Into the Woods (Attn: Lysira Gaidar)

[Jack]

Jerid Walker Asha'man Jerid exited the Gateway and into the forests of the Haddon Mirk, on his toes and ever alert. Lysira had gone ahead of him by five heartbeats, per tradition. The Gateway snapped shut, but Jerid still kept hold of the raging inferno that was saidin.

The forest around them was somewhat dryer than the rest of the area. The Haddon Mirk had a reputation for being vast, untamed and marshy. Thankfully, the Indigo had been asked to come to an area not that was remarkably dry.

Nothing but the sound of birds and bees and other natural sounds. That didn't ease Jerid's tension. One hand fell to the twin long knives he wore at his side. He was cautious these days, more so than he had been in the decade since the fall of Walker Manor and his second "death" and a life of exile.

Jerid's gold-green eyes flickered toward diminutive Warder ahead of him. He could sense the serene calm in her, splashed in with caution and alertness. The Indigo wasn't concerned for her safety ... well, not overly much. No, his concern was for their son, Cade.

Cade and Lysira had only re-entered his life, and it had been a pleasant affair so far. Neither father nor mother had occasion to leave the Tower, especially since he had become First Seeker. His job was putting out fires and trying to keep a diminished Ajah thriving.

Leaving the Tower's confines made him nervous, but he could not leave without Lysira. The years had changed him, despite the loss of his last Warder. Going anywhere without a bonded Warder was a poor judgment call.

Despite the Tower's relatively apparent safe surroundings, dangers still existed. He knew that all too well, given the number of evils he had dispatched there. And since Lysira had told him the reason of her and Cade's return, Jerid had become more concerned.

Sojin had agreed to shadow his little brother. That eased his concern but did not erase it. While he knew what the Gaidin was capable of as a warrior, there were still things beyond his ability to defeat.

But here, now, Jerid had no choice. A letter had crossed his desk about a ter'angreal from a long retired Indigo Aes Sedai, one he knew only by reputation. She had retired here, in the Haddon Mirk, and had recently acquired what she considered a powerful item of the Power. From the description and as one of the authorities on the subject, Jerid had attend the matter personally.

Lysira gave the all clear with a subtle nod.

Jerid moved forward, hand still on the knife, and soon fell into sync with his Warder. The Power fell from him as he settled back into a duller, more realistic life. It was one he personally preferred.

He was quiet for a while as they headed south. They had a half hour's walk, a reasonable distance to give the Aes Sedai time to prepare the item of Power for departure.

And time to talk with his wife.

"You disapprove, don't you," he asked after a moment. "You think I should have sent someone else here, and that I shouldn't have left Sojin to watch after him, that perhaps I ask the Amyrlin to watch him?"

He loved and respected the new Amyrlin, but he couldn't ask that favor. Nor did he expect his loyalty would ever transfer to her as it had from the last one he had served.

"Cade is safe. He is surrounded by a host of channelers and Warders who see him as a child of the Tower," he said after a moment. "And this mission was too sensitive to trust with anyone else."

[Bella]

Home.

No, this was not home, and yet Lysira Walker Gaidar was at home. She did not well know these surroundings, but she was entirely comfortable in her presence here. Her bond-mate was by her side and they were out in the world, doing what they were meant to do. Every dormant instinct and piece of knowledge that she thought withered away over twenty years in Cairhein had come flaring to life in the Tower and she had not felt so alive in such a long time.

There were dangers, yes. She could never stop being concerned for their son and what forces were after him, but she felt better able to take care of him now than she had before. An unspeakable fate would have befallen them if they'd stayed in the city, but now she had every tool at hand to do what needed to be done, including Jerid.

Like it was meant to be...

The old habits were deep ingrained, and she and Jerid fell into the patterns with ease. The scene was safe, for the time being, and so they moved on their way to do what business needed to be doing. She didn't intend to dally, knowing that both parents should not be aware for long, but rushing could be dangerous and so she didn't plan to do that either.

Her flashing black eyes looked at her husband as he spoke. He sounded...nervous? No, not quite, but it was something on that scale and she wasn't sure she'd ever heard it, in any degree, in his voice. The corners of her mouth curved up in a small but sincere, and reassuring, smile as she lifted her hands.

'You know what they say about assuming, my husband,' she signed. 'I do not disapprove. I understand the reasons. Cade and I returned to the Tower because it was safer than anywhere else for him. The Tower will protect him. I trust your son to keep an eye on his younger brother, and I trust my brothers and sisters of battle to watch out for him as well. I even put the Browns on alert, because the Light knows, he'll sleep there if they let him.'

Her hands moved at a speed that perhaps only a warder could achieve, but she knew he'd follow along fine. He always had. 'I trust he'll be well, and I even think some...time without us could be beneficial. He's safe, and he'll even grow. While you and I will do what we're meant to do, helping to assure his future and the future of the Tower. How could I disapprove of that?'

[Jack]

Jerid almost smiled in relief at Lys's response.

Almost.

Doubt still lingered, not at her own response but his own actions. He could have sent Zae or another in his place. He and Lysira could have remained at the Tower, protected Cade against unknown threats.

Old memories, memories from another life, another Jerid echoed in his mind. In that mirror world, before both had activated that Portal Stone, one Jerid and Lysira had fallen into a trap, with the latter losing her life. By the time he had returned to the Tower, their infant son had died.

Those memories haunted his mind, and there were echoes this life.

"I fear for what might have been, for what one Asha'man did see in another life," Jerid murmured.

The Indigo Asha'man had lost so much. One son to the Seanchan, his daughter and most of his immediate family to the Black Ajah, and so many friends and kin in between and since then. Lysira and Cade were one few things to return into his life.

He stopped, his hand reaching for Lysira's. He pulled her close and kissed her hard for a moment.

Jerid's lips lingered on Lysira's a moment longer before he pressed his head against hers.

"You two are a gift from the Creator, and proof that he does still keep an eye on this world," Jerid murmured. "Proof there is still hope in this world and that it's not just for survival."

His gold-green eyes sparkled briefly, a rare moment of emotion surfacing. The Asha'man had once believe that the Creator had existed, but the day Erin had died all those years ago in Ebou Dar, he had lost faith. Glimmers surfaced, such as the day he had met Anaysis, the day their children had been born and his grandchildren. But they died that night in the Caralain, when he saw most of his kin slaughtered.

"I can't lose either of you, not again," he murmured. He kissed her softly before releasing her and moved back into formation.

"Sojin loves his brother, since the first day he was allowed to hold him. He will defend Cade with his life," he said after a moment, his voice once more cool, almost cold.

The bond defied the coldness, especially when he said Cade's name. He had since accepted his son's decision of name. Jerid only hoped his son understood his namesake's importance, and the role he had played in both parents' lives.

Jerid had counted on and trusted Caden as a brother, a friend and even as a moral conscience. Light alone knew that he was a father to Lysira for all her life.

His eyes scanned the forest around them, almost anticipating a trap. He had been a thief once, and a soldier for so much longer. Lucan had once called him an assassin, so long ago. The dead M'Hael had been right after a fashion: Jerid Walker was an artist when it came to removing the Shadow's tools.

"I've asked Sojin to train Cade how to handle himself, at least in unarmed combat, enough to escape a fight," Jerid said. "But there might be training Sojin isn't qualified to teach. Has Cade shown any glimmer of the spark?" He paused for a second before asking, "Should he be tested?"

[Bella]

The broad strokes of Lysira's life had seemingly been painted in losses and returns. Her family. Herself. Her husband...

That kiss was a dangerous thing, she thought. He could almost shut her mind down with his lips, were it not for the hard-ingrained, deep-seated training of her son's namesake, and then others to follow. As well as the dangers of the life she had led. Her warder senses remained aware despite the intoxicating effect he brought to her...although it was a fight.

His words, the glimmer of emotion in his eyes, the truth in the bond... It was all enough to warm her heart to the feeling that she had made the right decisions now, after more than a decade of second guessing herself.

They began walking again and she listened to him, looking around. Fortunately, she didn't need to look at others to talk, just have them looking at her. This meant she could hear everything he said while keeping an eye on their surroundings, the path before them as well as the one behind them. She didn't feel cause at present to be over-alert, but she was always cautious.

At his question, she signed a little more slowly, like she was thoughtful. 'He has shown no signs, or we would have returned to the Tower a great deal earlier,' she said. Given who his father was, it obviously had not passed her thoughts as he grew. 'I have been rather undetermined about testing him. I want him to choose his life, but now that we're in the Tower, I have thought to ask if he wishes to be.'

[Jack]

Jerid resumed a more natural, observant demeanor as they began walking again. His hand wasn't far from one knife or the other, one ready to draw steel if necessary. Or grasp saidin either.

Deep down, the love expressed just a moment ago still shone like a bright lantern across the bond, but he had to remind himself where they were located. This was the Haddon Mirk, a place claimed by many but settled by few. Most of it was marshland and forest, though they were fortunate to have landed in a dry spot.

Bandits called this place more than either Tear or Cairhien, or those looking to escape. A few settlements were scattered in the back of beyond but most of civilization might have as well eschewed the area. It was impossible to hold, lacked any prime farming ground and most thought it was haunted or cursed.

All are likely true, the Indigo thought.

His eyes flickered toward Lysira and he smiled at her words.

“He should follow his own path, though I doubt a cursory testing would hurt if he should so consent,” Jerid murmured. He spoke with some experience on the matter. He had tested his son Beric so long ago, during one of his self-exiles as a Dedicated. His children were growing, with Angel already besotted with a young Queen's Guard officer and Beric growing into a strong young man.

Beric had tested positive for channeling saidin and had agreed to sign the Soldier Book. He was still young when the Seanchan Siege came and he died defending the Grey Tower. It had been months before Jerid had been told of his death, and in hindsight, probably had been a good decision.

Had he returned the second Beric's death had been revealed, Jerid Walker would have been put on trial in the Hall of Sitters for committing attrocities.

“He deserves a life of his own choosing,” Jerid murmured.

He looked at Lysira. Memories from two different lives flashed in his mind, most pleasant, some painful, some darker than others given how one Jerid lived in a mirror life. A Portal Stone had driven him and Lys beyond apparent reconciliation at one point, and it had taken a decade for the Indigo to fully absorb both personas.

Looking at Lysira now, as the woman he had met so many years ago in the Band of Brothers, he knew where he belonged.

Silence soon fell over them both, and he walked, his mind now focused on the mission.

Seralyn Sedai had once been a powerful Indigo, one who could have been First Seeker or even a Sitter. She chose neither and escaped a few times when it appeared the “honor” would be thrust upon her. She knew a lot about objects of the Power, perhaps as much as Aric Asha'man or even the Carpenter M'Hael at one point.

The message had been clear: She had discovered a powerful and potentially dangerous ter'angreal in the Haddon Mirk and wanted it secure. She apparently knew Jerid by reputation and had contacted him.

“Maybe we should have brought an Aes Sedai,” Jerid murmured as they came within sight of a small cabin. It had seen better days but still had an air of caution and danger. “Perhaps Zae Sedai or a Green.”

He spoke like a soldier now, a logistics expert who had experience with female channelers. He had lost count of those he had killed over the years due to their darker colors.

Five years ago he wouldn't have shared that thought. He would have just called down lightning and be done with the whole thing.

He motioned toward the door, saidin now coursing through him.

“I swear, if this turns out to be a call for a cup of tea and biscuits,” he said after a moment.

[Bella]

Lysira was gone. The Gaidar remained.

They came in sight of the cabin and her senses were more alive than even before, because it always seems to be woven that things just went wrong when you were about to get where you needed to go. When you reached the end of the road and the road had been clear, that's when the path lit on fire or the storm came or the Trollocs ambushed you... She really didn't know why, it just seemed to be the way of things.

His words entered her ear, and had she still been outside her pure warder self, she may have been surprised to hear them. Instead, she just took note and kept forward.

Sight... There was the dingy feel of the forest around them, and the rundown feel of the house. There was an air to it that said it had once been well maintained, but had always been modest. What you usually expect to see from a recluse's home in the middle of a place like this, basically, except gone by. One window looked like it was ill-aligned in its frame and dirty. Grey or black on it, but hard to make out.

Sound... It was quiet. She heard the sound of her heart beating and the sound of her lungs breathing. She heard her footsteps trodding carefully and mingling with his. This place was not like other places and the usual noises of the wilderness were not to be heard, the sounds like small animals and noisy, complaining birds. Sounds she had lived her adolescence among.

Taste... Her mouth had gone dry with her concentration, and the feeling growing in her.

Touch... She felt the leather-wrapped hilt of her sword as her hand rested on it. At this range, trouble was more likely to come close than far enough for her superior bow skills to come into play. She would not pull it and offend the one they came to see, but she wasn't going to keep away from it until she was sure.

Smell... Wait.

Her head jerked to one side as she inhaled deeply through her nose. She looked like an animal catching the scent of its prey on a downwind and her hand suddenly shot out to the side, so quickly that she tapped Jerid across the gut in a silent gesture of "stop." She inhaled deeply again and caught the scent a second time, feeling a chill surround her as she fell into the Void.

Lysira looked at him, tapped her nose, and pulled her sword.

She flowed in front of him like water before a stone. Her head all but circled on her shoulders, taking in every bit of space surrounding them as she took slow, measured steps closer to the door. Nothing presented itself from around them, so it was only the house... Now that she drew nearer, she saw the door was slightly open and one hinge looked broken.

Bloody... she cursed inwardly, holding her sword at the ready as she nudged the door with her toe. It creaked open slowly, but no threat presented itself as it slowly pushed forward. Once the door opened, the scent of decay and burnt flesh assailed them more properly from the darkness of the little house.

Lysira entered first, her dark eyes wide to gain as much sight as possible in the dim light. The house was a single room with a corner cut off by a truly lovely fabric that she would have enjoyed admiring at a different time. It was in disarray, but whether that happened 'before' or 'after' was a question. Looters...? She looked into every shadow, holding her sword in a one-handed guard as she pulled back the curtain.

Nothing. No one was here.

No one...but her.

Now Lysira turned back to see the body on the floor. It was a woman, that was clear, but dead long enough to start rotting and fill the place with the scent of death rising from her charred body. Lysira flowed back to the door and beckoned Jerid in now that she knew it was clear.

[Jack]

Jerid had become silent the second Lysira showed scrutiny over the cabin.

Steel flashed as he drew one long knife, held down and at an angle. While he might have been a powerful battlechanneler, he was a soldier first and just as lethal with a knife.

The Asha'man didn't trust many people beyond Lysira. In fact, he could count them on less than ten fingers.

Saidin was but a grasp away, ready to flood him in a heartbeat

Combined, none could raise his alertness as Lysira did now. He stopped the second she slapped his waist.

Already his mind readied the weaves necessary to level the cabin to the ground with fire and lightning.

His only thought was why Seralyn hadn't done the same. While most might have considered Jerid unique among the Indigo Ajah, Seralyn had been a formidable Aes Sedai in terms of strength. She might not have reached Liana en'Damier's strength but she certainly could give Jerid a run for his gold.

But he stopped himself. This required investigation and his nose already picked up the scent of charred flesh.

He knew even before he stepped into the cabin that the Aes Sedai was no longer alive. It was in his gut.

Lysira's instincts blended with his own as he gripped his knife tighter. He lingered just behind his wife, allowing her to enter the cabin first.

Jerid had lived a very long time and it had not been from stupidity or luck alone. Most might have thought him blessed by the Pattern, a ta'veren, or simply possessed of foresight, but the truth was he had been hyper-vigilant and cautious to an extreme.

The primary foil had been his own pride to think he could defeat or outwit any opponent, a belief he forsook the day the Caralain came crashing down around him.

This had been a trap. How, he couldn't fathom. But it reeked of one, worse than the foul stench that assaulted his senses the second Lysira opened the door.

It would be a simple matter to signal Lysira into retreat and fall back on his initial instinct. Fire and lightning was a good, blunt force tactic that had served him well in the past.

Instead he waited while Lysira entered. The flaming ter'angreal was too bloody important. And if this was foul play, he suspected Black Ajah.

He couldn't afford to have it fall into their hands. Rumor had it Seralyn was notorious for her secrets, even to those she liked.

Jerid saw Lysira lift the fabric from the window. Seconds later, she was at the door to give the all-clear sign.

He was inside the cabin in a heartbeat, his eyes scanning every tidbit. He was cold as ice, inside and out.

He became the shadow the Seanchan feared, quiet and ever alert. Parts of him may as well have blended in with the shadows as he surveyed everything. Furniture was slightly disturbed, enough that Jerid might notice. The few bookshelves in the place seemed ransacked and scratches marred the bare wooden floor not covered by old rugs.

Even the cupboard doors were slightly opened.

But his eyes landed on the body, charred and crumpled nearly beyond recognition. Only the teeth seemed to remain intact, albeit blackened. Two teeth were missing, another blackened gold.

This was the woman Jerid and Lysira had come to see. He nearly knelt, ready to whisper a prayer of forgiveness when he sensed it.

Saidin erupted inside him in a heartbeat, enough to send a signal to most male channelers within a half-mile. The jade ring angreal he wore on a chain around his neck amplified the amount he held enough to match even Durent Asha'man for strength.

A heart beat later, he deflected the sharp thread of Spirit aimed at him. Two heartbeats more and he had already neared Lysira, his hand moving in a sharp movement to stay still as the Ward around them formed.

Jerid had learned a lot during the Battle of the Lights and attack by the Fiery Serpent and his minions. Not all lessons had been from the Grey Tower.

A Ward of dense threads of all five Powers surrounded them and the body, a shield as strong as the most powerful Seanchan armor. Arms of saidin surrounded them, as dark as the weaves he had seen during the war for Tar Valon, enough to turn men and women into cinders.

“Show yourself now or I will burn this place to the ground,” Jerid said simply. His voice was ice cold. Every emotion, including his love for his wife, had been submerged.

“And sacrifice your whore,” said a cloy voice. It was an Amadician accent, slightly familiar but one that Jerid couldn't place.

Their surroundings blurred for a moment before several figures became present. Three men in front of them, and nearly a dozen more around them. It had been an illusion.

All of the people were heavily armed, except for one to either side and the one in front of him and Lysira. And only the one in front of them dared show his face: young, plain, olive complexion. He was from Amacida, dressed in black wool. He was definitely an Asha'man, but Jerid could not place him.

“You can't.” the man said. His hazel eyes looked at the charred body. “Just as you attempt to save this one, you fail to save this whore.”

One weave, one forbidden weave and he could rid the Pattern of this man. But morals restricted him.

The man's hazel eyes fell on Lysira and he said proudly, “He's failed you, know, the whores he's claim to have protected. The once and future Amyrlin is gone, her granddaughter robbed of her unborn child. Even the woman he loved, his Gaidar during his second death and the mother of their unborn child, dead.”

Jerid nearly wavered. He wanted to rush the man and stick his knife in its throat. Sienna, his Warder and love, had been with child the day she had died years ago during their hunt of the Black Ajah. Against his better judgment he had allowed her to continue in the Warder role.

The man's other comments hit low belts as well. Liana en'Damier Sedai had lost her unborn child to poison while Jerid had been away in the Caralain, a mistake he blamed himself for. Either father, Caithlan Damodred or Lembirt Antii, had also been unable to prevent the tragedy. Liana had been one of Jerid's closest friends and under House Walker's protection And he had failed in that duty.

The question was how this man knew everything.

“Mind your tongue before I wear it for a trophy” Jerid said sharply.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Said the man who failed to bring his children's to justice. Or his son's.”

The Ward was only protected one way. Jerid could maintain it and still kill the main threat before he died and it collapsed.

“The ter'angreal, now, before you or your whore dies. Or perhaps, stay here while the Great Lord targets those whom he sees as greater bounties. The silver haired boy, so proud but wanting to impress his father, the daughter who stands in her father's shadow.”

His eyes landed on Lysira. “Perhaps the harlot's own boy, the scholar and the joy of both parents' lives. The heir to their hearts could be preserved, turned to the Great Lord's own divine grace...”

Jerid was a heartbeat way, all it would take would be a knife to end the man's life.

Before he could act, however, he sensed something. It was a feeling he had never encountered before and it was coming from Lysira.

[Bella]

Oh, if only she had a voice!

When Jerid reacted and the illusions melted, Lysira could have cursed up a storm that would have had the most indecent of sailors reeling from the explosion of colorful metaphors. They would've been blind if they could have read her thoughts as she felt her body seize with the innate instinct of the warder as she stood by her Asha'man's side and faced them.

Her sword had never left her hand since they had entered, but Jerid's ward--as she knew he had done by the situation--kept her from having to use it right away. The talking gave her time. Time to analyze her situation.

There were three right in front of them and five scattered in the small house. She could see five through the dirty windows. How in the name of... Deep breath. How had they managed to avoid her finding them in some way, crammed into this tight space as they were. Even with illusion, there were limits and one would've thought she could have surpassed them in her search.

It didn't matter. She could not change what had been. She had to focus on what was.

The talking one kept calling her a whore. She didn't let it effect her as she examined what she could of all those around her and measured her battle plans, although she did wonder why. She had been called that, or at least eluded to it, once before. Many, many years ago when she had chosen Jerid over Lucan...and the latter had not been pleased. (In retrospect, a good call on her part.)

Again, it didn't matter.

Very outnumbered. Very outnumbered...but she refused to let herself linger on that. They were both skilled warriors, her husband and she, and the small space would work against their enemy as much as it would against them. Perhaps more so since there were more of them and none were as little and lithe as this little Gaidar. (Her size had always made her deceptive, and she always was underestimated.)

He again tried to poke holes in her composure mentioning those who came before (and during, and after, which was now before again) Lysira. But she knew. Even that which Jerid had not told her explicitly, she knew. She accepted and let it go. Life was too fragile, she had decided, to live a life of jealousy and anger. He loved her, she had no doubt. He loved the others, she had no doubt.

Lysira had come to a life where she stopped believing love to be finite. Jerid was hers again, and she was contented. This irritating man's words made no difference on that.

Then, however, the irritating one made a mistake.

He threatened her son.

Something dark rose up in Lysira. It was something she had felt hints of before, particularly during her mission on the Blight border patrol, but this felt deeper. It came so fast that she had no time to even try to name it, and even if she had the time from it rising slow, there was no time now. There was an enemy before her and that mouth had to be shut, and fast. Permanently. Violently. Bloodily.

The darkness seemed to steal her reason, but not her training or her instincts. She flexed her hand on her sword with a low hiss of her breath escaping her body and a slightly bloodshot look to her eyes as she surged forward. Jerid's ward permitted passage through and she was through in a heartbeat, whirling like a tornado and flipping her sword grip.

Apparently, they hadn't been expecting that. They hesitated in surprise as she lunged for the one who had been talking, and she spun with her sword reversed so it flowed like a part of her arm. He moved just in time to avoid a killing blow, but she sliced a good line across his chest and the scent of blood tang on the air seemed to feed the darkness. The man used the innate instinct of humanity to toss a nuisance away, and threw her into the small group that had been on his left.

Her sheer weight toppled one, but she did not lose her feet.

Instead, she stood on him and drove her sword down through his neck with a loud squelching noise. She was grabbed from behind, big arms wrapping around her and lifting her up. Her sword was in a death grip, however, and came with her. One of the faceless ones surged forward to take advantage of her bound form, but instead she threw her weight back, kicking him in the face with both feet before throwing her legs down and pulling the man holding her off-balance and forward with her...

OOC: Stopping here before I end up writing a literally bloody opus...

[Jack]

The enemy combatants weren't the only ones surprised by Lysira's sudden attack. Jerid could sparsely believe the fury with which the small Gaidar rushed out from the Ward.

Before he could react, she had already landed a blow on the Dreadlord. One that nearly dropped him too.

Disbelief didn't stop him from taking quick account of their opponents.

At least that's what he assumed as he took count of the numbers. Three to the left, two the right, which was where Lysira ended up after being swatted away with a band of Air. The two men flanking the channeler, just as stunned by the small Gaidar's rush, reacted to a slightly off-balanced channeler.

That left five outside, based on the sound. And they were moving in.

“You shouldn't have mentioned our son,” Jerid said a second before the giant oaf to his side lifted Lysira off the ground. He had already woven the thread of Air that flung the three men in front of him backward with a sickening thud when one man rushed him from the right and two from behind.

The problem with Jerid's Ward was that it was only one directional. One of the masked men from his right shouted a command to stop but it proved fruitless. All three rushing fools collided with an invisible barrier.

Hard. One bounced back into his companions to the left, another crumpled from behind, while the third one was only stunned by the sound of his breathing.

Then the Ward was down and Jerid spun, his knife coming up in a reverse grip across the small man's jugular. Blood sprayed across Jerid's face as the enemy dropped like a paper doll on top of his unconscious compatriot.

What a sight he must have made, his face and clothes covered in blood, with a knife that might as well been an extension of his own body.

The third man to enter from outside rushed him with slender sword, while the other two rushed toward Lysira's direction.

He was only marginally aware of a groaning sound and collapse that was all too masculine, albeit at a much higher pitch. Jerid had to slink to one side as the sword sliced past him. Deep in the void, he felt steel graze his side, past cloth and into skin.

The Indigo reacted as the man lost his balance from the momentum, and before he could recover the long knife sank into side of the Darkfriend's head. The ferocity of the attack wrenched the lodged knife from Jerid's hand.

By then, two of the three people from his left had gained momentum. The third hung back, this one smaller and more feminine. Goosebumps rose and Jerid knew her to be the larger threat. And yet his own wife was outnumbered.

Light, but he had been a fool to have come without another channeler.

The second long knife came free from Jerid as the two men charged, one wielding a wicked-looking knife and the other a club spiked with nails.

It was instinct, part of it fueled by Lysira's own apparently bottomless rage and part of it honed by more than a century of survival.

The man with the knife was to his left, the one with the club to his right. His main objective was centered. And then gone as the back wall burned behind her in perfect symmetry, leaving an escape route.

The man with the club nearly landed a blow but found himself falling to the floor with a long slash across face and throat. Unfortunately the knife-wielder managed to pierce his left shoulder, forcing Jerid to pull back. The force yanked the knife from the man's hand, and the blade clattered to the ground.

Adrenaline and the Power coursed through Jerid and as the Darkfriend tried to lunge with a second knife, the Indigo channeled. The shouted for one second as he burned and then he fell on top of his comrade.

Pain ripped through him as he spun on his heel, now seeing his wife surrounded by a number of opponents, one of them directly between her and Jerid. And Lysira's back turned to him.

The long knife flew through the air, catching the Darkfriend in between the shoulders.

He was about to intervene when he saw movement from the where the Dreadlord had been tossed back. The foul creature was attempting to get up, but before Jerid could react, the haphazard weave of Air knocked him back.

Both channelers were still discombobulated by their mutual wounds.

Jerid's training taught him to land at least with minimal injury, but as it turned into a rolling fall, he winced, landing on his injured left shoulder.

Pain shot through him and the world blurred. He clung stubbornly to saidin as he heard the Dreadlord wheeze, “Kill the channeler, you fool. Leave the whore alive so she can watch and feel as he dies and then as her whelp joins him.”

Flaming bloody ashes, will the man just shut up already! was the only thought he could form as he tried to regain his feet. His only instinct was to form the weave of sharp Spirit blindly in the man's direction. He heard a scream and felt another jolt of pain as a knife pierced his left side from the back. Jerid looked down and behind him to see the one man who had been knocked unconscious in the barrier had stabbed him. His dead pal still pinned his legs but he had enough reach to stab Jerid, and he was ready to do it a second time.

The Indigo's boot smashed in the man's grin and the Darkfriend fell limp again.

That was about all he could do as he fell to his knees, the world blurring again.

[Bella]

The darkness in her grew. It was not shadow, but something inside her that dimmed the world. She was barely aware of who she was in those moments, just knew the dimness of her self-awareness... The sweet scent of blood on the air... The sounds of fighting and words, but the words were nothing to her. They were meaningless. Pitiful.

There was something else... That knot in the back of her mind that was more than herself. She was aware of it, but the details of its nature faded in the dark.

With her body thrown forward, her feet touched the ground and the one on her back was off-balance. She threw her small head back and shattered his nose. Blood soaked her hair and there was pain, but she didn't feel it. She knew it was there, but it didn't touch her as she felt him let go and stagger back. The pain touched him. While the one she'd put her boots into was staggering to his feet.

Reaching out with one hand, she grabbed his hair and held his head while she slammed her knee up into his throat and heard the sound of the small bones around his windpipe cracking. He fell, gurgling and clutching his throat as he suffocated on his blood.

The one with the broken nose recovered and came for her again. He returned the favor she'd paid his friend by grabbing her hair and spinning her around, then hit her hard across the face. Her lip split and she jerked her head back around with a blood-stained smile, spitting it back into his face before coming around in a wide arcing hit, shoving her small but hard fist into his cheekbone before jerking her sword-arm around and shoving it up into his gut, slipping into his ribcage. His eyes widened with shock.

He collapsed, but took her sword with her. She started to tear it free when suddenly there was another one. He had a sword and he lunged at her, enraged perhaps by the death of the others. She didn't know. She didn't care.

Abandoning her own weapon, she hopped back in time to miss the full thrust of his blade. The tip of it caught her stomach and started in, enough to make her bleed but not enough to penetrate anything important. She felt the blood run down to her pants, but still, she didn't care. It didn't touch her. She spit more blood from her lip as he pulled back for another thrust. She grabbed his sword with the flat of her hand, cutting it but not cutting too deep as she shoved it away and jumped.

She hit hit chest and sent him to the ground. He punched her and caught her cheekbone. Snapping her head to one side, she jerked back quickly and punched his neck in one quick but vicious hit. He coughed and and swung wildly with his outer arm in revenge before he died, and he was dying, catching her on the side of the head and sending her off his body.

He couldn't follow through but she saw stars for a moment and staggered to her feet. She swayed slightly but grabbed the hilt of her sword and tore it out of the dead man as she heard another man's steps. She started to turn and found one last on his feet, and closer than she had expected. A short blade drove into her shoulder. His aim showed he wasn't used to opponents this short. It was shallow. It bled. She stared at it for a moment and then looked up at him and drove her sword through his gut.

"How..." he coughed, spitting blood on her face before sliding down to the floor, limply falling off her blade.