Fanfic:From My Hearth to Yours

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From My Hearth to Yours
Author(s)
  • Alexandra
  • Eric Robins
  • Jessie Vernham
Character(s)
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The servant's knock came upon the door at the requested time, but Aric was already awake. In truth, he had slept little the past night, despite knowing that he'd need all the rest he could get for the upcoming journey. It was not for lack of exhaustion certainly. He'd gone to his room and collapsed into bed mere minutes after finishing his preparations in the workshop. Packing boxes was a tiresome job at the best of times, and although the relatively sparse contents of the suite he was gifted within the en'Damier estates could be left to the servants without incident, the Workshop was different.

While Aric had technically been on sabbatical from the Tower for the past 13 years, his work had never ceased. He had remained in service to Amora Sedai and her House, the en'Damier clan, having sworn fealty to her all those years ago. He had advised his liege when asked for his counsel, helped strengthen the position of their House, and when his presence was not required he explored the far corners of the Westlands (and sometimes beyond) tracking down objects of Power located by her network. The importance of arming themselves for Tarmon Gaidon was paramount on their minds, as was preserving what they could of the Third Age of mankind.

As a result, the rooms he and Liana used for their experiments had steadily accumulated an eclectic array of objects of Power - objects that, given the family's decision to relocate back to the Grey Tower, had to be carefully prepared for transport. Much of last night had been spent wrapping, packing, and individually Warding ter'angreal. He'd even used their lone stasis box, a precious relic he had not yet managed to recreate, and stored a few of the more dangerous items inside with sand to keep them perfectly immobile. (Yet another of their incredibly rare finds, an angreal attuned to Saidin, he'd stashed in his coat pocket for the coming journey.) Now as he stood surveying the rows of crates, all the servants had to do was pick them up and carry them away.

No, his restlessness was due to another thing entirely, one that he remembered all too well, given the upsetting news he'd heard less than half a day earlier.


"There were too few of us. I'm sorry Aric." Saphire said as she clasped his shoulder. This was a woman who had seen too many wars and countless deaths and her heart went out to him through this gesture. Something else beneath her usual gruffness that came to surface... were they tears? "Blood and ashes, we did everything we could for them, saved as many as we could..." she struggled for the words, "Good brave men died all around us, or worse - were eaten alive by trollocs and draghkar - all to buy a little time." For the first time in all the decades he'd known her, she was beaten. Ashamed. And looked to him for forgiveness....

Decades of Asha'man training could only do so much, and hearing such grave news of his homeland, combined with the utter exhaustion from the normally tireless warrior, left Aric shaken. But she was not done, and her next words caused him to fall into the chair behind him. They came thundering like a funeral dirge, "Aric - listen to me - Kandor is burning. The Light has forsaken the Red Steed, and I suspect Arafel too. They belong to the Dark One and His Blight now. Burn my eyes, but I saw it. Tarmon Gaidon has claimed its first casualties."

It was several moments before Aric realized he'd stopped breathing, and several more before he felt composed enough to speak. A quick glance around the room showed several sets of eyes on him. Liana radiated sympathy. "May the Light illumine their many souls." she whispered with tears glistening on her cheeks.

Many years in her service granted him the insight into Amora's faint expressions, and he knew at once that she was moved greatly by the news. He remembered now that she had suffered great losses, the fall of the Old Grey Tower among them, taking with it almost everyone she knew in one great brush of the Dark One's hand. "This is grave news indeed." she said in a tone too soft to be audible far from their tight circle.

"I...feared as much." His voice wavered a moment, then firmed. "When my agent from the Guardian City reported the departure of the Borderland armies, I'd hoped they were returning to defend their homelands, but they've followed Him instead." He could not keep a slight note of bitterness from his voice. "I hope He knows what He's doing." He looked up at the Green. "Thank you Saphire, for doing what I was unable, and so many others were unwilling to do. I know you made the Shadow pay for every inch of land they have corrupted."

His liege intoned softly once again, "May the light illumine the souls of Kandor, and Arafel, as brightly as they deserved. May it illumine the souls who died defending them. May they shelter in the Creator's hand until their rebirths in the Fourth Age of mankind." Her head bowed with the weight of respect as much for those who had perished as for Aric himself, her vassal. Aes Sedai serenity could not armor against all things. Silence for the dead followed.


After this sobering revelation, it did not take the family long to come to a decision on where to keep safe their legacy, the children. The world was aflame and the Mountains of Mist west of the Two rivers were among the few places in the world not overrun with Seanchan, the Shadow, or general lawlessness. Being surrounded on all sides by uncertainty, yet in the company of allies, was preferable to finding their way alone in hostile or unknown lands. The en'Damier family would return to the Grey Tower. Aric planned to follow them soon after.

At the best of times, Aric might've hoped that such a momentous decision as a return to the Tower was all he had to worry about, but Saphire's words of his home even older than the Tower haunted him. As the attending servants gathered and dispersed, spreading news of the imminent departure throughout the rest of the household, Aric caught the eye of his liege lady as she was settling into a red velvet seat. Her personal guards, twin Shienareans she called "Right" and "Left", took their positions flanking her.

Somehow she managed to make every chair she occupied seem like a throne as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He remembered first approaching her as the Amyrlin Seat under her imperious gaze, with the Flame set in glittering moonstones above her head. He had come then as a young First Seeker to swear himself into her personal service, compelled by oath and honor to serve her beyond her capacity as Mother of the Tower. Now, in these humbler times, Aric approached his liege once again and took to one knee at the foot of her chair.

"My liege, I will see to my share of the preparations with utmost haste, but I beg permission to Travel north afterwards." It took every measure of calm and poise he could muster to not let his voice break again, and he could feel fear and hope warring across his ageless features. "The northern reaches might be lost, but the Steed would never have let the City of Clouds fall so quickly. My father's village lies to the south of Chachin, and it might yet have hope."

"Go." his liege said, "Do what must be done and return to me. You have a part yet to play, Aric..." she paused then, considering. This could be the last time they ever spoke - as he might never return from the new Blight that his country was rapidly becoming. "...I still have need of you my Son." As she was no longer his Amyrlin he realized it was an endearment. "I have been training you, as I was trained. You have been...a light in my footsteps. Never asking, only giving. I give you leave now. Yet without you, I would stumble and fall and never rise again." And then she touched his shoulder, "Do not die in Kandor, Aric." knowing full well that if she asked it of him, he was bound to obey.

Amora knew him well. Her words were measured, yet gave him strength. It had been long since she called him Son, and it was not until now that he realized how much he'd missed it. And then, to praise him, and name him simply Aric, without title or adornment. Never before in his memory had she been so familiar with him. In the past he had heard many refer to Amora as "The Glacier," referring to her icy, relentless demeanor. But at that moment he could not have disagreed with them more. She was not a Glacier, but a hearthfire, radiating the warmth and strength that allowed him to carry on in these dark times.

He was able to smile then, despite the dire circumstances. "As you have commanded Mother, I do swear it. I will return, so that I might aid you," He looked around then at the room and its occupants, who were to him as family, "all of you, once more." He would not abandon them, and Amora, who had already lost so much, for to abandon the hearth was to let it sputter and die, never to provide warmth again.

"I'll ensure he holds to his oath." Saphire drew near, determined as a wolf with her teeth sunk in a man's leg, "If you're walking back into Shayol Ghul, Brother, then you can bet your last bent copper I'll be with you, and pulling your bacon off the coals besides." She looked to them both as if expecting a challenge to her pledge.

It didn't come from her mother, but then, there was no knowing what Lady Amora had seen in her nightly visions. Perhaps she knew that her daughter's time had not yet come, "Light send that you do." she smiled faintly. And to Aric she spoke cryptically, "I will pray for your safe journey, from my hearth to yours." whether she wished him safe from shadowspawn, or from her own daughter, he didn't know for sure. But knowing his liege, he wagered it was both.

With his will and courage renewed, Aric lifted himself from the floor to face his fearsome comrade. "I appreciate the offer of assistance Saphire, but you just came from the Blightborder. You've been on the estates a shorter time than I for Light's sake! You described the horrors you witnessed, I would not - could not - ask you to endure them again for a task that is solely my own." But even as the words escaped him, he knew they would do no good.

"You didn't ask." she said pointedly. And then he realized he'd said exactly thewrong thing. Saphire had, in her usual stubbornness, assumed personal responsibility for all the pain and suffering endured in the Borderlands. He might as well flail silver pike at her shield of wounded pride.

Liana and Lembirt spoke nearby in hushed tones. "My dear, I would rest easier if I knew the twins at least were safe with you. Regardless, I trust in your - manner of persuasion - to negotiate the First Seeker and Master of Keys into making their precious space available to us and our work..." she said, holding his hand in her own.

Aric was about to approach them when Saphire stepped closer and claimed the remainder of his view, "Burn me, you're no craven - bloody ashes, you must have a bull's balls to be walking back into the lion's den." Beneath all that bluff and bother, what she said was actually a great sign of great affection. "Why? Because you still have no Warder. Lucky for you I'm almost as good as one..."

He tried to protest, he truly did, "You have no Warder either Sister." he pointed out, for all the good it did. Saphire just rode straight over him, and soon enough the argument even drew Liana and Lembirt's attention from their goodbyes.

"I will pray the Light send you a safe return." It pained Liana to see Aric go, and her not with him, but she understood the draw of family need. Hers led to the Tower, his to Kandor. She closed the distance and embraced her old friend. When she stepped back, Aric shot Liana a pleading look. He doubted that she'd be able to sway the immutable Green, this time, but she had been known to manage it on occasion.

"Mother, I dare say, have a care for yourself." she pleaded, "You speak of the foolishness of braving a lion's den without a Warder, and yet you have none for yourself. It bodes poor enough for dear Aric that he should brave this danger without one, but you too?!" There were very real dangers for an exhausted Aes Sedai, more so if she linked, and still more with countless enemies to take advantage of her vulnerabilities.

But the Green was not to be budged. In fact, she dug her boots into the mud like a pikeman against a cavalry charge. If Aric was going, she was going, and that was final.

"Aetha will accompany you," Lembirt said suddenly. Though fatherhood had mellowed him considerably, this he said in a mild tone that left no room for argument. "You have no warders between you, and I will have little need of my Gaidin where I am bound."

Aric wanted to throw up his hands in exasperation, but knew that to do so would be tremendously ungrateful. How had he gone from rescuing his father to placing two other people in tremendous danger? And trying to convince Lembirt otherwise would be just as futile as convincing the Green. If Saphire was a hurricane whose path could not be altered, Lembirt was a piece of Cuendillar, small, pale, and completely indestructible - worse, he only gained power when it was thrown at him.

Liana placed an affectionate hand on Lembirt's arm, her relief palpable, "My dear, you are really too kind." and she looked to Aetha with gratitude too.

Saphire frowned. "I need only a cup of hot spiced wine, a hearty meal, a few blinks, and I'll be ready to slaughter shadowspawn for your sake again, Aric. Aetha, thank you - I promise your spear will not be wasted. But Light burn my bones before I waste another moment sitting on my hands!"

Aric snorted, but knew to say anything further would be to waste time he might otherwise spend preparing and resting. "Say hello to the children for me." He said to Liana, grasping her hand. "I wish I could've stayed longer, but I will see them when I return." With a final bow to those assembled, he moved to Saphire and Aetha, "Let us meet an hour past sunrise. If we are to do this, we should not dally."


And so it was that with the sun not far above the horizon, Aric was riding out of the stables on Joseth, checking through his saddlebags one last time.. The en'Damier servants had, in their usual alacrity, prepared for absolutely every need. All he'd needed to do was greet the mild mannered chestnut, strap on his bags, and go. Joseth was not the most warlike of horses, but Aric had trained him well. They had seen each other through their fare share of skirmishes over the years.

Saphire was already saddled and waiting astride one of her warhorses, Vengeance, and speaking to Aetha. The two were flashing what Aric guessed were hand-talk at each other, probably discussing which signals to use. Once Aric was astride Joseth, he and Saphire rode out and her great pack of warhounds loped after her. At least Saphire had a moment to clean the grime and blood from her face and armor. The long-legged Aielman easily kept pace with the horses' trot in the rear guard.

The Sister reigned in over a cleared green knoll they often used for traveling. Several lines were carved in the grass and into the soil where gateways had opened. "Blood and ashes, get it over with." she muttered. Aric was no stranger to the fact that Saphire hated gateways, feared them actually (though she was loath to confess it). Yet the warrior was well-seasoned and rode her charger through it with only a small flurry of curses, this time.

"Prepare yourself." she said turning her steed about to face him through the gateway bridging Andor to Kandor. Black and grey ash lit with red and orange swirled behind her. She raised a damp cloth to her nose and mouth to protect herself from the toxic smoke. "We are riding into a nightmare."

With a nod, Aric reached out a hand, and a weave of Air burst out, quickly forming a half dome over him and Aetha. As he heeled Joseth through the Gateway, he let it expand over Saphire and solidify, so that soon they were riding in a bubble of clean air from the Andoran side of the gate. "I gated us into a grove not far from Ranadon. Once we hit the meadows, hopefully the air will clear somewhat. This bubble can only provide for us so long." With that he let the gate snap shut behind him and led the other two towards his old village. He kept pace, ensuring neither Aes Sedai nor Aielman strayed beyond their reserve of breathable air. Two of the dogs sniffed the ground and then led them toward the road.

Even had Aric not been actively Channeling, he would have found it necessary to maintain the Void. Even now as he surveyed their surroundings, he felt both sorrow and horror scrabbling around the edges of the calm, threatening his control over the Power. This grove of evergreens had once been a beautiful stand - he'd been here many a time on his visits to his father. Now, some trees were smoldering skeletons of their former selves, clawing at the sky as if writhing in pain, others still burned like tapers, and the rest had been reduced to ashen husks. Whatever fire had raged through had been potent, and no one had attempted to halt its progress.

They emerged from the smoking ruins of the trees and found the air clear enough that Aric let the ward relax and dissipate, although he did reach into his packs for a cloth. Off to the north he could see the hulking mountains where Chachin was seated. Being so many leagues to the north, he could make out little definition, but he saw only a few smudges of smoke, far less than there would be had the city already fallen under the Shadow. He expected to feel the cool crisp Autumn air upon his return to his birthplace, but a sudden breeze blew in from the north made him pause. It was a warm, breeze, and entirely unnatural. Whether smelling something foul or sensing their master's unease, the dogs whined their distress. Then he smelled it - the faint odor in the air, and realized with a growing sense of dread that the Blight was indeed expanding south. He could sense no shadowspawn however, and, Light be thanked, the corruption found within the Blight did not seem to have come so far. In fact had he not known better, he might've put the burning grove down to a random forest fire.

Saphire pointed her halberd toward the road winding north to Chachin, worked and carved as much as the stone in the hills, "Look." she said grimly. A tall wagon half-plundered for its goods lay tipped to the side, its rear wheel spinning in the air. The lumbering drafthorse that had pulled it lay dead in the road, its neck and belly gouged and insides trailing behind it. Around it lay several corpses - a merchant of the guild with chains spanning his chest lay face-up in the grass with arrows sprouting from his chest. His face would remain frozen with his last scream until the Blight took him completely. His mounted guards were dead or fled. Those who had remained lay open under the cold sun, their steel caps glinting in the haze of flies.

Other traders dotted the side of the road, all garbed simply. Those who flaunted their profits found hard bargains, whereas the farmers had dressed for market to advertise their success with bright embroidery climbing their baggy breeches and their wives' wide trousers. Some wore colored ribbons in their hair or narrow fur collars as if dressed for a feastday. Some had pitchforks, others daggers, the rest with walking staves shattered under the weight of the onslaught. "Much good did it do them." Saphire muttered. Oddly, there were no children among the dead.

"This...this is horrendous." Aric muttered as they surveyed the scene. He did not want to believe that his fellow Bordermen could have done such a thing, but he knew that in the right circumstances, even the staunchest and most honorable men could be driven to cruelty and destruction in the race for self-preservation. The wounds did not appear consistent with those he'd seen inflicted by shadowspawn in the past, and the arrows he could see were not the oversized monstrosities that the trollocs called "arrows," those were more like posts. No, little doubt remained, the perpetrators of this crime had been human. The most he could hope for was that they had been darkfriends.

"This is what happens when the Light flickers out. Don't fear the Dark One or His spawn, nor His friends; fear the desperate man and the good man who does nothing." Saphire agreed.

Their party hadn't murdered the poor merchant, but his goods could save lives yet. The Aes Sedai dismounted,"Load up. Leave the personal effects and coin; only take water, rations, herbs and clean cloth, and weapons if we can spare the weight. Search for what will help survivors. The rest will belong to the Great Blight soon enough. And Brother, if you find artifacts you judge suspicious," she meant possible objects of power, "take those too. And parchment, that's important." News from missives and journals, and items that could prove useful in Tarmon Gaidon, could all be invaluable.

If there was time later, they could even deliver personal correspondence from the dead to their families. There would be many orphans left asking questions when this was all over. Any closure for the living young would save them a lifetime's heartache, not unlike what Aric experienced on behalf of his mother. "We do this by necessity and with respect. But we don't have much time," nor could they really afford the energy to bury them, "a mass grave will have to do."

Her footsteps slid between leather and mail as she moved through the wreckage. Her dogs scattered, searching. One lay down, signaling that he'd found something. Saphire bent and when she rose, a slip of paper uncurled in her hand, "Blasted bloody Light-be-damned sheep-swollup. Arafel has fallen, just as I feared!" she spat, "Well, isn't that milk in a mother's cup?" This train must have heard the news on the road from Arefel and fled to Chachin, only to be overwhelmed in its shadow.

"Blood and ashes," Aric swore as he joined Saphire in searching the merchant wagon. The curse came out half angry, half emotionless due to the Void he was still maintaining. "The Dragon is taking his sweet time." He found little of use in one bag, mostly clothing that wouldn't fit him. From another he removed some rations of hard bread and a wheel of cheese, as well as a handful of trinkets that, while not objects of Power, he figured would be good candidates for his future creations.

"He can't be everywhere at once." the Green replied evenly, as she'd raised this point round many a campfire. "It's our world, and our Age - he fights the Dark One, he dies at the end - but it's for us to save what's important and live on." She didn't like it any more than he did, but that was no matter, the Wheel wove as it willed. She was resigned.

With a grunt of agreement Aric continued the search, identifying items that would be of use. A pouch of herbs went into one of the many pockets of his Asha'man coat, while a roll of fresh linen went into his saddlebags. Neither he nor Saphire had much Talent for Healing, so material for bandages would likely be necessary were any of their small party to be wounded.

In the corner of the wagon, buried under a few other sacks he discovered a fine leather tube, of the kind used to store papers. Remembering Saphire's instructions, he drew it out and removed the end cap, shaking out what was indeed parchment. But when he rolled it out, he discovered an exquisitely wrought map of the Westlands. It had likely been destined as a decoration for some noble's manor home in the countryside. As he traced what had previously been the Blightborder with his finger, his thoughts wandered back to the night before, and the Illusionary map that Lembirt had summoned. Over the past thirteen years he'd been to almost every single one of the lands depicted at some point, often spending great lengths of time travelling from town to town. He'd even had a few places across the continent where he kept stashes of ter'angreal off the en'Damier lands, usually because he deemed them too dangerous.

In short, he'd been a nomad for much of his recent life. Even his apartments on the estates were but a waypoint. He'd stop by and spend a week or two resting, conducting a few experiments and such, then departing once more, sometimes to find another artifact, sometimes on some other mission Amora had trusted him with.

His favorites were the games Amora played to keep them sharp - Aric's task was to disseminate lies and falsehoods among her eyes and ears (the more believable the lie, the better). Lembirt would then receive reports and sift the facts from the fiction. He would in turn take what he'd learned and prevaricate to Amora, whose object it was to detect his evasions and misleading truths. The Oaths made the exercise difficult for Aric, but overcoming that was part of his training and he enjoyed any opportunity to tweak Lembirt's nose. And if they bested her at the game, they earned one full forthright answer to a question, or else a small favor of their choosing.

Finally, there were times when Aric left the estates simply to allay suspicion, so no observers would have any greater reason to suspect the extent of his loyalty to Amora any more than they did already.

It had never hit him until this moment, just how much he cherished those weeks he spent in Whitebridge. He would work with Liana on various ter'angreal, play games with Lembirt (which the crafty Cairhienin almost always won,) ride and hunt with Caithlan, and hit the taverns at night with Saphire. The children had even come to call him "Uncle Aric," except of the course the ever-proper Svebere who called him "My Lord Uncle,". He'd delight in presenting them with the trinkets he'd acquired for them on his journeys, and stolen honeycakes from the kitchens.

And then of course there was Amora. He saw much of her brood as family, but he had never really realized that he saw her too as part of his family. She had been his liege lady of course, and therefore integral to his life, but he'd always held her on something of a pedestal. After the previous night however, when she had spoken to him so intimately, he now realized that his calling her "Mother" was reflective of not just their old ranks in the Tower, but how he felt as a whole. He'd never really known his own mother, she had abandoned him and his father when he was extremely young. His father was as important to him as ever, hence his current journey, but Amora and the en'Damiers were his new family.

It had taken but a moment for all these thoughts and emotions to flash through his mind, and with a startled grunt he snapped back to reality, the map still in his hand. This time his finger drew down to Whitebridge, then slowly traced over to the Mountains of Mist. The en'Damiers might be moving, but his home was with them. Wherever they lit their hearthfire, he would follow.

"What is it?" Saphire called from where she was repacking one of Vengeance's saddlebags. "Did you forget something?"

Aric turned to face her, but his thoughts were still distracted by the reverie he had lost himself in, and as such did not answer quick enough for the Green.

"Did you forget to pack your socks? You know that's important...don't tell me you forgot your socks." a pause, "Blood and ashes, it was socks, wasn't it!?" She snorted and turned back to her bags, but she kept on going. "Big mistake. Socks are the most important article of clothing in a war. If the only ones you own get wet (and they will get wet) then you get foot-rot. But don't come crying to me begging for my spare socks when your toes fall off." she shot a pointed look over her shoulder, "And we're not going back to Whitebridge to fetch them either; no, we're finishing this and getting our bloody bacon out of this flaming death trap. You'll just have to scavenge them off that corpse - not like he has to worry about foot-rot where he went..."

Aric stood staring at her back for a moment, mystified, when he realized that he had in fact, forgotten to pack socks. Despite the calm of the Void he felt a flush creep up his cheeks, and he turned quickly back to the saddlebags. He'd seen some spare sets in one of them...


The village of Ranadon was nestled into a gorge that had been cut into the side of a steep hill by a stream. The town climbed almost as high vertically as it spread horizontally. At the apex of the cleft, where the stream was birthed by a powerful spring, sat the village's holdfast. The largest structure in town, it served not only as the home of the mayor and the meeting place of the town council in peacetime, but was also was designed to be a secure refuge that was all too necessary in the Borderlands should trolloc raids penetrate deep into Kandor. It extended far deeper into the hillside than it appeared to from without. The refuge could not only hold the entire town, but also sufficient provisions to last them until reinforcements arrived.

Yet with Chachin besieged in the north, and the Blight creeping ever southward, their small party was the only reinforcement Ranadon would ever receive. After all Kandor had suffered, they'd better not fail Ranadon. Yes, better to think on not failing.

The water cascading from within the fortified structure divided into tiers that served various gardens and cisterns and powered Ranadon's water wheels. The town had been prosperous in Aric's youth and had carried on so as he'd aged, sprouting homes he did not recognize. But for all its similarities to the rearing stallion that yet flew above the holdfast, it was no longer thriving; the proud steed of Ranadon was now a scared and cornered animal, not yet entirely beaten, but still weakened prey for hungry wolves. Much of the village was entirely still, with the homes boarded up, their occupants likely inside the holdfast above, and where there was movement, it was tense and hurried. Perhaps most telling were the looks on the faces of the armed men and boys that emerged from between the lowest homes to meet them while still on the road. "Hold." Said one gruff, burly man. "Who are you, what is your business here?"

Had the end of the world not been approaching, Aric might have been offended by the welcome, but he knew what these people had likely been through the past few weeks. Whatever brigands had killed the merchants from earlier might have also molested the town. "I am Aric Asha'man of the Grey Tower." He said quickly, and proceeded to introduce Saphire Sedai and Aetha Gaidin. While under normal circumstances he might not have wanted to reveal his affiliation so quickly, the fellows in front of them did not look like they had much patience. Hopefully the times were not so dire that the Borderlanders had lost their trust in Channelers. "We are here in search of Jedren Cosamaru."

At the mention of Aes Sedai and Aiel, several of the younger men's expressions transformed from suspicion to awe, but their hulking spokesman remained nonplussed. "Well you certainly don't look like thieves and scoundrels," He grumbled, appraising their relatively fine travel clothing, and Aetha's Aiel spears.

"Well you're looking at me like a flaming scoundrel." Saphire barked, "Keep eyeing my halberd like a thieving fisher-bird and I'll poke your bloody eyes out with it!"

"Peace Sister." Aric muttered quickly, not wanting the situation to get out of control. One of the boys looked like he needed a change of trousers, but to his surprise the gruff leader laughed, then made a small bow from his saddle. "You must be one of them Greens. My apologies Aes Sedai, but these are tough times. I merely wish to look out for me and mine own."

"And I'm here to look after my own, and yours." Saphire's glare softened. "Just take a care not to bite the hand that pulls the wolf off your tail." At that the man nodded gravely, his smile turning truly apologetic.

"And I recognize your look too. You..." He continued, turning to examine Aric's face closely. "I remember you...you've visited before. You're Jedren's son...no, grandson? You have his look about you... You Tower folk don't age a day while we grow old and grey." He grumbled without malice, then looked pointedly at his broad shoulders and arms, "Those shoulders are a dead give away too if the face wasn't. Still work the anvil at that Tower of yours? I thought you hired folk for that."

There was no point in dissembling, the man obviously knew of him. "Yes, I am his son. Is he well?" He could hear the worry creeping into his voice, but he did not care. Keeping up the detached image of an Asha'man was one of the last things on his mind.

The man snorted, then nodded. "He is. Old Jed is up in the holdfast with most of the rest of us. Still workin' hard as ever the old bugger, forging weapons and armor for..." He hesitated as he glanced sideways at the younger men, hid the pause with a cough, then continued. "For the army if they ever stop by and need repairs. Well in you go." He finished with a sigh, and another bow and nod towards Saphire. "You are most welcome here Asha'man, Aes Sedai, what little we might have to offer to you is yours. Those inside will not be so rude as I."

Aric nodded his thanks to the man and heeled Joseth farther into the village, with Saphire and Aetha not far behind. As they passed in between the first row of homes, he overheard the leader mutter to his younger compatriots, "Better to spit in a wolf's eye than to anger an Aes Sedai..." He won't be forgetting that lesson any time soon. Aric thought with a grim smile.

As they ascended the tiers of the village the fearful, tense atmosphere became all the more palpable. They paused at a water wheel that still rumbled furiously, as townsfolk crossed the narrow paved road up ahead. He could see the looks on their faces as they loaded up the latest sacks of grain for transport onto a wagon destined for the hold. A wise precaution considering the fate of Chachin. They were determined, yet resigned. It was clear by the preparations that they were worried about how long relief would take to come.

It was much the same as they approached the hold proper, where people were outside, enjoying the day, while still remaining close to safety. Even the children were not immune. When southlander children saw their parents worried, they knew it was likely some squabble that didn't affect them. But these were borderlander children, and they knew that when their parents were worried, it was with good reason.

For all the fear, these people knew exactly what they were doing. As Aric and Saphire dismounted, two boys raced up to take their horses to the main building's stable. Like the holdfast, it was only partly used during peacetime, but was extensive enough to hold many more horses should times like these arise. With a nod of thanks, Aric gave them a copper each. That at least, managed to drag smiles out of the two somber boys. Saphire had to place the reigns in one of the boy's hands before Vengeance would allow himself to be led away from her.

Inside the hold, the main room echoed with the voices of the townsfolk. Here at least, there was a semblance of life as normal, as people bustled about their daily routines as best they could. Women bustled to and from the hall leading to the large, communal kitchens. There a large group of people sat chatting, although at the same time they were preparing arrows under the watchful eye of the village fletcher. Here too the trio received odd looks, but the inhabitants knew that for them to make it this far, Aric and his companions had to have meant no harm, and thus the stares were more curious than suspicious.

Aric was about to go find the forge, when they were accosted by a stout, portly fellow and a more middling height woman. "Asha'man, a boy brought word from below!" He blurted. The two individuals, who Aric recognized to be the Mayor and Healer of the village, were caught between addressing Aric and Saphire. They recognized him, and he was at the fore of their small formation, but they deferred to the Aes Sedai. It was common knowledge now, in towns Asha'man frequented, that the Taint had been removed, but old habits died hard. "You have come for your father? I've sent word to the forge, he should be here momentarily..." There was a note of fear in the question, and it was a moment before Aric realized that the mayor feared Aric had come only to retrieve his father but would abandon the rest of the village.

He hesitated to speak, for he did not have a ready answer. He cursed himself for a fool - as he'd been hasty with planning to move the en'Damier estates, and then focused so intently on his father's safety, that he hadn't thought beyond the moment of finding him (or what remained of him). Getting his father out would have been one thing, had it just been another series of trolloc attacks, but this was the beginning of Tarmon Gaidon. He could not in good conscience take just his father, and leave the rest of his people to the oncoming Blight.

Of course, this multiplied the problems inherent in getting out alive, by 420 people, give or take a few recent additions since his last visit.

On cue, Saphire peeled off when she saw the reserves they had scavenged off the trading wagon arrive at the door. She contented herself with barking orders and directing the able-bodied around.

That of course got him thinking over the logistics of relocating so many people, needless to say their potentially endless train of supplies, but he was interrupted by a grunt from off to his left. He turned, and there stood his father, still sweaty from the furnace. He'd stripped off the long leather gloves and folded them under his belt. He was still wearing the same thick leather apron, smudged with iron dust, and standing squarely like he did whenever Aric had done something to displease him. "I was wondering if you'd show up." He said, at first with little expression, but his broad, honest face softened. "It's good to see you boy."

To hell with decorum. He thought as he gathered his father into a great bear hug. Jedren was of a size with Aric however, and squeezed him back harder. "You're getting soft son," Jedren said with a snort as they disengaged, giving him a punch in the shoulder, "that Tower of yours isn't working you hard enough." But the relief visible in his father's old face soon faded, and was replaced with the expression he'd seen moments earlier from the Mayor. Jedren grabbed Aric's arm and pulled him aside.

"I know why you're here son." He said in a whisper. "And I'm not letting you take me away." His face was lined with impossible choices, and his eyes, the same brown as Aric's, were determined. "Heh, that oath of yours won't let you say you weren't considering it. Well you might not be calling Ranadon home anymore, but I bloody still am." Jedren looked around the room then, at the village's people, and Aric saw then the same sense of protectiveness he felt when his family was threatened. "Blood and ashes, they even made me one of the elders. Now they're always interrupting me in the middle of projects, saddling me with their little problems. But I'm not leaving them to the Light forsaken shadowspawn!"

Aric let his father rant, knowing that interrupting him would only prolong the diatribe. Jedren may have been gray of hair, and he likely wouldn't be using his hammer much longer, but his grip on Aric's shoulder was as firm now as it had ever been. "Dad...are you done now?" Aric asked, unable to hide his smile. His father snorted, and gave him another affectionate punch in the shoulder. He was done.

Aric nodded over at where the Green was issuing orders among the buzzing villagers. "Saphire Sedai told us of the fall of the towers at the blightborder, and I had to make sure you were safe."

At that Jedren interrupted. "Speaking of, why aren't you all up there. Aren't all you folk supposed to be fighting in the Last Battle?"

Aric grimaced at that. It stung, because part of him did feel that he and all his channeling brethren should have been there to stop it. "It's not that simple. How many of us do you think there are dad?" He didn't wait for his father to respond though. "The Dark One's forces are too great in number, we have to place ourselves carefully, because for all that this looks like Tarmon Gaidon, this is only the beginning. Saphire Sedai was there, she saw the towers fall, and the Blight advancing, and she couldn't stop it. I don't think the Grey Tower's entire strength could have, nor the White, nor the Black combined."

His father let out a heavy sigh. "Well from what we've heard, I can't say you're far wrong." His voice dropped even further as he continued. "You probably saw Chachin? Well it's entirely under siege, and with the Blight spreading as you say, it can't last long. We've had a few patrols from the army pass through, and they say the army is just fighting a delaying action. It probably won't be much longer before those shadowspawn not attacking the capital get here." He glared at his son again. "And no, I'm not letting you take me. There are far more valuable people in this world than an old smith, why should you take me over them?"

Before he could respond to the rhetorical question, Saphire strode up with the others in tow. "Brother, we have another problem." She looked at the Mayor and Healer, then jerked her head at Aric as if to say Tell him.

"Well..." The Mayor sputtered nervously, before picking up speed. "We've noticed...things going wrong. Tad noticed that an unusually large amount of the food is spoiled. Far more than just time should account for."

"And the wounds." The Healer, Dara, cut in. "Cuts, scrapes, minor hurts that shouldn't be a trouble, are healing too slowly."

"We've tried to keep it from the townsfolk at large, for fear of panic." Jedren finished for them, and Aric could see that this was the truth. It was worse than he'd expected then, if Bubbles of Evil had also struck.

Aric breathed deeply then, and looked at the faces around him. He realized then that they were waiting for his decision, even Saphire. With arms crossed and eyebrow raised, she looked to be asking if he'd really thought this plan through.

The Blight and Shadowspawn were closing in, corruption was taking the food, the Kandori army was in no shape to protect them, and even if they packed up and move at any great speed, where would they go? The nearest civilization that could give them aid was hundreds of leagues to the south, beyond the Black Hills and the Caralain grass. "Then we will evacuate you."

"I said I'm not-" Jedren started in before Aric cut him off.

"Not just you, father, the entire town. We'll take you south." At that proclamation, he could see hope, fear, and doubt warring across the villagers faces. They wanted to be safe, but they didn't want to leave their homes either. And they knew any evacuation likely meant using the Power, something they weren't exactly keen on.

"A tactical retreat then." the Aes Sedai agreed. "But to where? What country could sustain another village? Our list of refuges grows thin..."

"We'll take them to Hama Valon." Aric said with a conviction he did not necessarily feel. "You said you wanted to lift the wool from the Grey Tower's eyes. What better way to do that than to show them the cost of complacency? And besides, those mountains once held the entire nation of Manetheren. Hama Valon will expand to accommodate them."

"Agreed." she said, and smiled broadly. Perhaps she was thinking of the looks on the faces of the Hall of Sitters when hundreds of new mouths to feed suddenly dropped in their laps. But that was too easy, "I sure hope you have an 'angreal in your pocket, Brother. This will need to be a very large, very enduring, gateway; or else Chachin won't be the last Kandori settlement to fall under the Blight."

He could still see doubt on the faces of his father and the Mayor. "How can we just leave our village like that?" Jedren began. "We are Kandori, we will not just abandon-"

It was then that the boy burst in through the main door. "Shadowspawn!" He cried, "coming from the north!" It was true, Aric had been so caught up he had not felt their presence. There didn't seem to be many, and there was still some time until they arrived, but however many were out there were likely just the vanguard of a much larger force.

Aric turned then to face his father, clapping both hands to his father's shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes. "Father. I know you weren't completely happy with my decision to go the to Tower, but you always said you wanted was was best for me, and that you trusted me. Trust me now." He said firmly. "There is nowhere else for you and your-our people to go. I can bring you to safety, but we need to get them moving as soon as possible."

His father's face went from shocked, to sad, to resigned in seconds. Then he sighed, and simply nodded. He broke free, and turned to the Mayor. "You heard the man." And with that he strode off, the Mayor and Healer in tow, to begin both calming the populace, still reeling from the news of oncoming Shadowspawn, and to inform them of their fate.

Aric faced Saphire and Aetha next. "I had dearly hoped I would not have to ask this of you both, but we need time." He pulled the angreal from his pocket then. "I can get us all out of here, but even Kandori, calm under pressure though they are, will need time to make it through the Gate."


The next few hours were a blur in Aric's memory. By the time he'd been ready to open the Gate, the first of Ranadon's people were gathered in the main hall with all the belongings they could carry. Despite the encouraging words of his father and the rest of the village elders, they had still shot worried, suspicious, even fearful glances in Aric's direction. He had been immune however, as he assumed the Void, reached through the angreal, and seized at saidin. The resulting deluge of Power was astonishing, and he had had to resist the powerful urge to merely revel in it, so alive had he felt. It took a moment, given the sheer amount of threads he had to pull together, but soon the weaves had formed, connecting the two points of the world, making them as one, and a Gateway opened against one wall, reaching most of the way to the ceiling, and wide enough for ten or more persons to walk through abreast. On the other side he could see a beautiful open meadow, sprinkled with wild flowers, and a cool mountain breeze gusted through, providing a welcome relief to the stuffiness of the hall. Far below in a valley, he could see the town of Hama Valon, and far off to the left, in all its simplistic beauty, stood the Grey Tower. He had not seen it in a long time, and the sight of its cool grey stone brought him a flicker of peace.

The evacuation had proceeded relatively smoothly from there, considering the last minute nature of the decision. While at first reluctant, the people had known what was at stake, and decided that fleeing to live another day was preferable to dying here in Kandor, choking on the corruption of the Blight with Shadowspawn knocking on their door.

After that it had merely been a waiting game, watching as people filed through the gate when they were ready. He'd felt the Shadowspawn growing closer, and thought he'd felt a slight tingle on his skin, no doubt it was Saphire embracing her own Power. Ominous storm clouds rolled in from the south, gathering speed and volume. He had longed to go join her, unleashing the full might of his newfound power on the trollocs, but he knew that he could not do so. The Gate had to remain open, and he was loathe to attempt Tying off a weave of such power. He would not have been able to forgive himself if it had snapped shut on some unfortunate villager.

He could not say how much time had passed when his father finally approached him with his own pack slung over his shoulder. "That should be the last of them." Jedren said as he patted his son on the shoulder. "We've done a head count, and we think we've got everyone aside from the men out helping your Aes Sedai and Aiel friends. A lot of people have left almost their entire livelihoods behind today son, I hope you know what you're doing."

His father's interruption caught him off guard, and he almost lost control, but he kept the weave going, barely "I will do everything in my power to make sure you are all taken care of father." Aric said after a long pause, his voice strained even through the Void, and just like that, he was Oath bound to do it. His father could tell to, and took solace. "Now go, be with them. I must make sure Saphire Sedai and the rest of the men make it out. Don't wait for us, go to the Tower and find Lembirt Asha'man. He will be able to make sure the Tower does not leave you wanting."

His father looked like he wanted to argue it, but Aric shook his head and mouthedGo. Jedren sighed, but deferred to his son, and passed through the gate into the meadow beyond. "Be careful, Aric. You get the rest of our people and come back, you hear me?"

Aric let his father see him smile confidently as he crossed through, but as soon as it closed and he let the Power go, he almost collapsed. Being a conduit for such a tremendous amount of Saidin had taken its toll, and his walk towards the door was more of a hobble. His leg twinged right as he reached the threshold and he staggered against the sill. He had to pause for a moment, and when he continued, it was with a slight limp. The old wound he'd taken when the Seanchan had beseiged the Grey Tower all those years ago was acting up from the strain of channeling so much power.

Even with his hampered pace, it did not take long to reach the line of battle. It was about halfway down the village, in amongst the homes. The combatants appeared mired in a stalemate, with each side entrenched, taking potshots at the other. He saw some scorched trolloc corpses farther down, and he realized that the shadowspawn were holding out on a full on assault because they knew a channeler was here, and this was likely just a small scouting party. There was a short whistle, and he looked to see their well muscled friend from below waving frantically at him.

"Where is Saphire Sedai?" he gasped and came to a half crouch. "How are you faring?"

"See for yourself." The man who first greeted them in Ranadon said. He stepped aside to reveal Saphire slumped against the wall, flushed and passed out cold from fatigue. Oddly, she still clung to her halberd with a death-grip, as if expecting someone might take it from her in sleep, so perhaps there was hope yet.

"After that last flash of lightning she called down, she just collapsed. I've lost track of how many of the Light-forsaken monsters she's taken out though. Now I'm really sorry for the way I treated her earlier. Without her, the Trollocs would've overwhelmed us hours ago. As it is I think we've lost two men to arrows, and we've got some flesh wounds. They might be nasty up close, but these guys are terrible shots. And I'm sure the lightning bolts frying their companions didn't help." He peeked out from behind cover, and let off a quick shot of his own. "If she's as gone as she looks, we're dead men once the trollocs realize it. I'm Gendry by the way." He finished with a grim smile, as he extended his hand. "Figure I better introduce myself, if we're going to die. I hear you've got everyone out up there, evacuating us somewhere down south. We're the last ones?"

"Good to meet you." Aric returned a weary smile of his own. He was long past formality at this point. He had his bow and quiver, he'd grabbed it off of Joseth when they'd led the horses through, but he doubted he'd be able to hit Dragonmount in his current state. "And yes, everyone is out except for us. I can get us out of here as soon as we're all together, but we need to make it fast." The storm clouds Saphire had called up, far from dissipating, appeared to be growing out of control. "With Saphire unconscious, that lightning won't be quite so picky about its targets anymore."

Gendry popped out again, lined up his shot, then loosed, and Aric thought he heard a muffled trolloc shriek from below. "Got it." He put his fingers to his lips, waited for the thunder to pass, then let out three short, piercing whistles. "I trained these guys, they should be falling back to us here in the next few minutes. Now get inside and make sure your friend is ok, we can hold them off till we need you for the escape."

When Aric ducked inside, he saw Aetha bending over Saphire, who he had laid flat on the stone floor behind the wall and out of range. Her hounds were lying at her feet, whimpering and agitated. "I have nothing to rouse her." Aric said quickly. "Blood and ashes Liana was right." Why they'd gone into this situation without Warders was beyond him, but if they had waited, they might not have made it to the village in time.

The flashes of light and claps of thunder were growing more frequent, and he thought he heard the shattering of wood not far away as a home was struck by a bolt of lightning "We need her moving." Aric told the grim Aielman who nodded, and after a long moment's hesitation, grabbed his own waterskin. He looked about to douse Saphire with it, but seemed to be in such misery at the thought of using water wastefully, that Aric grabbed it from him and upended it himself. "C'mon Saphire." He muttered, "we don't have much time."

"Pig swallop and bloody buttered onions!" she sputtered. As Saphire lurched violently to sitting Aric saw a flash of steel that he barely managed to dodge without a curse of his own. Saphire would be one to try and cut his head off for waking her up.

"Sorry." she coughed, but glared all the same. She looked like a half-drowned cat, and about as pleased. Her war dogs on the other hand lapped at her hands. "...and thanks, I guess?"

Aric sat back on his haunches, and despite the dire circumstances, could not help but smirk just a little. "My pleasure. We needed you awake, and it was either the water, or I Bond you, and I would hate to see what you'd do to me in that case."

Her eyes widened. Then she blinked rapidly.

"The water was the better idea, aye." and her face scrunched into part perplexity, part horror, and a part wry smile. "I said I'm almost as good as a bloody be damned Warder, but not that good." She paused to wipe her face. "You're sworn to my mother, after a fashion anyway. That would...compliate things."

"I don't know," Aric said as he stood, "it might've been amusing to see you do your mother's bidding for once, via me." He proffered a hand to the still sitting Green, and she clasped it. "We need to be moving, Gendry's people should be ready any moment." Aetha too, who had watched the entire exchange in silence, reached out to help her stand.

At that moment, the door burst open, and Gendry staggered in, followed by his archers. "I think the Trollocs have figured out what's up. They're moving in, and so is the lightning." He said with a grimace as the windows lit up once again.

"I can't channel a flaming thread like this," Saphire grumbled angrily. "not without burning out." she was even paler than before, and the circles under her eyes darker. The woman could barely stand.

"I can." Aric said,I think. And indeed as he reached for the Power once more, he realized that this Gateway would likely sap the last of his energy. He had to reach through the angreal again, in order to get enough Power at all, but after a minute of struggling the weaves into place, the bright vertical slash appeared in the air, and opened to reveal the same meadow. Farther down the slope he could see the people of Ranadon hiking towards Hama Valon.

"Get! On with you!" Gendry shouted at his remaining villagers, and they scuttled through the hole in the air as fast as possible.

"Thanks-" Saphire said, as she entered the gate with her free arm wrapped around Aetha for support.

Gendry was about to go through himself when he realized Aric was not, was in fact almost unable to follow. "C'mon, up with you." He muttered through the still continuing thunder as he grabbed Aric's arm. Aric was so exhausted Gendry almost had to carry him through too, and the gate snapped shut almost the instant they passed through and rolled into the grass beyond.