Fanfic:A Crime inside Tower Walls/Chapter IV

A Crime inside Tower Walls/Chapter IV

Author(s)	Alexandra Bella Kenneth Edberg Eric Robins or Sigmund von Danzig (player)
Character(s)	Aias Caden Ives Liana en'Damier Damodred Antii Miahala Ives Saphire en'Damier

This is a piece of fanfiction. Only the original author(s) or Librarian(s) should make content changes to this page.

---

Channeling Yard

Standing in the Channeling Yard, Caden awaited the others with a grim scowl on his branded features.

He was wearing his scaled armor, painted black to protect the metal from rust, together with the gorget and his worn shoulder coups. His melted fancloak hung down his back, and he had left the mask on the desk in his study. His bastard saber hung in its baldric, and his curved dagger was sheathed behind his back.

His gauntleted hand held Winterbourne's reins, the aging white warhorse now wearing its own armor. The shaffron, crinet, peytral and crupper were criss-crossed with marks from yore battles, but still in serving order. He had not brought much in way of supplies, and the saddlebag contained a day's provisions for two, and his satchel with first aid equipment.

His mount knew its master's mood, and wore its armor without protest. It knew battle, and its mind attuned itself to what was to come.

Caden's stance turned rigid, and it was not because the en'Damiers and Leanna's kinsman was entering the Channeling Yard together with the Soldier in armor. His jaw-muscles were jumping, and his green eye taking on a haggard stare. His free hand clenched into a fist - shaking while the leather bindings of the gauntlet creaked. Winterbourne snorted and tossed with his mane, suddenly restless because of his Master's sudden change.

His reaction, plain for those who knew him beneath the stony Gaidin-features, was because of what the bond was telling him. Flaming perfect bloody time to be Warderless! These were Saphire's thoughts as she rode with the rest of the party. But she could not say them, for they were technically a lie. She wished that the Wheel had not woven Firredal away to Cairhien, spoiling him in his Household estate. But she would mind her oath to try to survive to until they met again at Tarmon Gaidon.

That was why she had instructed Aias to keep close by. She could spot those destined to be Warders or Green Ajah a mile away. Out-worlder or not, it was time to bring him into the fold, doubly so to have an extra pair of eyes to watch her back.

So too had she donned her cavalry armor. A cuirass breastplate attached to segmented armor over her thighs and upper arms. It was the most mobile armor than their blacksmiths could fashion - set with tassets and spaulders. Streaks of white darted down the black metal, halting at the ancient symbol of the Fang and Flame united on her back. She had worn a dark green soldier's cloak for this occasion to mask that symbol. The tassets over her thighs covered dark green padded hose, which would keep her mobile but protect her legs while mounted. Her helm provided maximum visibility, a morion with a green plume. Her forearms were covered in padded fabric which ended in leather gloves and demi-gauntlets. And Shadow's Bane was armored too with black metal streaked with white.

Saphire and her daughter also wore masks of woven from Saphire's Talent with illusion to disguise their ageless appearance. Slight changes here and there... faint lines around Saphire's eyes and mouth, and a small scar, in addition to the very real nip of her earlobe where an arrow in the bandit raid some years past had nipped her. Liana appeared very much like the younger doll-like noble lady she could have been, were she not an Aes Sedai.

If asked in this land where Aes Sedai were feared and shunned, the Warders would claim that they were all bodyguards for the young noble lady. Liana was the only one not so armored. She rode Lace with a satchel full of priceless ter'angreal slung over her shoulder, and a few smaller ones in her belt pouch. Already she had given a silver bead each of those who rode to the Yard, and an 'angreal to her mother and the Soldier.

Upon sight of the Master of Arms, Liana heeled Lace up to greet him. "Well met again, uncle." From her belt pouch she fished two silver beads the size of marbles and offered them to him. "This will blind the Shadow's eyes to you. The other is for my aunt, when we find her."

Liana was clearly more optimistic than her mother. Saphire pulled up along the other side. She had known Caden for decades, and read into the way he held himself. "How does she fare?" she asked in a low voice tinged with concern.

As Saphire watched for an answer, Liana raised her hands and spread her arms. She was one of the strongest Aes Sedai in the Tower, and was one of the few able to open such a large gateway. It was tall and wide enough for two mounted riders to pass through side-by-side.

She fell in behind with Caithlan and they stepped into a dry grassy field. Every stretched blades of golden-brown over rolling hills. In the distance, the Stone of Tear jutted up into the sunset sky.

"Close enough," Saphire remarked, after a momentary shiver passed. She bloody hated flaming gateways. Yet this was not far from a stone's throw from where the enemy's gate had opened.

"Where now, Caden?" To Caden, all that existed was the beacon of Miahala in his mind.

Though faint, it was shivering - flickering in throws of agony - and Caden could sense it intimately, and his imagination made up images what they were doing to her. He was proficient with torture himself, so it was easy to guess at techniques and instruments they could use. His teeth were clenched hard so that he would not grind them, and his green eye flickered minutely in helplessness. He could not do anything to aid her. Only the void, though the grasp on it was desperate and clinging, kept him together.

Then suddenly, the agony ended, and his world expanded to encompass his immediate surroundings. Liana was before him, and handed down two objects. He registered what she said, and accepted them into his gauntleted fist, his mind still miles away.

When Saphire spoke, his green eye centered on her face. "They are," his voice was just a guttural growl, "hurting her." No words could ever make up for what he wanted to say. He could not speak of it if he wanted to contain himself. "Though the first... session just stopped. She is alive, but in what condition, I cannot say."

He needed progress, movement; to keep himself occupied. He put his foot in the stirrup and mounted. Winterbourne snorted thunderously and tossed with his white mane, eager despite his age - yet just as grim as his master.

Meanwhile Caden had mounted up, Liana had opened the Gateway, and suddenly, Miahala was so much closer. Her presence radiated like the sun from the opening in the air. There was no hesitation. He rode through, and then took in the terrain as he wheeled Winterbourne about in the dry grass. Saphire asked the question just as his mismatched gaze centered on the city of Tear. He answered.

"There," came the noise from his damaged vocal cords and he inclined his head towards the structure that tipped the hills. "To the city, before they decide to start torturing her again." He wanted to shout, he wanted to roar, but instead, he put his heels Winterbourne's flanks and set off - leading the way. He could not allow himself to think, he needed to act.

Tear. Memories from his years with his foster-father came to life - images of how he had studied warfare and lived court life in the days of ignorant youth. The last memory of his foster-father had been after they had been attacked by brigands on the road to Illian. Varcan had been dying and gave him the saber that was sheathed by his side. He had told him to honor it, just before he died in Caden's lap.

Aimless in his lack of purpose in life, Caden had failed to do so, since he had chosen the life of a sell-sword until the day when master Elrion had taken him under his wing. Since then, Caden had found purpose.

And this given day, at this unfaithful hour, Caden would honor his blade to his best ability. Father, he thought as the landscape passed by in a blur, see me now, for in saving my wife and child, there is no purpose more true than mine!

"I have to try to break free
From the thoughts in my mind.
Use the time that I have,
I can't say goodbye,
Have to make it right.
Have to fight, cause I know
In the end it's worthwhile,
That the pain that I feel slowly fades away.
It will be alright."
("Pale" - Within Temptation)

Blood had dried in the chill air, stiffening the torn fabric that hung weakly on the ground, pooling around her legs in a strange mixture of her green dress and the black of dried blood on fabric. Her hands were again bound above her head and the weight of her body, heavy with the child within, hung painfully on her frame.

As strong as her body was, her limits were pushed. The cold, damp air had sunk down deep in to her muscles and joints. It exacerbated what pain was already there.

Miahala didn't know how much further those limits could be pushed, but she also knew that the limits would continue to change as she survived each moment. She just had to keep surviving until the information and the opportunity presented itself.

She just had to keep surviving.

"So," Garin began again. Mia's head was leaning back against the wall. Tears had long dried and gone cold on her cheeks, making them feel tight. Her eyes were closed in these moments of respite. When she heard his voice, her eyes opened and when she felt the cold tip of sharp metal on her extended abdomen, she lowered her head again to look at him.

He was smiling slightly. The bastard had been smiling that very faint, very crooked, very dark smile for all this time... however long it had been. Time had no meaning any more.

"I don't know much about these things, as you can imagine, but I do know that you're not yet far enough along for the baby to have changed position," he said. His head was tilted in what could be pensiveness as he looked at her, tracing the blade's tip on her skin without drawing blood. She ground her teeth together.

The blade stopped. "Given that fact, if I were to drive my blade through here," he went on, pressing the blade ever so slightly - just enough for her to feel it and be reminded of how sharp it was, "do you think it would go through its foot, cut off some toes?" The blade moved again.

"Or here... perhaps its little kneecap, or maybe it would actually hit something important," he continued in a tone that was so casual one might think that he was discussing the price of a cow.

Mia's eyes began to tear again, because she had no control over such things any more, but they also flashed with anger. It had happened a lot during all of this time, but it was stronger now. It was the first time that he had so directly threatened the child and the child alone.

What seemed years ago, Mia had made the decision in her mind that she would be willing to sacrifice herself, even her child, to save the world from Shadow as much as possible... but there in lay the fact of it. There was no way she would allow her child to die and herself to live. That was a heinousness and pact she would not make. If she died, so would the baby... but she would at least die defending him, or her.

Even without the power, Mia was a dangerous woman. Even without her blades, she was a knife's point. Even weakened and exhausted, she was strong. It was the serpent that had struck in the woods that day, causing a Trolloc's very flesh to explode in defense of her grown daughter, a Sedai in her own right - let alone a helpless baby... It was that creature that rose up now.

From under the remnants of her dark skirt, her foot lashed out. They hadn't removed her boots, having probably felt it not worth the effort since it would pose no danger...

Garin had been kneeling on one knee in front of her. It left him vulnerable, although she could understand where his over-confidence had come from. He was not prepared, however, for the thick heeled boot the snapped out with strength she should not have had and hit him squarely in one knee.

Roaring with pain, anger and surprise, his blade clattered to the floor and he grabbed his knee, falling back on to the stone floor. Halana, who had until then been sitting and sulking in the corner, rushed over and placed her hands on him, Healing him probably.

"I told you that we should have just killed her," she said.

"Shut your mouth," Garin snapped through his teeth, which were grinding together. "We're not done yet." After a few moments, his head dropped back and he gave a shudder. Halana pushed herself to her feet and stalked away as he gingerly stretched out his leg. "Good as new," he said, but his voice was breathy.

Miahala glared at him. She had stopped bothering to try to hide any emotions, because she couldn't spare the extra energy. Her body was shaking violently, visibly, with pain, strain, raging emotion...

The Black witch's warder pushed himself up to his feet with the slightest of winces, stepping closer to Mia and leaning down slightly. His eyes were pits where only spawns of shadow dare enter... but not with hatred or with pain... just with darkness.

He pulled his arm back with the dangerous speed of the Gaidin and back-handed her across the jaw with a solid fist, and she heard a slight crack, felt the blood and the heat. Tears continued to pour freely, but she clung to consciousness with everything she had, turning her head to look at him again.

Garin was smiling again. "I'm actually glad to see some fire still in you," he said in a low voice. "It means that the game is not yet over, because there's still plenty I am looking forward to doing to you."

"I can show you fire," Mia whispered, her voice mangled by the swelling of her lip but losing nothing in malice. "Have your bitch Sedai unshield me and I will show you fire..."

"Maybe later," Garin said with a smirk. "Later," he repeated as he straightened and left the room. Halana followed, sulking again. If Mia had the time and energy to think about it, she would wonder if that idiot woman ever did anything else. To think... Mia had been worried about her, at first. Now she knew Halana was little threat, unless set loose by Garin.

The door made a heavy thud as they shut it behind them, and the metal of the blade made a soft scraping noise as Mia touched it with her boot and dragged it to hide under the folds of her skirt. ~ Tear ~

Corbana Sedai did not, generally speaking, like to wear armor. She had always been of the mind that just because you were a member of the Battle Ajah, it didn't mean that you always dressed as a soldier. Having been grabbed for the rescue mission, however, she had been told the necessity of their 'cover' as a protection unit for the Lady Liana en'Damier, and so she was tolerating it.

Truly, it was happenstance alone that she was with the group at all. While the swift preparations had been made, she had been in the area. The First Sitter had recalled Corbana's talent for warding and healing, despite having chosen the Green, and she had been drafted - not that she minded, of course, once she had found out what had happened.

She remained silent, however, and followed orders as they departed the Tower through the gateway, headed for Tear.

She was, all things considered, young as an Aes Sedai and she had not quite developed the ability to feel comfortable leading in any sort of way. She was more like a soldier, despite the dislike for armor. She was an advisor - she advised, but did not command. She followed where the others lead and kept herself from cringing at the thoughts that Caden's words prompted.

Young in the Green, indeed, for she had yet to develop 'personal' enemies in the Shadow and Black Ajah just yet, although it all came in time, for the Tower and particularly for the Green - the Shadow's assassins in the Tower.

It was with due haste that once Caden Gaidin had determined the direction that the Captain General, his Aes Sedai, was in, they headed off, riding hard and riding fast. Caden moved at the head, running as if the Dark One himself were at his heels...

Perhaps he is, Corbana thought to herself. It was on the outskirts of the town, comparatively, not the side the gateway had opened but relatively close. It was the manor house of a minor lord who had come in to his lordship through minor blood lines and was, over all, thought little of and posed almost no threat to any other nobility.

Most did not even know his name, or the name of the nagging hen that had married him for the title of Lady, not learning till later that this was a lordship with no money, either.

All of these factors led to the fact that no one noticed that he was missing. Neither he nor his wife had been seen for four days, but neither did anyone care. Their two servants were usually the only ones who left the house with any frequency it seemed, and no one noticed that neither of them had been seen in all those days earlier.

It was the simple reality that Garin had done his homework.

What else he knew was that the house had been built when the family name had meant something, although only the house remained to it. It had been built when there were jealousies and reasons to fear this family and the man who had it built was paranoid. He had built it with hidden corridors and dark stone rooms, making it perfect for what it was about to be used for.

The silly lord and his foolish wife had broken in a piteously short amount of time and told him about all of them. As it had been hoped with their plan in departing the Tower, the group had moved through town without any problems. Everyone had assumed Lady Liana was a noble young woman being escorted through the city and the pace had been lessened just enough to make it convincing yet still with haste as they wound their ways through the roads, following Caden's heart... although few realized that it was his heart and not just the bond they followed.

Corbana looked down the street to the shadowy section where the house they were headed to sat. It looked like a place where dark deeds took place, she could not help but think. They did not move too close to it just yet, despite the great necessity of their deed. They did not want to rush upon the house without some sort of plan and out of unconscious respect for his involvement to the issue, they awaited Caden's plan for their approach... It wasn't enough, however.

One servant had been allowed to live because she was easily persuaded by Garin, who had early on realized that she responded better to another sort of persuasion and he used anything at his disposal. Halana had not been made happy by it, but he cared little. The small woman, the servant girl, would do anything that Garin asked of her and so she was allowed to survive.

She had been keeping watch, because although Halana felt that they were too clever to be followed, Garin knew better and he'd been keeping watch. The girl had come running to him as he walked the corridor - alone - and reported that a group had been seen and she thought it might be them, for they were well armored and had stopped a little ways from the house...

Garin had explained that there were certain traits to look for in the way they would carry themselves, for he knew these things. They were good to know. She had reported them and he believed that the time was near.

"Halana!" he shouted as he stormed in to the bedroom where she was.

The dead nobleman and his wife were lying strewn on the floor of the bedroom, forcing him to step over them and make a face of disgust. "Blood and bloody ashes, woman! They were perfectly fine where I had them," he growled as he crossed the room.

His Aes Sedai, flaming fool that she was, turned to face him. "I wanted the seat," she said innocently, like a spoiled child is innocent.

It was not time to yell at her, though. Time was suddenly running short. Garin folded his arms over his chest and forced a smile. "Halana my dear, I have just the thing to cheer you up," he said. He moved his arms so that his hands rested on the back of the chair she sat in, which had dried blood on it - he should've asked the girl to clean that up but hadn't thought to - and leaned towards her till their faces were close. "I want you to kill the witch."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes alighting as she jumped to her feet.

"Yes, really," he said, forcing another smile.

She frowned suddenly, though. "Why?" she asked suspiciously. "I thought you said that the game wasn't over yet and you'd break her."

Well, she might finally be developing a brain after all. "Something has pushed forward our time schedule. I'm going to go prepare for our departure while you take care of her. I'm being kind, please note, to let you kill her while I ready the animals," he pointed out.

For a few more moments, she eyed him with suspicion but then the smile returned and she wiggled her shoulders a little bit. "All right," she said with an evil smile. "I'll meet you in the stables and we'll get out of this place. I do so despise cheap royalty," she added with a sneer as she rushed out of the room, delicately skipping over the bodies as she went.

Garin shook his head. "Poor woman, I'll miss her abilities," he said, but knew that unlike other Warders, even with her death, which he was surely sending her to whether she killed that Miahala woman or not, his allegiance to something greater than himself would carry him through and so he made his silent and not very sad farewells to the woman and then began to make his escape from the manor house... When Caden's boots touched Tairen soil for the first time in decades, he had already arrived to the manor house and just dismounted from Winterbourne. He took a couple of mordant steps forward, first meaning to go straight through the main entrance without any further delay.

Yet a whisper on the wind made him stop in his tracks. What...?

He stared long and hard at the building in front of him as the rescue party dismounted behind his back. He was listening, trying to hear the whisper again. His left hand was resting on the basket-hilt of his saber, fingers working around it in blood thirst. Then... the whisper of a memory came back, and his fingers stopped moving.

"This was where he said she'd be." It was Miahala's voice he heard, echoing through time.

Before long, they could see an outline of a clearing between the trees - an area that was lessened of trees and that you could see more of the sky through. As they drew closer, the dark shape of a decaying building was visible. They stopped their pace, observing for a moment. "This was where he said she'd be," Mia whispered to him.

"Do you see anyone?" she asked next. "I would have assumed that there would be guards, but I do not see any. Perhaps they thought her so well hidden that they were not required..." She trailed off, waiting to see if he had any thoughts on that part of things.

In silence, Caden regarded the scene. When Miahala spoke, he had already ascertained his analysis; the tactic chosen.

"There could be two reasons why there are no visible guards," he rasped faintly, "Either it is because they do not wish to be seen, or there are none. Between the two, we will chose to assume Alassia is guarded somehow. If they do not wish to be seen, there are furthermore two reasons why they wouldn't. Either they want to avoid detection completely, both from local passers-by or from search-teams sent by Lady Masseroy... Or, they have set an ambush. Between the two, it is easy to make a definite assumption. They should not expect the two of us to know of Lord Orryn's betrayal, so they hence should be dwelling inside, fortified and waiting for the right time to move her. Problem is, we are not dealing with amateurs. No professional is foolish enough to guard anything without guards, visible or not. "

He turned his mismatched gaze to Miahala. In this memory of her, she could not have looked anymore beautiful. In the memory, he said, "If Alassia is here, it's an ambush."

Looking back upon the ruin in the small clearing, his jaws worked as he considered the problem. "We should approach warily. If we find guards, we should consider us lucky. If not, the trap will close when we least want it to," he continued and drew his long saber from its sheath, the sound had a ring of finality, "It's morning. We approach from the east, where the sun is in their eyes. In any case, we need to reach Alassia. Our advantage is that we expect the ambush. That might save our day."

Blinking away the memory from his vision, he found the ruin in the Andoran forest replaced by the manor house, and Miahala gone - instead sensing the people who had followed him standing close. They had dismounted, and they awaited his judgment. His hand was still upon his hilt.

The bond was a much greater beacon now, and it told him Miahala was both frightened and furious - probably threatened. She was so close now... yet still so far away. He sensed a brief second of triumph from her - like a cloud passing across the moon. She defies them still! But the brief pride he felt for her was shattered as she was hurt again - a strike that snapped him back to cold reality like a blow to the head.

He had to keep focus, no matter what was at stake! The memory of Andor had cleared the bloodlust from his mind - revealing its keen edge.

"She is inside..." he rasped as his mind worked. "We are in plain sight and we do not know how many they are. Since there are no visible guards, they are either expecting us or they are fools. I reckon the Black Ajah is not the latter."

Rounding on the group, his mismatched gaze took them all in as he spoke. "They will expect us to enter in full force and blast our way towards Miahala. It will most likely be our doom, especially since they might be of greater numbers than us. We will not know what hit us until it's over." Drawing his bastard saber, Caden held it by his side, signaling that they were just about to move out. "Instead, we enter separately - from different entrances to the manor - which will enable us to get around the most probable ambush in the foyer. Not only that, but we will more likely catch them if they mean to flee - should they be the ones outnumbered."

Caden turned back towards the manor house, his green eye scanning for ways of entry. "The garden on the back should have an entrance, as will the stables. Furthermore, I see a cellar door there," he rasped and indicated a pair of wooden doors at the base of the building.

Father once told me, he thought, remembering his greatest tutor in warfare and life, that a good battle plan that you act on today can be better than a perfect one tomorrow. I hope he was right. Of its own accord, Caden's body shifted and entered the Swallow Rides the Air - an on the run stance, both his hands on the hilt.

"Split up. If neither of us gets to Miahala before they use another Gateway to relocate her, we rendezvous in the foyer, because by then - Light be willing - we will have come upon any ambush there from behind." He paused there, realizing the finality of the journey towards their goal. All the rest was blood and death. "Thank you..." he said, not looking at them. Little Liana... Saphire... There was no time for sentimentality; he had a hard time to keep his focus as it was. "...in case we do not meet up on the other side."

With those final words, Caden set off towards the stables. He had fought Channelers several times before, and he did not need assistance. The Black Ajah would not realize he was there until it was too late. Alone, he could move freely. His speed would not be compromised by having to protect someone else on the way towards Miahala.

Courage is fear, when it has said its prayers. Fear, like all other thoughts and emotions, were then consumed in the soulless embrace of the Oneness. "Light protect you 'till then." Liana said from horseback.

Saphire had already dismounted, and she called, "Peace favor your sword." It was her father's saying. An impossible hope that a thing never known but in a dream might be realized: when all one's foes were dead.

Moments later, there was a thunk as a body was hurled against a wall.

Saphire had the smaller woman by the throat. The serving girl's feet dangled just above the ground. Saphire didn't need the One Power to be a fearsome thing to behold.

"Speak."

The girl struggled fruitlessly against her. Her hands were wrapped around the Aes Sedai's arms, and her nails dug into flesh, whether from true courage or fear it could not be said. Blood began to ooze. Saphire grit her teeth.

"Speak!"

Saphire blinked as a wad of spit came hurling at her face. She felt slippered feet launch at her gut, and she rolled her torso inward.

Now she was annoyed.

She slammed her against the wall again, and the girl's head rebounded against the wood-and-painted wall. Saidar illumined her, and yet Saphire did not feel as if the girl were a significant threat, not to her life, no matter how much she pissed her off. But she did hear the girl's teeth rattle in her skull.

"Aias," Saphire rolled her shoulder against her cheek to wipe away the spittle. "Cut her fingers off."

"No!" she squeaked.

"Then speak!" the Aes Sedai commanded. "Where are they holding her?!" Elsewhere in the manner, Corbana, Liana and Caithlan stood over the bodies of nobleman and his wife. They were splayed haphazardly across the floor of what must have been their bedroom. Blood ran tracks from their mouths and other unseen places. They didn't reek yet, which meant the kill was fresh. They could have been sleeping, were it not for the blood.

The threads of all five powers dissipated around Liana. Nothing changed inside the crystal ball within which a blood red wolf's head was captured. "This was the closest point of violence I sensed." she said. The ter'angreal could tell her, by virtue of the five powers, what, if any, violence had occurred in the area. "They were tortured to death."

Caithlan had already checked and cleared the room. He stood by the door, watching through the cracked opening. "Where else?"

"Far below," Liana answered, and slipped the crystal back into her satchel. She didn't need it anymore. "Let us make haste." she said, darting across the room. "I fear we have no time to risk losing." The violence there was growing steadily with more intensity. Every time Miahala inhaled, it hurt. Every time she exhaled, it hurt. She had been left with her hands bound and tied above her head, stressing the muscles of her arms and her chest even more greatly than each moment before, but not as badly as it could, because she had hope...

He's here, she whispered in her mind. She could feel him close and she could feel his determination. It was the hard truth that she could do nothing to help him, but he was here. He had found her.

The door creaked as it opened and Mia opened her eyes to watch Halana, and Halana alone, walk in... without Garin, and she looked elated. Mia could see it, and she could only think of one thing that would make that woman look like that... and Mia inhaled sharply, steeling herself.

"I know why you're here," she said in a low voice. It was all that she could manage, but she had to talk. "You're going to prove how much stronger you are than I am, when you can kill me while I'm shielded and strung up like some animal that has been hunted down... so strong as you are."

Elation dropped immediately from Halana's face. "I'm amazed you can still talk," she sneered, easy to taunt. "Fine..." The petulant Sedai stalked over and untied the rope that kept Mia's arms above her head. Her hands remained bound together, but at least she was not attached to the wall.

Her body slumped forward, over her the remnants of her skirts and she ducked her hands underneath, hiding the motion with her upper body.

"There," Halana said, pleased with herself. "Now you've got a fair chance."

If only you knew... Mia thought as she felt her hands clasp the cold wooden handle of the weapon and she tried to control her breathing. She had to find something left in herself to fend this black witch off and stay alive for just a while longer and then it would be okay. It would be okay. Hold on little one...

"Look at me," Halana said. Mia did nothing. She didn't move. Time passed. "Look at me!" Halana shouted at her, stomping over and grabbing Miahala's hair, yanking her head up.

As she did, Mia growled and tore her hands upward with any piece of strength she could muster. The blade took parts of her skirt with it and stuck the whole mass together in Halana's side. It was not, unfortunately, an immediately fatal blow, but it caused Halana to screech in agony and spin away, shocked.

In the instant of reprieve and distraction, Mia managed to push herself to her feet. She wavered and nearly fell over, but she kept her balance.

Halana looked... galled at Mia's audacity. How dare Mia attack her! They'd only just kidnapped her, tortured her, threatened her child... yet she had the sheer nerve to stick a blade in the woman...

You're damn right she had the nerve! Now, if only she could get the blade back and do it again.

Blood was sliding copiously, although not gushing, down Halana's dress and it pleased Mia in a very dark part of herself to see it. Maybe she would bleed out before they had to fight, but there wasn't to be that much luck. Halana was dragging the One Power in to herself, but the pain distracted her and the fire went awry, which was lucky after all, since Mia wouldn't be dodging much of anything.

The Aes Sedai was angry at the lack of her ability with the power, however, and screeched again as she tore the knife from her side. It bled more profusely, but she was surging on adrenaline now. She charged Mia, who took the brunt of the hit with a cry, but grappled with Halana none the less as they tumbled to the ground.

Over all, they were matched fairly evenly at that moment.

Halana was absolutely no good at hand to hand fighting. She had some talent with the power but could do nothing with her hands or a weapon, but Mia was injured and exhausted beyond all reason, and her hands were still bound, so over all it equaled out.

No matter how tired she was, however, nothing could change the fact that Mia had a good amount of weight in advantage over Halana. It took some work, but she managed to roll them over to get on top. Leaning back, she pulled her hands up - bound and all - and put full weight in to a swing for Halana's face.

Halana was dazed for a moment, so Mia was able to get another hit in, but it was cut short by Halana returning the earlier favor and jamming the blade to Mia's hip. It was a bad angle, but the blood loss wasn't one that she could afford. She wavered for a moment before slamming her fists one more time in to Halana's face and then just about falling over.

Mia pushed herself back, screaming in pain as she pulled out the blade, trying to get to her feet one more time just as Halana also whirled, planning the strike to finish this wench off, while Mia desperately tried to figure out how to fend off one more attack as the world felt as though it was growing dark and in around her... Through the stables he went, blade drawn and low to the side. Caden pushed the door leading inside the manor house open with his shoulder; leaned in to get his bearings. As he had approached the manor, he had realized the Miahala was below the ground floor. There was a corridor leading straight ahead, with wooden doors along it on either side. He did not hesitate a moment before he ran down its length, his melted fancloak fanning out behind him.

A new door met him at the end of the corridor. It was locked, so he stepped back to kick it open. It took three tries, but at the third kick, the hinges tore free from the frame and the door itself cracked across the middle. He got through, and his eyes scanned for threats...

...and found someone he had seen before.

The Black Ajah Warder skidded to a halt, face to face with Caden. Him! He was carrying one set of saddlebags, evidently about to flee from the manor house, but he was not the kind to be stupefied by an obstacle in his way. The dark-haired Saldaean simply threw the saddlebags to the floor and freed his longsword in a fluid motion. He was like a viper, suddenly poised for battle. They had faced each other before, and both knew they were of equal skill. The Blademasters of Light and Shadow had been interrupted before their last duel had come to a close...

...yet the shadowsworn had gained the upper hand by injuring Caden before they crossed blades.

"I had not realized the Travelling Circus had come to Tear," said the man, a sinister and confident smile plastered over a face bereft of emotion. "And that I had begged their Freak to come for a personal performance."

In a pitch of voice leveled by the Oneness, Caden shifted into Lion on the Hill and spoke. "Where is she...?" he rasped, his brow ridge lowered over his mismatched eyes - equaled only in their ambition for murder.

"I suppose you were bound to show up," the Saldaean said, trying to begin a circling maneuver, "with your pregnant wife screaming in pleasure from what I've been doing to her. She is quite feisty, I must say." At those words, Caden saw that the man moved with a slightly limping tilt.

Not fooled by words, the Master of Arms understood that the man tried to get around him. He knows there are Channelers in the manor. With two steps, Caden interposed himself, his saber suddenly poised for a thrust. "I said," he growled, "Where is she?"

The man sneered, his longsword adjusting itself to intercept the strike. "She is on the brink of death," he said, feinting to his left before going right and cutting low.

Caden leapt backwards, landing with his blade lowered for a rising cut. He remembered acutely how fast this Blademaster was. He was not as strong as Caden, but what he lacked in strength he made up in cunning. In their previous fight, he had been a shadow that defied martial logic - always circumventing and turning defense into staggering counter-strikes before the transition was made plain to the eye.

"...so I suggest you run to her, before the Great Lord is allowed to ravage her in eternity."

Seeing the twist of the shadowsworn's wrist in time, Caden raised his blade and caught the strike before it had chance to build up its momentum. He could not afford the spinning cut that could possibly claim the shadowsworn's leg, for he knew the man was too fast to be caught by it. Instead, he pressed on, the rising strike coming down again. Wind and Rain. And then up diagonally in Low Wind Rising.

The man met each strike evenly, withdrawing just as much as he needed to keep Caden's reach away from him - not wanting to enter close-range. He must have learned by now that Caden was nearly as proficient with his hands and feet as he was with his saber. When the rising cut sailed past his face, he whipped out with his longsword and caught the hind side of Caden's blade before driving forward again.

All movement had turned instinctive. The shadowsworn pressed on, and Caden's saber whipped to and fro in order to keep the longsword from reaching him. With each strike, the man built up his momentum, and Caden found that he had to redirect the force in order to gain the initiative. Crouching down, he struck upwards, catching the horizontal strike at a rising angle. The Shadowsworn pushed of from the ground with his legs, and Caden's River Undercuts the Bank hit nothing but air.

The shadowsworn landed awkwardly on his bad leg, but immediately rounded on Caden again - his longsword rasping in a wide circle against the mosaic tiles. "She was calling your bloody name while I put my knife to her!" he shouted, his eyes shadowed by the oil lamp above them. "So I suggest you go to her before my Aes Sedai finishes my work!"

Caden had already said his prayers, there was no reaction to fear or pain in his mind - merely a cold sense of purpose.

"You... will be in the afterlife before her, for it is I who shall send you to your maker." His voice was a soulless beast's rumbling. "There is no turning back for you, and you shall not pass!" His mind expanded - spread across the hallway they stood - and became one with the shadowsworn's body and blade. The Flame in his soul encompassed all, and his presence in the room exploded outwards. "You are trapped... and it's too late to beg for mercy!"

The shadowsworn began to advance, the smile evaporated by his own inner Flame... "Who do you think you are, you Light-blinded Freak? You delude yourself!" His cruel voice was made even more sinister without a soul to back it up. "Even beasts know when to give up. You are merely a waste of my precious time. Let me put you out of your misery!"

They met again, blades first, in a dance that defied perception. Their struggle could be heard as a faint echo of steel against steel in the whole mansion. This is where that silly chit said they'd find her: deep in the labyrinth of the manor house, below the surface of the earth, where no one could hear the screams.

"Keep moving."

They hadn't set her free of course. She could have lied. Lied and protected that trolloc-horned darkfriend and his black-hearted mistress.

Another nudge and the girl stumbled forward. Her mouth was distorted in what appeared to be a lopsided ghoulish grin, when actually she was gagged with a bind of Air. Her hands were bound behind her back too, and Aias, followed by Saphire Sedai, trailed her down the long twisting corridors. The later two were unseen by virtue of the artifacts which rendered them unseen, as long as they didn't move too quickly.

If there was to be hell-fire, the girl would be the first to endure it. So she walked, mindful that a silent approach was in her best interest. But if she bought them a little time as a human shield, then it was just as well.

At last they heard sounds...

...sounds of struggle.

"Hurry it up!"

And then Miahala screamed.

"Blood and bloody ashes!" Saphire strode past Aias and his spear. She pushed the girl down and ran towards the open chamber.

Saidar illumined her. Darting as quickly as she was, she was a blur of color and light. No longer unseen. A thread of fire, and...

...she was there.

The instant came when Saphire saw them. She saw her opportunity, and lunged.

The orb flashed. And the blur became a body tackling and rolling the shadowsworn to the ground. Saphire reached for the woman's throat just as she pressed a Shield against her.

It was just in time.

Miahala saw her salvation just as the world around her began to turn black, trying to close in around her although she hung on with great desperation.

Halana, meanwhile, screeched as she was tackled. She lost concentration and whatever she had been about to do ended abruptly as pain and fire lanced through her from the wound in her side, but her blood was beating so hard that she didn't notice any longer, after a moment. She was just barely able to stop the shield from reaching her, grappling with everything she had, trying to wrangle the power back.

Things were tenuous at grasp however, and Halana was able to regain her ground. She was slippery as a viper and normally fast like one, although blood loss had weakened her. Still, scrambling away from the new enemy, she pulled the power in to her and resisted the shield, trying to find the knife again...

Saphire was not designed for these kinds of battles. Miahala was the assassin, not her. Saphire was a war-scale weaver. Her weaves were precise as siege engines, hurling wind and water, fire and death upon armies under an open sky. Her weaves were blunt and did not distinguish between friend or foe upon the battlefield. Her first urges were to turn the sky asunder for her Sister.

But it could not be. Her rage, if followed to its end, would smite Miahala as surely as it would the enemy. No, she had to single the traitor out and pluck her thread from the Pattern with her clumsy hands.

It was a contest of wills. A contest for dominance. One shield pressed against the other. Slipping sideways and back. They fought to win the battle of the mind as they did in body.

Halana's body trembled with the effort. She couldn't find the weapon and it was all she could do to continue to evade the woman and keep the shield from her as well. Sweat poured off her as blood continued to leak from her side, and her concentration was so focused that she did not even notice the man in the room...

As Saphire lunged towards the shadowsworn woman, Aias felt a familiar chill run down his spine, a chill that meant a woman was channeling. The two came to grips, each completely focused on the other. Aias seized Saidin, ready in case he needed the little power he could wield. The world instantly grew sharper, more distinct.

He crept behind the Black woman, positioning himself in distance and readying his spear. The bright blade flashed, slicing neatly through her right hamstrings. Aias stepped back a pace, readying his spear and raising his shield, preparing to receive her counter-attack.

Screaming in pain, Halana let out a stream of barely coherent curses as she whirled around. It was pure instinct now, driving her and moving her, coherent and reasonable thought left behind long ago in the wake of a fight she knew, subconsciously, she could not win, but she was panicked now, desperate, and not trying... just trying to stay alive.

Up until this very moment, her life's focus had been to survive and come out on top. Her psyche couldn't handle that it might not happen this time, and so it had shut down and left only a snarling animal, wild motion, in its place.

Saidar flooded her even more deeply, more than was safe truly, but she did it anyways. Weaves of fire, blunt as rocks but none the less hot, went streaming out towards the man who had injured her just as she collapsed to the ground, unable to stand up with the shot that he taken on her already weakened body.

The flames crashed as the wave does on the shore, but were as ineffective as steam. The shield may have grown hot, she did not know, she only knew that she was not powerful enough in this state to truly do any damage against him, protected as he was and protected as he kept the prone woman behind him.

Further, she was now not strong enough to hold off the shield bearing down on her, and the woman pushing it, and the man of the shielded fortress...

There was a furious cry as Saphire lunged at the shadowsworn again. She was shielded, but Saphire was not half finished with her. She wanted to make her pay. The Sitter's wrath was like a forest fire, unspent, unyielding, and rapidly growing out of control. She pinned her to the cold stone ground with her knees and wailed on her.

"This is for my Sister, you blasted Light-forsaken witch!" Saphire pummeled the woman's head, right, left, right, left, and back again, breaking her nose and sending teeth flying. Blood splattered Saphire's hands and arms. And there was a distant scream. Maybe that of the shadow-tainted, maybe the serving girl's. "Burn you, bloody-be-damned flaming treacherous harlot, I spit in your mother's milk!"

"Mother!"

Saphire felt someone pulling at her from behind.

"Mother, cease!"

Dimly, Saphire realized it was Liana. She was grabbing her around her midsection, trying to pull her off the bloody flaming traitor. But the urge to tear the witch's throat out was overwhelming. Mother struggled against daughter, white hot rage against cool temper.

"Mother, desist! The Law forbids it!"

It was true. The last time Saphire's rage spun out of control she had nearly murdered the shadow-sworn Asha'man in cold blood, the one who had tortured her Liana. Before that, some decades past, she had lost control and had unleashed a weave that could unravel the Pattern itself, and she had almost been tried and stilled for it.

She still pinned the woman below her, still was shielding her, but Saphire let her wrists be held back. She panted hard. Summary justice was forbidden. This woman couldn't threaten them, not now, and she must face trial before the Hall of the Sitters. And if she did not stop, right now, Saphire would face it with her.

She slumped back. But not before she spat in the woman's broken face on the floor.

Liana too was breathing rapidly. "Aias," she said, realizing that Corbana was checking on Sister Miahala. Caith was near, helping Saphire to stand. And Liana released her. Light! Her mother was bloodied up to her elbows and down her dress. "Aias, bind the traitor to the Light, that we may take her home alive."

"Yes ma'am," Aias barked. He glanced across the room for rope before recalling Feo's lessons. May as well make use of this Power. He wove crude cords of air, forcing the Shadowsworn woman's wrists together behind her back. He lifted her roughly by them, forcing her to her feet. Aias smiled, knowing the pain it would cause her to walk with a lame leg. He forced her arms upward, to the point it locked her shoulders. To make it easier to control her, Aias reassured himself. That would be against Tower rules, after all.

Liana moved to stand and came to Miahala's side. She brushed her hair back and spoke softly. "Sister," she spoke to Corbana, "I have little precious Talent for Healing, do you?"

Already in motion, Corbana very delicately touched the sides of her Captain General's face and delved. She shuddered as she picked up on the million points of pain... the injuries, the blood loss, the terrible, infection-breeding conditions she had been kept for this time. "I have some," she whispered to the Indigo Sedai. "But not to Heal this. I can make her stable, but we must get her back to the Tower, now, if we are to save her, and this child... both grow weak even as I say these words."

It was so, as darkness was nearly winning and Mia's world was darkening further, though she tried to hold on, to speak, but nothing more than rasping breath came out. Ramming his open hand against the Saldaean's face, the shadowsworn's head rebounded against the wooden wall. Caden lashed across with his saber, trying to disembowel the man before he got away, but somehow, the shadowsworn managed to intercept the slash with his longsword - using the handguard to lift his saber skywards.

Exhaling, Caden clenched his torso against the kick that landed in his gut, yet he staggered two steps back - leaving sufficient room for the shadowsworn to get his guard in place.

"Die!" the Saldaean cried and reclaimed the initiative - advancing on Caden with Striking the Spark. Sweat stinging his green eye, but unable to afford a single blink, he sidestepped and caught one of the overhand strikes from the side. His protesting leg muscles were ignored as he leapt back to where he had been standing - twisting his saber around the longsword in Grapevine Twines.

Rather than to lose his blade, the shadowsworn allowed his blade to gain momentum by Caden's counter before ramming his weapon down into the mosaic tiles - bringing the twisting motion to a dead stop. Finding his blade on the farthest side of the grounded longsword, Caden released one hand from his hilt to intercept the shadowsworn's brutal punch towards his good eye. Caden managed to catch the wrist and yanked the punch aside before it reached his head, and as soon as the fist was out of the way, he stepped forward to head-butt the man cross the face. Yet the Shadow's devotee managed to sway backwards...

...but not out of range from Caden's basket-hilt - which immediately slammed across the dark-haired man's features. He might have been able to avoid the hit if his leg had not been injured.

The shadowsworn fell, the mosaic tiles rupturing as he refused to release his sword - which he brought with him in the fall. At the same time, Caden did not release the grip he had on the man's wrist. With his adversary on the ground, Caden used his hold to keep the man from protecting his ribs. He kicked as hard as his battle-worn body could - straight into the shadowsworn's side. His boot went deep and hard - rewarding him with faint popping noises. The Black Ajah Warder's breath hissed out of his lungs, and as soon as a new breath granted him air, he cried out - in rage and pain.

Nevertheless, as he screamed, the shadowsworn struck from his lying position against Caden with his longsword. The Blademaster of the Light held the higher ground, and almost disdainfully fended off the strike. His gauntleted fingers curled harder around the shadowsorn's wrist and mangled it by twisting it counter-clockwise. A renewed scream came in answer, but so did a thrust aimed against Caden's exposed and unprotected armpit.

Caden stepped back when it was almost too late, swaying back from the tip of the longsword. Yet while he took a defensive maneuver, he still did not release the shadowsworn; yanking him along with the grip around the crumpled wrist - dealing more agony.

"You shall never again mock the maimed!" he rasped as he raised his saber into the oil-lamps light - about to cut off the arm by the elbow.

Yet then he was skewered, and the void pricked as by a burning spear into his mind.

Not by any martial weapon - but by the agony he felt through the bond. Miahala! His resolve and focus faltered, and his green eye centered upon nothing at all as he tried to discern how badly his wife had been hurt. His falling strike never fell. She is dying! Faintly, he heard the shadowsworn's roar, but he intimately felt how the longsword cut across his chest - sending scaled black links of armor against the roof.

The Void did not protect him anymore; he staggered back and released his grip on the Saldaean. His balance wavered, but in order to stop himself from falling backwards, he crouched down. He tried to keep his mismatched eyes on the shadowsworn, but all he could see was the flickering beacon of the bond. His grip on this saber was shaking - though he held it clear of the ground, poised to defend himself with a rising strike.

Yet the shadowsworn did not come after him. Instead he rolled to his feet - quite gracefully despite his injuries. He cast a quick glance towards his adversary before running with a limping gait towards the doorway from whence Caden had come from. And like that, he was gone - already on his way from the manor.

At that moment, Caden could hardly care less. Let him run all he can, he thought as he raised to his feet and set off in the opposite direction. One million of his kind dead does not make up for the loss of her. Miahala. She needed him. With the bond as his compass, he made his way into the bowels of the manor house. By the time the Green Ajah Aes Sedai Healed Miahala's limp form, Caden Ives appeared in the dark room. His mismatched gaze only briefly scanned the scene to make sure there were no threats left, taking in Saphire with shadowsworn blood up to her elbows, Liana and the Soldier that had accompanied them. The Black Ajah witch was indeed the same one he and Miahala had encountered in Andor, but it was quite hard to tell for certain because of her ruined visage.

"Miahala..." he rasped deep down in his chest as he closed the last distance to her - a distance he never meant to experience again. He was bleeding from his chest through the ruptured links of his armor, though with the addition of exhaustion and bruises, he was still far from needing any immediate help. He sheathed his bastard saber and crouched down by her, taking her into his arms - no matter who was looking.

"I'm here, nothing can harm you," he grated, jaw-muscles working to control renewed hatred against the two shadowsworn who had done this to her. The sight of her rocked him in his foundations, with all the blood and streaks of tears in her face. The swell of their child only made the image of her hard-won survival more profound. He would never forget this; because it was a cause for murder more fresh and vibrant than the maiming of his face - which had taken place so long ago now. Running the leather palm of his gauntlet tenderly over her head, he found that he was shaking. Oh yes, a wound to his well-guarded heart was more lethal than any loss of self-appearance. This hurts more, he thought as he pressed his unburned lips to her forehead, this demands a justice I cannot bring. I can never forgive this, nor forget. No justice in the world suffice for what has happened.

"Forget your wide-eyed fears. I'm here, my love," he said and tried to make her eyes find his. "I'm with you; right here beside you. I will guard you. Your fears are far behind you now."

His green eye flicked towards the gathering of Channelers, Aes Sedai and Soldier alike. There were no words in him for the gratitude he felt. There were no more tears left in him either; they had all been shed already throughout his life. He would be strong for Miahala's sake - not let her see how deeply injured his mental stability had been by this blow. Across her shoulder, he inclined his head to the Channelers, an act that had to suffice for now. At the given time, he was there only for Miahala. Liana shared a look with Caithlan. She hoped they would never be in that position, but if they were, she knew that he would come as swiftly and resolutely as uncle Caden had for aunt Miahala.

Meanwhile, Saphire was wiping her bloodied hands on the captured Aes... no... Liana could not bear to call her an Aes Sedai any longer. No one who forsook the Oaths, who could willfully evoke such harm, could call herself an Aes Sedai.

"There, all better." Saphire smirked quietly to the woman with the caved-in face. Perhaps it was to hide her own dread that Miahala could have died, or still could die.

And on that thought, Liana turned west and north, in the direction of the Grey Tower. Saidar came to her and two great columns of Spirit rose. Between them the doorway opened. On the other side one could see the roped-off section of the Infirmary. A shiver rippled down her spine at the remembrance of the last time she had woven a gateway there. The similarities between the two situations were too close to comfort her. "Let what must be done, be done. Light send my aunt is Healed and grows well." but she and Caith didn't step through. They would let the others go, and gather the horses and take them back through a second gate. "We shall follow soon after."

The Aftermath

It was Nahila Sedai who saw the gateway and then saw the Master of Arms step through with... "Miahala Sedai!" she exclaimed with her eyes flying open with shock. It had just been... hours since she'd last seen the woman and now, what had happened? "Oh Light, place her there!" she exclaimed, instantly moving in to the sort of mode she did when there was an emergency...

...When all was said and done, between Corbana's initial work and the Healing and the treatment that Nahila followed up with, the Captain-General was treated for a minor injury to her head, a broken jaw and split lip, a black eye, a deep stab wound to her hip, nearly two dozen deep gashes in her back, a dislocated shoulder and the effects of an extended period in cold, wet conditions, and a severe loss of blood.

It was a miracle of the Light that Miahala survived, Nahila felt. Her body had already been fatigued just by the carrying of a baby so late in term, and then the fight for her life that Nahila had later been told about. "What incredible will," Nahila whispered to herself, standing briefly beside Miahala's bed side.

The Yellow had ushered everyone out under the orders of Miahala's care-taker - Nahila, at that moment. Everyone except Caden Gaidin, of course. It was him that she spoke to, when she did. "She's tended and do be resting now," she said gently. "I gave her something to help her rest, and she do be needing it." She paused. "It do be a lot... she withstood, but so far as I can be telling she'll be all right, and the baby is fine, so far as I can tell from now."

It was all beyond Miahala at that moment, though. She was deep in the world of dreams, as aided by what Nahila had given her, and the sheer exhaustion that came after an ordeal like that. Still, it wasn't entirely an ending, but a beginning too, for it was very dark dreams that she was dreaming then... For long hours, Caden stood by Miahala's side, holding her hand and looking at her.

His thoughts were quite random, since his mind tried to process all that had happened during the brief period of time. He would not sit down, nor would he eat; he merely stood there, like a man frozen to death in the deepest winter. But the only cold element in the room was his thoughts when he considered the Black Ajah, and the only thing dying was the flames of his rage. The cold sense of purpose in his soul was all that remained.

In the middle of the night, he lifted his scarred visage from her resting form, and stared straight ahead. Death, he thought, to all the Shadow's devotees. Not only to my new nemesis; this man who has escaped death twice underneath my blade. Neither for what has come before, but in most for what they have done this day.

In his face, all the hurt that had been done to Miahala and their child could be seen, and also the cold hatred against the ones he meant to kill. In his glowing eyes, all the sadness of happiness lost; yet his scowl carving lines as deep as the rifts and craters in his skin. It was the last offence in many that had been done to him, the final blow that forced him over the edge to the abyss.

Falling, he saw him; waiting for him. He had been there all the time, waiting for him to cross the edge. He, the unseen seraph of demise. It unfolded its wings, and they become one.

He blinked, once. The Reaper is Reborn.