Post
by Sunny » August 24th, 2015, 7:12 pm
And I will be your shelter and these tears will be your last
You will never again wake up with silence in your heart
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As soon as the Gateway closed behind him, Jaryd's senses came alive. The moon cast a cold white light on everything, illuminating some things and leaving others in deep shade. The wind whispered through the trees, and although he could not identify every sound, he knew wildlife moved about him. He turned, searching, and his eyes rested on a tree he remembered. Yes, he had gone this way while Carra had taken a different route. He had no hope of finding traces of Carra so long after the fact, in haste, and in the dark. Instead, he set off in the direction of the building he had visited before, moving as quickly as he feet could carry him.
As he ran, memories of the woman he had fought in that musty basement crept back into his mind. A woman he knew. She's dead. I killed her. She's dead. Dark eyes, dark hair, dusky skin and a throaty voice belied his certainty. How was she alive? Why was she there? Unbidden, another memory rose. His mother's voice echoed in his ears, "He got here too quickly, and he knew too much, Jaryd." The Great Stair wasn't real. it couldn't be.
The scent of smoke interrupted his reverie, blowing towards him from some point ahead. He realized then that the sky in that direction was the color of an old bruise- purple and red, brooding. He broke into a run, and with every step the smell got stronger. He topped the last hill, and below him saw flames licking up the sides of the little house. A figure with a cloud of dark hair stood facing the fire, outlined against the blaze, the blade she held in her hand flickering orange.
He channeled without thought, flows of Air wrapping so tightly around the woman that he could hear her gasp even over the crackling flames. He spun her in place to face him, walking steadily forward. Saidin raged, but the Void kept his face impassive as he gazed into a face that he thought he had known so well. He saw her eyes flicker to his chest, and widen in recognition when they saw the stone that hung on a chain around his neck. He had one question that needed an answer; the rest would have to wait. "Is she in there?" He asked coldly.
"Are you talking about that redhead? I have to say, I never thought you the type to fall for a frigid bitch, Jaryd. I thought you preferred women with more...substance." He felt anger battering the outer reaches of the Void, but ignored it. Instead, he grabbed her arm and yanked it behind her back, twisting and pushing up until he felt bone grating together and she yelped in shock.
"Her name is Carraidhin Glaisne," he said calmly. His captor did not answer, though her face had gone pale with pain. With his free hand he drew his dueling dagger, pressed the blade against her throat; a thin line of blood instantly pooled along its edge. "I've already killed you once, Marisa," he said conversationally, "and I have grown so much since then. Do you really want to find out what I am capable of?"
Black eyes met black eyes for several long moments as the flames leapt higher, and then her gaze dropped. "She didn't come out." The Void flickered for a moment as the M'hael stared at this remnant of his past. He had watched this woman die, and yet she survived. If she lived, then so, too, must Carra. With that thought foremost, he tied off the flows of Air and left Marisa standing.
As he approached the blaze, saidin leapt gleefully to his command, filling him with a sweetness greater than any he had dared hold before, Fire and Air flexing in his grasp like a living thing. With a grim smile he bore down with all his strength; Air spread through the ground below the structure, building a pathway, while Fire took the heat from the flames and dispersed it along that path deep into the ground, where the cold and dark welcomed the warmth. More, and more, and more he forced into the ground, feeling the earth rock beneath his feet as the bedrock cracked and crumbled from the building pressure.
Suddenly, the heat was gone and he snapped back into himself, gasping for breath. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly at the unexpected darkness, ears ringing in the silence. An ominous creaking sound caught his attention, and a flow of Air lashed out to hold the beam that had been about to fall in place. The fire was gone. The ground still trembled, but he knew it would pass.
He channeled again, flows of Spirit to create light, flows of Air to pull the building apart with delicate precision, tossing beams that it would take five men to lift to the side like so many straws. Finally he saw a blackened wall frame that had toppled, propped up by the charred remains of a door frame. Below that, he found a bubble of relatively clean ground, on which lay a woman in dark leather, her soot-blackened hair pooled around her head in disarray.
He dropped to his knees beside her, fingers seeking for a pulse. After an anxious moment he felt it, fluttering slow and unstable; when he pulled his hand away, it was covered in dark blood. He cursed, turning her from belly to back, his light brightening as he examined her. Blood. So much blood. That she still breathed was a miracle. He wove the flows for Delving, registering the response with a pale face and aching heart. His friend had endured too much; without assistance, she would die.
He knew beyond a doubt that he lacked the Talent for Healing necessary to save her. He felt hot tears sliding down his face, and brushed them away, taking her hand in his. "You aren't allowed to die, you fool woman," he told her in a fierce whisper, leaning over to stare her in the face. "The Tower needs you. Burn it all, I need you. You've fought for too long for it to end like this." No response.
He stared at her in silence, his tears dropping unnoticed into her hair as an unthinkable idea began to form in his mind. There was a chance. A small one, a reprehensible one, one she might hate him for, one that violated every law of decency that existed. It had to be better than dying in the ruins of an abandoned house though. It had to be.
As if in a dream, he straightened and reached for saidin again, flows of all five Powers tying together to form two parts of a tapestry complex beyond knowing, one end anchored in the depths of his soul, the other anchored in her. He channeled with feverish intensity for some moments, paying special care to those portions that would grant her endurance and strength. Then he paused and leaned over Carra once more, smoothing her hair from her face. "Forgive me," he said simply, and pressed his lips against hers, the last flows of Spirit bridging the gap between them as their skin touched.

False alarm- there's still a song for me; I'm just about around to sing it
There's still a chance for me...and I'm still here singing.