Fanfic:The Extension of Steel
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"Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives."
She was now well into the foothills. The storm was now full fledged, rain and wind lashing out. She couldn't see anyone. If there was any fighting still going on, it was isolated. No doubt there were men scattered all over the mountain. The flashes of lightning provided the only light, and Storm struggled along, looking for any sign of fighting. She reached a rock outcropping and was forced to stop because of the darkness. At the next flash of lightning she looked down. It was about fifteen feet to the rocks below, and two figures were there. At the next flash she could make out Brun, sword drawn. Coming at him, was...nothing. Storm squinted into the darkness. More lightning. She could see white hands.
Fade.
Brun was one of the best swordsmen she knew. But he didn't have a chance against an Eyeless in the dark. She heard swords clang over the sound of the storm. She raised her bow. In the next flash of light she sent an arrow toward where the Fade was standing. It obviously wouldn't kill it, but it just might by Brun enough time. The Fade stumbled for a moment. It was all Brun needed. The Fade now lacked a head. It wandered around, headless, and Brun went back in the direction he had just come. Storm turned around, right into an arrow.
It took her in the abdomen, and she stumbled in surprise, exhaling in a rush. She fell, her knees buckling. She laid on her back, the rain washing over her. Her boots and pants felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. With extreme effort she moved her arm and attempted to grip the arrow protruding out of her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grip it. Her fingers were too clumsy. She let her hand drop, and her eyes fell shut.
"The Reaper of the Yards is without remorse, just like the blade he wields. It is not the extension of his arm, but he the extension of blood-coated steel."
In seeing the skirmish in the foothills from afar, Caden Ives turned Winterbourne in its direction - hooves thundering downhill in echo to the storm.
There was little to be discerned directly from the battle, other than that human faced shadowspawn. That fact sufficed for him to take sides, for the Shadow had yet more suffering to do for what it had done to him - to all mankind. Producing the long saber by his hip, the steel flashed once - bright white in reflection to thunder of the sky and the raging tempest in his cold heart. Also, the lidless white eye that was set in the scar tissue that made half his face flashed in mirror to the thunder - like a full moon in place for the one that the clouds had hidden.
The bond he had to Miahala Sha'hal Sedai allowed him to sense Shadow in the night, and he felt acutely how Myrddraal was close - how its rank stain upon the world corrupted all that was near. The pollution to his senses had to be put down; remedy for the affliction found, and the way was held in his gauntleted hand. He merely had to follow in its path - all the way along the heron-marked steel.
One Myrddraal died, he could feel the Shadowspawn die abruptly below and half the forces of trollocs fall in screams of agony. Yet one half remained, and one Myrddraal evidently too - and he saw it raise an ebony bow just below the ridge he rode along. The Fade found its mark, and let a single arrow fly - unaware that the Reaper was just above.
He reined in, making Winterbourne rear in the storm - a white silhouette of a stallion with a black-armoured swordsman in the saddle. The ridge was low, and Caden swung his leg over his mount's rear and landed in the wet grass. Two steps carried him to the edge, and he leaped - melted fancloak and impossibly long wheaten hair cascading behind him in the fall.
He landed in a roll and came up behind the Myrddraal - his saber never touching the ground. The Fade turned with snake-like speed, dropping his bow and producing its Shadow-wrought sword. Its voice hissed over the booming thunder. "Careless human."
Having spoken with Myrddraal before, the day the Shadow branded his face, he did not deign the thing with a reply. Instead, he let his saber deal his arguments - a debater that could not be denied.
The forms he used had names, his attacks to fast and to numerous to be spoken. The names for the things he did was without words to him, merely the expression of hatred in his soul. Hatred in itself was a poor blade that could be broken, but not when it was tightly controlled with the Oneness - it was made into the steel that could prevail.
The sparks of their heated discussion rained like the clouds did, also spilling across the grass of the foothills. Their blades kissed and shrieked, raped the air and clapped like thunder. The Fade never balked, never hesitated - it circumvented and whirled until it found itself cornered.
Using the opening he had created, Caden skewered white Myrddraal neck, and then whipped his blade sideways to shatter its vertebrae. With the head dangling upon its chest, the creature did not stop moving, but it ended its pursuit of victory in a disjointed dance that made it fall over the edge of the ridge they were upon. Caden did not watch it tumble into the darkness; he shook the foul blood from his blade and sheathed it in one fluid motion.
In releasing the Oneness, he hawked and spat into the night. His blood ran hard in his remaining ear, and the inside of his armour was wet from exudation besides all the rainwater. The Shadow, found this close to the Tower, he thought grimly and watched all the screaming trollocs spread across the vicinity, I heard the word, but could not believe it else I saw it with my own eye.
Yet his eye did not only see shadowspawn in the fits of death. He saw that all the humans had perished, all, including the young woman that the second Myrddraal had sent an arrow into.
Crossing the distance to her, his green eye saw the raven-fletched arrow sprout from her abdomen - a non-fatal hit probably rendered by her own movement prior to being hit. Myrddraal would not miss without immediate cause. He crouched down and freed his calloused hand from the gauntlet. He pressed two fingers to her neck...
Storm's pulse was weak, but existent. The world had become black, but she woke up briefly, as she would recall later. Rain fell on her face and rest of her body, but there were strong arms holding her, and she was moving. It reminded her of when Dreyden had held her and carried her when she was small. But she wasn't a little girl anymore. Who was this giant figure of a man who was saving her? Whether he ultimately wished her good or ill, there was nothing she could do about it. Consciousness deserted her again.
Storm awoke. The first thing she noticed besides the pain in her side was the absence of rain and wet clothing. She was mostly dry now, and the pain in her side was very acute but livable. She kept her eyes closed, trying to assess as much of the situation as possible without giving away her consciousness. There was a fire, that was certain. She could feel the heat from it warming her body. Judging from the rather uncomfortable surface she was lying on and the absence of the elements, she guessed she was in a cave. Now what about this man she vaguely recalled? She listened but heard very little. With all of her focus on her hearing, she could only hear slight ragged breathing and the occasional shifting of position or scuffle of boot on stone.
She debated on what to do while she kept her breathing even and deep as if she were still asleep. The man was large and extremely strong. That much she remembered from her few moments in the waking world earlier. Even had he not been, she was in no condition to fight anyone or anything. And she couldn't feel her bow lying next to her, so she certainly had less chance than a child of surviving should there be confrontation.
With her eyes still closed, she thought back to her few waking moments after she had been hit. She tried to remember every detail to give her some clue to whom she was dealing with. Storm recalled strong arms picking her up. A sturdy chest, and it seemed like she was fairly high off of the ground. He had to be large, probably trained in fighting. He had lifted her as if she were almost an afterthought. But what to do? She hadn't recalled any animosity in his body language as he carried her, but she couldn't be sure. But why would he save her life, only to hurt or kill her.
Figuring she ultimately had no choice in the matter, she let her eyes flutter open. She allowed her eyes to adjust for a moment and then attempted to get herself into a sitting position. Lights exploded in front of her eyes and she gave a small gasp of pain and fell slightly, ending in a half-sitting position, propped on her elbow opposite of her wound. Her eyes, greener than the sea after a storm, then raised and met the vision of her savior.
His appearance, hideous as it was, held no fear and no reaction of surprise for Storm. Emotion was always far from her appearance, and she showed no outward recognition that she had seen him, other than the obvious. But while she conveyed no emotion, she soaked in everything. Half of his face was normal, perhaps even handsome. But the other half...the other half looked akin to her own back. Briefly she wondered if he'd seen the scars when he had been nursing her wound. Her eyes flickered briefly to his clothing, and froze for an instant at his cloak.
A Warder.
Her pulse quickened slightly. If his Aes Sedai was Black... the horrible scarring of his face...she would end up right back where she had started all those years ago. Perhaps his only motivation in saving her had been to turn her over to his Aes Sedai. But he couldn't have known she could channel. What motivates the saving of my life?
All of this happened in a matter of moments, and she looked to his face again and breathed, partly to help ease the pain, and partly to prepare her for speech. There was only one way to find out what was going to happen to her.
Still sitting halfway up she regarded him. In a grave voice not unlike a whisper she spoke. "Why do you do this?"
When the young woman began to move, Caden did not look in her direction.
The fire was a modest one, only raised because the cavern would hide the flame from the enemy's eyes - should there be any left out there in the rainstorm. In knowing the lay of the land it had been an easy choice to bring the girl there. It had been an equally given choice to try to aid her condition himself instead of trying to bring her to the Grey Tower and to the Yellow Ajah. He was a war veteran and Gaidin to add, either he learned his remedial skills on the battlefields outside the Citadel, or in aiding one of the two Aes Sedai he had been bonded to over the years - he admittedly could not remember when his proficiency had established itself.
It did suffice, however, and the young woman was stirring.
It had been eerie to see the scars on her back, because they reflected those of Miahala's. Whipping marks, made by instruments not made of man. While Miahala's were made by the Shadow's legions, he could only guess that hers had somewhat of the same origin. He made this assumption on the basis of her defeat against the shadowspawn, where he had found her, in addition to the fact that there were few known factions that could afflict such wounds.
In seeing such familiar scars, Caden had grown uncomfortable in nursing her, because the sight of such scars - covering the back - was the reminder of Miahala when she was naked - in their lovemaking. Yet he was not some oafish youth anymore who could not focus on anything else than women; he was an aging warrior who had seen to much, had become a disillusioned brute with a sense of vengeance that transcended all other contemplation.
"Why do you do this?" the question was to the point - sudden and delivered in a way that made him think she was considering him a possible foe, despite the evidently contradictory situation.
His green eye moved to settle on her - the white one mimicking the moment without a visible iris. His unburned features did not stir though, even though his large hand continued in its tending to the small fire. "You were obviously the enemy of my enemy, and you are the sole survivor," he rasped deep down in his chest - the damaged vocal cords reverberating, "so I would have information for the service I have done for you."
He dropped the stick and stood tall, like a bear in his den - except this animal of a man hungered for other things than her flesh and the return to hibernation. He did wish for respite from all the fighting, but he would not have it until the Fourth Age, as Amora Sedai had prophesied. Hence he would not rest, but he did crave the truth of this peculiar night.
"Speak up, woman." He continued, moving to stand above her, shadowing her from the fire. "How did you learn that the Shadow had ventured so far south, this close to the Grey Tower? How come your party decided to fight under the conditions you were in? Did you not realize the peril in your strategy?"
He crouched down, his fancloak spreading like wings over the grotto floor. His piercing set of eyes bored into her, dead and alive. He had no patience for games, strongwilled as the young woman seemed to be from the closed aspect of her features. "Speak! If not the debt you owe me can stir your tongue, I will have the truth from your dishonorable lips instead, and the toil of curing you might have been for naught."
Storm listened to the Warder with a small amount of incredulity. Her eyes followed him as he moved from crouching in front of the fire to standing. His size was very apparent in this cave. Storm ignored it and listened to his words impassively. As he moved in front of the fire, she was cut off from the heat. He crouched down and they were face to face. He almost yelling in his rasping voice, demanding answers.
Storm met his green eye with her own fierce gaze, look for look. When he finished insulting her, she kept her gaze focused on him. "This is how it will be then? You may attempt intimidation as you wish, but it will not work. No doubt with your manner and appearance you can intimidate easily, and clearly you do often, as it was your first tactic.
"You demand payment for a service rendered, but one that was not asked for or even expected. One that I would not have even implored you for, even had I had the ability.
"You seek to bully me into giving you information, without any pretense. Information that would have been freely given had you not first sought to insult and threaten me into submission. You cannot intimidate those who have nothing to fear. I have nothing to live for and nothing I fear to lose. Take my life then, if you believe it will quench your bloodlust for my refusal to meet your demands. I give respect where it is earned. You had it partially when you willingly aided me, and lost it twice as fast as soon as you spoke."
Caden bared his teeth in a feral smile that did not reach his eyes. "That was a lot of air coming out of that puny mouth of yours," he rasped harshly. It was evident that he did not pause then for thought, but he was silent so that the girl could consider her own words - make her realize her folly and know that Caden was not the kind to be talked back to. The grimace of a smile that had showed teeth had vanished like a cloud covering the moon during those few seconds, then he replied.
"Aye," he grated deep down in his throat, "it is hard to intimidate those who claim they know no fear - until they show their true faces. Yet I do not have the time for such charades, nor do I care if you find me intimidating - even thinking I have chosen to look the way I do, sound the way I do, and use it for my own ends. It was not the Light and the Creator that gave me this face... Oh, and do you truly think I should have been pretentious in getting the answers out of you? Would that have made it into something else, child?"
A log in the fire snapped loudly against the walls of the cavern, but Caden hardly paused before he continued.
"Heed my words. I tell you truly, that I will not claim answers from you because of some tactic of mine, like you are thinking, but because it is a thing I must know. My pregnant wife resides in the Grey Tower, and tell me one husband that would not do all in his might to protect her? The Shadow is near, and if you will not tell me for her sake, the entire population of the Grey Tower and Elman's Creek needs to know in order to raise their defenses against the Shadow's minions. I do not care how strong you think you are. I do not concern myself with how you reward your useless respect to people you think earn it. You are just a little girl who thinks she is more than the meat and bones we are all made of."
Leaning forward, Caden's green eye showed white around his iris. "You are not a bloody little princess. You are just a survivor, who can save thousands of people if you just get down from your high horse and see the world for what it is - filled with countless people just like yourself. And those people's survival might depend on if you open that mouth and speak sense instead of about your own bloody integrity."
Letting her dwell on that for a second, he leaned back again. "You might not care if you live or die, but any human would give what I ask for, regardless if I saved their lives or not," he scraped in a low yet hard voice - both eyes unflinching, piercing her like awls. "And by the judge of the scars on your back, I think you have sufficient reason for wanting to thwart the Shadow - the same reasons that I have, obviously. But I also need to protect my wife and my unborn child, so you should consider that before you speak again. This time, I want you to think beyond the sphere of your own grievances, and see the banners we fight beneath for what they really are."
Storm was surprised. As surprised as she ever was, which wasn't generally an extreme for most people, but surprised nonetheless. This man was hard. It wasn't often she found herself face to face with someone who could be as harsh as herself. His words were biting but again, she refused to let them touch her. She would not give in
"A child then, that is your appraisal of me? Of one you have known so long? I have no parents and I have no husband or children, so you think yourself much more wise in the ways of the world. Perhaps there is indeed truth to that. It seems a fact universally acknowledged. But I have walked through much shadow for one who has seen my limited amount of days. I know not what happened to you," she said, her gaze shifting to the scarred side of his face, "but I assure you I am not ignorant." She paused, her eyes unfocused and gazing at something far away. A moment later she refocused them on the man in front of her.
"I fight under no banner. I care for no one and in return no one cares for me. Call it selfish ambition if you wish. Classify my life or lack thereof as you see it. But for all of your insults and disdain for me, I envy you. Despite what any others you meet may tell you about me, I have a heart. I envy that you have a wife and soon a child to go back to after your day, your life, of fighting the Shadow. So for their sake I will tell you what I know. Though I doubt I can be of any real assistance.
"I know very little about this Grey Tower you spoke of. All I know is that it is on the other side of these mountains. I worked with the group of men I was with, who you say have apparently perished, for a noble house of Andor. A hired bow." She pointedly left out which house. "There are still a few houses that stand in the Light and will fight. Such is the one I worked for. There was a rumor...through Eyes and Ears. A rumor that Aes Sedai," she paused briefly, "of the Black Ajah were planning to transport a group of Shadowspawn almost instantaneously to this region. In unfortunate circumstances, they took us unawares and came from the opposite direction. With the storm upon us we had no chance. They weren't even supposed to arrive for days. I know not where they were headed." She stopped speaking, unaccustomed to so much talk. She had spoken more this day than she had in the past year. She winced slightly as she shifted, putting her hand gingerly to her wound.
"My bow," she said looking around. "Where is my bow?"
When the young woman found her senses and began to talk, Caden rose to his feet again, listening while he made his way back to the spot he had occupied when she woke up. She spoke of her companions-in-arms as if they were nothing to her; that the fact that they were all dead did not matter. Yet her arrogance passed by unheeded by Caden, because his mind was deciphering the information she offered about the Shadow's movements.
When she asked for her bow, Caden did not acknowledge the question. There were more things he needed to know. The things she spoke of took precedence. "You say you do not know where they were headed, but do you know which Black Ajah that planned the deployment of shadowspawn? Was it the White Tower's or the Grey Tower's Black Ajah?" he asked as he leaned forward with his arms on his knees, folding hands meant to break necks before himself. "And more importantly, how many were meant to enter the region? Are there any more than the numbers you faced in the storm? Does the threat remain now that they have been annihilated?"
Caden did not care to explain that he slew another Myrddraal, and thus made the second half of the shadowspawn force fall dying in agony. If the haughty girl thought herself so knowledgeable and experienced, she would have to draw her own conclusions.
Seeing the nameless young woman hurt from her tended wound, the Warder reached behind himself and produced a small flask of had brandy from his saddlebags. He also withdrew a worn porcelain cup with cross-hatch patterns made by his own dagger. After taking a few mouthfuls of the brandy, he poured a healthy amount of brandy into the cup and stood again. He crouched down next to her and held it out close to her lips. "For the pain, and for easier rest," he grated in a low voice while she answered his further questions.
This man was a walking contradiction. In physical appearance as well as in manner. He yelled, called her names, and then gave her brandy to ease her pain. Whether he cared that she was in pain was debatable, but he helped her nonetheless. She took it from him, suspicious. But figuring she had nothing to lose, downed it in one breath. She noted pointedly that neither of them had volunteered any information as to who they were. And the fact that he had blatantly disregarded her questioning about her bow made her more angry than ever. She was outwardly calm, but inside she began to harbor a frustration against this beast of a man.
She handed the cup back to him and took a breath. "You believe then, that I would volunteer the information I have and not give you the entirety of what I know? I was not in command or confidence of my group, and was privy to no other details. I know not if other plans are in motion, or where the Black Ajah was from. I know nothing else that will aid you in the defense of your wife and child or I would have given it willingly before."
She paused. "So this Grey Tower where you abide has the Black Ajah as well." She snorted derisively. "Is no one free of them?" she said in a low voice filled with hate. The thought of the Black Ajah made her defensive once again and she naturally reached down to finger a bow that was not there.
"You purposefully ignore my question about my bow. It was a gift as well as it is my defense. You would keep it from me as if I could possibly defend myself, even should I wish it?" She shook her head. "That bow is my life. I would have it back," she said, in a voice that was almost humble.
When the young woman divulged that she had no further information concerning the threat to his home and his preciously few loved ones, Caden stood and returned to his former seat by the fire. Dire and dark news are these, and I must make haste back to spread the word. What other reason for the Shadow to mass forces here than to strike the Grey Tower anew - to try again where the Dawn of Blood failed.
The girl spoke of the Black Ajah with an acerbic tone, and Caden grunted inaudibly in consent to her words without looking at her. Then she asked for her bow again, and Caden unceremoniously reached out behind him and threw the remains of her weapon along the grotto floor - making the broken thing dance disjointedly with the sodden hemp string still attached to each half of the wooden curve.
It settled itself next to her, and Caden took another swing from the brandy. "Either you fell on it, or a trolloc stepped upon it before I slew the second halfman."
That was all he said, continuing to stare into the fire. His mind was still on the threat that he needed to forestall, long lists of actions that he had to take once he returned forming in his mind.
Storm watched the man as he obviously struggled with some inner turmoil. He avoided looking at her. When she asked for her bow again, she watched with concealed horror as he unceremoniously threw the broken pieces toward her. He took another drink, oblivious of the pain the broken pieces caused her. They landed before her and she reached down and touched one of the pieces with a finger, before quickly recoiling. Her vision seemed to narrow and the pain from her wound seemed more acute then ever. Her elbow gave out and she landed once again on her back, staring at the stone ceiling of the cave.
It was gone. Her one source of defense, her buttress against anger. A gift from the only people who ever cared for her. She had enough money to buy another bow sure enough, but it would not be the same quality. Hers had been superior in every way. And it had meant something to her. Maybe the only thing in the world that had.
She still stared at the ceiling. She spoke, not caring if the man was listening or not. "It's gone then. I'll never find another bow of that craftsmanship again." She laughed mirthlessly. "My life is truly gone then. You should have let me alone in the storm." She breathed deeply, heightening the pain in her side. "Quite a pair, are we not?" she said in a quieter, rhetorical tone. "Both fighting a battle against the Shadow that can not be won, and neither trusting nor hoping." She shifted slightly, not taking her eyes from the rock overhead. "But you, you have something to go back to. Take your leave and ponder no more on my fate. Go and bring news to your Tower. There may come a day when they will strike there. You would do well to warn them."
The green eye shifted to the young woman when she spoke of the futility of his and her mission.
"Although the opposite can be thought, and the enemy immense in capacity and cunning, the Last Battle remains what it is - a battle like all others," he rasped to her - the white eye enhancing the importance of his words - hardening the gaze when paired with the green one. "Do not loose hope, woman, for I have not. Where I lay my sense of duty, I have a glimmer of hope towards victory. The Grey Tower is one of the three beacons of hope in this forsaken world. Where the White Tower relies on the strength of the female half of the Source, and the Black Tower solely upon the male, the Grey Tower has the collective force of both. And I... I serve to guard their implementation once the battle horns are called.
"When the hour comes, I will be there, fighting on the side that holds the hope of winning. I am one of the shields to that hope - the last line of defense that needs to be breached in order for the Shadow to overcome us. Speak of yourself when you say there is no hope, for I believe all battles can be won."
He looked away, stared into the fire - the consummating flames that had hardened him to the point where he was about to break. He was at his strongest, yet he feared he had become too brittle to last. This fear, he did not voice to the woman, because he did not truly admit it to himself. Pristine beads of sweat surfaced on his brow, for the fire held fear to him still, after all the years it had damned him to the shell he was. Nothing more showed externally, and could be mistaken for withheld violence because his hand made the leather bindings of his sword-hilt creak. "The Shadow has taken my birth, my life and so many comrades. I refuse to believe they were slaughtered for naught. What you believe, I do not really care about..."
His gaze whipped back to her - the full potency of his disposition imposing upon her. "...yet if you mean to find hope for victory, you should return to the Tower with me and see our banners, for they will be carried to the heart of Tarmon Gaidon! We will scourge the earth and consummate the Lord of the Grave with our flames! The world of men will fall to their knees and cry with joy, for the Fourth Age will know our sacrifice! It will know my righteous fury!"
Biting his bared teeth together, he growled, "...and if you care to find a new bow, there is no better place to search from. I see a hatred reflecting my own in you, and you need to learn the best way to wield it in order to make the difference. Come with me, and you will know the extent of your capacity - the potency in your character."
Storm rolled over on her good side as the man began his tirade. She regarded him impassively as he ranted. He alternated between looking at her and the fire. His words were forceful and there, in the cave, his presence was almost overwhelming.
"All battles can be won? Of course every battle can be won. But whether by the Light or the Shadow is debatable," she said. "You say you do not care what I believe, yet you would have me come with you to this Tower. And fight, perhaps to my death. Does everyone at this Tower care so little as you about what everyone else is fighting for? If not united in purpose, then what do you unite for?" Storm was talking mostly for her own benefit, not really caring if the man was listening. But then she focused her gaze on him and spoke again.
"I do need a new bow. You speak of making a difference, but I doubt one woman with a bow can change the tides of anything. I have lived off of that piece of wood," she said glancing at the two pieces on the floor, "for years. I can use it as well as any man. But there are others things I have yet to learn." Her mind thought about the armory this Tower must have. More types of weapons than she could possible learn to use in a lifetime. And a library. With hundreds, maybe thousands of books.
"The Fourth Age will know your fury? I have traversed across this world, traveling through Shadow, and now I find myself here. This Age knows my fury." She took a deep breath. "So let it be. I will match you hatred for hatred, and stroke for stroke. I fight for everything and live for nothing. I do not know if I can change, or even if I should. But take me to this place. This last defense against the Shadow, and you'll gain another soldier. I've enough deeds to repay and answers to find to last me my lifetime."
Stirring the fire again, Caden grunted.
"I am glad you see reason, when it is battered into your face," he concluded, green eye glinting in the shadow of his brow, "Whatever personal choice make you to fight, the purpose of making the apocalypse fall out in mankind's favour should be reason enough to do it."
He spat into the flames. "A lifetime of suffering, that is what we have - but it might just be the only answer."
