his instincts and more than ever on his brother as Danian had what he lacked, the ability to see maybe affected by the rainstorm as well, yet still crucial to stand this fight.

 

That was when something sharp and swift slashed across his chest, the burning pain making him howl and stagger as much as the frustration and realization that they would never be able to win this battle, to get out of this alive dawning on him now. It might have been the unique bond that only twins shared that made Dorian feel in advance what was about to happen next, that affirmed what he already knew. This was the day both of them would die. This time the evil strife against them would succeed.

 

The very same moment Dorian felt steel cutting into his flesh once again, making his knees buckle, refusing to carry his weight any further as he sagged to the ground, katana falling out of his slippery hands, too numb and weakened to hold his weapon anymore, his pained and desperate outcry was matched by another voice. A cry of rage though, as desperate as his own, hinting at the last hope fading, yet a determined cry that escaped his brother´s lungs as he threw himself at the one of the two men whose steel just came dangerously close to Dorian´s now unprotected chest as he wasn´t even able to keep his own movements under control anymore, too weak to move a muscle in attempt to rise to his feet again, resuming the hopeless endeavour to fend off the two killers that were about to fulfill their task this time.

 

His head spun, yet he could hear himself echoing his brother´s cry, yelling his name as realization about what Danian was just about to do, dawned on him. “DANIAN!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!†Yet it was already too late and he knew very well. Dorian didn´t know how Danian managed it, what he was doing, yet a few grunts and ear-wrenching screams later, screams of a man who was about to die and perfectly understood what was happening to him, the screams of two men to be exact, there suddenly was silence. Utter silence. Not a sound disturbing their surroundings but the dripping and falling of the rain that still hadn´t lessened a bit as though intending to wash all traces of the fight that had just taken place at that small sheltered spot of the Warders Yard away as though nothing had happened yet, as though all was well again and nothing had happened at all.

 

Yet the sudden quietness was far from natural and without even realizing it, without consciously feeling the jolts of pain stabbing him as he somehow gathered enough strength to get to his feet and staggering make his way across the area that had been their battlefield only seconds before, he frantically searched for what he alreasdy dreaded to find as he shouted his brother´s name, panic overwhelming him already before he stumbled over something on the ground, dragging him down again as he fell and nearly landed right on the body beneath him.

 

At first he didn´t really gather what it was that his hand lay on, sensing the faintest of heartbeats as he noticed his arm lying across a still moving chest. Moving much too slowly to be healthy though, lungs working out painful and rasping gasps catching Dorian´s ear along with a faintly mouthed “Dorian?â€

 

He gasped in shock. No. No, this wasn´t happening. This wasn´t his brother´s fading voice, his dying voice he had just heart, his body that some cruel fate had just made him stumble over. This was all one bloody nightmare. He just had to wake up and all would be well again. This wasn´t happening. He would just have to tell that long enough to himself and he would open his eyes to another world of darkness, yet a world where Danian lay in bed next to him, his even breathing telling him that sleep was still holding him tightly in its peaceful grip. The sleep of rest, not the sleep of someone dead, or dying.

 

Dorian wanted to howl now. To yell at fate, at the wheel and the Great Pattern itself pleading not to let it end that way. Yet his lips wouldn´t bear a sound, his hands already confirming what had had already known and been dreading when they came to rest at something protruding from Danian´s middle, not even becoming aware of the blade stickin in his brother´s torso cutting his fingers, his blood only joining the big wet blotch adding to the wetness of the same kind of coat that Dorian wore himself. “You…you´re here…â€, Danian´s voice already wasn´t more than a hoarse wisper, almost inaudible against the rain still pouring down mercilessly. Holding his ear close to Danian´s lips though, Dorian managed to catch was his brother was saying as he was holding him tightly, his hand squeezing Danian´s in a last futile attempt to hold him, keep him there, yet the grip suddenly wasn´t returned anymore as a last gurgling noise escaped Danian´s throat as a thin trail of blood ran out of his mouth and the faint rising and falling of his chest stopped.

 

Dorian didn´t dare to move. Still hugging his the lifeless body of his brother tightly to himself, utter shock kept him from realizing what had just happened. “Yes. I´m here, Danian. I´m hereâ€, he whispered, rocking his twin softly. “Everything is alright. We´re alive. I will find someone to help you. It´s alright. You´ll be fine. Just stay here with me. Don´t go. Don´t go, do you hear me? Light, burn you. Don´t you dare to go without me. Don´t you dare!â€

 

Unaware of the violent sobs shaking his body, Dorian still held on to his dead brother tightly, when suddenly an iron fist grabbed him by his hair, making him scream as it bend his head upwards violently, jerking it back. “Don´t worryâ€, a cold, cruel voice sneered. A voice Dorian had only heard once before, yet the voice of his uncle, the very man who had killed his father in unscroupulous fratricide had imprinted itself into Dorian´s mind in a way that he would never mistake it for another. “You will soon join the crippled brat, blind one. It would be inhuman of me to keep such close brothers apart from each other, wouldn´t it?†A pause followed, leaving Dorian unable to move, to react or get himself somehow out of the grip of Morin Grey, his hurt and weakened body and soul unable to resist, not even jerking away from the knife that finally bit into him, cutting his throat with one clean stroke before he collapsed unto his brother as though embracing him one last time, uniting them in life and death.

Leaden grey clouds passed slowly over the spire tops; hid some of the higher in their ominous veil. What had begun as a light soaking rain now pour from those clouds in a steady down pour; water rushing down the cobble streets below. It had been yet another uneventful morning on the wall and Corin was more then happy to see his relief working there way along the wall’s walk. He was soaked from head to toe and the though of a warm fire and dry clothes were the only things to keep his spirit mildly up. To much troubled his life now the rain only a small added annoyance. Some how he would earn back her trust; he had to.

 

He made his leave from the post he had manned all morning with the goal of warmth in mind and a few harsh jokes about staying dry and ducks. Wall duty was a necessity of a guards life in the Tower. The weather only made the task more trying at times. What he really needed was another posting that took him outside the walls again. The longing for travel had put an itch in his feet again that helped to dim the agitation that held him hostage most days. But the trip would not settle him any more then several rounds of strong rum. Only her acceptance would help to ease the pressure in his mind and it appeared that would not come anytime soon.

 

A loud peal of thunder clash overhead; echoed off the walls and back into the torrent falling from the sky. It was useless trying to avoid the puddles that covered the ground in an almost flooded state. There was no way he could get wetter then he was as he grumbled about covered walks and sunshine. The continued echo of thunder pulled at his ear. He had been wrapped in the void for most of the tour avoiding the unpleasantness of the cold. The faint sounds in what appeared to be echoes from the thunder seemed off in his mind causing him to stop and concentrate on the sound. Though he was sworn to protect all in the walls; there were two he would go beyond the pit of doom itself to see safe. Their safety was always paramount in his mind even behind the great Tar Valon walls.

 

Instead of a harsh clash the hit strong and faded slowly the sound was more of a ring that hit and seemed to fade away quickly. He knew that sound; had not known it as intimately before the yard but knew it now without a doubt. The weather ensured that only a fool would be out sparing this day. That left little options; even less that offered comforting thoughts. Corin began to move with haste toward the location of the sound, his feet moving faster as the sound grew. Shouts could now be hear in the distance, but were silenced almost as quickly. His left hand reached up to release the clasp of the rain sodden cloak at his neck leaving it to fall in the muddy ground behind him. Breaking around a grouping of brush a scene came to him in the small clearing that froze his core and had reaction in motion before realization could complete.

 

He had been trained well; his body and subconscious knew their task before the conscious completed it’s conclusions of that before him. The soft welcoming hiss of metal on metal as his blade came clear of it’s scabbard. Four bodies lay in heaps before him, a shadow disappearing into the tree line caught his attention immediately and the dagger from his left darted toward the shape; joined with it as the shadow slipped into the tree line it‘s fate unknown.

 

His eyes swept around the clearing quickly and registered no other movement before he hastened to a pair of bodied pile atop each other. He recognized the coats as the twins and dropped to his knees at their side sword still in a firm grip. A quick check told him that Dorian still held a thin strand of life; his pulse weak and thready, breathing shallow rasping gurgles. The boy under him; Danian had already passed on from this time. With the thunder and pounding rain a yelled alarm was useless from this place. Quickly sheathing his sword Corin collected his young mentee across his arms and began to run toward the barracks and the infirmary. Someone has to be there. They have to, light the creator grant they are. Even as his mind pleaded for the blessing from the creator he tried to keep his mentee in the land of the living. “Dorian! Hang in their boy, help is coming just hang in there; for your brother fight to hold life’s thread!â€

 

Rain pooled in puddles on grass and ground alike making the passage slippery and difficult; slowed Corin’s progress as if it fought to keep him from finding the aid the boy needed. “Guards! Guards! Guards!†he shouted as he crossed the open yard stumbling several times.

 

 

OOC: sorry for the delay. But the laptop is back so are the posts ;)

Tiegan loved the rain. She loved to stand in it, to splash around in the puddles, to play as if she was a child again. There was something about it that just awoke a sort of childish joy in her that she couldn't find very often these days.

 

Though she couldn't exactly wander around in the rain these days, esspically while she was a novice under the heel of the Aes Sedai, it still drew her to a window. Or an open doorway. Or something. Today it had her drawn to wander though sheltered parts of the garden where she was dry and protected but still able to reach out to touch the rain as it fell hard to the ground.

 

She'd heard nothing of the fight. Or the older man's shouts either. It wasn't until she saw Corin that the shouts really clicked in her head above the storm, or the way he carried something limp. She had no idea who this man was either. Her heart stopped and it took a few moments for her mind to catch up and understand who he was carrying.

 

"Dorian?" Tiegan asked dumbly. He was so wet and so ...and red was all over him, it was everywhere, dying his clothes and his skin and his face and ... the close he got, the worse it looked, the rain spreading it further and further with every passing second. She felt her legs go weak and she wasn't sure if she could breathe. Tiegan almost fell over, somehow twisting so she landed on a soggy bench instead. Staring at the rapidly approaching man and the young man she loved she tried to call to them, "Dorian? What... Dorian's hurt?"

 

It was all she could manage to say, words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

It was useless; the struggle to raise the alarm while the storm raged above them was hopeless. Clasps of thunder drowning out his voice as they echoed off rock walls and rattled lead glass windows. Desperation continued to spur Corin on as he spared a glance down at the boy in his arms, red life continuing to flow from the gruesome slash across his neck. Field training with Reikan had brought some knowledge in the art of field medicine but it was only basic. He knew nothing of healing and very little about herbs. But he did know that the flow of life's blood from Dorian's neck was not the pulsing gush of death's cut matching the beat of his heart. Still the amount that seeped from his neck and body would effect the same result if aid was not found soon.

 

Movement off to the left caught his attention as a girl in white collapsed on to a bench. Hope, there is still hope. His feet continued to struggle against the slippery ground seeking to draw him down; keep him from delivering the precious package in his arms to the one's that could save Dorian. "Girl! You there, quick ensure there is a yellow in the infirmary." His voice held a slight horse rasp to it from his hollered alarm as he called to her. "Girl! Quick on your feet!" He continued to close the distance between them as her face began to draw recollection. It was the girl from the closet. The one he had caught Dorian with before. But why was she not moving? Why did she just sit there white as her dress staring at the limp form in his hands. "I don't have time for this," he growled as turned down the hard cobble walk, sliding against the building's wall with his prior momentum.

 

There has to be a yellow there, there just has to be. He looked back down as the boy's pale complexion; skin beginning to take on deaths white veil. This boy had cost him so much trouble and had been here less then half the years he would need to reach the cloak. He had never lost a mentee, Dorian was only his second. There had to still be time to save him. He was not about to let the boy die; "Don't you die on me Dorian! Don't you dare die on me yet!"

 

 

OOC: sorry it's short but it's all I could come up with right now.

~Dorian~

 

The brightness and joyfulnesss of his smile so exactly matched Danian´s that no one around them, no one in the whole World could ever mistake them for anything but the twins they were. In fact it was scary sometimes how much the two brothers, the only offspring of the House of Grey were alike, even despite their very different disabilities. Hadn´t one of them been blind whereas the other was crippled, you would never have become aware of any difference between the two of them, at least not in mere sight.

 

Sight. Something Dorian Grey had never had been fortunate enough to enjoy, murky eyes making him walk this world in omnipresent darkness. And yet, the World was very brght and colorful to him, being shown and illustrated to him by his twin brother´s words and guiding hands, helping him whenever he didn´t get along on his own. Always there when there was even the tiniest obstancle, the most banal problem. He was the one Dorian knew he could always rely on. He was the one who would never part from him.

 

The same way Danian knew that Dorian would never either part from him or let him down. He knew that he wasn´t only the one who gave help to a seemingly weaker and more frail brother, but in turn he was the recipient of a very different kind of help for every obstacle or problem standing in his way. In the same way as he was Dorian´s eyes, Dorian was his second right arm, helping him out whenever he needed it. And then Dorian had always been the one of them who was much more skilled in talking his way out of things. Talking their way out of things, Danian would never have been able to come up with a solution in fact. They were a dream unlike any other and knew they would always be, just sticking together and inseperatable as they were. No power on earth could part them or cut the bond between them that was even tighter than usual between ordinary twins. They were just special and they knew it, each one of them in their own individual way.

 

A wide grin split Dorian´s face, a grin that he knew was returned by his brother in just the same fashion, making them perfect mirror images once again. His fingers ran over the fine, yet strong fabric of the new coat he was given to his 16th birthday. Red it wad, Dorian had been told, red and rather plainly ornamented, just as he liked it best. Same as Danian who wore the very twin of his own coat, once again making the two of them almost undistinguishable from each other. Beaming like two children, their faces loosing every kind of worry that might have been marring them, they once again looked the same little boys up to mischief that they once were, when suddenly the grin on their faces died as they heard their father say the words they had dreaded most, words that seemed to haunt them since the very day they had left their native Altara.

 

"You won´t always be able to stay together. There will come the day you will be seperated. Remember. The day will come."

 

"No!", Danian groaned, wanted to howl in fact, yet the only thing that came out of his gahsed throat was a rasped gurgle at the brink of panicking when he felt he was drowning in his own blood. He couldn´t breathe, nor move, nor anything. He was as good as dead already.

 

"Your father is dead boy. There´s no use of denying it. You have to go. NOW! GO! Run boy, run for your life!"

 

Carls voice. What was he doing here? Didn´t he see he couldn´t run...didn´t he...Why did he carry him now?

 

"Wha..Dan...", he couldn´t talk. Light! Panic was far from him though. Everything that Dorian noticed at all only seemed peripheral as it passed by him, some of it incredibly fast, some of it as if in slow motion, looking as if he just needed to reach out for the sounds around him. Sounds. Voices. A cry. A death cry. His brother´s death cry. His dying voice whispering in his ear. His hand still grasping Danian´s hand and it still held on to him as though he seemingly floated in midair. "Dan...Danian...Don´t..."

 

He noticed his voice dying again, if that gurgling sound that came out of him could even be called a voice at all. He dimly felt that he nearly covered entirely by something wet, but somehow that seemed only secondary. He felt like drowning and he was so cold...so cold...he seemed to freeze as he still held on to the hand he had clutched his fingers around. Held on to it for dear life, for Danian´s life. It was useless though. His brother was dead. He had been with him, had felt him die...it wasn´t possible...just couldn´t be...Danian...

 

Wetness was dripping from him, coming from above, but also from himself, though that kind of wetness at least seemed to warm him up a bit. Everything felt like spinning around outside. He could hear voices. A strong male voice shouting at him, gettting louder and in some way frantic, commanding, like an order. Light, the least thing he was capable to obey now was an order of all things...

 

More voices. Dorian couldn´t distinguish between male and female anymorem but the last thing he knew was the feeling of his hand letting go, falling down to his side, limp and unmoving as his eyes rolled back in his head again and he knew nothing anymore, commanding his spirit to carkness.

The man's voice took a while to really sink in and by then he was already stalking past her with Dorian. Tiegan couldn't do anything more than run to keep up with them both, trying to ignore the way the rain washed a trail of red behind their path, leading her to him.

 

Tiegan ran ahead of the man to try and be useful, useful by pulling doors open for him, to not faint when Dorian needed her, that kind of useful. She wasn't sure how much more she could do right now. She was trying to be strong but... but his throat was bubbling. Bubbling with air from his lungs. From the words he was trying to say.

 

She wanted to be sick. Who had done this to him? If he wasn't close to death Tiegan might have gone and hunted them down herself, touched the source or not!

Gurgling and soundless words formed on lips covered in blood; blood that bubbled frothy at the corners of his mouth all indicated that life still existed in the boy's body as Corin worked to make haste toward the infirmary. That a heart still beat in his chest and commanded his body to continue it's fight for life. It was was not much but at this moment anything that indicated life, save for the constant flow of red from Dorian's neck, was a good thing; a needed thing for Corin. He glanced down and saw eyes, even now the cloudiness still held, aimlessly looking around before they finally gave up the fight and rolled to the top of his head. It was not right, “this is not right for light sake†his voice was a low growl.

 

Images of a boy bewildered in the yard filtered through the chaos and played in the back of his head. A boy who was overly dependent and overly protective of his twin. But had begun to find meaning in himself, to find a courage of his own. Dorian had changed so much from the first day of his assignment to Corin. Even with all the grief and trouble that seemed to gravitate to the boy this was not the way any of them were to face deaths cold embrace. They were still children with so much of life still to learn. It was true they were being taught in the ways and art of death; to fulfill the butchers bill at the wheels calling. But that was for a time after they had reached the cloak; had a chance to taste and see life, be able to defend themselves when placed in harms way. It was not suppose to be like this.

 

A white gown floated past him; yarding open the door to the infirmary. Finally the fool girl had found her feet if not her voice. It was a start if nothing else; more recollection of her flashing to mind as he slide around the door entrance and into the infirmary, all ready his voice horse still calling out for assistance. “Help! Aes Sedai, help!†Red continued to flow from them both, mixed with the rain that soaked their clothes and trailed in foot prints and puddles behind him.

 

Dropping the boy into the nearest bed; white quickly tinged with red spatter. A growing mark wicking through the fabric as it seemed to grow from under Dorian. “Girl! Girl you, Tiean or what ever your name is get over here!†He quickly checked the boy's limp body for signs of life; the shallow rise and fall of chest, rasp of breath rattling in his slashed throat, the faint beat of a heart in the veins along his neck. Main arteries that thank the light had not been opened when his throat was cut or this all would have been for nothing; life's red river would have gushed from his body long ago. Grabbing the girls hands he pressed them down on the sides of the wicked wound; pressing the clean cut edges together with pressure. “It should help slow the bleeding slightly. You have to keep them here until I find a sister.†Warm sticky wetness coated their hands; his life seeping still from the wound to cover her hands in red. “Don't move ... I mean it!!†Spinning on heel Corin dashed further into the infirmary hollering hoarsely for an Aes Sedai to help.

It took only moments for a collection to begin; felt like a life time of agony searching the bed's and maze of curtains for a sister. But they came, in a flow of white that seemed to materialize about him. Girls in white gowns, be them novice or accepted he didn't take the time to notice, the Aes Sedai slipping from behind a white curtain in a smooth floating motion was were darting eyes finally fell. Her face was fixed with a vexed expression; words already on her lips. No doubt she meant to inquire about the nature of his irrational hollering in her infirmary. But as she turned and her eyes fell on the bloodied mess standing before her, her expression simply folded into one of concern and study.

 

“You have to help him Aes Sedai, in the front, please, quickly. He needs your help.” He shook off one of the girls who had arrived at his side already checking him as if the blood was his own. “Off me girl I am fine, it's the boy who needs care.” He watched as the sister floated passed him with a sidelong look and then swiftly swept out toward the entrance; her dress lifted slightly to avoid the mix of water and blood that had dripped from him making small pools on the floor. Corin attempted to follow, pushed several white clad girls aside. But was only successful in making the room he had left Dorian in and no further. “You will do as you are told guard.” Her voice was simple; if it was not exactly pleasant it could not be said to be angry either. The Aes Sedai never turned from her study of the pale boy before her yet her finger seemed to add all the emphasis that was needed. “Listen to the girls and do as you are told. I will speak with you after.”

 

Summarily dismissed she returned to the work before her as Corin was swept to the side by now a pair of the white clad girls. Watched around and between heads in the direction of the bed he had placed Dorian in as they began to poke and prod at him. “What, no I'm fine. It's the boy, he needs .... yes what ever I need to know ... No I told you it's his blood.” They had begun to strip the red stained coat and shirt from his torso as they continued their inspection; his eyes still trying to make out what was happening with the boy. “What ... what do you mean cut?” he looked down to see a gash along his upper arm. “I must have cut it on one of the weapons of the others while I was trying to pull Dorian free.”

If she had needed any further proof that she was a complete idiot, her response upon hearing that Corin Danveer had burst into the infirmary bloody and desperate with some dying boy in tow proved that for good. At first she assumed she hadn’t heard correctly. Tower Guards were supposed to protect their own people, why would anything happen to him within the white walls themselves, it didn’t make sense. But from the careful tension in their voices they at least believed it … and when she accepted it as the truth, truly accepted it, fear set its cold claws into her and clung tight. Her voice held an underlying tightness as she made her excuses and turned on her heel.

 

Dread tightened its grip minute by precious minute as the time ticked past. It was a tangible weight on her shoulders, like an added burden nobody else could see, distracting her from logical and ordered thought. In a vivid flash she remembered Seiaman: blood and mud and chaos at Dumai’s Wells, where they hadn’t even been supposed to be, secrecy still shrouded their mission there. She should have been glad that he was in trouble, lying, poisoning wretch that he was, it was his fault she couldn’t even talk to his Commander without being convinced forkroot waited on the horizon, but when her imagination presented her Tar Valon without him the prospect paralysed her. And that would be because she was an idiot.

 

The state of the infirmary when she entered did not ease her fears in the slightest. Blood everywhere, Yellow Sisters wove their intricate and remarkable work with furrowed frowns of effort, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. One glance told her that whoever lay deathly still and silent on the bed before them he was too Ebou Dari by half; that cold pressure eased, just a little, and she slid past them unobtrusively not wishing to interrupt their work. She had no idea at all what had happened here, but the sheer quantity of blood spoke volumes as to its speed and violence, and though she had little attention to spare for anyone else inwardly she sent a thought to the injured child for his swift recovery.

 

Finally she found her quarry being fussed over by initiates in their whites. They had not the skill nor strength to perform a healing weave of any appreciable power, not unlike Sirayn herself, but their presence there told her that nothing serious had happened at least to the boy Corin; if his condition was at all grave they would have set a Yellow to him. He looked distraught: covered in blood, his shirt slashed, it was probably the most defenceless she had ever seen him. Admittedly the last time had been when he had her under forkroot. She shut out that memory fast. Corin Danveer was a bloody menace, but then again she was a fool, a pretty pair they made.

 

“Quiet, you.” Fortunately it held her usual acerbic edge as she pushed him into a seat and leaned against the chair back herself, her surviving hand tight on his shoulder, never breaking the contact as if he might vanish right under her fingers. “Did anyone ask your opinion? No? Then be silent. Everything is under control.” It had damn well better be. The tension in his shoulders beneath her steadying hand told her how dire the situation truly was. Not only for him. Poisoner and flatterer, enemy and probable Darkfriend and for some stupid, stupid reason she didn’t want to see him hurt, didn’t even want to let go. She made up for it with the icy edge in her voice: “So what have you done this time?”

 

Sirayn Damodred

Retro Head of the Green Ajah

Nothing, no flash of light, no mystical smoke or wavering of the air spoke of the work the Yellows did as they leaned over the bed holding the still and pale body of Dorian; his mentee, his responsibility. He knew from his time here that only another sister could see the things they did with the One Power; see the weaves as they put it. But still it would be so much more reassuring if there was something that Corin could see from across the room. He pushed aside one of the white clad girls again to see if he could note a change in the raspy breathing that had been rattling from the boy's body, but the crowd about him kept that need unfed.

 

Sudden pressure, as he was pushed back into a chair, barely registered and he swept an hand toward that grasp as if to dislodge the annoyance; to remove the child's hand and send her away with a scathing comment. Something worthy of the great Sirayn Sedai herself. His eyes only then met the face of that attached hand and all thought froze as the very vision in his mind became flesh before him. She slipped behind him, slipped from his view as shock still held him momentarily. Shock broken by the shudder of Dorian's body on the bed. Every fiber in his body redoubled it's tension and if not for the steady unwaivering pressure on his shoulder from the small delicate hand there he would have been in full flight to the boy's side.

 

“Nothing, I .... I was walking back to my barrack room. It was dark and raining, miserable weather like before when ... Was relieved of duty and as I crossed the yard I heard it beneath the storms anger.” His disjointed words had been in soft quiet tones, as if absent of though or concern. But as he continued an urgency wrapped around those words, voice became stronger; worry laced in thick cords. “Blades dancing. But not the dance of training edges, these had an urgent desire for blood. I called out as I ran to investigate but the storm swallowed my alert in it's cruel rumblings and left me to watch in horror as they drew the edge across his throat. If only I could have moved faster; heard sharper.” A dagger slipped from his sleeve and bobbed in a hand as he continued. “I think I hit the one with a dagger as he slipped into the tree line but I'm not sure. Just had to get the boy back here .... just had to.”

 

By now he was leaning forward intently trying to see the boy in the bed even under the pressure she used to keep him in the chair. Dorian had to make it, he was not going to loose a trainee. The boy may die in battle, but not until he was raised from Corin's care. There has to be a way, he has to survive. Deep down two emotions battled at odds with each other under the shadow of his concern for the boy. Elation; she was here, near him. He could feel the warmth of her hand; wanted to surrender to it, dissolve into that simple touch. Tell her how much he missed her presence, how sorry he was about the cabin, about everything. Despise; how could he fall apart like this in front of her. Why now while he was at a lost to emotion did she show up? How could he ever regain her acceptance like this; a pitiful whelp devoid of strength and common reason. The game player she had built in him had dissolved when he had placed the boy in the care of the yellows, when his part was done and all he could do is standby helplessly and watch others; wait for those dark and unfeeling words that would herald his passing. He needed to be strong, had always wanted to help those who could not help themselves. Perhaps that was what caused this confusion in him over the boys fate. Surely that was why this boy's well fair seemed to hold such meaning to him. His blindness had made him seem helpless, this only seemed to reinforce it. But the boy was bound to the tower and in that duty a binding to death, a common fate for those in service.

 

Twisting his eyes locked on Sirayn and for the first time in public since he had ever known her he wore no mask, held no guard over his eyes or emotions; the only other time was in the privateness of the cabin. “Please Sirayn, please you have to help him. I beg you. Please save him, it is not his time to die.” Pleading eyes stared up at her; his hand closed over hers were it clenched his shoulder, desperation in the touch as the game player inside scorned his weakness. How can you serve and protect an Aes Sedai when you can not even protect a simple trainee in the safety of the tower. Pitiful .... she will never accept you ... she will never find feelings beyond revolt. A shiver raced through his still form as the coldness of the thought seemed to leech into his bones; become one with the marrow. Never

~Dorian~

 

"No, don´t do it like that! Here, let me show you again, but remember this time, you woolbrained oaf! You know you can do it better than that...even my crippled arm can manage, so get it down your pants and do it..."

 

Dorian had to grin about the exasperation he caught in his brother´s voice. True, teaching him how to write must be a pain for Danian, though he seldom showed it as he rarely ever bothered about Dorian´s slowness in grasping things a seeing person could do in minutes when he himself needed hours to comprehend the principle and imitated what was shown to him by copying the movements from his sensible and audible memory. And yet, he did learn and wanted to learn, even though it took him longer than anyone else, Dorian Grey wouldn´t let himself be discouraged by his blindness, his disability. It hindered him, true and yet he could do some things better than his brother although Danian could see. Both of them knew that, knew that neither of them was perfect and that was what made them strong and stick together like they had until now. Like it would always be. Always. Hearing his brother laugh at him as he struggled with his awkward scrawling assured him of that. He would always be at his side, just as Dorian would be at his twin´s. Nothing could seperate them as long as they stayed together. As long as they could still laugh together the world was good.

 

Suddenly the laughing around him stopped and dread filled him abruptly as his body seemed to be drenched in wetness, his hand gripping something tightly, holding on tight to something whose last spark of life had been extinguished long since. No, this wasn´t his brother, this just wasn´t...Light...no...Light he couldn´t breathe...he couldn´t...wouldn´t let go...mustn´t...his brother, he wouldn´t let go, wouldn´t allow them to be seperated, nothing could part them but death...death...death...Morin Grey´s blade...the sound of steel going into flesh...Light he was sick...Light...he had to...Danian...he coudn´t breathe...he had to...cling to life...for his brother...Danian...air...Light...darkness...

 

Then suddenly something shook him, made him convulse violently, as though strained till his bones must be springing. This was the moment he would die, he knew that. The moment he would follow Danian. Because Danian was dead. Because Danian had died in his own arms. The cold thing he had clutched so fervently was gone now. The coldness and wetness was all around him, clothing him like a long cloak, covering his entire body as he shook and shivered. Yes, that was the moment he would finally meet the Mother´s last embrace to welcome him hom. To bring him to Danian. To bring him sleep. Eternal sleep. Sleep that seemed to last eternities, days, weeks, months maybe. Dorian had lost any grip on time at all. Nothing mattered to him anymore but waiting. Waiting for the pain to ease, for the moment when all pain would finally fall off him, the moment his heart would stop beating and no breath would fill his lungs anymore and the pain in his body would end. Because hurting hed did and longing...longing to be reunited with his brother, when suddenly everything changed as his eyes fluttered open slowly and he realized that he was still holding a hand, or the hand was holding his...

 

It didn´t matter to him. All that did matter was the warmth permeating from this hand. Warmth of life, not of death. He still was there. Dorian wanted to dance and thank the Light, but all he could manage was a soft cought and Light, he did hurt...His throat seemed to be on fire for some reason and he had to struggle hard to get anything out at all, confused and disorientated as he was, lyinger there shrouded in the only thing that still was familiar to him: eternal darkness.

 

A companion that would never leave him, just as his brother never would as the tight grip around his fingers proved making him smile brightly, yet weakly as he tried to speak, his voice hoarse and sounding so odd, so different from before, and yet, he coudl speak even though every syllable burned like fire in his rattling throat.

 

"Danian...you...you´re still here...I...I thought...you were dead...", he shut his eyes, indescribably glad to know he wasn´t alone even though his head throbbed and his entire body seemed to be on fire even despite the numbness that seemed to spread inside him, making him feel weak and limp. "Light I hurt...", he winced, trying to shift his head only to increase the trembling of his hand still clutching his brother´s "I...I thought I was dead...maybe...but...you...won´t let me go, right? ...You...you are here...Danian..." He shut his eyes again, Light he was exhausted. But thank the Light his brother was alive and knowing that was the only thing that kept him conscious. He would never lose him.

 

OOC: Have fun dealing with being "Danian", Corin :p

It had always struck her as one of life’s darkest ironies that Tar Valon, that snow-white symbol of the Light’s future, could be so damn dangerous. Murderers loose in Tar Valon while children lay dying and the storm washed fresh bodies; her mouth tightened in a hard line and she only wished she could say it was an unfamiliar story. But she’d seen it so often before -- the night Jehanine fell at her feet in a smear of red, mistaken in a moment’s half-light for herself, or even the time her own son lured her to a nightmare -- that it no longer surprised her. It just made her angry. And it made her afraid. And fear and fury had always been particular triggers for Sirayn Damodred to start calculating.

 

Nobody here who had been directly involved in the incident could be trusted to think as rapidly and as coldly as times required; it grieved her somewhat that even Corin Danveer, whom she had modelled in her image, couldn’t keep his detachment but he was still a child in the ways of the world and perhaps age and maturity would teach him better. The boy of course was clinging to life. It had to be somebody. That left only her to notify the Mistress of Trainees and warn the City Guard, to double the security at the gates, to put in place searches of inns frequented by foreigners, to check the hospices where they patched up the wounded … to inform their family, for the Light’s sake, and anyone in Tar Valon who had the right to be told. Just what she needed. Inwardly resigned, she crossed off her appointment with her three Sitters tonight as a lost cause, and for the moment put aside her duties as Captain General.

 

Her good intentions did her no good at all the moment Corin Danveer turned to her, took her hand and begged her to save his mentee. It unnerved her briefly; in such an unguarded moment even a cold-hearted schemer like herself could hear the desperation in his voice, read into his expression the strength of his feelings for the boy. That much she didn’t want to see. Even an idiot like her could see he was a Darkfriend and she had no need of further complicating factors, like him being capable of affection toward a mentee, or maybe just that he could pretend it so effectively. It had to be pretence; she knew him for false and a liar and, anyway, why would he reserve for his mentee the loyalty he wouldn’t give to her?

 

Liar or not he demanded the impossible of her. Briefly she remembered: Seiaman dying inch by inch in her arms; a sister she had loved who had taken a knife meant for her; a child bloody and screaming as she stitched stitches like black spiders; half a hundred old hurts. For a supposedly powerful Aes Sedai she couldn’t do a damn thing that meant anything. Couldn’t take away a child’s pain from fledgling Dreamwalking gone wrong, couldn’t save somebody her friend loved, couldn’t find a way to keep Jehanine alive when she had wanted that so intensely. Of course she couldn’t save this boy. She couldn’t save anyone.

 

The knowledge she’d carried all her life twisted at her now. Coldly she detached her hand from his grip and moved away from him; distance took the edge off her discomfort, composure and several layers of politics solved every problem. She couldn’t imagine how to even start explaining her inability to heal, how one toss of the dice had made her only half a channeller, or how this unyielding wall had been built over flaws that ought to be hidden. And she didn’t have to explain it. Aes Sedai did not have to explain themselves to anybody. Far better that he think her heartless than that he should know her private weaknesses.

 

Like a proper Aes Sedai she adopted her most glacial tones. “I believe I have told you numerous times to address me as Sirayn Sedai. One name, one title. Not difficult.” For a sentimental fool she had a fair line in scorn when the mood took her. “Sentimentality does not become you. Control yourself. I have no intention of interfering in my sisters’ work. If you lack faith in the Yellow Ajah, you are a fool; kindly keep your thoughts to yourself until somebody asks for them.”

 

Sirayn Damodred

Retro Head of the Green Ajah

The warmth of her touch even if it was a grip of force had been a welcome and unexpected event. It had changed his course once more and set her firmly in his focused future. At one time he had felt he may have to abandon his hope of a future at her side and remain ever vigil from a distance. But everything had changed with her touch; with the gravity of the situation before him and the dire need of his mentee. All accumulated to bring forth the emotional outburst; something without thought. Touch that had crushed the walls around him and brought to the surface his tender heart for her. Only it had been a clever ploy, a ruse to get him to open himself up; be vulnerable. Sirayn's sharp and cold detachment from him; words harsh and emotionless raked deep furrows in the tender barren surface of his heart. Words that cut with bone chilling accuracy into his openness and shattered the man who he was. A tendril of pure scorn and hatred tried to worm it's way up from dark depths; a potential in all mankind. But his heart, still battered and bleeding, shredded the tendril ruthlessly. It had been his own doing; so grievously he had wronged her in taking her away to the cabin. At the words that had tainted his mind for a spell. No ... no it was her right to retreat from him like he was diseased, worst then the lowest of cut purses or life takers.

 

The harsh reality of it was like hot steel thrust into icy river water in the dead of winter; snapping his focus back into razor clarity as blankness once more swept his face. Corin rose from the chair, empty eyes fused to the storm gray of Sirayn Sedai. The back of a hand absently wiped across his face to ensure no tear or sweat lay on the surface to offer emotion where cold detached control must be. “If you will excuse me Aes Sedai I have a mentee to check on and a report to write up.” A cold edge emphasized her title while he bent just enough to classify as a bow and no further. A time prior she would have received a depth suitable her stature, suitable a queen in reality. But this day she received nothing beyond that of the most basic of acknowledgment. Fire blazed in his eyes behind that blank mask; a fire that promised this was not done, not yet. Regardless of her desired effect she had recommitted a man to gaining acceptance at her side once more, you are not so easily rid of me Sirayn Damodred .... Not yet.

 

It took only a few brief strides to make the boy's bedside and the mumbled voice of it's inhabitant. He could still feel those ever measuring slate eyes on him as he approached the yellow still bent over Dorian. “My thanks to your skill and commitment Aes Sedai, you an your sisters are a true jewel in the crown of the Tower.” His bow was fit for a court audience and he took great care to hold it a fraction longer then needed. Even one so controlled as you can not avoid a thread of bitterness within my dear Sirayn. With a nod of acknowledgment the sister went back to issuing orders to a pair of banded accepted before she swept down the hall and Corin's eyes returned to the boy in the bed; His hand closing firmly around the others. How to explain. How do I tell him he is alone in this world now. Disjointed words ebbed from Dorian as his hand alternated between gripping his in almost desperation and just laying placid within Corin's hold. But each word brought a deeper regret; a desire to go back. Be faster, be earlier, be ... It did not matter, what had been done was done, and now Corin faced one of the toughest challenges he had ever faced in the walls of the Tower.

 

Through the jumble of broken words in horse and raspy tones a mistake Corin had not expected crystallized in front of him with a knife sharp clarity. The boy believed him to be Danian. As if the explanation would not be enough. Now he had to explain to a boy who should not be in this condition about a brother that should not still be lying out in the cold rain still and pale as the last of life's red essence leaked from his body. He patted the hand held in his own, light how do I explain? Thoughts on his brothers voice, the inflections he had, filtered through his mind and were dismissed. The boy had been blind all his life; compensated for that lose with other heightened senses. He would recognize the attempt for what it was; recognize the differences in depth of tone and edge of word. To imitate Danian would only be a slap in the face and alienate the boy further. “Dorian .... Dorian I need you to listen,” His voice had started cold and empty with the first word but softness tried to easy the blow of the rest. He pressed a finger to the boys mouth as he opened it to add more words. “Please Dorian, I need you to just listen right now.” A gentle nurturing tone seemed to wrap around the words as they left Corin's mouth and for a moment he was not even sure it was his own voice that spoke. “Dorian you have been hurt ... badly .... but you were close enough that the sisters were able to heal you. Most of you at least. But your brother,” Corin's hand patted lightly the back of Dorian's who's grip had tightened further. “He fought valiantly to save you, to ensure those that attempted this dark deed paid for it. You should be proud of him, I am. He has done great honor to your family name. But all honor comes with a price, and sometimes the price is high. The Butchers bill is always high when steel is involved. He did not know if Sirayn still remained in the room, eyes watching. He cared not if she listened and recorded every weakness he offered. The boy was his charge and would need more then orders and training to get through this. “Your brother by blood has moved on to the creators embrace, but you are not alone. You are still among brothers and sisters Dorian, with us you will never be alone.”

 

For all the sharpness he had been told his mind held, little else came to the surface. Struggle as he did he could find no other words to offer in place of the loss Dorian had received. Even his time with Lyv when she had received news of her mothers passing did not feel as hollow and empty as this. A good mentor, a strong soldier would have words of wisdom and comfort at a time like this. Know how to ease the pain of those in his charge and make them feel safe and secure again. Would know the words to bring dedication and focus to a future goal. Corin had no words for that, knew he was not one of those strong a great men of stories and legends. He was only a farm boy in the service of the White Tower. A boy inside in hope that there could be a bright ending when the dust of Tarmon Gai'don settled.

~Dorian~

 

“Your brother by blood has moved on to the creators embrace, but you are not alone. You are still among brothers and sisters Dorian, with us you will never be alone.”

 

Cold seeped into his bones once again as the haze of unconsciousness passed and everything else made way to only one thing: cold realization.

 

Realization that he hadn't only dreamed those moments on the battlefield, the eternity in which he had clung to the futile hope Danian wouldn't...couldn't have...Light, he wanted to cry at the top of his lungs.

 

LIGHT HE HAS DIED BECAUSE OF ME! BECAUSE I WASN'T THERE TO DEFEND HIM! BECAUSE...

 

He couldn't bring up a single sound, even if his burning throat hadn't restrained him from even uttering a single word. He didn't even care if he would ever be able to talk again this very moment when a part inside him had shattered and died forever with his twin. He was still feeling the grip of his hand, a hand that suddenly went limp and still.

 

And yet he couldn't weep. He just couldn't.

 

Danian...No, there was nothing left of their brotherly link, of the bond they shared and had known would never break. A bond that had now been torn apart violently never to be mended again.

 

"Moridin...", Dorian croaked, his vocal cords feeling strained and swollen, yet his voice dripped with contempt and revenge. Until now he had never known hatred. Not even when their father had been killed and they had to leave Ebou Dar. Now every emotion, every fiber of sorrow and compassion inside him gave way as even his grief was dominated of pure loathing hatred. "You'll pay...Danian...I'll-" With his last rasped words an impact of violent coughing held him, making his eyes water with pain exploding in his throat as he coughed up blood. His head spun as he fell back on the cushion of his sickbed just as he felt someone helping him sit up to catch his breath.

 

He felt he was about to lose consciousness again and shame for his own weakness stung him painfully. Light, Danian had saved him for...this...for being the same weak cripple as he had always been, unable to act on his own. Always dependent on his twin to help him out. The twin who had been killed by his own incapacity of action, by his own helplessness. Yet he would not be unavenged. He would make sure Moridin Grey would pay for every single time he had hurt his family. If the price of his revenge would be his own life, it would be paid willingly. Who would care about the life of a single trainee anyway? He was but an instrument of the White Tower. Let him as well be an instrument of revenge.

 

Danian...

 

Now he was truly alone, no matter what Corin or anone said. They didn't know how it was. All they saw was a boy that had their sympathy and pity. Danian had never pitied him. Light he had known how it was. He had known him. Danian would understand. He would be angry if Dorian died to avenge him, but he would understand. Eventually. But why couldn't he understand why Danian had done this for him? Died for him? "Light...why?" He didn't even hear his own uttered words, didn#t feel the hands holding him up, making him drink some tea that burned down his neck all the way. All they wanted to do was help him. But who could help him now? There was nothing that could replace what he had shared with Danian. It was just...gone. He felt numb all over.

 

He didn't care if he would live through the night if it wasn't for his revenge. Yet what reason to live did revenge provide? What kind of life would it hold in store for him? But did it even matter in the end? Danian was gone. His life had been ripped away today. Why should he even care anymore?