A Storm of Swords

[Dawntango 0]

a/n: writing jealous Aes Sedai and Warders is mysteriously quite entertaining .

 

This is set during the Trolloc Wars, and will be part of a series of tales set during that time period.

 

Disclaimer: I don’t see the point of these. It’s a FANFICTION site for goodness sake.

 

Note: Rahien’a’a’vron – Watchers of the Dawn. May be grammatically incorrect, if it is, please correct me. (I took the ‘n’ out of ‘An’ which means of the, because it makes sense it would be one of those little things that gets dropped from language)

 

Warnings: violence. Lots of violence throughout the story. And maybe sex.

 

The city of Braem bustled beneath the midday sun, calm in an illusion of safety. Merchants hawked their goods and the crowds pushed and shoved, shouted and laughed in the paved streets in the lovely shadows of buildings, marks of the Ogier masons, who now marched to war, just as everyone else did.

 

Braem pretended to be normal and it almost achieved its goal, if the abnormal amount of soldiers and the occasional Aes Sedai, each with Tar Valoners and her Warders glaring at everyone who came near could be ignored. But they could not, and neither could the threat beyond those strong walls.

 

The crowd parted for the women of Tar Valon, with their gold rings flashing, faces implacable, cold enough to rival an Aramaellen winter, but Kaena Mahisha and her companion had to maunder their way through the people.

 

Some gave Kaena a respectful distance, recognising her as one of the Aramaellen rahien’a’a’vron, but most did not care or thought she was just another of the increasing number of women taking up arms-she wore a plain coat and breeches under her chainmail cuirass and she had replaced her short, curved sword’s normal sheath with plain leather and bound the hilt to obscure the heronmarks. Only the kohl shadowing her dark blue gaze, accenting the pale skin of a northerner, and her jaw-length black hair, heavy with black beads swinging around her hard, proud features gave her away as Aramaellen,

 

Contrasting sharply to the lithely muscled rahien’a’a’vro, Shataye Madonay was a slim Manethreni, half a head shorter than the other woman, with dark brown hair, almost black eyes and the youthful face of a woman not yet twenty-two winters, though she was really twenty-six, thanks to the Slowing, concealing the fact she was far more dangerous than the other woman as an Aes Sedai.

 

The bond stretched tight between them, humming of determination and the clammy touch of fear that never showed on Shataye’s smiling face. She didn’t blame Shataye for being afraid. They were going to arrest a member of the Black Ajah, or kill her, whichever was easiest, the Captain-General had told the. They had been hunting for a month and the thought made a shiver thread itself down her spine, which was foolish, for a Warder. But there was a fine line between lopping off a serpent’s head, and getting bitten.

 

Caral Tennial had two Warders, to match Shataye’s and if there were a shade of difference in the One Power between Tennial and Shataye, it lay with the Black sister. But they had been sent, because the maybe thirty sisters more powerful than either were dead or spread between the armies of the Ten Nations.

 

But they dared not wait for reinforcements they could trust, promised by the Captain-General, and neither could they go to the many other sisters in the city, none of which Shataye knew or trusted.

 

The Shadow’s corruption lay at the heart of even the Tower, though the enemy were denounced as Dreadlords, any connection to the Tower denied. Secrets were power, just as surely as the One Power, and the Tower had to keep its snow white armour of reliance around it.

 

“This way,” She told Shataye and her Aes Sedai nodded, trust never wavering. They walked with purpose, but not urgency. Just two women out for a stroll, maybe two resting soldiers-Shataye wore much the same garb as Kaena, though she had no idea how to use the sword she wore, despite Kaena’s offered lessons, those years ago, under the tree in Tar Valon.

 

“Why use steel when I have the Power?” She had said then, and she stood true to her word to this day, as stubborn as, well, a Manethereni.

 

The inn, the Lazy Shepherd, a small and if not exactly run down it wasn’t the sort of place an Aes Sedai would stay in…unless she wanted no one to find her.

 

On the corner, across from the inn they stopped, Kaena dropping to a kneel, as if to retie the laces on her knee-high boots, but she watched. From the age of fifteen, when they had plaited her hair and sent her into the Blight, she had watched.

 

A tall, broad-shouldered man of about twenty-six winters approached, offering apologies to those he knocked, though collisions in the packed city were inevitable. He was handsome to most women, in a rugged way, with shaggy blond, and despite the long scar across his cheek. But Kaena had always preferred the company of women, and had made that clear early on in their friendship. His lust was acknowledged, and ignored, and he accepted that, in the way of the Northern Lands.

 

Shataye greeted him like a friends she had not seen for a few days, and they chatted as if it were true. Everyone knew of Aes Sedai plotting, and Warder cunning, but they didn’t see that they knew how to hide as normal people too. When Kaena rose he said in the same light tone, “She’s inside. Her room is on the second floor, fifth door on the right from the stairwell.”

 

His name was Rajom Ceiam, and Kaena had known him for five years before offering him the bond of gaidin on behalf of Shataye. She had always said that Kaena was the best judge, and she had done her duty as well as she could, even though her heart gave a dull protest at giving someone else the same intimate bond with Shataye. Her Aes Sedai’s safety was all.

 

Shataye gave a delighted laugh, as if at a joke.

 

“We should strike after the sun does down, when they are at rest,” Kaena advised in a casual tone and Shataye nodded in agreement.

 

“Shall we go get a drink?” Rajom asked, offering Shataye a muscled arm. The bond trilled with amusement and she laid her hand on his forearm.

 

“We shall.”

 

How can he protect her when she’s holding it? Kaena thought, frowning as she trailed after them. She knew this emotion, and knew it did little for either of them, but it still remained, no matter how she told herself that the bitter taste of jealousy was foolish.

 

The common room of the Lazy Shepherd was full of soldiers on leave from the army camped outside Braem’s walls. It would march in a week, after a brief period of rest and re-arming, and the soldiers were making full use of their liberty.

 

Kaena strode across the crowded room, Shataye and Rajom behind her, glaring at those not quick enough to get out of the way. One man tried to stare her down but her level gaze soon made him step away. She found a table in a corner where she could watch the room, while Rajom went to buy drinks and flirt with the tavern maids. Kaena rolled her eyes and Shataye grinned when he returned with three tankards of ale and a girl on his arm. Soon a tall man with dark skin asked Shataye to dance and she stood with a twinkle in her eye. For a moment the fear faded, but then they spotted Tennial and one of her Warders, a huge man, like tree trunk, hailing from Jaramide from his appearance.

 

Tennial was studying Shataye, but the young Aes Sedai appeared oblivious and soon the black sister was satisfied and returned to her meal. While the Darkfriend watched her, Shataye laughed and never missed a step, switching partners every dance, but tension coiled in the bond.

 

Kaena leaned back against the white-washed walls, feeling no inclination to be merry. If Shataye wanted to throw herself at half the men in the room, she could. Her ale tasted very bitter as she sipped without thinking.

 

“Would you like to dance, miss?” A young woman with honey hair and green jade eyes asked, grinning down at her.

 

“You’re asking a woman to dance?” Kaena replied with a small smile. Women, and men for that matter, often danced together in Aramaelle, if it was their wish, but it was different in most lands she had travelled to, though the Tower encouraged relationships between its novices and Accepted.

 

“My parents travelled to Aramaelle during the last Peace, and they told me of Aramaellen customs. Anyway, it was worth a try,” The woman said, grinning wider.

 

“I’d be delighted,” Kaena rose, taking a proffered hand and deciding that if Shataye could dance with whomever she wanted, so could she, “I’m Ara.” She used that name in remembrance. Ara would’ve laughed. If she were not in the cold soil, near the edge of the Blight.

 

“Lillin,” She replied with a flirty smile as they took their places in the dance. Lillin was quick on her feet and Kaena found herself enjoying herself. With those feet, Lillin would’ve been claimed by rahien’a’a’vron very young, if she were Aramaellen.

 

“Why are you in Braem, Ara?”

 

“The war,” Kaena replied, barely heard over the laughter and music, “Why else?”

 

Lillin’s eyes became sad over her smile, “Indeed, why else? But let’s not speak of the war.”

 

Kaena’s whole life had been war, but she acquiesced. The world was what it was, but if she wanted to blind her eyes, Lillin could.

 

“Your lover is glaring at us,” The other woman said a dance later, with amusement in her voice. She wondered if Lillin smiled during battle, if that laughter ever left her face. Kaena turned and indeed, Shataye was scowling in their direction, paying little attention to her latest dance partner. And then, knowing Shataye was watching her every move, she shrugged with a pointed look in the Aes Sedai’s direction. The bond turned to ice.

 

She grinned and Lillin laughed, “She is going to skin you, by the look of her.”

 

“Most likely,” Kaena agreed.

 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tennial’s other Warder enter the inn and speak to the Darkfriend, saw them all stiffen, saw their eyes fasten on Shataye, and knew they knew.

 

“Run,” She told Lillin, “Run!” And then she tore away, her sword in her hand, it belonged their, a hard, steel extension of herself, even as a fireball flashed toward Shataye. Her Aes Sedai barely grasped the Source in time to deflect it. It went, hissing, to explode in flame in a corner. Then bother channellors froze, glaring at each other, as if nothing else existed. But Tennial’s Warders were drawing their swords, showing through the dancers, who were starting to draw their own weapons, or running for the exits. This could turn into a riot, but the thought was a distant peal in the ko’di that swallowed her whole.

 

Rajom leapt at the nearest Warder, a slim man with a moustache, sword in hand-but Rajom was more of an archer, and in the torchlight a heronmark flashed on his opponent’s blade. But there was no fear in his eyes, and Kaena had no time to help him-the other swung his blade with a vicious, tight grin. Most unlike a Warder.

 

She was quicker, but the clash of steel jolted up her arm. Light, he was strong. But fear did not exist, only the emptiness that she floated in. Her sword flashed toward him, shorter, slimmer and curved, but razor-sharp and bearing a heron. He threw himself back, the blade drawing a red line across his cheek. She forgot how long they fought, but she heard Shataye cry out in anguish, and knew Rajom had fallen and a burst ran through her, white-hot fury melting down her bones and she lunged forward, and drove her sword through the other Warder’s chest. Crimson flowed, sickening and warm over her hands. He howled, eyes meeting hers, threatening to swallow her up, and then his legs gave way, taking her with him. There were disadvantages to being smaller than her opponents.

 

With a strength forged of desperation she shoved him off her and wrenched her sword free, blood coating her hands. She saw Rajom gasping and bleeding on the ground as Tennial’s thickly built Warder lifted his sword. Without thinking she whipped out a throwing knife hidden in her sleeve and threw-it arced silver through the air and sank into his throat. And Tennial screamed, a moment before she was wreathed in flame.

 

Shataye threw herself across the room and as soon as her hands met Rajom’s flesh, she channelled. He screamed as the cold touch of Healing burned through him and then he fell, mercifully silent. Shataye tottered, eyes blanked and then she fell.

[Marie 73]

Yay new fanfic!