The crackling of the fire was the only thing to disturb Isha’s mind as he sat in the complete silence of his home.  Zybnek had left a long time since, his mentees lay in their rooms and the Dreadlord lay bound in another.  It would be at least three hours until the sun rose and two before anyone else at the Tower was awake.  All in all, it was a relatively peaceful night, despite the Dreadlord’s presence, and there was no ominous, overhanging cloud that should have warned the monstrous Asha’man that the dawn would bring fire and blood.

 

Unconsciously, Isha scrubbed enormous hands against the thighs of his black pants.  To any onlooker it would have seemed he was trying to remove some filth from them.  Physically, they were already clean and yet Isha’s mind perceived that they were covered in filth and blood.

 

~It was necessary~

 

‘It was still torture.’

 

~You have your bloody information, madman!~

 

‘At what cost?’

 

~You’re saving their lives, you’re saving your precious Tower from destruction at the Shadow’s hand!  Surely that is worth any cost~

 

‘Is it?’

 

~Of course!~

 

‘Why do I feel dirty?’

 

~This was your first time.  You’ll get used to it~

 

‘I don’t want to do it again.’

 

~I should hope not but you have the information now, your duty is to the Tower.  Duty is heavy as a…~

 

‘LIGHT BURN YOU!  DON’T QUOTE THAT!’

 

The Voice left him, forced back to the recesses of his mind by its own exasperation.  It left and Isha was once again alone, alone to try and make sense of what was right and wrong.  Damnit, but the Voice was right.  He had his duty to the Tower.

 

Another hour passed.  By that time, a plan was already fully developed in the Asha’man’s mind.  The infiltrators would be destroyed before they knew what was coming.  Jarhnas’ death would not go unavenged.

 

Seizing saidin, Isha wove a Gateway in his own parlour.  Everything had to be done in utter secrecy, they could not afford to give Aginor, ‘Light protect us, one of the Forsaken was here in the Tower!’, to get wind of the ambush or else they would all be dead men.

 

It was still an hour before sunrise by the time Isha returned to his home.  He had visited the homes of some half dozen Asha’man, Dedicated and Soldiers whom he could trust and sent them to gather others.  All told, there should be nearly two dozen men arriving in his courtyard in the next few minutes via Gateway.

 

Isha began to prepare himself mentally.  The attack would be at dawn and he prayed to the Light that the Creator would be on their side.

There were many things that one grew accustomed to living at the Farm. Explosions, crazy men, casual talk of killing methods, and even death itself. One became prepared for such things on a daily basis. Something that Arath was not expecting was for a gateway to open at the foot of his bed in the middle of the night.

 

Bolting upright, and eyes flying open to look at the source of the channeling, his gaze rested on the massive figure stepping through the gateway. It was either a trolloc, or ...

 

"Isha? What in the bloody light are you doing here?" he said flopping back down onto his bed, releasing Saidin.

 

One short explanation and a couple of minutes later, Arath was alone again. Isha's house ... Bring someone trustworthy ... secret ... Arath was tempted to just go back to sleep, but curiosity nagged at him. With a groan, he rolled to his feet and dressed quickly. This had better be good.

 

----------------------------------------------------

 

Twenty minutes later, Arath stifled a yawn and siezed the source. The white line split the air before him, slowly spinning out and connecting a dedicated's room to the parlour of Isha's house. Stifling another yawn, he stepped through.

 

There were a few other people already gathered in the other man's house, many of them also rubbing the sleep from their eyes and looking thoroughly annoyed at the early awakening.

 

"Light Isha, this had better be important," he muttered to himself. Moving over to a vacant chair, Arath plopped himself down and waited for the rest to show. He could already feel that it was going to be a long day.

Nakor woke two hours before sunrise, as he usually did, and went into the small courtyard of his house to do some warmup exercises with his long knives and with Saidin. He preferred doing such warmups in ths comfort and privacy of his own home and staying away from teh prying eyes of others. It was also here in his home that he conducted various experiments with Saidin. Since earning his Dragon pin and the freedom to order his time how he wished he spent nearly all of it in this courtyard.

 

He was sitting beneath a tree contemplating the work he'd done yesterday and wondering where to begin today when a strange light caught his eye. He watched a Gateway open itself at the other end of the court and wondered at the audacity of any man to invade his private sanctuary in this way. Then he saw Isha Talcontar walk through and he stood up. "You had better have a good reason for coming into my home like this Isha."

 

It seemed he had a very good reason indeed. One of the Forsaken here in the Black Tower? It was crazy, and he half-wondered if Isha could be wrong. But no, he'd learned to trust the giant ever since the first day he'd met him back in Tear when he didn't even know what the Black Tower was. if Isha said he needed help than it must really be serious.

 

Nakor dressed in the unrelived black uniform of an Ashaman, complete with both sword and dragon pins, and opened his own Gateway from the courtyard he knew so well. When he arrived he saw several other men standing waiting for an explanation from Isha. He was content to wait as well and slunk back into the shadows as he was accustomed to in crowds.

Being greeted with a Gateway in the middle of his house was not something even old timers like Davram were used to. He could not remember the last time he was greeted like that in the morning, though that probably was due to the fact that no one had done that before than to Davram loosing his memory. Though from other such visits, even if not at this time of day, Davram knew that the person who visited in such way had something urgent to say, one of the benefits of expirience. So he just noded, and said he would be there.

 

And there he was indeed. And he was not the only one that Isha has visited. There were others visited by Isha in his early morning visits. For which, as Davram suspected was a good reason. Even worse than he thought. He knew that the Foresaken were free but he never though that one of them will be here amongst them, in the Black Tower.

 

"Well there is not much of a debate what must be done, is it. The question is, how are we going to do it."

 

Davram

With the sun only a half hour from peeking over the horizon of trees surrounding the Farm, Isha looked over his “army” of half-awake, frumpy, irritated Asha’man and Dedicated. The Voice took one look and began to laugh until a mental glare from Isha shut it up.

 

~Just trying to lighten the situation~

 

‘There’s a bloody flaming Forsaken in the Tower. This is not the time for amusement.’

 

~Ishar Morrad Chuain? Here? When I get my hands on that bastard...~

 

‘Wait, who?’

 

~Aginor~

 

‘What did you call him?’

 

The Voice fled and Isha cursed It, screaming for It to answer him. It was all to no avail and Isha turned his attention back to the group of men before him. A quick headcount told him they had all shown up. Good, there were no traitors. And now to address the situation at hand.

 

“As grumpy as I know you all are, listen close to what I have to say- it’ll give you the slap in the face you need to wake up. The Black Tower has been infiltrated by agents of the Shadow.” Letting it hang in the air a moment, Isha gauged their reactions. Shock, anger, all determined to eliminate the threat. “They have infiltrated our ranks, taking on the identities of Asha’man. Leading them is no ordinary Dreadlord but one of the Forsaken: Aginor.” He paused again, letting the information soak in.

 

"Well there is not much of a debate what must be done, is it. The question is, how are we going to do it."

 

Davram spoke up from the crowd, the older Asha’man causing a smile to appear on Isha’s twisted face. This was no smile of humour, bitter or sincere, neither one of pleasure; it was a smile to let the gathered assembly know that the man in front of them was no fool and already had a plan.

 

“We ambush Aginor at dawn. He is under the guise of Tamas and could very likely have multiple Dreadlords with him. Our only purpose is to eliminate this threat, waste no time, waste no strokes, kill.”

 

There was a three second lull in the room before, almost simultaneously, everyone present burst out with questions and suggestions at once.

 

ooc: sorry for taking so long guys, should be quicker from now on

Isha's words did indeed shock them into full awareness. Aginor? Here? Arath thought quickly. He didn't know much about Tamas, but Arath wasn't much of a socializer anyway.

 

There was dead silence in the room for what seemed an eternity, then everyone's thoughts all burst out at once. Arath waited a moment for the noisy confusion to lessen before raising his own voice. "How do you know this Isha? I don't doubt you, but how did you figure it out?" He paused for a moment, then added; "And how do we make sure he doesn't get away?"

Isha nodded his scarred head, acknowledging Arath’s question.  “Earlier this afternoon, Brand Ishmar found his mentee burned to death, seemingly having lost control of saidin.  Brand however did not believe that likely and so I had Drenn Kolgren and my mentee Vykor trail a friend of Jarhnas’.  I have not seen Drenn since but two hours ago, my mentee Vykor managed to drag himself to my house before he collapsed, unconscious.  Worried, I left my house to search for anyone moving about and found only one person awake and sneaking around at that late hour.

 

“Naturally, I captured him and brought him back to my home.  He was… questioned… by Zybnek and I and we managed to extract the information from him.  That answer your question?”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nathaniel smirked from the back of the room as the crowd exchanged shocked glances.  Excitement filled the room, and Nate suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.  ‘So… the Lightfools have finally found out.  About time.’

 

It was times like these he thanked the Great Lord for being forgettable.  With an almost practiced ease, he slipped from the back of the room and out the door with no one noticing.  Reaching the courtyard, he set off at a run, praying that the giant was fool enough to believe the Shadow did not suspect and that the Attack Leader had not set a watch.

 

In a matter of five minutes, he was panting as he pulled open the door to Tamas’… Aginor’s… house.  Dropping to his knees and prostrating himself on the floor he relayed the information.  “Great Lord, the Lightfools have captured a Dreadlord.  They know who you are and by dawn they’ll be here with a good two dozen Asha’man and Dedicated.”

OOC: Sorry it took me that long, finally popping in ;)

 

~Ged~

 

The worst childhood tales were those that became reality. A fact Ged Maevere seemed unfortunate enough to live out in certain intervals and the Light knew they ended all but happily. In fact you could count yourself more or less lucky if you were the one still standing at the end. So how would this one end?

 

Random thoughts that were spinning inside his mind as he stood there by himself, next to all the others assembled in Isah's house, attentive on the dark tidings the scared tall Asha'man bore. Dark indeed. Tales of the Shadow that suddenly was not a mere thread anymore, a thread distant and foreboding, yet still far away, without touching them immediately. Something to calculate with in more or less near future and yet actually having evidence of an attack led not only by Dreadlords, but Aginor, one of the Forsaken himself, made some of he resolve and confidence too many young faces showed as they stood there, shatter dangerously, to the point that Ged prayed they wouldn't break before their time had come. Yet how long would he last?

 

None of them knew what lay ahead and Ged was all but a mere farmboy, but still the training he had experienced in the Black Tower had altered him, made him more cautious and sometimes it scared him how little of the ignorant and frightened farmboy was still left in him. He was harder, he knew. And yet not hard enough. Not hard enough to forget why he was here. To forget the screams of death, the fire and destruction that Saidin could cause even without conscious will. But what could it cause if someone willed it to kill and destroy?

 

Something inside him told him - yelled at him - that he would rather not know and yet he scolded himself for being such an ignorant fool. Ignorance killed. He knew that, if nothing else. There was nothing left but hoping that this fight wouldn't be fought ignorantly, even with as little as they knew, after having "qestioned" whoever his dreadlord might have been. Isha's tone and expression left no doubt about the fate of the shadowspawn they had found. Grim and hard as a rock, he stood in front of them, ready to lead them to a battle whose ending was more than uncertain. Even though he had lost his belief long since, some hidden part inside him prayed that the Light would grant them the favor of victory. Yet there was no victory without a cost.

The unexpected noise startled him and he dropped the petri dish, sending it shattering to the floor, its contents that had taken months to cultivate contaminated beyond use now that they had touched a non-sterile surface.

 

The fury raged inside him as did the Power that he seized. It was all he could do to refrain from burning the intruder to ash before he recognized the boy, before the words he spilled spared his miserable life. A wide grin spread across Aginor’s face and he licked his lips. Some might have described it as feral had they bore witness to it. Mad, even. He knew he was a touch mad, and he didn’t care. He was genius, and the news was… delicious.

 

The experiment now splattered on the floor could wait; it would have to. A much more important one was at hand.

 

Finally.

 

It, too, had taken months to reach this point. The fools in this so-called Black Tower were too blind to see the subtle hints he had provided, and he had been forced to become more obvious. But no matter. The time he had waited for was at hand, and alone in this shanty that passed for a home, Tamas capered merrily. The prone boy pressing his face into the floor hardly counted. He would say nothing, even if he was left alive.

 

Aginor often thought of himself as whatever name came to mind. He had worn many names over the years. Many pairs of comfortable boots, too, he thought amusedly. Tamas. Aginor. Ishar Morrad Chuain. Names, like cities, are born, serve a purpose, and die. Like servants, too, come to think of it.

 

Cackling merrily, his eyes flashing a hint of madness that was accentuated by his wild white hair, he danced a merry jig across the floor. Even indulging in a joyous caper or two as he reveled in the news of a plan come to fruition.

 

Finally remembering that the boy was still there, he quit dancing to the mad music in his mind and looked down at him. Still prostrated, pressing his face into the floor, Nathaniel he thought his name was, hadn’t moved a muscle sense delivering the words Aginor had been longing to hear for months.

 

“Speak, worm. Tell me their plan,” he said softly, like a knife blade being honed on a whetstone.

 

He listened to the details as he wove the Power, taking care that no one besides himself would be able to detect his weavings. No, that wouldn’t do at all,  he snickered at the thought. Giggling madly, he prepared some nasty surprises to welcome the “ambushers.”

 

Very nasty surprises, indeed, he thought as he listened with half an ear to the messenger on the floor. Oh, I do love it when a plan comes together.

~Red sky in morning, sailors take warning~

 

The sun wasn’t yet visible over the vast canopy of Braem Wood but a handful of rays escaped the shadowed horizon, giving warm light to the earth below.  Trapped as they were behind the clouds, they painted the sky in a rich, blood red.

 

‘Aginor’s blood’

 

~Ishar’s not as stupid as you seem to think he is~

 

‘It’s an ambush, we’ll have him before he knows what’s happening’

 

~Don’t count on it.  He may be half-mad but that doesn’t make him stupid~

 

Irritated that The Voice refused to agree with the ingenuity of his plan, Isha banished It to that back of his mind.

 

‘Damnit, this can’t go wrong’

 

He had organized the entire group into teams of five.  The senior-most member of each group would hold the Gateway for the four others, generally a mixture of Soldiers, Dedicated and newly-raised Asha’man, whose job it was to clear any possible traps.  The grizzled man felt guilty for endangering the least-trained boys of the Tower but it was unlikely they could be more than minimally effective if battle was joined against the Forsaken and he needed the officers and stronger men to pull down Aginor.

 

“On the count of three.  One… Two… Three!”

 

Isha pulled deep on saidin, caressing the angreal in his pocket.

He sat alone, silent in the darkness.

 

He had turned out all the lights, and had blocked any outside light from entering with a simple weave. Any who entered would be momentarily stunned by the dearth of illumination, while also being silhouetted against the light themselves. It would be painfully easy to erase the problems then. Painful for them, easy for me, he thought as he laughed silently.

 

He had woven a blanket of silence around his home, as well. I don’t want to wake the neighbors, he giggled. No, I would not want to do that at all. His predatory grin was hidden by the darkness.

 

He doubted the “ambushers” would simply walk in the front door, although that would be fun to watch if and when they tried it, too. Cackling madly but silently as death’s footsteps, Aginor waited until the first hint of light appeared as a gateway opened in his bedchamber. They come, he snickered, and they die. As quick as thought five gateways blinked open in various parts of his home and black-clad men jumped through.

 

The screams rent the air, the symphony of pain music to his ears, as the Chosen sat motionless and reveled in the pleasure of a splendid performance.

 

It was a nasty bit of work but he was particularly pleased with the weave’s results, and the charred corpses of five pairs of so-called Asha’man decorated his floor before the gateways blinked shut as quickly as they had opened. He hoped the screams had been received as well on the other side of the gateways as they had been on his end. Grinning wickedly, he sat once again in the dark silence, the smell of ten burned bodies his only company until the second round of the “sneak attack” came.

 

I wonder if I should make them some eggs for breakfast, he thought humorously. I’ve already made enough bacon to go around.

The gagging stench of burning hair and flesh settled into Isha’s courtyard bringing with it new heights to the fear raging wild in every man there.  When all was said and done Isha would cry for the ten doomed Soldiers but now was not the time; nothing had been said yet nor had anything been accomplished- they still had a Forsaken to kill and that in itself would redeem those ten wasted lives… shouldn’t it?

 

The big man watched as one of the Dedicated leaned over, spewing his guts over the cobblestones.  Isha did not retch, he did not flinch, not tear was shed, no prayer offered up.  Isha was steel and steel would not rest nor waver until the job was finished and then he could give himself over to weakness.

 

~I told you Ishar Morrad wasn’t that stupid~

 

‘It was worth a try’

 

~Was it worth ten lives?~

 

He slammed The Voice back into the far recesses of his mind.  Now was not the time for doubts.

 

With seething anger being fed into the flame of the Void, Isha drew deep on saidin, now dipping into the extra power of the angreal.  Where it had before been a smouldering river of fire, it was now an inferno threatening to scorch his flesh and looking at his hands he half expected to see the skin begin to flake away from the bone.  But it wasn’t his own skin he smelled burning.  This was ecstasy.  He drew more and more until he began panting from the pleasure of it while his mind was stuck in the firestorm, losing ground to the flames that licked his body.

 

Laughter bubbled in his throat and the collective fear of those around him bubbled to new heights as they watched their leader burn with unimaginable saidin coursing through him and wondered whether in the space of ten seconds the Taint could have damaged his mind so badly.  The Taint scoured his bones, seemingly turning them to ash until it seemed a wonder to himself that he could stand with bones turned to crisp; perhaps he was just standing by virtue of muscle alone.  He was strength incarnate.  No one cold best him.  No Forsaken stood a chance.

 

“Travel to his yard.  We’ll blow his bloody house apart till he’s left cowering under his bed!”

 

ooc: Isha's got an angreal that doesn't buffer against the Taint so he's a bit crazy right now.  OP-wise Isha is Fire-10, Spirit-8, Air-6, Earth-3, Water-2, Strength- 29 x 1.8 = 53 Skill- 28 Potency- 81 + Shielding Talent

Arath tried not to gag as the screams and horrid scent of burnt flesh flowed back through the gateway he had opened.  From his view point, it was no better for anyone going through the other gateways.  He quickly released his weave, letting the portal snap shut before the rest of his group could jump through to their deaths as well.  His mind raced with the implications of this.  He knew we were coming, he thought, sickened by the senseless loss of ten good soldiers. How can we beat a forsaken if he's hidden away and knows we're coming?

 

Arath swung around looking for Isha.  This wasn't going to succeed.  Nearly half of Isha's attack force was dead before they had even begun.  Granted, the ten soliders would hardly have made a difference, but still ... it had been so quick.  For the first time in a long while, Arath felt a twinge of fear.  That fear redoubled when he caught sight of Isha.  He was laughing.  Laughing and holding an unbelievable amount of Saidin.  Where had he obtained an angreal?  Doubt rippled across the void.  Which was worse?  Aginor, or a crazed, angreal-wielding Isha? 

 

“Travel to his yard.  We’ll blow his bloody house apart till he’s left cowering under his bed!”

 

Arath drew a deep breath, then complied with the order.  Isha still seemed to be focused on Aginor's destruction at least, and for the moment it seemed best not to provoke him.  But a little extra order definitely wouldn't hurt their situation.

 

"Spread out around the building.  Don't travel to the same spot.  I'll go to the north side."  He pointed to the other Asha'man group leaders and gave them each a destination in turn. "East, south-east, south-west, west."  With another glance at Isha, Light help us, Arath split the air with the complex traveling weave.  The gateway shimmered as it opened up a short distance north of Aginor's miniature stronghold.  Waving the last two men of his group through first, Arath drew another deep breath and charged through, offensive weaves already forming at his fingers.  This had better work ...

The smell of over-cooked meat permeated his home, but he cackled softly, madly at the joke in his head. I mustn’t have guests drop by with nothing to eat.  Ho, ho. What kind of host would I be if I threw a party and didn’t have surprise treats?

 

On a whim he rose from his seat and, with a small ball of light to illuminate his path, he examined the ten crisped corpses that decorated his floors. Finding one that was only slightly larger than he was, his eyes lit up with glee. Oh, this will do nicely. Very nicely, indeed! he thought wickedly, his hands rubbing together happily as he began to disrobe the Soldier and then skin his torso and head with the Power. It required surprisingly little power to do, and with surgical skill, he was nearly finished when he felt the Gateways open in his yard. "He he he," he laughed joyously, the sound in his head more than hinting at his madness, but the dumb ones will come search a bit more closely. It would be a fine joke that they found…

 

Allowing the dome of silence and darkness to dissolve, the devastation that the Asha’man had made of his home was quickly revealed. If anything, they are certainly good at destroying things, he thought condescendingly. Most of his roof had blown away, and there were numerous chunks blown out of his walls. He began wailing in pain just as he felt a few Gateways form nearby and open near where his had. So my plan is working…

 

He screamed out in pretend pain, crying out that, “The monster is gone! Help me! Help me!” Almost simultaneously, several of his timed warding weaves went off. They did nothing more than make noise and explosions, but they were meant to only distract and disrupt any cohesive attack, to prevent those who remained from patiently thinking things through.

 

It worked, of course. The tenderhearted fools came running in to save their fallen comrade.  Those who entered through his home’s doors, were sliced to ribbons. The blades of Air that he had placed there at knee, waist, chest, and neck-level were sharper than a razor and the three and a half pairs of Dedicateds and Soldiers that entered via his doors never felt their deaths as they were sliced into chunks of already-cooling meat.

 

But three were clever enough to make their way inside without tripping any of his tricks. Three entered via blown holes in his walls, and it didn’t take them long to follow his agonized wails to find him lying there “in pain.”

 

They managed to drag him out of the blazing, dust-and-rubble strewn structure, before any other black-coated men arrived. Under the guise of thrashing in pain, he looked around to be sure. When he was satisfied that no one would see… Arrows of Fire disposed of the three Dedicateds, and Folded Light wrapped around him.

 

Moving slowly to minimize the rippling side effect, he found a comfortable spot near a wall, and stood waiting. It would be interesting to see what happened next.

 

Roaring laughter echoed off the stone walls of the courtyard, multiplying it tenfold.  It suited Isha.  He was too powerful for just one man, surely such power demanded extra voices.  ~I wasn’t enough?~

 

‘You’re weak.  You still think Isha Morraid will crush me, I’ll show you.  No mortal can touch me!’

 

~You’re not mortal?~

 

‘No mortal can wield this sort of power’

 

~You’re completely insane~

 

‘I AM NOT!’

 

The Voice fled for fear.  Fear of his awesomeness, no doubt.  Isha continued laughing.  A thousand years from now, when he was dead and gone, they would remember him as the one who killed Aginor.  What was he talking about?  He was omnipotent!  He would never die!

 

Travelling to what was sure to be his greatest moment, except for of course when he overthrew the Dark One himself, Isha hummed a little tune that had come into his head.  Where?  He didn’t know.  He had never heard it before.  But it was a little festival march and seemed to fit the current situation quite well.

 

He should have looked on at the scene in terror or at least distress.  Of the men he had brought with him, Arath, Davram and Ged were the last three standing, forming a last pocket of resistance.  The charred torso of a soldier lay bloody on the ground, its face so burned it no longer resembled a human face.  Isha didn’t even see it.  Three separate corpses lay on the ground, killed so that the three heads lay a half foot from their three torsos which lay another half foot from their three pairs of legs.  How odd.  They almost seemed to be the subjects of some scholar’s studies of the human body.  The great and powerful Isha stepped over them like he might fallen logs.  Which they were, honestly.  Their entire purpose had been to pave the way to his glory.

 

Seizing saidin, Isha dug into the fire.  It hurt; burning his flesh away and leaving his bones bare of skin and sinew.  But oh, it felt... so... good...  He panted from exhilaration.  More!  More!  A little more and even the Dark One himself couldn’t stand against him!  The house erupted in a blast of fire and debris.  Walls blasted outward, burying the corpses in wood and shingles and felling trees for a few paces’ radius.

 

“Where are you Ishar Morraid!”  This time he diverted his energy into the ground, spewing fire and earth twenty feet in the air.  Through all this, Isha remained untouched; the calm of the storm.  But Isha was anything but calm.  Excitement coursed through him like adrenaline.  This was it!  This was where he repaid the Shadow for his father’s death.  After ten years, Faerthines Talcontar could finally rest easy in his grave.  Revenge was sweet but the Power was sweeter.  More!  More!

 

Fire rained down from the sky and the entire area was engulfed in a wildfire that grew steadily outward.  The Attack Leader smelled his topknot sizzle and giggled as fire licked his skin, turning his black uniform to smouldering rags.  It didn’t matter that the smell of charring meat was the smell of his own skin bubbling on his body like melted wax.  None of that mattered.  He would get his revenge!  Revenge damnit!

 

‘There is no way Ishar Morraid will survive this’

 

~There’s no way we’re going to survive this you crazy bastard!~

 

All of a sudden something was fighting him for control of saidin.  It wrenched it away from his grasp and all at once the fire disappeared.

 

The fire disappeared but the carnage it left behind didn’t.  No battlefield could have been grizzlier; the sight was something from a nightmare.  Bit and pieces of formerly thinking, breathing human beings were reduced to twisted bits of stiff black charcoal.  Arms sticking out of torsos at odd angles could have been chunks of firewood if not for the barely recognizable remains of heads.  Where the house had been, there was a thirty foot crater deep enough to bury hundreds of dead.  There were only twenty, but those twenty deaths weighed heavy on Isha’s conscience.  Arath, Ged and Davram stared at him like some sort of demon come to life from the pages of a children’s book.  A demon that had murdered twenty men and laughed while doing it.

 

The Void came crashing down.  Pain hit Isha like a landslide and drove him to his knees.  Looking at his hands, the skin cracked and bubbled where it hadn’t been completely burned away, he mouthed words of horror, unable to come up with words horrible enough.

 

The flight of consciousness was a relief.

The destruction that rained down on Aginor's house was impressive.  Fireballs flew, explosions ripped apart pieces of the house.  Arath called down lightning to strike in the center of the structure.  It didn't take long for the destruction to stop.  No normal person would have survived that devestation.  But they were dealing with one of the Forsaken.  They had to plan for the worst.  Assume he had survived unharmed.

 

The suspicions were confirmed when he felt a gateway open up inside the ruined house.  With a curse his group charged back toward the house but Arath came up short.  He felt the other end of the gateway just a short distance away.  Was this a trap?  He hesitated a brief moment, then slashed open the air with a gateway of his own and travelled to the place he had felt in the woods to the north.  He leapt through, defensive shields in place and a fireball ready to fly.  A couple more gates opened around him and a few more Asha'man jumped out, but other than that, there was silence.  Nothing was moving, not even the birds.

 

Screams and explosions ripped through the house, drawing another curse from Arath.  Motioning the others to follow him, he opened yet another gateway and re-emerged near the house, right next to Isha.  He didn't seem to notice them as he hummed and walked calmly into the ruined house.  The amount of Saidin that Isha was drawing was staggering.  How little he seemed to care for the carnage around him was worse.  Arath could do nothing but watch him, dumbstruck and slightly fearful.

 

What happened in the next few moments was incredible.  A massive explosion ripped through what remained of the tattered building, sending rubble flying in all directions.  A wall of earth brought up at the last minute shuddered and cracked from the force of impact.  Fire rained from the sky, incinerating whatever was left in the vicinity.  Even with shields made of fire and air, the heat was overwhelming.  The devestation seemed like a scene of Tarmon Gaidon itself.  Then as abruptly as it had started, the fire rain ceased.  The blazing source of power that had been Isha vanished.  Cautiously, Arath, Ged, and Davram moved in toward the crater that stood where the house had been.  Isha stood in the center, an image from a nightmare.  His face and body were horribly burned, his clothing mostly charred away.  Arath watched as the giant Attack Leader looked around in horrified disbelief and slowly crumbled to the ground.

 

Shouts and yells filled the air around them as the rest of the Farm mobilized and arrived at the scene.  Arath could see the incredulous look in many of their eyes.  Letting the others handle the mess, Arath walked away slowly.  Had it been worth it?  That short battle, massacre more like, had cost too many lives.  Light, I hope he died, Arath thought.  The only thing that could be worse than this devestation would be if it all had happened for naught.