The Grey Tower

“You don’t win battles with hate. Anger and hate can make you brave, make you strong, but they also make you stupid. You end up tripping over your own two feet.”

Miahala Ives Sedai Inside, Miahala Sedai was laughing. A reaper of destruction, she had known for many a decade that this was what she had been born to do; trained to do. Tempered in the flame of the Shadow's forge, she was the red hot blade of a sword that sheared through their inhuman enemy with ease. The appearance of Sojin was just enough to catch her attention and make her smirk at him, the fire flashing through her blue-green eyes like flames over oil on water.

She trusted him to have her back and she surged ahead. Cords of Air flew from her and wrapped around two Trollocs, yanking them back into razor wires that left steaming piles of beast. Their compatriots came rushing toward her, four in total. From one side, Sojin's blade came upon their flank while she corded Air and Fire with its thread of Water, like her chain lightning earlier but a thicker strand of Water that she pushed into their bloodstreams. They stopped in their tracks as dark blood poured from their noses and smoke rose from their eyes as the fluid in their sockets boiled.

A fifth ran over the steaming piles of its comrades, a giant-headed axe in its hands. It roared with its animal head as it rushed for her. Mia skipped back several steps as she force cords of Earth to rise beneath its feet, sending it off-balance. It fell onto its back and its black armor was met with the sharp point of a sword.

Mia lifted her gaze but her eyes shifted past the scene just as several Trollocs further ahead on the field suddenly collapsed and the Green knew that a Fade had been slain. Her eyes glinted with this knowledge until their narrowed in on the one who had brought it and she realized it was her great granddaughter. A slice of emotion ran through her, concern for her blood, but she saw Riahana moving to the Gateway--clearly injured but moving to where she could get help.

Knowing this, she pushed the emotions away--the Void had never been her harbor, but she was a woman of strict control--and felt instead a feeling of pride for her kin's skill.

However, there was still more work to be done. The remaining Trollocs had seen the Gateway and were rushing for it. They would not pass its threshold, however.

Not if Miahala Ives had anything to say about it.
Gareth Tomason Asha'man The call had gone out to the Yellows that help was needed immediately at the Training Yards. Although one was left to man the Infirmary, if there was an emergency then the Tower would need the strength of its Healers. That meant Gareth, and he moved quickly. Not one to rely just on his ability with the One Power, he grabbed a bag with bandages and herbal remedies before racing out of the Infirmary and to the Traveling Yards.

It was barely organized chaos there, with the stream of refugees pouring through and the sight of the fighting on the other side of the Gateway. In the moment of urgency, the large man had not put together the sense from the little knot of existence in his mind and the melee here...

Riahana. He knew his warder, and wife, was on the other side of that Gateway. It took every fiber of his being to not rush through and find her, but he knew that he would do less good in that chaos and more good here. She was a skilled warrior, not Gaidar Captain for nothing, and she would make good. He had his own duty to see to, and he would do the same. He forced himself to look away from the Gateway and the fighters going through that he longed to join, and back to the injured men and women coming through.

Finding those who were amassed in the assistance, Gareth began sending directives to those who seemed to be struggling with the lack of organization--setting up those to guide the mass out of the direct path from the Gateway and to an area where they could be easily tended to; setting others to working triage, making sure that those with the worst injuries received first treatment; and then others to bandages and salves for the minor wounds, so the One Power could be used on those with the greatest need.

Gareth was helping with the worst cases when the bond all but screamed in his mind and he knew that his wife had been injured. He almost jerked with the feeling and it was only the greatest effort of will that kept him from losing his focus on the patient he was with. As soon as he was done, he tore off and left the wounded momentarily to the others. He raced to the Gateway just in time to find his wife, and her horse, coming through.

"Ria!" he shouted in his rumbling voice.

“Power rises to the top like cream.”

Sojin Majere Gaidin Sojin didn't know the whole context of the battle or the entire scenario, but at the moment he didn't care.

His main priority was the defense of the Green Aes Sedai at his side and keeping the Trollocs away from the Gateway.

While Miahala dealt with advancing opponents, the silver-haired Gaidin defended their flank.

Both Caden Ives and Lord Sigmund had drilled into him the value of protecting an Aes Sedai, training that came on top of so many years as a solider.

However, much like Miahala, he was enjoying himself. Or rather was at peace. Battle was in his blood.

Two Trollocs approached from Miahala's left, and Sojin was in front of them.

His broadsword came up agains the dimwitted foot soldiers. He ducked beneath one scythe sword before, his blade coming up in a sharp thrust in an exposed portion of the beast's hide. The beast grunted as Sojin withdrew and he rotated a heartbeat later as the second Trolloc attempted to approach Miahala.

It was still several steps away when its head went flying into another Trolloc, downing the surprised beast in a stunned move.

From his peripheral vision, he saw a third a goatheaded Trolloc, with a mace raised, approach as the remaining beasts attempted to rush the Gateway.

Sojin was immediately thrown into the past, nearly fifteen years ago, when a similar scenario occurred.

The beast charged with a mace at a pregnant Saphire and Sojin was in the way, his saber hilt deflecting the blow. He skewered it without a second thought. And then he saw the second one with a club swing ...

The sword plunged into the Trolloc's neck, and it was pulled from Sojin's hand. He let the blade go, spinning as he drew a second throwing knife from his belt. The Trolloc coming from Miahala's backside with a spear never knew what hit it. The knife sliced through the air, flinging it with such ferocity that it penetrated the thing's helmet and knocked it flat to the ground.

"You'd better watch your rear, Miahala," Sojin said aloud with a grim smile. "It's too fine to let it be skewered."

Sojin retrieved the fallen, wicked spear. And then his eyes were on the gateway and the contingent of Trollocs heading in that direction.

"Miahala, retreat with fire," Sojin said simply, yet loudly. It was a not-so-subtle tactic for an offensive retreat toward enemy.

Then a fresh batch of lightning fell from the sky into the remaining horde. Sojin stole a look toward the Gateway and saw a new person on the ranks.
Jerid Walker Asha'man Jerid applied his fifth healing weave on a badly mangled man, spinning the flows of the Power together to knit torn flesh and sinew together and sealing the skin of where a leg had been lost.

Paundemoioun reigned in the immediate area as Tower personnel attempted to deal with unexpected influx of patients and refugees.

He had sent word to Zae Sedai to bring angreal to the area and distribute them among Healers in the Infirmary.

At the moment, he was one of only several Healers in the area, handling what he could. The Indigo Asha'man focused only on that for the reason of sanity. He had shrouded the bond with Lysira simply so both could focus on their own duties.

Light knew if he remained entirely conscious of his Warder and wife's activity, he would be on the other side of the gateway.

He breathed easier when Gareth entered the scene, noting one of the more trained Healers had entered the fray. Several moments later he saw him rush toward the gateway. Toward the Gaidar Captain that had emerged wounded through the gateway.

The First Seeker made a split decision. He was already moving, saidin coursing through him and augmented by the green jade ring angreal he wore.

He motioned sharply toward a familiar brown-haired Sa'Ji'Dar, who took the motion with understanding and levity. Her hand was at the side of her jian and already in synch with the Asha'man.

Lysira would kill him if he entered the fray unprotected.

As Gareth approached his Warder, Jerid was already next to him.

"Asha'man, see to your Warder, but hurry, this place will need your experience," he said harshly. "Angreal are on the way along with all available Healers from the Indigo Ajah. They report to you."

Before the other man could respond, Jerid was already moving, the trainee in lockstep ahead of him.

And he crossed the threshold, quickly assessing the situation as he entered the Void. Legends in the Tower alone surrounded Jerid Walker. The former Master of Soldiers and Keeper of Archives, the First Seeker held his reputation for being knowledgeable in objects of the Power and Portal Stones; but his legacy was that as a soldier and battlechanneler surpassed anything else.

It looked like most of the Trollocs were done for, but there still remained a herd or two to be dismantled. Ahead, he could pick out both his son and Miahala Sedai holding the line.

"Enough is enough," he said harshly. And then he channeled.

Lightning fell from the sky, first in single bolts and then in rapid succession. It crashed into the remaining hordes like spears from the sky, dealing death and destruction. He was briefly aware of the Sa'Ji'dar standing in front, sword held at mid-guard. One errant Shadowspawn crossed his path, and it was dead.

Jerid frowned slightly and the lighning increased. Very soon after, the enemey's world became fire as that very element erupted among their ranks.

“If the Creator was watching—he detested happiness.”

Ubriel watched as the fight became so evenly matched that the tide of the Light against the Shadow was quickly cresting in a wave of triumph. She turned her head this way and that, no longer needing to issue orders as every man and woman was pursuing the cause on their own. Peach was slowly walking up the hill, toward the place where the Gateway had been and Ubriel saw Zacharyn. Like a phantom dream on the gorey landscape, he was wreaking havoc on the monstrous beasts that came into his path. Some charged him and slammed head first into balls of fire drilling through their faces and out the backs of their heads. Others were reeling backward from the blows inflicted by others when they met the destructive force of Zacharyn's wrath.

She watched him for a moment and grinned to see him exuding his power. Then he saw her and he tore through the three beasts between them to reach her side. Looking down at him as he approached she said, "I love you!" Looking around again, she saw that the fight was thinning. There seemed to be one great knot of struggle pushing toward the western gate of the town. "Are you ready to move to secure the western gate?"

Ubriel waited long enough for Zacahryn's nod and then urged Peach toward the last knot of battle.

Gareth Tomason As his wife slid from her horse, Gareth's large arms were quickly there to catch her. He heard what she said, even as slurred as the words were, but it hadn't been hard for him to guess that on his own. He knew that this spot was no place to work on her and he moved swiftly with her in his grip back to the "infirmary" area that had been laid out. Lex followed obediently, and he let her have her head. He couldn't manage both injured Gaidar and horse...

He laid her down on a pallet that one of the infirmary's trainees had placed for the wounded that were being taken care of or were recovering now. Once down, he formed the net of Spirit that came as easily as breathing and forced his mind to be quiet and easy. His panic over her wounds would not at all help her, so he forced himself to be steady. The Delving weave settled over her and he was aware of her fully. One might say intimately, but this was not as much fun as that.

Once he had found her wounds, he pulled the net back in like a fisherman with no fish. He let the Spirit dissipate and let the sounds of the chaos around him dim so he could pull together the weaves of Healing. She had lost a great deal of blood and he swiftly knit together the muscles and arteries. There had been a poison to that blade as well, but it had strangely not far infiltrated her system and he flushed it clear of her body before knitting together her other injuries.

He knew he would not have long with her once she was done, others would need him and although he had appeared deaf to it he had heard Jerid Asha'man's words, but he would stay at her side until he was assured of her health...
Lysira Walker The diminutive Gaidar had stayed on her horse probably longer than anyone else. Cutting through the mayhem, she let her arrows fly from her higher vantage point and took the best advantage of her range. She was aware of all things and one thing at every moment, utilizing the lessons that had been so long ingrained into her: that one's target should be one's focus, but that losing attention on the things in one's surroundings could be fatal.

Sweat slipped down the lines of her body beneath her armor, sluicing between breast and shoulder blade alike, but she gave it little mind as she loosed her arrows. She tried to drive ahead and help Riahana, but a pair of Trollocs interceded once she had scored a few arrows for the cause against the fade and her horse reared back. Hooves drove down into the skull of one, putting him to the ground with a horse's weight upon it, but the other was not so easily caught.

The beast was so tall that it could look in her in the eye from where she sat, letting one hand off the bow, she pulled her dagger from her hip as she saw the thing coming straight for her. Taking the blade, she shoved it forward into the thing's eye and listened to its bestial roar as it flailed back. Her grip on the weapon forced her balance off and she let go, but had to dismount in the process lest she dismount by falling instead.

She pulled her sword as the battle grew to close quarters, feeling shadows in her mind that teased the edges of her mind. She didn't understand them, but couldn't afford to give them much attention.

So, on she fought.

A vicious swing of a Trolloc ax nearly took off her head when she felt the blossoming awareness, the nearness, of her bond-mate. He had suddenly gone from very far to very near. That bloody man, she cursed inwardly, ducking just in time to save her neck (literally). As she came back up, she was under its arm and in its range. She rose up with her sword straight up, driving it under the things unguarded chin. It's blood poured out, landing on her head and face but she did not move away, twisting the blade as she drove it deeper in. A terrible squelching noise came forth.

As it began to fall forward, she drove her small body into one side and managed just enough impact to make it fall to the side and not on her, her sword tearing free as it did so.

Injuries were littered on her body like remnants of a forgotten picnic left on the grass. Nothing bad enough to draw her down, yet, but she knew their toll would wear on her soon. For now, however, there were more beasts to fight. From her short vantage point, she wasn't sure where everyone else was. The horde had divided them, but she saw the lightning and the raging infernos and knew that some of the Tower's heavy hitters had entered the fray, and she knew her husband was among them.

Slicing and stabbing her way, she worked slowly in the direction of her bond-mate while still narrowing down the enemy numbers...
Miahala Ives The world was nothing but fire, and blood, and screams...

Amid the bedlam, Miahala could hear a cry of "to the west gate" as it echoed with fervor through the battlefield. Sojin had remained close and she was glad for the company. Not far off, she could see Jerid raining lightning upon the enemy and the ardor of battle kept her blood racing and made her feel more alive than she had in a while. For her, there was no fear of death... After all, she had been dead before.

The Gateway had closed, and the last of the numbers around them were dead and dying. The remaining cluster of battle seemed to be around the west gate. She met Sojin's gaze for a moment and said nothing. They had fought well as a team, she thought, and nodded to him before they took off in the direction of the other fighters.

What was a battle without a foe? And they were running out here.

As they rushed to the peripheral, joining the other forces of the Tower and the Border Patrol, Mia dragged cords of Earth up and trapped several Trollocs in a rising mountain; to be finished off by nearer warriors that she did not want to catch in a spray of vicious Air. All warriors had their place and even as a power Aes Sedai, she knew that she had her own. These last enemies were closer to her comrades than many of the others had been and precision was called for here.

That didn't mean they wouldn't die just as quickly as the others, but just in new ways.

Jerid Walker Asha'man ...the West Gate...

His saidin-enhanced hearing caught the cry from the field of battle as the Gateway closed. The Indigo's gold-green eyes moved toward the west entry of the complex, toward the swarm of Trollocs that still remained.

And he felt Lysira's pull, noticed that his Warder was making her way toward him. He kept that section isolated from the rest of his mind. A glance from the Sa'Ji'dar protecting him to the gate was all that was needed and they were moving.

An errant Trolloc snuck past the skilled trainee and toward Jerid, intent on cutting the channeler down before he could deal more carnage.

The spiked mace missed Jerid as he ducked underneath it. Steel flashed as a long knife came up with the Indigo, slicing through the goat-headed creature's throat like butter. A swift kick knocked the dying beast backward and onto its back.

And the Indigo was moving, slowly, as lightning changed direction.The battle weaves came in strokes of three, absent the claps of thunder that came with the more natural phenomenon.

The beasts that clashed at the west gate of the area died in small knots. Jerid was merciless in dispensing death. Whatever his talents might be as an Indigo, his true skill revealed itself on the battlefield.

Whenever Trollocs broke rank and came toward the pair or another of the Tower's forces, the Shadowspawn died in fire. The Sa'Ji'dar next to him was diligent in her duties.

And then Jerid saw her. Lysira was covered in sweat and blood, on foot as she fought, sword in hand. The Indigo saw the Trolloc coming up behind her, hooked knife ready to end her life.

A slight flick of his wrist and tightening of his fingers, flows of Fire and Air, and the beast found itself ensnared in razor-thin filaments of fire. It let out a brief howl before it was sliced in pieces, cauterized flesh filling the air.

His attention returned to the Trollocs attempting to move forward. Now that he was closer to the fighting and Tower personnel, lightning ceased falling. It was replaced with fire that struck with precision.
Sojin Majere Gaidin Sojin moved with Miahala, not more than a half-step from her at any given time. He had stopped only briefly to retrieve his broadsword from the corpse that had previously yanked it from his hand.

His mind continued working on two linked methods — protect the Aes Sedai and deal as much damage as he could. The thought was present cut up and through a Trolloc that had managed to graze through his leather armor and across his side.

"Bloody flaming beast," he muttered to himself as he advanced. But he ignored the pain, almost as if it didn't exist. It was almost like the last decade had been washed away — a decade of sitting on his rear, brokering deals or signing papers.

Most of his life was spent in battle, whether as a soldier or as a Warder. It was a simpler life, always on horse back, charging into the enemy; or at the side of an Aes Sedai as she dealt damage in all forms.

A massive, bear-headed Trolloc came rushing from the front right, battle ax prepared to deal carnage. Sojin was already moving, his body going into a roll as he came in under and behind the large Shadowspawn. Before the bloodlust-filled thing could compensate, Sojin brought his sword across the back of the thing's knees.

It snarled as it went down, and Sojin drove his sword into the back of its neck.

Go. It was the only thought as the silver-haired Gaidin moved forward, narrowly avoiding the knife stab from a goat-headed Trolloc more his own side. Another approached him from his right front, armed with a short sword.

After so many decades of handling a sword, the Warder acted on instinct. He blocked and knocked aside the savage attack from the front Trolloc and thrust his sword into an unprotected part of its chest. He pivoted around, kneeling as his sword came up into sharp upward slash.

Blood sprayed as the thing fell forward, and Sojin rolled out of the way and onto his feet.

He crossed the short distance between him and Miahala, cutting down another Trolloc attempting a failed sneak attack on the Green.

"The Shadowspawn sure find you an attractive target," Sojin said with a grim smile. His sapphire eyes danced with fiery mischief born of the melee. "I can see why, considering how ensnaring you can be on the battlefield."

Light, was he flirting, and on a battlefield no less? He turned his attention back to the Trollocs, downing another one with a savage thrust. Well, if he was, he'd deal with any fall out or reaction later.

Now was a time to fight, not think.

More...

The death was exquisite. With every drop of blood shed, the Deathwatch cried in delight. It was more addictive than the strongest drug, more tantalizing than the merest hint of flesh. It trod through the sticky blood of those who stood before it and the things that would soon be dead.

There was an empty space around it, a place empty of life, of things that needed to suffer its wrath. It looked around, hungering for more. The corpses of creatures grotesque and violent lay around him, their lives cut short by his sword or by his fists or by his knife. Idly, it kicked the head of the nearest Trolloc, its tongue lolling grotesquely from its gaping mouth. There was a wide hole in its chest where it had driven its blade. Nothing left to it but a place on the ground.

Enough! Let's go! We've done all we can!

NO! There is still more to kill, more to make suffer!

Come back! Let's go!

No!

There were more to be slaughtered. They were gathered in a small circle. It could see the terror in their eyes, the resignation to their fates; they were going to die at its hands, and they would only have their cries for mercy to echo into the depths of hell. Laughing, it charged into their midst, leaving blood and death and agony in its wake. Enough! Look!

Out of the midst of the writhing horde of Trollocs came a creature on horseback, a Fade, its blade held flat to the ground as it approached it at a gallop.

Horse! Look out

Shut up, you pathetic thing!

It snarled at the approaching beast, then slipped sideways quickly. The Fade did not have enough time to react as its heavy blade struck the horse's knees, sending it sprawling with a scream. It stepped around the screaming creature, taking a moment to drink in its misery before turning to face the eyeless creature, still listening to the screaming beast. The Fade drew its black sword with a grin and stalked towards it.

We need to think!

No, we don't!

It rushed the flat-footed Fade, hoping to catch it off-guard. It responded well, meeting its strike with a simple parry, bringing it into close combat with it. It grinned, switching through a few quick strikes before settling on its natural defense. It stepped forward, meeting a quick chop from its opponent, then forcing it around to an overhand strike. It laughed loudly as it threw the blow to one side, then stepped in to the Fade. It hardly had time to react before it struck the creature in the face, hard.

The creature staggered, falling back a couple paces. It followed in the creature's wake, landing another blow to its stomach, bowing the creature in half. The Fade managed a quick swipe at it, causing it to step back out of range and giving the creature a chance to recover. Straightening itself, the Fade slowly brought its hand to its face and gingerly touched its nose, which was flattened and crooked. Its hand came away black with its filthy blood. A slow smile spread over the Fade's face, revealing teeth that were likewise stained with black blood. “You are an interesting one, aren't you, human?” it asked in its hissing, sibilant voice. “There is more to you than just strength and steel. I will enjoy killing you.” It curled its hands around the hilt of the flamberge and began to advance.

Then the creature fixed it with its eyeless gaze.

The voice of the weak thing that shared its body fell deathly silent, terrified. Its eyes focused on the Fade as it began a confident pace towards it, black sword held loosely. At a few paces away, the Fade drew its blade back, ready to impale it. “Still only human. Disappointing; you could have had so much promise.”

The Fade struck.

With a contemptuous swing, it batted the black sword away from it, then responded with a heavy kick to the creature's rib cage. The Fade fell flat on its back, a look of shock on its face. “You can't scare me, Fade,” it hissed, grinning madly.

With a hiss, the creature sprang to its feet and charged it, striking with a flurry of blows.

It's better than us.

“Shut up.”

The Fade paused mid-strike, puzzled, then resumed its attacks.

You can't beat it with a sword. Do something else.

“Like what?”

Change the rules.

The Fade seemed tireless, its assault never letting up. It could only defend those strikes, waiting for an opening. Don't wait! Make one!

“Fine,” it hissed in its echoy voice, a smile slowly spreading across its lips. The next strike came fast, meant to split its head in half. It dropped the flamberge and clapped its hands together, stopping the blade of the black sword dead. The Fade tried to push down on the weapon, then tried to tug it out of its hands. It smiled at the creature. “My turn,” it said. The creature tugged on the weapon again, and it let the blade go, causing the Fade to stagger. It was already following through. Its knife was in its hand, and as the Fade recovered, it was well within its guard. With a quick slice, it severed the muscles in the creature's wrist. The black sword fell.

The Fade was still in shock when its hand closed around the creature's throat. It took almost no effort to lift the creature from the ground, where it kicked it feebly. It began to laugh as its fist began to tighten. The Fade began frantically beating at its arm with its good hand. “Pathetic,” it muttered, then it slammed the back of the creature's head against the ground.

It knelt on the creature's chest, its fist closing. “Tell whatever you find in hell that I sent you,” it said, laughing its high laugh.

The first blow stunned the Fade and split skin on its forehead, drawing more black blood. The next several blows crushed the creature's skull, leaving it a soft mess.

It stood and looked around. It stood alone; the Trollocs would not come near it. With casual ease, it lifted the discarded flamberge. Its eyes fell on a circle of Trollocs, all ugly things. Fresh blood.

No! We need to escape!

“Not until they're dead.”

The voice of the weak one was easily ignored; it charged the Trollocs, howling.

A blast of thunder and the white heat of lightning threw it back to the ground. Something popped in its wrist as it landed, washing over it in an intoxicating wave of sweet pain. It lifted its left arm and examined its hand, which hung limp and useless. There was more pain coming from its face, a hot blanket in its mind. It reached up with its right hand and traced the raised spots on its face, blisters from the fiery blast after the lightning strike.

We have to leave now!

“No, there are more to kill!”

What are you going to do? Slap them with my broken wrist?

“I won't go back again!”

If you don't, they will find out about you. They will imprison us, torture us, try to learn about us. They will likely decide that we're dangerous.

They might kill us.

With an angry growl, it grabbed the hilt of the flamberge and hung it across its shoulders, then began to sprint away from the melee. It followed the dwindling flow of women and children towards... “Not again,” it muttered, eyeing the glowing hole in the air as it came closer to the gathered defenders and refugees. There were faces it recognized, people from the Tower. “The channeler must have opened that damn hole back there.”

Who cares? Get us out of here!

Staggering into the circle, left arm hanging useless, it glanced around at the faces, each facing different directions. It nodded and grinned at the others from the patrol as it passed them, still making towards the hole in the air. The woman on the horse, Ubriel, she was preparing to charge on the western gate of the doomed town. It fixed its eyes, mad and black, on hers and hissed, “Have fun. This one is useless. I'm taking him back to the Tower.”

Shut up!

“Too late,” it whispered, watching as the group departed.

Stepping through the hole in the air, it felt the change immediately. There was no longer the foul smell of the Blight, only the smell of blood and fear and the screams of the injured and terrified.

It was glorious.

It did not take it long to find the Yellows, all clustered around wounded soldiers and civilians, caring for them with the Power or with bandages where it was not necessary. It felt the other pressing against its mind, rising up to retake his place behind their eyes. It wavered as it approached the gathered healers, then fell to its knees. A pair of Yellows, an Asha'man and an Aes Sedai, broke away from the group and jogged towards it.

It looked up at them, causing the pair to stop short. Grinning its mirthless grin one last time, it met their eyes and whispered, “This is going to be loud...”

It blinked.

****

There was pressure, an overwhelming force that pushed it down, away from the light of the eyes, as the Other drifted past, a soft caress against its sharp and red self. The Other drifted softly, resting lightly once again behind their eyes, as it descended once again back into the darkness, strangely satisfied.

All in the space of one blink.

****

Mehrin's eyes burned as he opened them, looking around at the now-familiar ground of the Tower, full of the stink of fear and blood, the air pierced by the horrible screams of the wounded and the displaced and fearful. The two Yellows were looking at him, concerned. He gave them a small smile to reassure them.

Then came the pain.

Mehrin screamed, collapsing onto his back, his entire body curled up around itself. The burns on his face felt like they were still aflame, the cuts and bruises each crying for his attention. His wrist throbbed horribly. Every muscle burned as if soaking in acid. Blackness edged in around his vision, trying to pull him into unconsciousness. “Always a price...” he gasped. “Always a price, damn you...”

“What are you talking about?” the Asha'man asked as he began a physical examination.

The Aes Sedai's eyes closed for a moment, and Mehrin felt the cold wash of a Delving pass through him. Haven't felt that in a while, have we?

Shut up, you've done enough for a while.

“Several deep tissue bruises, more cuts than I care to imagine. Every muscle mass seems to have severe tearing. Seven separated tendons and two severed ligaments. Left wrist shattered, and a hairline fracture on his left leg, maybe a couple days old.” She stared at him. “How did you manage to walk here? We should have been dragging you off the field.”

The tears had finally come, dragging with them gasping sobs. “Just do it. Please.”