09-22-2016, 10:47 AM
It was like trying to push back a sleepwalker intent on striding off a cliff. He was unresponsive, wrapped in a blanket of black, like his passage of perception circumvented reality altogether. No smile, barely a murmur at all. Perhaps it was his way of coping with whatever internal conflict he struggled against, and Antony’s concerns were superfluous; she could hope as much, because there was no chance she could navigate such a fortress when the gates were locked and barred. Jai was as good as on his own. Selfishly, she lamented the lack of distraction for herself. It was left to her to war with Imaad alone, but it was like fighting in the dark when she didn’t know which comments were barbed and which were decoys.
The merchant maintained an air of snide jollity, like he was pleasantly merry on spirits and perhaps a little too free with the acid on his tongue. The conversations might be thorny beneath the surface, but it was to be expected amongst such gatherings; there was nothing said that was more than mildly insulting, nothing that should drag a man down to the Dark One’s pit and pluck his very soul from him. She began to hope that Imaad’s games had hit a wall; that he was as locked outside the gates of Jai’s mind as she.
“Light.”
A single word, and she began to worry. Had the red tolerated it she might have moved closer, grabbed his wrist and dug her nails in until the pain gifted sense. It never paid to be so enveloped in oneself that all beyond decayed to dust. She thought she recognised the glazed indication of swelling memories; a sickening deluge by the expression on his face and the hand that went to his stomach. She knew how tight the fist of guilt-regret-horror could be. Her brother’s face flashed. The red began to dance in reaction to the way her body went preemptively cold.
“Channeling’s not a game. Don’t waste an arrow, Tamal.”
The words accompanied a piercing glare as she turned full round on her mount, hand balanced on the back of the saddle. If he heard anything of her warning he did not listen. The arrow soared over her head, but she only watched until it looked like it would hit; she had no desire to watch the bird’s wings jam before it plummeted. Her first indication of the skyward fireworks was the drifting petals of red and pink.
She flinched, sickened.
It was strangely empty to feel nothing, to be privy only to consequence. Daryen looked back. She tried to catch Antony’s eye. If either were such a friend to the Asha’man, it was high time they tried to talk him back from the edge before he jumped. But it was too late; a keening whistling whizzed past her senses, and fear prickled her skin. Jai thrust the razor around amidst the buzz of confrontation. Her gaze drew to the flush of blood and an arrow dug into the ground.Blood and Ashes!
Then Jai crashed from the razor like he had been struck, and she slid ungracefully from the red in the same instant, ankle jarring on the ground in her haste. For a moment it looked like she was going to gather him up – she certainly had a few words of warning to hiss in his ear. But fear stalled her movement, sent her backward into the warm flesh of her horse.
“Which of you did it?”
She was caught in the craze of that stare, the desperate plea of a man clutching the cliff-edge of sanity before he plunged. And then he fell.
“Doesn’t matter.”
He lunged, and instinct urged her after him until rationality stopped her dead. Keren met him half way in a spark and clash of steel. Light flooded Liridia’s aspect, weaving a blunt block of air that felled the Asha’man like a great black tree. Bonds snaked his legs and arms, so that even when he woke he would be unable to move his face from the dirt. Blood spilled in the grass, staining it darkest red.
Ahead, Tamal’s face was white, the hands that held his bow trembling. He shared a silent glance with Imaad as he dismounted, letting the weapon tumble to the ground. “He was going to kill me. Light, he was going to kill me.”
As it sunk in, rage bloomed in the young man. He rushed at Jai’s body, but the warder dragged him back after a few blows to the stomach. Blood streamed down Keren’s face, where the hilt of Jai’s sword had sent him sprawling. “That is enough, boy.”
Breath returned to Nythadri’s lungs. As fear scattered, anger took its place. Imaad’s eyes burned like brands, smug in victory. He regarded the black-shrouded body like it were the true spoil of the hunt, the faint crease of his smile freezing the blood in her veins. Walk away. It was Daryen’s problem to deal with. She’d done what Antony had asked, to the best of her ability at least. Only, plain truth told, she had not done it for Jai. She had done it to frustrate Imaad, and his arrogant satisfaction burned what was left of her desire to follow the path that left her most unscathed.
“You poked him like a wild animal in a cage, you intended for him to snap.”
At the sound of her cool words, he looked at her like a tree had spoken, then incredulously at Nisele and the others. "Banter of the hunt, girl. If such tame repartee was enough to send him into a blind rage, I fear for the man's regular company. Next time it might not be my brother."
He gazed pointedly in the direction of his King, gathering Nisele into that gaze too and reaping all the efforts of Tamal's slandering. Doubts as to Jai's stability swelled; Nytahdri felt it too, but resisted the urge to look at Jai bleeding unconscious on the ground. Hatred for Imaad was stronger than fear of the man she defended.
"I assume you realise that Tamal shot him."
"A stray arrow is the least of the hunt's dangers. There is no excuse."
Returned fast as lightening, Imaad growing weary of her interference. She felt him glance over her head, summoning the Aes Sedai so that he might turn his attentions to Daryen, to pull on the king's sense of duty and tighten the strings of control.
"He’s an Asha’man,"
she hissed. "Do you have any idea what that means?"
Men carved to be weapons; men built to bleed first, die first. Imaad cut off her sermon, words low.
"That I fear the Last Battle if this is the calibre of man at our defense. Better to cull the rot before it poisons the rest, eh?”
Anger seethed, contained behind the rigid lines of her expression. Such conceit. "Did Tamal have any idea of the danger you put him in? Or do you have him dancing too?"
Just loud enough to carry to the shaking man staring at the felled Asha'man who had nearly ended his life; thinking, clearly, of the splatters of bird that had rained from the sky.
“Are you suggesting this is my fault? That I had my brother shoot the Asha’man?”
he laughed derisively, but there was an incline to his posture that suggested a snake angling for the killing blow. Tormenting her had been a pleasurable diversion, but she was nothing in his schemes now but a nuisance. I'll make you dance.
“I’m not suggesting.”
Dark eyes met ice-blue in piercing contest. He leaned in, whispered something obscene; then, louder, the curve of his lips ominous: “The girl is clearly infatuated.”
Good judgement evaporated, attempts at planting seeds of doubt in Tamal's mind fled, and she slapped him. Her hand tingled, but the blossoming red mark brought her a grim satisfaction despite the penance that would follow. I’m steeped in trouble to my eyeballs anyway. A sneer curled his lip as he recovered, but by then the Aes Sedai intervened.
“Step back, child.”
Liridia’s touch pulled her away.
“She’s had too much to drink,”
Nisele’s voice intoned, though she did not sound triumphant so much as disturbed. Liridia’s grip about her arm, Nythadri searched for Daryen.
Edited by Natalie Grey, Sep 26 2016, 03:50 AM.
The merchant maintained an air of snide jollity, like he was pleasantly merry on spirits and perhaps a little too free with the acid on his tongue. The conversations might be thorny beneath the surface, but it was to be expected amongst such gatherings; there was nothing said that was more than mildly insulting, nothing that should drag a man down to the Dark One’s pit and pluck his very soul from him. She began to hope that Imaad’s games had hit a wall; that he was as locked outside the gates of Jai’s mind as she.
“Light.”
A single word, and she began to worry. Had the red tolerated it she might have moved closer, grabbed his wrist and dug her nails in until the pain gifted sense. It never paid to be so enveloped in oneself that all beyond decayed to dust. She thought she recognised the glazed indication of swelling memories; a sickening deluge by the expression on his face and the hand that went to his stomach. She knew how tight the fist of guilt-regret-horror could be. Her brother’s face flashed. The red began to dance in reaction to the way her body went preemptively cold.
“Channeling’s not a game. Don’t waste an arrow, Tamal.”
The words accompanied a piercing glare as she turned full round on her mount, hand balanced on the back of the saddle. If he heard anything of her warning he did not listen. The arrow soared over her head, but she only watched until it looked like it would hit; she had no desire to watch the bird’s wings jam before it plummeted. Her first indication of the skyward fireworks was the drifting petals of red and pink.
She flinched, sickened.
It was strangely empty to feel nothing, to be privy only to consequence. Daryen looked back. She tried to catch Antony’s eye. If either were such a friend to the Asha’man, it was high time they tried to talk him back from the edge before he jumped. But it was too late; a keening whistling whizzed past her senses, and fear prickled her skin. Jai thrust the razor around amidst the buzz of confrontation. Her gaze drew to the flush of blood and an arrow dug into the ground.Blood and Ashes!
Then Jai crashed from the razor like he had been struck, and she slid ungracefully from the red in the same instant, ankle jarring on the ground in her haste. For a moment it looked like she was going to gather him up – she certainly had a few words of warning to hiss in his ear. But fear stalled her movement, sent her backward into the warm flesh of her horse.
“Which of you did it?”
She was caught in the craze of that stare, the desperate plea of a man clutching the cliff-edge of sanity before he plunged. And then he fell.
“Doesn’t matter.”
He lunged, and instinct urged her after him until rationality stopped her dead. Keren met him half way in a spark and clash of steel. Light flooded Liridia’s aspect, weaving a blunt block of air that felled the Asha’man like a great black tree. Bonds snaked his legs and arms, so that even when he woke he would be unable to move his face from the dirt. Blood spilled in the grass, staining it darkest red.
Ahead, Tamal’s face was white, the hands that held his bow trembling. He shared a silent glance with Imaad as he dismounted, letting the weapon tumble to the ground. “He was going to kill me. Light, he was going to kill me.”
As it sunk in, rage bloomed in the young man. He rushed at Jai’s body, but the warder dragged him back after a few blows to the stomach. Blood streamed down Keren’s face, where the hilt of Jai’s sword had sent him sprawling. “That is enough, boy.”
Breath returned to Nythadri’s lungs. As fear scattered, anger took its place. Imaad’s eyes burned like brands, smug in victory. He regarded the black-shrouded body like it were the true spoil of the hunt, the faint crease of his smile freezing the blood in her veins. Walk away. It was Daryen’s problem to deal with. She’d done what Antony had asked, to the best of her ability at least. Only, plain truth told, she had not done it for Jai. She had done it to frustrate Imaad, and his arrogant satisfaction burned what was left of her desire to follow the path that left her most unscathed.
“You poked him like a wild animal in a cage, you intended for him to snap.”
At the sound of her cool words, he looked at her like a tree had spoken, then incredulously at Nisele and the others. "Banter of the hunt, girl. If such tame repartee was enough to send him into a blind rage, I fear for the man's regular company. Next time it might not be my brother."
He gazed pointedly in the direction of his King, gathering Nisele into that gaze too and reaping all the efforts of Tamal's slandering. Doubts as to Jai's stability swelled; Nytahdri felt it too, but resisted the urge to look at Jai bleeding unconscious on the ground. Hatred for Imaad was stronger than fear of the man she defended.
"I assume you realise that Tamal shot him."
"A stray arrow is the least of the hunt's dangers. There is no excuse."
Returned fast as lightening, Imaad growing weary of her interference. She felt him glance over her head, summoning the Aes Sedai so that he might turn his attentions to Daryen, to pull on the king's sense of duty and tighten the strings of control.
"He’s an Asha’man,"
she hissed. "Do you have any idea what that means?"
Men carved to be weapons; men built to bleed first, die first. Imaad cut off her sermon, words low.
"That I fear the Last Battle if this is the calibre of man at our defense. Better to cull the rot before it poisons the rest, eh?”
Anger seethed, contained behind the rigid lines of her expression. Such conceit. "Did Tamal have any idea of the danger you put him in? Or do you have him dancing too?"
Just loud enough to carry to the shaking man staring at the felled Asha'man who had nearly ended his life; thinking, clearly, of the splatters of bird that had rained from the sky.
“Are you suggesting this is my fault? That I had my brother shoot the Asha’man?”
he laughed derisively, but there was an incline to his posture that suggested a snake angling for the killing blow. Tormenting her had been a pleasurable diversion, but she was nothing in his schemes now but a nuisance. I'll make you dance.
“I’m not suggesting.”
Dark eyes met ice-blue in piercing contest. He leaned in, whispered something obscene; then, louder, the curve of his lips ominous: “The girl is clearly infatuated.”
Good judgement evaporated, attempts at planting seeds of doubt in Tamal's mind fled, and she slapped him. Her hand tingled, but the blossoming red mark brought her a grim satisfaction despite the penance that would follow. I’m steeped in trouble to my eyeballs anyway. A sneer curled his lip as he recovered, but by then the Aes Sedai intervened.
“Step back, child.”
Liridia’s touch pulled her away.
“She’s had too much to drink,”
Nisele’s voice intoned, though she did not sound triumphant so much as disturbed. Liridia’s grip about her arm, Nythadri searched for Daryen.
Edited by Natalie Grey, Sep 26 2016, 03:50 AM.