The Grey Tower

Killing Elia with his bare hands? Ha! Perhaps Murdock’s professed ambition could be directed in a very useful way… but not quite yet. Not now. Why not? The mental image of Murdock choking Elia did not seem as desirable as it should, and he felt a strange wrenching in his gut. Emmond didn’t know why. If only he wasn’t bonded to the bloody woman, he told himself. Or to this madman. There had to be some way to break these bonds…

He turned his attention to diverting Murdock’s silly notion.

“I remember,” said Emmond, slowly. “I thought that you would never ask.”

Although this was not the first time someone had approached Emmond with the idea of reviving the dead, it was the first time that he hoped someone would succeed. If he still had a conscience, then he would have told Murdock nothing. But he had decided to bury any qualms long ago. And certainly he could have no misgivings from offering this 'opportunity' to a man whom he hated.

Emmond crossed his arms and took deep breath. If he could move, then he would have begun pacing the room.

“What you are asking for is an exchange. It is a deal struck, a bargain made. Like all bargains, all you need is to meet the right person, in the right place, and bring an offering. The trouble is in the details, of course.”

It had been over thirty years since he had discovered that the stories of the Great Lord’s power - some of the stories - were true. Well, partially true. There were unwanted twists and distasteful turns to everything the Shadow touched. Despite the years, the memories were as painful as ever.

“First, to seek the right person. You need to find someone who can channel the Great Lord’s power. Umbrial was of great assistance when I first sought help for this task. Unfortunately, someone killed him. And I doubt he left any notes.”

Emmond grinned humorlessly.

“Second, to find the right place. The bargain is made on the slopes of Shayol Ghul. Actually, it is made in the Pit of Doom itself, but I do not know what takes place there. The channeler that took me there performed the task. I waited outside."

"Finally, the offering. There must be blood shed. A life for a life.” He grimaced. "Innocent blood, Murdock. Mine certainly won’t do, nor would Elia’s. A life untouched by the Shadow. A daunting task, isn’t it? To seek a powerful channeler, to travel to the Blasted Lands, and to spill innocent blood. It is even more difficult than it sounds. But you are no stranger to sacrifice.”

And neither was I, he thought. Neither was I, until I realized the true cost of my desire. And by then, it was too late.

He paused for a moment. Through the bond, Murdock had become very still. Emmond’s voice dropped low.

“Would you still do anything, Murdock? For Giselle."

Murdock was all attention now, rapt and alert in the bond. He sat watching Emmond as if he could see the instructions more than hear them, his brown eyes unblinking, his expression stern with fervour. In his mind, he was able to reduce these steps into simple, manageable parts, because when it came to Giselle there was no obstacle too great. If he had to do something, then he would do it, it was plain and simple.

Find a powerful channeller. He’d have to pull the right strings, ask the right questions. That would be the most difficult part, and Murdock only had his Rending as a bargaining tool.

Get to Shayol Ghul. Bah, he could do that. A powerful channeller wouldn’t want to waste any time, they would probably Skim there. Murdock knew that nobody would want to be there any longer than necessary.

The last part, spilling innocent blood? That was a little more complicated, but only just. Really it was a matter of getting someone innocent and slicing them open. Heck, if it was someone the Shadow wanted to get rid of he could kill two birds with one stone. Maybe they'd even let him experiment on them first...

“Would you still do anything, Murdock? For Giselle.” If Emmond thought Murdock was reconsidering, he was going to be disappointed. He didn’t expect it to be easy, these things never were.

The Brown looked up from where he’d focussed his gaze on the far wall, but that determination was back. Hah! Did Emmond truly underestimate his love for his wife, and the lengths he would go to for her? “For Giselle? I would do anything. This is no exaggeration, Emmond. You want innocent blood spilled? I’ll tear a child inside out if that’s what it takes. I’ll Rend their muscles to goo and feed them to a trolloc. I’ll crawl from here to Shayol Ghul on my hands and knees, then do it again if they tell me to come back in a week.”

His hands were shaking, and Murdock had to sit on them to keep them still. It almost worked too. “Tell me,” he said, keeping his voice closer to its usual tone, “why did you go? What did you get from this? Tell me the full story.” Whatever Emmond knew, Murdock wanted to find out.

“Same reason as you,” said Emmond. “To bring someone I loved back from the dead.”

Then he paused to gather his thoughts. Despite his skill at drawing the stories out of others, Emmond rarely spoke about himself. It made him feel strangely self-conscious. His words came haltingly.

“I was fifteen years old when I last saw my sister alive. Six years later, I learned that she had died. There wasn’t anything to be done back then… but I digress. Eventually I came to the Tower and became an Asha’man. Then the Black Ajah found me. I suppose that my discontent with the Three Oaths didn’t go unnoticed.”

He lapsed again into silence. When he spoke again, the sentences were precise and abrupt.

“Umbrial and I worked together for our Ajah. This was many years ago, before he left the Tower. He found a man named Kaleth who was a favored servant of the Great Lord. Kaleth kept an unusual woman with him. Umbrial told me that she had died once, and then was returned to life by Kaleth's power and the Great Lord’s blessing.

“So I resolved to convince Kaleth to help me, too. I bribed his servants, but they reported nothing. I seduced his woman, but she also had nothing to offer. Finally, I resorted to trading him my own expertise and services… which, surprisingly, worked. It seemed that Kaleth had always wanted access to the Black Ajah…

“Anyways, so we set off. I convinced a young man to come with us. He thought that we were going to strengthen the seals to the Great Lord’s prison... Ha! We Traveled to the border of the Blight. Then with Kaleth’s help, we trekked across the Blight and to the Blasted Lands. And on the slopes of Shayol Ghul, Umbrial and I waited while Kaleth went in with our sacrifice. He returned with a woman. But that woman was not the same sister I had lost. She had changed.

“Perhaps she had been too long in the Great Lord’s grasp. Perhaps it had been too long since I had known her, before her death. Or perhaps she had never forgiven me for… something that had happened in the past. She was rather displeased and tried to kill me. She was unreasonable, almost insane. And quite strong in the Power. Kaleth died. Umbrial and I fled.

“Last I heard, she was a powerful Dreadlord and held the privilege of channeling the Great Lord’s power. You are welcome to try and find her, unless you know of someone else who is both strong and favored by the Great Lord. If you ever meet her, I would strongly advise you against mentioning me.”

“And her name? I knew her as Herah. Though perhaps I never knew her at all. Either way, I consider my sister dead.”

Emmond smiled thinly.

“I hope that your attempt will be more pleasant,” he said, lightly. “Now if there isn’t anything else, may I return to the kitchens? The Mistress of the Kitchens has been rather short-tempered today. Given recent events, perhaps you can understand why.”

Murdock’s attention was on Emmond when he spoke, and he took a pencil from his pocket to write in the back of the book he hadn’t been reading. There was a blank page he had every intention of filling with whatever information he could about this procedure.

It was supposed to fill him with hope and determination. Murdock was so adamant that he would get what he wanted, what he deserved, that it would bring Giselle back to him. The woman he remembered from years together in Far Madding, his strong and dominant wife who ruled the household with a firm but loving hand…

… he wasn’t going to get her back, was he?

Murdock felt his hope being pressed against, and he tried to fight it, he really did. Things would be different for him. Giselle would never turn on him. She would still love him, she would be happy to see him, she would be the woman he had married and raised their children with. It would be like no time had passed at all and they could continue as they were, couldn’t they?

But Giselle was not an agent of the Dar- er, Great Lord. She was a firm believer in the Creator and his love and light, and anything less than that would not do her justice. It made sense to Murdock that the shadow would only bring back people tailored to their cause, and Giselle… was not that person currently. To be returned to life, to be changed to suit the needs of the Shadow, was that what Murdock wanted?

He thought so. Even if she hates you for it?

Giselle will be mine again. Even if he had to get someone to… convince her.

A Giselle turned to the Shadow would be alive, and she would be his. Murdock could not, and would not, live without her. Was it selfish? Oh, no doubt about it, but even this Giselle would be better than the current void crushing his chest from the inside from living without her. When it came down to it, they would have each other and what else was there to consider? Love was love, and Murdock knew, because he had to believe this, that Giselle would love him even if death divided them.

He hadn’t written a thing down. Murdock’s own determination to succeed even with these odds stacked against him had stilled his pencil in his hand, his grip white against the wood. The Brown exhaled, his voice calm where his emotions were turbulent. “It will not be an attempt – it will be a success. I will make it so.” He looked down at his hand as the pencil snapped in half, jagged wood grating against his skin. He hardly felt it. “You can go, Emmond. None of this is to be shared with Elia.”

He leaned back in his seat, watching as Emmond dismissed himself at last. That smarmy, insufferable sleaze. He and Elia deserve one another. He looked down at the book in his hands, at the empty page and the snapped pencil. With a frustrated growl Murdock threw the book across the room, where it scraped along the floor with dents along the sides and the pages squished out of place.