Elessar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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