Shining Threads

Madeline al'Roise of the Green, MoN
Disagreements
Sun Jun 15 2003 3:54:12 pm

Blood, everywhere. When was the last time she had seen so much blood? Madeline knew she must have, a long time ago, but she couldn’t bring it to mind. It sickened her, but she couldn’t stop staring at it, pushing away the turning of her stomach.

Zearon watched with concern as Madeline stood fixed, staring down the horror that was laid out before them. The blood was drying now, crackling stiff at the edges, browning as if it had been left out in the sun. The air was a suffocating stench.

Concern flooded through the bond, rising above the disgust and horror that mirrored her own. Zearon lifted a hand to her shoulder, but she batted it away. For once, he was wise enough to keep his tongue.

“How did this happen?” she asked softly, staring past Zearon into the weapon's shop. “How did I not foresee this?” Her voice turned hard with anger, as much at herself as at Mathias. She had been working so closely with him, she who had been working with novices for decade upon decade. She should have bloody been able to see what the man was capable of. I was so certain... Her fists tightened, and her nails dug into her palms, tiny lances of pain, and hot fire churned in her belly. This could have been prevented. She should have stopped this. She tried to make this picture fit with the novice she had once known, and found it impossible. Light, where had the boy learned Traveling? Where was that in the novice handbook? Or disembowelment, for that matter?

She had known coming into Caemlyn that she was dealing with a young man who was deeply touched by the Shadow. The attack on Onyx, the attempt on her own life, and Zhareen’s—those were actions of Darkfriends, actions that shouted loud and clear for all to know. As if he didn’t even care about it, as if he wanted her to know that he was a Darkfriend. But…somehow, it didn’t seem possible. Was she truly such a poor judge of character? She had been certain that he had returned to the Light. Had it been a pretense this entire time?

“This is not your fault,” Zearon said quietly. He moved past her, pushing the door shut, blocking the view into the bloodied weapons shop. “The Shadow is chaotic, and someone as pleasantly direct as yourself could never understand chaos. We can have no idea why Mathias has done this, and it will do us no good to speculate. We just need to examine the facts and trace the story to it’s present moment.”

Rain misted from a slate grey sky, and the streets were quiet. A few people passed by in the distance, but their eyes averted from where Maddy and Zearon stood. Someone would eventually be sent to clean this up, along with a squadron of the Queen’s Guard to investigate, but for now, no one seemed interested in asking questions.

Madeline blinked back the rain, ignoring the drenching chill that was settling over her. “Perhaps. I just wish I knew a little more about the quarry we hunt.”

Zearon nodded smartly. “But we don’t, so at least smile in the knowledge that that you have me here to protect you.”

Madeline’s brows drew down sharply. Was he toying with her, or was he actually serious? She wasn’t sure which would be worse, really. His tone hinted at playfulness, but the feeling through the bond was hard to read. She didn’t know him well enough, not yet, and he was good at hiding how he felt, even in the vulnerability of the bond. So often it all seemed like a game for Zearon, but it didn’t seem possible he would be playing at a time like this. Of a sudden, she wanted to be gone from him.

“We should split up and search,” she announced, rubbing her hands together. “We haven’t a lot of time, and the trail is growing cold. I’ll search the south end, and you—“

“I will stay right here with you,” Zearon finished. His own brows drew down, shaggy caterpillars protesting. “I am here to protect you.”

“You’re here to help me, Zearon, and this is the best way to do it.”

He turned, slightly. “Two heads are better than one when working on a puzzle.”

“This isn’t a puzzle, Zearon, and we’re wasting time arguing.” She sent a sharp feeling of admonishment through the bond, as if Zearon were a novice to be lectured. Without waiting for another word, she turned and stalked down the street, blue eyes filled with determination.

Zearon watched her until she disappeared around a bend in the road. Finally, he shrugged, then headed off in the opposite direction.

Zearon of the Brown, Bondmate of Madeline, NSWC
Revelations
Sun Jun 15 2003 4:04:59 pm

Zearon marched down the street, grey eyes resolute. He kept his senses open, feeling for saidin. He knew he would feel it eventually; it was only a matter of patience and time. At this point, he figured Mathias to be beyond reason and rationality, which meant that he was not likely to be concerned with hiding his ability from anyone looking for him.

In theory, he would find Mathias alone, though he couldn’t be sure. He had worked with the boy for many long hours, satisfying his own curious interest as much as Madeline’s ‘direction.’ He shook his head, pushing his hood down further around his face to shield from the rain. Most of the time, he found it highly amusing when Madeline thought she could order him about. She considered him a friend, true, but she was so used to getting her way that he doubted she even questioned his allegiance. Not to mention that when she set her sights on something, she was so bloody determined that she blinded herself from all other choices.

For instance; her private determination not to love him, a determination she might not even be wholly aware of. He had long known this, and was willing to accept it for a time, but he suspected one day she might change her mind. He hoped she would. He was practiced at concealing parts of himself in a bond, and he was willing to do so as long as necessary. Zearon Rae was a patient man.

Madeline, on the other hand, was terrible at hiding her own feelings. The only time she had been bonded before was with her long-dead husband, and there would have been no hiding of feelings then. He could sense her anger through the bond, anger at herself, at Mathias, towards Zearon, and it really wasn’t surprising, not if you really knew her. She would see this as a failure on her part, even though chances were good that it wasn’t her fault. Zearon strongly suspected that Mathias had been forcibly turned back to the Shadow. The evidence all pointed in that direction—the suddenness, the disregard for being caught, the lack of logical direction in his actions.

He would be saddened if his suspicions proved correct. Zearon had grown fond of the boy, had thought him to have potential for true greatness. He had hoped to see him raised to the Brown, had planned lines of research and history they could have worked on together. But the Shadow had moved in a way he hadn’t predicted, and it seemed they had outsmarted him this time. Chalk another point up to the Dark One.

The sun moved across the sky as he searched, visible only for snatches of time through drifting rain clouds. Zearon moved methodically up and down the curving warren of streets, popping into more than a few inns and taverns, sitting down for a glass of something and a few lines of conversation, quietly listening and making notes in his journal, then moving on with few wasted words.

It seemed everyone was talking about the string of violent acts, whispering fearfully over tall mugs of ale, a dozen versions of murders and rapes. A man who could channel, they whispered, attacking innkeepers and women and weapon-smiths, even dogs, according to one man. One portly fellow declared to a group of laughing women that his cloak had been stolen by this man, though he couldn’t exactly prove how.

No one had any clue as to where Mathias was now. Madeline’s frustration through the bond mirrored his own, which meant she was having even worse luck. The sense of her was still strong, but it seemed now that they were on opposite ends of the city. I should go find her, Zearon thought, ducking into a rather ramshackle tavern called The Cobbler’s Pie of all things. He didn’t like leaving her alone, though he supposed she was capable of defending herself. Zearon was willing to bet that Mathias was alone, but he still wasn't comfortable with the situation. Still, sometimes it was best to let Madeline have her way.

His gaze was quickly drawn to a red-haired man seated at the bar. He wore the red and white of a Queen’s Guardsman, and a two-handed sword was propped against his stool. He was regaling the barkeep with a drunken tale loud enough for the whole room to hear. An off-duty guardsman, it seemed, one with little regard for alcohol regulations amongst the Guard. Zearon listened carefully for a time, and it wasn’t long before he picked up words of interest. “…he’s been in the Guard with me for twenty two years, and he was bloody strong I’ll tell ya, and it’s bloody hard to believe he’s gone now…it's a bloody shame...”

Zearon emerged from the shadows, coming to casually take the stool next to him. The Guard’s story trailed off, and he turned to eye Zearon up and down, taking in the deep brown woolens that covered Zearon from head to toe. The barkeep gave him a pint of dark ale, then quickly took his leave, obviously relieved to be gone.

“Afternoon,” Zearon murmured, not quite meeting the guard’s eye. He didn’t want to draw too much attention, though his beard was usually a good disguise from his ageless features. A Guardsman might have good information, considering they were conducting a search of their own.

He rubbed his thumbs together, frowning down at his ale. How to best phrase this? He had to be tactful, discreet. Subtle.

“So tell me, good sir, what does it take to become one of the Queen’s Guards?” he said brightly.

The guardsman looked up. His face was as red as his hair, and his pale blue eyes were shot with blood. “What, you think you good or somethin’?” he slurred, shaking his glass at Zearon.

“Absolutely,” Zearon replied casually, leaning back in his chair. “I ask again, what does it take?”

Ale splashed over the rim of the man’s mug as he brought it down. “It takes skill is what it takes,” he said, his voice cracking. “And courage. You never know what’ll get you in the end, and you always haveta be ready to fight it.”

“Ah, so you cannot be afraid to die then,” Zearon replied smoothly. “Good. I am not afraid.”

The man stared at him doubtfully, then shook his head. “You don’t look to be so brave as all that.”

Zearon grinned. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Without warning the man lurched forward and jerked the hood from Zearon’s face. They stared at each other for a split second, then his bleary eyes widened. “You be Aes Sedai! You be a man who can channel!” His ale toppled with a smash of broken glass, and he gave a whooping drunken holler. “You’re the one who killed him! I’ll take you down!” He called out, waving his arms about.

Zearon sighed in irritation, not seeing the burly Guardsman who loomed up from behind him. So maybe the beard isn’t as good a disguise then. Strange, it’s always worked in the past… He stood, reaching for saidin…and paused, cursing himself for a fool. He couldn’t channel, not if he didn’t want Mathias to know…

As if his thoughts bid it, he felt a man channel off the distance, a flood of saidin that called to him like a signal beacon. And not far away either, perhaps only a mile or so east—Light, that’s where Maddy is---

Something thumped the back of his head, hard, and Zearon fell forward, blackness swallowing everything.

Madeline Sedai
Discoveries (Revised)
Tue Jun 17 2003 5:57:55 pm

Madeline was not a happy woman. Somewhere in this Light-blinded city, one of her novices was insanely evil and wreaking havoc, and she couldn’t find him. Somewhere in this bloody maze of a city, Zearon bloody Rae Sedai was having the time of his life playing detective, though he’d far rather be at her side playing Warder. She could feel his strange muddle of emotions through the bond; a methodical ordering of thoughts in typical Brown fashion mixed with that ever present sardonic amusement that was purely Zearon.

Dark auburn hair clung damply to her cheeks, and rain dripped from her hood into her eyes. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the chill of the rain, but she didn’t dare channel, not without knowing who Mathias might be with. Her search had produced nothing except for a passel of rumors. Some Caemlyn folk attributed the murders to the Dragon Reborn, or at the least, false Dragons, however impossible that was; others blamed raving mad Asha’man, and still others claimed it was all the fault of the Aiel which made less sense than false Dragons. The people of Caemlyn were frightened, but they were confident that the Queen’s Guards and the White Tower would sort it all out.

Most had it right, though—a young man who could channel had rampaged through the city, and people were dead because of it. A few people mentioned an Aes Sedai and Warders who followed, though some claimed there were two sisters. No one seemed to know anything, except that the Aes Sedai were trying to find the man who could channel.

She stood in a narrow street lined with inns and taverns, watching people pass by with a growing sense of frustration. She frowned, allowing herself to feel the bond again. What was he doing? There was as strange sense of focus now, as if…

Madeline stiffened. She could sense Zearon sensing a man who could channel, which was truly the strangest feeling she had felt since…

She realized that Mathias was channeling somewhere close by, and just as quickly she could feel saidar also being channeled. That made the location much easier to pinpoint—Light, he was only a few blocks east of here! She thought of Zearon, who was halfway across the city…she couldn’t wait for him, not considering how far away from here he was. Her brows lowered in determination, and she strode down the street towards where the Power was being channeled. Zearon would just have to hurry, and—

Pain flared up at the base of her head, and her vision began to cloud. She grunted, nearly losing her step on the cobbled stone. “Wha—“ She put a hand to her head, forcing her eyes to see properly. “Zearon, what--?” Dear Light, what’s happening to him?

She took a step in the opposite direction, ready to save Zearon from whatever evil assailed him, then forced herself to stop. Fool, you can’t go chasing after your Warder right now! Attend to the bloody task at hand! She snarled, arguing with herself, berating herself for arguing with herself, then set off towards Mathias. Zearon would have to be tended to later, and that was that. A small part of herself whimpered at the decision, cowering at the thought of losing him, but she pushed it aside. Duty, Madeline. Attend to your duty.

Zearon’s sensation of saidin had stopped, but she still remembered where it had came from. It had been no more than two streets down, and she had fixed the location in her mind Zearon lay quiet and still through the bond, a void that told her nothing. Who could have attacked him? One of Mathias’s ‘Friends’? Someone else? Light, for all she knew, the fool man had tripped over his own feet and knocked himself out.
It took several wrong turns and dead-ends before she found the spot she had marked out in her mind. Madeline could never have explained how she had marked it in her mind, but she knew for a fact that she had found the right place.

The Crown and Lion could have been any one of the dozens of inns she had searched this afternoon. Madeline pulled her hood over her face, creeping towards it in the shadowed overhangs of nearby buildings. She saw no movement from within, no light of torches or sound of laughter and conversation. Was Zihanna in there? Where were her Gaidin? She had to be the woman who was channeling, but Madeline couldn’t sense her. She might not be close enough though, or she could have Gated away.

She advanced cautiously, deciding at last to embrace the Source. She couldn’t afford to waste any time if she was attacked by surprise, and it seemed there might be a good chance of it. A hunter is not surprised if she’s ready for it, she reminded herself, squaring her jaw.

The door creaked open at her touch, and Madeline slipped inside. The stink of charred flesh and blood assailed her, and she nearly turned and left. “Dear Light,” she breathed, taking a slow step forward. “Light, am I too late?”

She took another step forward, a hand lifting slowly to cover her mouth. She barely recognized the man who lay sprawled across the stairs, body blackened and disfigured, red cloth burned into his skin in charred scraps. A low noise escaped Madeline’s lips as she sank to her knees, putting a hand to his head.
She knew this man, though only by name. Micah, one of two Gaidin that followed Zihanna. Did her sister still live? She must, Madeline told herself.

Saidar burned to be used, and she ached for Zearon to come charging though the door, though through the bond she knew he couldn’t. Where was he? What had happened to him? She brought the image of Mathias to her mind’s eye, studying it with a hard gaze. Any shred of hope she had left for her novice was gone. He was swallowed by the Shadow, and was unsalvageable. She must no longer think of him as ‘novice’. He was simply a man who could channel, a man gone mad that she could not save. A deep sadness filled her, adding a sharp edge to her anger, which in turn clouded out her fear. Some of it.

Someone nearby channeled. Just for a moment, seemingly just over her shoulder, and then it was gone.
Madeline rose to her feet and quickly, silently moved across the inn towards the rooms at the back. Overturned tables and chairs blocked her way, and she nearly slipped in puddle of greenish soup.
A darkened door led outside, and through cracked windows Madeline could smell smoke and burning wood.

The rain had faded to a drizzle, and puddles filled the hard-packed mud of the inn’s stableyard. Flames devoured the tiny stable, burning from both without and within. Thick black smoke billowed from the windows, stinging Madeline’s eyes and nose.

The road fell away in a steep hill beyond the inn, and the gated fence hung open, latch wrenched to the side. Deep ruts from a carriage made a slanted, crazy track out of the stableyard, already filling with rain water. Madeline lifted a hand to her face, shielding herself from the heat. The flames were already dying down, smothered by its own smoke and the rain, and a rancid smell filled the air.

Far off down the path, Madeline spotted a tiny speck of movement. It looked to be a carriage, moving away at breakneck speed.

Mathias was turning out to be a more difficult quarry than she had expected. Once again, Madeline felt at the bond, and felt nothing, save for fragments of a sleeping conscious.

Light, Zearon, you bloody fool of a man, where are you?

Mathias al'Pendragon
And the Unseen.
Sun Jun 22 2003 6:52:12 pm

OOC: The following contains material that may not be suitable for all audiences. The easily offended, weak hearted, or young would be well-advised not to read this post as it contains graphic material that may be inappropriate for this type of reader.

“Thank the Great Lord.” He intoned, stepping over the woman’s body. “I didn’t think she would ever shut up.”

“Sloppy.” A mans voice, a smooth as wine, rolled out of one of the nearby rooms. “I was sent her to aid a Friend and find a Boy who lights signal fires for the Aes Sedai who must be chasing him.” Mathias wheeled and made to lash out with the Power but found himself Shielded. Cut of from Saidin. With a wordless snarl, he began to beat at the shield, trying to force his way through to the light that waited on the other side. The man laughed. “Not as all powerful as you thought you were eh? Its never easy to find that out.” A mans form, cowled and cloaked slid into the darkened hall. Mathias right hand balled into a fist and he stepped to meet his antagonist, his flesh flashing in the pallid light cast by the hall torches. In that instant Mathias entire body went cold, shards of ice sliced his mind and the blood in his body froze between one heartbeat and the second. A mute howl froze in his throat, just like everything else, and he collapsed to the floor, convulsing in shivers that racked him to the bone. Mathias twitched on the floor, even after the man took the cold away.

“You have two choices.” The mans voice sounded as cold and far away as the Borderlands right then. “You can let me help you, or I can kill you know and leave your corpse for the Aes Sedai to find.” Mathias struggled to lift his eyes to peer into the shadows of the mans cowl.

“Who are you?” There was no warning of the boot that took Mathias in the head.

“That is none of your concern!” The man hissed. “You have a decision that is... so make it, and fast.”

“I’ll work with you.” Mathias growled as he pushed himself to his feet. But only so long as I have business in Caemlyn.” He finished, straightening his coat. “Once that is finished, we part, and we had best get to it.” Mathias stance and tone were defiant, as if he had all but forgotten the man that stood over the Aes Sedai’s body, and that he had kicked him in the head only moments before. The mans face was hidden in shadow, but Mathias did not wait for any sort of affirmation from the man before turning and bounding down the stairs.

From the depths of his cowl the Dreadlord grinned. This Friend was a true testament to Demandreds inventiveness. So perfectly evil and dispassionate. Yet malleable to the right pressures. But he could not help but wonder about what he had witnessed just earlier. The boy had lain on his bed for perhaps a half an hour, curled up as a babe, weeping, before pulling himself together and setting to read, as if he had already forgotten what he had just done. The Dreadlord puzzled it over, but could not spare too much thought for it, for at that exact moment, the boy returned, six of the kitchen serving staff preceding him.

The serving staff had been easy enough to convince to come help him, once he had shot the cook with a sedative bolt, putting the rotund woman on the floor, and causing her to spill the “soup” she was preparing. He had tasted it, it did not deserve to be called soup. He had a new bolt in the crossbow, this one belted in green and when he leveled the weapon, the whole staff shied away.

“The two woman.” He ordered. “Out to the stables, find a wagon or a carriage to put them in.” The group, wide eyed and stiff with terror stumbled to comply, and in minutes they were moving down the stairwell, heedless of the noise they made. Mathias took no more notice of them than he did the mysterious man behind him. The rain had slacked by the time the motley crew made its way outside, yet it still fell. And it was still damp, and the dampness still brought a chill. The men and woman Mathias had gathered to be his beasts of burden, slipped in the mud and nearly dropped their load. Mathias threw a string of strong obscenities at the man then planted his boot between the mans shoulders and drove him face down into the mud an instant before planting the jade-banded bolt between the mans shoulder blades. The woman with him screamed and shied away again, but he reloaded quickly and aimed another bolt at them.

“Move it you sons of Trollocs!” He motioned toward the stable. “NOW!” The group fairly fell over themselves in their eagerness to be rid of him. In a few scant minutes the remaining seven serving staff had the two woman propped up inside a carriage, and the stable hands had a pair of arch necked white stallions hitched up. Mathias grinned.

“There.” He said. Lowering his crossbow. “Was that so hard?” A few of the assembled chuckled nervously tossing the weapon up onto the drivers bench, Mathias clambered up after it and grabbed the reins and the horse whip, then moved the carriage out of the stable. The Cloaked Man had disappeared, and a Gateway was rotating closed back in the stables. “Good riddance.” Mathias murmured as he drew rein near the street and ran his eyes over the small crowd who crowded the stable door. “They die.” He decided on the spur of the moment, and Seized Saidin A strong blast of Air tumbled the crew back into the depths of the stables, and their screams were music in his ears. A thick band of the same element snapped the doors shut and held them. Faint banging and calling came to his ears. A sardonic grin tugged one side of Mathias lips up, and he flicked Fire at the stable. A thin slash, no bigger than his own arm, appeared across the door, and settled into the wood. Mathias turned back to the horses and was surprised to see the Cloaked Man standing on the other side of the drivers bench.

“Is that the BEST you can do BOY? ” Venom dripped from the mans last words, and Mathias responding glare should have scorched a hole clear through his antagonists head but no such thing occurred. Instead the man Channeled Saidin and the stables exploded in flame, a single finger of flame roaring into the gathering dusk.

“Dark Ones EYES!” Mathias swore, throwing up an arm to shield his face from the flames. The man scrambled onto the bench punched Mathias in the short ribs.

“Move BURN YOU!” He ordered, but he had to grab the cowl of his cloak to keep it up when Mathias cracked the horse whip over the animals backs. They reared and screamed, he suspected they sensed the flames behind them and were anxious to be away from them. The carriages’ wheels threw rooster tails of rain water and mud behind them, and at each turn in the road, Mathias could hear his captives bodies slamming into the sides of the carriage. He grimaced a bit, and snapped the whip again. He had to get out of the city. Even now, some blocks away, he could see the fire at the Inn staining the sky a pale red. The rain was slacking off, and a blood read sun was sinking into the West. The gates of Caemlyn were a blur as the carriage tore through them, soiling the uniforms of the Queens Guards on watch at them. Once the walls were just smudges of grey against the distant horizon Mathias brought the carriage to a halt.

“Get off.” He ordered the man. “My business in Caemlyn is done.” The man shrugged.

“As you wish.” He replied, leaping nimbly to the ground. “I will inform our mutual acquaintance of your progress young one.” A Gateway opened. “You’ll be fine once you have seasoned a bit.” And then he was gone, leaving Mathias to puzzle over what the man had meant by that.

Mathias threw another pitcher of water on the unconscious Warders face, and she awoke with a groan. Her light brown eyes fought to be rid of the glaze that covered them, and he laughed, his own emerald orbs glistening with true mirth.

“So much for the vaunted Gaidin of the White Tower.” He chuckled. “You cant even stay awake while I play with you my little pet.” She tried to bite him when Mathias traced his fingers along her jaw. He back handed her. “Bitch.” He turned from her and went back to the Aes Sedai. The Forkroot he had forced her to drink was obviously clouding her mind, but he reveled in the fear that flashed across her face when he lifted the blood slicked dagger for her to see. He took his time cutting her blouse and breeches away, whistling “The Tinker has my pots” as he did so. He took only a moment to admire her body, to savagely violate her with his fingers, before cutting into her. She screamed, once when he plunged his fingers roughly into her, and again when the Taren steel of his dagger bite into her flesh, just inches from her feminine anatomy.

“JULYAN!” Even a her shrieks of agony rose in pitch she called for her Warder to help her, but there would be none of that. The girl was bound to a stout table, the same one in fact, that the Aes Sedai was on matter of point, the tops of their heads were touching. Even that close though, the Warder could not move, for ever few inches, hand-long slashes scored her flesh. From her shoulder socket to her ankle, red lines marred her body. She had passed out three times while he had worked her. When the dagger nestled snugly between the Aes Sedai’s breasts, Mathias withdrew it, but only to turn it, and slash in two decisive motions parallel to the bottom of the table. Laying the dagger aside, and reclaiming his fingers, Mathias peeled the skin back, then seeing that the woman was about to pass out, he laid his hands on her for the Healing Demandred had once taught him. She would live now, until her body was destroyed beyond function, but for now, it was just unfit for public consumption. Her head lolled side to side as Mathias returned his attention to the Warder. There were still two hours till dawn.

The hammer fell for the final time, but this time, no blood splattered. He was rather amazed that the Warder had any to spare. Four score slash marks decorated her body, which lay now, thick steel tent spikes through her ankles and wrists, spread eagle and bare beneath a blazing golden sun. The weather seemed to be trying to make up for the last two days sogginess in a single morning. Standing, Mathias wiped a bit of blood of his forehead, then went back to the Aes Sedai, staked out in a very similar fashion and ran an eye over her ravaged body.

“How the mighty have fallen eh Aes Sedai?” He chortled as his hands went to the laces of his breeches. “Green Ajah. Battle Ajah.” The navy linen fell to the grass and Mathias sneered. “Possessed of a repertoire to make any man swoon in pleasure. Lets see if THAT particular stereotype holds true shall we?”

"BURN YOU!" The Warder screamed as Mathias knelt before the Aes Sedai's splayed form. "You touch her with your filthy body and I will castrate you!" She struggled with new found vigor against the stakes that held her to the ground. "Zia is MINE!"

"No man will touch her again!" She screamed in rage and struggled harder against that which held her to the ground. "I don’t need a MAN for my pleasure.. and neither will she!" THAT got Mathias interest. “I’ll kill you if you touch her! Mark my words!” A full throated laugh rolled off his lips and across the land as Mathias made his way back to his feet.

“You?” He laughed again. “Kill me?” A bare foot stomped on the Warders stomach. “You cant even get off the ground!” But then something sparked in his mind, and he laughed again. “Don’t need a man do you?” Mathias ran his eyes freely over the woman’s body, making no attempt to hide it. “Am I to take that to mean that you are untouched?” He bent to trail his fingers across the swell of a breast, careful to apply firm pressure to the scarlet line that scored it. “Goodness.” He said in mock surprise. "Lucky me, to enjoy what no man has enjoyed before," he paused, grinning evilly, "and what no man ever will again" Mathias spoke as if he had years of sexual experience when if fact, the Novice he had plundered back in the Tower had been his first time. He smirked, and knelt in front of the Warders splayed form. He would have her before he left, but this time, he would not have need of ice the morning after to ease undesirable swelling.

“My name is Mathias.” He hissed as he entered her. “Scream my name you little bitch.” He moaned deep in his throat before finishing."Let the world know." He leaned in and spoke so only she could hear him, "The Great Lord must be pleased indeed to favor me with so many willing fucks." He kissed her hard on the lip, but he broke it quickly when the woman sank her teeth into his bottom lip. He struck her face once for biting him, again when he noticed that there was a chunk of his lip missing. "Thank you for saving yourself for me." He replied, his eyes laughing but his tone made sure she knew that he was mocking her. And then he drowned in the sea of his own pleasure and her agony.

Mathias chuckled to himself as he retied his breeches and stomped his feet to settle them into their boots. The Warder lay, exactly as she had been, her struggling impossibly redoubled.

“Burn you!” She cried, trying to appear angry even while tears streamed down her face. “You Filthy... abomination! You’ll BURN for this!” Mathias cut one of the stallions loose of the carriage and swung up onto his back.

“Will I?” He replied. “You’d best let someone capable of seeing it through threaten me with that girl.” He twisted the last word viciously. “If you live, IF.” he emphasized, then bent in his saddle as if to impart some great secret but raised his voice. “You still might bare.. MY... CHILD!” He enhanced the last two words with Air then split the air with a laugh before wheeling the horse to the South. “But I wouldn’t worry.” he finished, seeing the crestfallen expression that, like quicksilver flashed to rage, “you wont live.” He indicated the Aes Sedai with a nod. “And neither will she.” As a final gesture, he lifted a finger toward he sky. “The Great Lords servants will see to that.” The shadows of several specie of carrion birds wheeled over the site. Laughing once more, Mathias al’Pendragon booted the stallion in the flanks and galloped away South. He never saw the men on horse back who entered the copse of trees moments after he left, or the single pair of man and woman who followed soon after, nor the small steel serpent that flashed down the road after him.

Julyan with Zihanna Sedai, MUC
MRP: And on my deathbed...
Mon Jun 23 2003 11:07:39 am

The following contains material that may not be suitable for all audiences. The easily offended, weak hearted, or young would be well-advised not to read this post as it contains graphic material that may be inappropriate for this type of reader.

Julyan drifted in and out of consciousness as the carriage sped along the road, bouncing her limp body against the crossbow bolt protruding from her sternum. The young Warder moaned loudly both from her own pain and the pain from her bond that Zia was unable to shield her from while unconscious herself. The dark-haired man was not with them, but Julyan took that to mean that he was the one controlling their mobile prison, still weaving and bouncing madly, sending its helpless occupants to slam against the walls or eachother. Zia looked badly bruised and Julyan supposed she was as well, but her overwhelming concern was the crossbow bolt still rising from her wound. Pulling it out would be unwise, as the tip was likely barbed. The damage she would do trying to remove the bolt would likely kill her, but neither could she allow it to remain as it was. Already, Zia had been thrown across her as their captor took a particularly crazy turn and bumped the lodged bolt, causing an explosion of pain and a well of fresh blood. Breathing deeply, Julyan took the bolt in both hands, though she felt weak as a new-born kitten. Panting, she strained to break the bolt, first succeeding only to stir the head in her already-serious wound, but finally managing to break off most of the protrusion. Having managed that only at great pain to herself, Julyan once again lapsed into unconsciousness, the white-banded shaft of the bolt clutched in her hand.

Julyan did not awaken until some time had passed; though it seemed only moments as she thought on it. However, the carriage was gone and she was now in a well-lit room, bound hand and foot to a large table. Someone was whistling slightly, and soon another whistle sounded, though from a teapot and not a person. Julyan craned her neck to see what was going on and where she was and caught sight of one of Zia’s dark curls resting beside her face. Arching her back and rolling her eyes as far back as she could make them go, Julyan realized Zia was bound to the table with her, their heads almost touching. Somewhere beyond Zia’s feet was where the person and the teakettle were, but Julyan couldn’t see either at all, only hear the person as they whistled softly to the tune of “The Tinker Has My Pots.” The teakettle had stopped its whistle and Julyan faintly heard the sounds of tea being prepared. Water splashed into a cup and a spoon tinkled as it brushed the sides of the cup while stirring the concoction. Then there were footsteps, and slowly, a face came into view. It was him, and he held the cup with a light tough. One eyebrow rose as he realized Julyan was awake.

“Well, well, I was beginning to think we’d lost you,” he chuckled. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of that, my dear, not before we’ve had a little fun.” Though his words were innocuous enough, his eyes glittered meanly as he spoke, putting Julyan in mind of a cat who knew he’d caught the mouse, but wasn’t ready to kill it just yet. She swallowed hard. “Oh, don’t worry, sweeting, it’ll be a moment before I have time for you. For now I have a special drink for your friend.” He turned his gaze from Julyan to Zia, frowning in displeasure. “Wake up, you White Tower whore!” He yelled, striking Zia hard across the face with his free hand, spilling some of the tea as he did so. “You bitch!” He spat, almost dropping the tea trying to rid his skin of the boiling water. Gritting his teeth in a horrible grin, he leaned close to Zia and out of Julyan’s line of sight. What he did roused Zia, though, and Julyan quickly realized what he was doing. His hand gripped her chin tightly, forcing her mouth open, and he poured the mixture down her throat as she tried to struggle. Julyan knew she had inhaled the first mouthful and it was the scalding water to her lungs that had brought her back to consciousness. Though she sputtered and tried to spit it out, he forced the whole cup down her throat, burning her face and mouth quite badly as he did so. She coughed and gagged and he released her, shoving her roughly back to the table before rising himself.

“Well, now that you’re both awake, I think it’s time to have some fun.” Again he disappeared from Julyan’s view, only to reappear in a moment with a dagger, which he waved before her face with a grin. “You like it? Tarien, finest steel money can buy. Cuts through almost anything like butter.” He pointed the dagger toward the table and held it by her side, next to the curve of her breast. With a quick upward stroke, he opened a hand-long gash. “See? But now, my pet, we must do another. Symmetry is beauty.” He reached across and quickly cut another line across her flesh, parallel to the first. Julyan bit her lip, fighting not to cry out. “Oh, no, not another one of you stoic bitches,” he snarled, rapidly opening six more cuts along her left side and then mirroring them on her right. There was perhaps a dagger’s width between them, and to an unwary observer, it may have appeared that Julyan had suddenly developed gills. The steel was as sharp as he had said, and it had taken a few moments for the blood to well up beneath the perfect red lines now reaching from Julyan’s armpit to her ribcage. One by one, though, blood began to trickle from the wounds, forming tiny pools by Julyan’s sides. And though she lost consciousness several times as he continued his work down to her waist, then hips, then knees, then ankles, Juley could be sure she had missed none of it. Each time her cries died down, each time her eyes fell closed, he backhanded her brutally to bring her back to horrible reality. Even worse than her own pain were the noises Zia was making. She was obviously drugged to some extent but it seemed to do nothing to muffle her screams and cries for release.

As the last cut on her right ankle began to bleed, a pitcher of water was upended over Julyan’s face. She groaned and fought to focus her eyes on her attacker, but he merely laughed. “So much for the vaunted Gaidin of the White Tower.” He chuckled. “You cant even stay awake while I play with you my little pet.”
He traced a finger roughly along her jaw, and she tried to bite it as it passed. Without a second glance he backhanded her again on her already badly-bruised face. “Bitch.” He stood up and moved out of her line of sight once more, presumably to torture Zia a bit for a change. Julyan heard the sound of ripping clothes, and Zia’s harsh cry simultaneously to a sharp pain between her legs. She also heard the man, still whistling to the gay tune of “the Tinker Has My Pots.” “Julyan!” cried Zia in a voice quite unlike any Julyan had every heard from her. Suddenly her body jerked oddly, the top of her head colliding with Julyan’s own, and then she lay still. The whistling man was wiping his dagger clean as he came again into Julyan’s view and she heard him mutter as he leaned in again to work, “still two hours ‘til dawn.”

Julyan screamed aloud as the hammer fell once more, amazed that her voice was still usable. Zia’s had long since become hoarse and her sobs had been incoherent at best as the evil man had stood over her with the great hammer, putting the thick steel spikes through her wrists and ankles.

He tossed the hammer away as the final stake bit through Julyan’s flesh and pinned her to the ground. He stepped back for a moment, clearly admiring his work. His eyes lingered over Zia’s body, even in the wrecked and ravaged state it was in, and he stepped towards her as he spoke. “How the mighty have fallen eh Aes Sedai?” He chuckled, his hands busy with the laces to his breeches. “Green Ajah. Battle Ajah.” Loosing his laces completely, he dropped his pants to the ground, exposing himself. Julyan gasped in shock, but he continued as if he had not heard her. “Possessed of a repertoire to make any man swoon in pleasure. Lets see if THAT particular stereotype holds true shall we?”

He’s going to rape Zia! He’s going to take my Zia against her will! I won’t allow this to happen! "BURN YOU!" She cried as he knelt forward towards Zia’s splayed form. "You touch her with your filthy body and I will castrate you!" She struggled against the spikes despite the shooting pains they were causing her. "No man will touch her again!" She screamed in rage and struggled harder. "I don’t need a MAN for my pleasure... and neither will she! I’ll kill you if you touch her! Mark my words!”

Their attacker laughed gleefully as he pulled himself back to his feet. “You?” He said, still laughing. “Kill me?” Bringing one foot down hard onto her stomach, he continued, “You can’t even get off the ground!” Then he paused for a moment, his eyes searching Julyan’s bared body, lingering on certain areas. “Don’t need a man do you?” He paused, staring at the rise of her breasts. “Am I to take that to mean that you are untouched?” He bent, tracing along the line that scored the curve of her breast. “Goodness.” He said in mock surprise. "Lucky me, to enjoy what no man has enjoyed before," he paused again, grinning evilly, “and what no man ever will again."

Julyan’s eyes widened in horror and she fought again against her binds, managing to pull her left hand further up the spike as she struggled. “My name is Mathias.” Julyan could feel him waiting to enter her, pushing against her where he had no right to be. “Scream my name you little bitch.” He hissed as he pushed inside her, using her blood to lubricate his member as he explored her. "Let the world know.” He pulled back from her and sunk in again, eliciting a second cry of pain from the young woman. He leaned in close to her and whispered “The Great Lord must be pleased indeed to favor me with so many willing fucks." Then he kissed her, hard, on the lips, and she quickly bit again, this time sinking her teeth into his lower lip and holding on as he jerked away. She spit out the small chunk of flesh she’d retained and he held a hand up to his bleeding lip. "Thank you for saving yourself for me,” he said, mockingly, and roughly impaled her once more.

The sun was blazing down on them both and that, doubled with his vigorous ministrations, were causing them both to sweat, the salty liquid creeping into the myriad of cuts marring Julyan’s skin and burning impossibly. She screamed until her screams became one long wail, and still he did not finish. When he realized their sweat was causing her even more pain than he’d planned for, Mathias rubbed both hands along Julyan’s side from her waist to her breasts, rubbing in the salt and eliciting more screams of purest pain. Finally his body tensed and then shuddered with release, and he withdrew himself from her bruised and violated cavity. “It’s too bad you bite, little girl. I’m sure that pretty mouth of yours could be used in many wonderful ways if you didn’t,” he said as he stood, cupping his organ and bouncing it in his hand in a lude and suggestive manner.

He laughed again as Julyan spit in response to his comment, stepping back into his trousers and retying them at his waist before settling his feet into his boots. She redoubled her efforts in her struggle against the stakes that help her to the ground. Her left hand was almost free, but the stake grew wider the closer it was to the top… she wasn’t sure if it was wider across than her wrist… a fine mettle she would be in if she managed to pull herself free but left her hand lying on the ground. “Burn you!” She screamed, crying from a combination of rage and intense physical pain. “You Filthy... abomination! You’ll BURN for this!”

“Will I?” He replied with mock surprise as he swung himself onto the back of one of the carriage’s horses. “You’d best let someone capable of seeing it through threaten me with that girl.” He twisted the last word viciously. “If you live, IF.” He then leaned down, as if imparting a secret to her before he left. “You still might bear... MY... CHILD!” The last two words echoed loudly, and Julyan was not sure if that was her horror in hearing them or if he had enhanced them with the Power. “But I wouldn’t worry,” he finished, seeing the terrified expression that like quicksilver flashed to rage, “You won’t live.” He indicated the Aes Sedai with a nod. “And neither will she.” As a final gesture, he lifted a finger toward he sky. “The Great Lord’s servants will see to that.” Truly enough, carrion birds were already circling, waiting for Mathias to leave so they could enjoy their meal. Zia was only unconscious, not dead, but Julyan knew that in their present condition, neither would last very long. With a final laugh, Mathias spurred his mount and they galloped off, leaving Zia and Julyan to the ravens.

Zia woke with a groan, her eyes meeting her warder’s for a moment before they closed again in pain. “Zia?” mumbled Julyan hopefully. She’d managed to free her left hand not long after Mathias had departed and though her arm was mangled, her hand was still attached. She was in a world of pain, but at least Zia was alive.

“I’m here,” was all Zia could force out. She knew she was dying, and she knew Juley was, too. She couldn’t be sure, but the herb their attacker had fed her must have been wearing off by now. All the previous night she had been barely conscious and as unable to touch Saidar as Julyan was. Surely that would be out of her system by now. Trying to ignore the ravens and buzzards creeping ever closer to them, Zia performed the Novice exercise she’d learned so long ago on her first day in the Tower. Saidar reluctantly came to her, and suddenly all the cuts and bruises were magnified. Never-the-less, she suffered on, slowly building the skeleton frame of Spirit, adding Air and Water, and finally lowering it over Julyan. Julyan jerked as the coolness of the weave settled over her, drawing on her last reserves of strength. Her wrists and ankles knit back together, though three of them were forced to knit around the spike that still held them. The slits along her body faded from red to pink to as pale as the rest of her skin. The internal wounding from the crossbow bolt healed grudgingly around the still-present bolt head. The bruises faded from their virulent greens and yellows and purples to smooth, unmarred skin. Satisfied that her Warder had her best chance to survive, Zia smiled serenely despite her wounds and gently slipped from this life.

Though her wounds were healed, the sudden disappearance of Zia from Julyan’s head made her sure that nothing would halt her impending death. She screamed and cried and begged and flailed her free hand about, but eventually grew quiet, wrapping her free arm around her head and sobbing softly as she recalled the details of her life.

And on my deathbed…

Her mother had never wanted her, never loved her. Her father, though, had needed her…

I will pray to the gods and the angels…

the only people who had ever cared for her had been those who had been paid to do so. It was no wonder she had to run away…

Like a pagan…

Zia had loved her, had nurtured her like no one ever had…

To anyone…

until the day that Micah had arrived. Until then she had been content and secure…

Who will take me to…

But now she was fighting him, unsure of her place, unsure of Zia’s love….

Heaven

And then he had died protecting her. Julyan had not. She was still alive.

To a place… I recall…

Zia was dead now. Only Julyan was left. There was no one in the world who loved her or cared for her, and now, alone, a failure, she was going to die.

I was there so long ago…

Julyan could hardly see anymore, everything had the washed out look of being lit by an impossibly bright spotlight. She stared at the stake through her right hand and barely discerned movement beyond it. Someone cried out, but it seemed as if they did in slow motion. Someone seized Julyan’s shoulder and pulled her onto her back. She could not see his face, everything was too bright. The white light burned brighter still, ‘til it completely obscured her vision, and then suddenly, blissfully, all was black.

OOC- wow! ran out of space, that's a first! song credits to Audioslave, Like a Stone. Maddy, all ready to be rescued. *^_^*