Into the Woods (Attn: Lysira Gaidar)

[Jack]

A part of Jerid wanted to give into the urge to fall down and go to sleep, but stronger part, the one Seanchan spoke of to their children, refused to capitulate.

Then he heard the commotion, and felt a sharp pain through the bond. And the fury that seemed to blot out anything in Lysira.

Gritting his teeth, the Indigo pushed himself to his feet and slowly turned to see a bloodied and battered Gaidar surrounded by four men.

Light, but she couldn't still be standing, could she? Caden Ives had taught his best pupils how to survive and endure, and Jerid had always been selective about the Warders he bonded, a reason he was rarely close with anyone.

But this was something more than just training. There was a darkness in her mind, one he could only think of one comparison.

Taint madness. Jerid had been fortunate, the taint purged from saidin before he had even begun to learn to control his own ability as a wilder. But he had met some Asha'man in the Grey and Black Towers who suffered from it.

In those rare occasions, he could understand why the Red Ajah did the things it did when hunting men who channeled.

Her back was to him, and he was silent. Her attention apparently now focused on the whimpering channeler rocking back and forth, mouth moving as if to try and form words.

The Dreadlord couldn't channel, not after Jerid's assault with the weave of Spirit. He had forgotten how savage and sharp the weave had been.

He was within a foot of Lysira when he saw her small frame tense … well tense more than it already had.

She was fast. Jerid was faster. The weave of Air snatched the sword from her hand and another one wrapped around her tightly.

From her bloodied face and disheveled hair, she looked like a deranged animal ready to take down five Trollocs and a Fade to boot.

“Lysira,” he said softly, wincing as he moved. He was suddenly and acutely aware of his own wounds.

He raised his right hand to her face, but had to snatch it away for fear of being bitten off. Light alone knew he was missing a few fingertips already from that hand. He didn't need to lose any more.

“Lys,” Jerid said more clearly. “Come back. Cade is safe. No one will harm him.”

He felt a ping along the bond, but it was very faint and in danger of being consumed by whatever had its claws in Lysira.

You're a flaming fool, you know that, Walker?

The voice came as he acted, without hesitation. He buried the pain as best he could as he clasped his right hand behind her head and kissed her hard and deeply.

The delving weave was already in place, a mesh of Sprit, Fire and Water. He could sense every injury, from the sword wound in the stomach to the knife wound in her shoulder. Her lip was split and her cheekbone appeared fractured.

If it weren't for whatever possessed her, she would surely have collapsed and bled out. Worse, poison coursed through her, emanating from the shoulder. He held the kiss as the Healing weaves began. Flows of Air, Fire and Water intertwined, sinking into her like a net.

Jerid had learned from Aden Asha'man, one the best in the Yellow Ajah. Before the man had been killed, the Healer had often chided his former student about fully embracing his calling or the Talent.

But it was more than enough to heal the wounds and purge the poison. And enough to shock her out of this rage.

Flesh knitted, bones mended, the poison burned away. Jerid wished he could be more selective to ensure a smoother Healing process, but he didn't have time or a choice.

He pulled back, looking at a freshly Healed Lysira. She was still blood-stained and disheveled, but he couldn't sense one way or the other if she had returned.

Jerid decided to take a risk. He took two steps back and cut the bond of Air that held her in place.

He heard a giggle from across the room and saw the injured Dreadlord smile. The slap of Air was enough to send him onto his back.

“Lysira Walker, are you with me?” he asked, his gold-green eyes squarely on the small Gaidar.

[Bella]

When he kissed her, she almost bit him out of reflex. The reflex of what precisely was still open to debate, but she stopped it. His face and his voice sang out through the darkness. It was louder. He touched her, but he also touched her spirit in a way that nothing else had been able to; in a way that the pain could not touch her body. He kissed her, and she tasted her own blood against his lips.

Then the bucket of cold water, metaphorically speaking, that was dumped on her head. When his lips released her, she gasped sharply, but her body felt markedly better.

...Lysira...

...Lys. Come back. Cade is safe. No one will harm him...

...Lysira Walker, are you with me...

It all came back into sudden and stark focus as the darkness receded so quickly from her mind that she thought she may well fall into pieces, but she didn't. She just stared into his eyes, breathing hard. She realized that her hands were trembling. No, wait, most of her was trembling, and she felt ashamed for it and started stuffing the feeling away from her; into the Void.

She swallowed hard and her head slowly looked around. What did I do? Lysira could not believe what she was seeing, around her and in her mind. She looked both with the shock for the moment, and making sure there were no more threats around them...

Looking back at Jerid, she licked her lips. The cut was healed, but she tasted the blood still there.

'I'm with you,' she signed slowly. Her hands remained raised like she was going to say something more, but what words were there?

Gaidar. She was a warder.

She was Jerid's warder. What had she done? What did he think of her now? She was amazed that he was willing to stand anywhere near her, or even look at her... It wasn't that she had killed people. She had done that before. This just felt different. What had been in her mind when it happened had been...different.

'One left alive,' she signed, taking a deep and shuddering breath. Reminding herself that she was Gaidar, and this was not the place for a breakdown. That would come later. 'Talk... We should talk to him.'

[Jack]

Jerid released a sigh of relief and he moved forward to touch her cheek. He wanted to ask what had happened, but he sensed the uncertainty in his own Warder.

From what little he had witnessed and from the dark void in the Bond, Lysira fought like ... well like a Seanchan grolm. He had seen similar results in Wolfkin and Light, even Saphrie en'Damier when she was in the heat of battle.

The Indigo surveyed the damage again, sharply aware of the pain in his own body. The only thing that kept him standing was the fact that he held saidin. And that he had a job to finish and a Tower to return to lest they be stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Lysira's hands flashed and he nodded numbly. He gripped one of her hands tightly with his good hand and whispered, "We'll find out what happened after."

He had his concerns but for right now, their prisoner awaited. His gold-green eyes flashed toward the burned out hole in the side of the small shack. "One got away, a female channeler. She won't be coming back."

Then his eyes went to the corpse of what had been the Aes Sedai they had come to see before finally landing on the Dreadlord.

As he crossed the room, he stopped by the body of the man had his long knife stuck in the skull. Jerid yanked the knife free and seconds later was kneeling by the groaning channeler.

The man did look familiar, but only just vaguely so. Lyonel Cidon Asha'man. The name leaped into his mind. The man had vanished 20 years ago on a mission of so-called self-exploration. He had been a Grey Asha'man.

The knife was at the man's throat and a pair of dull eyes stared up at the Asha'man.

"So the whore lives," he croaked on blood-coated lips. "I would so much have wanted her to see ..."

A skilled Healer, Jerid knew something about pain. He hit the sword wound across his chest with his left hand, wincing in pain as he did so.

"You address my wife and Gaidar by that insult one more time and you'll find yourself with another life-altering change," Jerid said calmly. "Mention family again, and she won't have a chance to finish you. I will."

The man spat at Jerid, or attempted to. The spittle failed to cross the very short distance. The knife tip went into the man's shoulder before Jerid pulled it away.

"Why did you kill Seralyn and why are you here," Jerid asked calmly. He was distant, professional. Almost polite.

Lyonel groaned and whispered, "You ... severed me, reduced me to nothing. I'm not ..."

Jerid's knife went into the man's shoulder again, this time deeper. Lyonel shouted in pain.
"Who sent you, why did you kill her, and how do you know what you know," Jerid murmured. It was an order.

"She ... the one that ran ... she had information. She has been watching," he croaked. The Indigo was already running through his mind the list of people he had informed. Very few knew he was leaving the Tower, and no one knew where he was going specifically with the exception of Sojin, who had instructions to tell Zae and Balen should the pair not return.

"The wh ... the Aes Sedai was already dead when we arrived, stabbed in the back. We just burned her body thinking you might know where she hid the ter'angreal ... If she's dead ..."

Jerid twisted the knife on sheer principle.

"Stop lying or I will ensure you suffer a while before I take you back to the Grey Tower," Jerid said simply. "I will not kill you."

He nodded to Lysira, who had apparently found her sword.

"This one, on the other hand, you saw what she did," Jerid said. "Caden Ives trained her."

The man's olive complexion suddenly paled.

"I swear on the Great Lord's name and by my eternal salvation ... "

Jerid twisted the knife again.

"Never mention that thing's name, and your eternal salvation is very slim when the Hall meets," the Indigo muttered. "The ter'angreal and who the woman was."

The Dreadlord laughed nervously. "It's gone, was gone when we got here, I swear. And her ... she's cloaked herself in Illusion. We both answered to the Fiery Serpent at one time, then to Selan Asha'man after ... then she was chosen, but no one has seen her face."

He giggled and lifted his head, his eyes suddenly burning with humor.

"But she will burn you, she will make you suffer. The silver-haired one, the daughter who stands in her father's shadow ... "

Another twist. "My daughter died at the hands of the man who claimed to be the Fiery Serpent. He's dead now, from the people who talked before they died. Angel Walker died on the last day the Shadow entered my home in the Caralain."

That had been decades ago, when he had first been named Master of Soldiers.

The smile deepened. "He doesn't know ... Silly man ... The Shadow will take and claim the one both parents love ..."

The knife found the Dreadlord's lung and he gasped in surprise.

"You said ... wouldn't kill ... lii ... " He coughed blood and then stopped breathing. Jerid slit the man's throat for good measure and calmly wiped the blade on the man's black coat before he rose.

"I know what I said, but I will not risk a serpent in the Hall or in the same place as my family," Jerid murmured. He looked over at Seralyn's burned corpse and he whispered, "I am sorry, dear Sister. Rest well and find peace in your next life."

He looked at Lysira and murmured, "We need to leave, now."

[Bella]

Lysira felt no remorse as she stood and watched what unfolded. Agents of the Shadow had no place upon this realm. She had seen to it herself that more than a few had been banished from their living breath. An arrow shot in the darkness. A right that was hers. A silence deeper than a lack of a voice. A look of betrayal. A pain that should not be, but was. Yes, she had done her part.

This man had no place in the land of the living, and she felt nothing as she watched her Asha'man work. She fetched her sword and held it at the ready, just in case.

He talked a lot, but said little. What words he offered she put into the back of her mind, which helped her to not think about her own personal mystery for the time being. Her dark eyes held no pity when Jerid killed him. He had been a risk to their lives, and a Shadow-sworn. But something else in the encounter whispered in her head, although with so much chaos she couldn't put her finger on it.

She'd have to figure it out later.

Meeting Jerid's gaze, she nodded and sheathed her sword. The blood remained, but it would have to wait till later to be cleaned. She needed to speak, and everything was dead here but them. 'A ways, but we should bind your wounds and staunch the blood loss before you attempt to bring us back to the Tower.'

[Jack]

Jerid grimaced slightly as he nodded at Lysira's silent comments.

Holding saidin was pretty much the only thing keeping him upright.

Seralyn had been a decent Healer, rumor had it, enough to tend to minor injuries and burns. She had been an even better medic by all accounts and likely kept some supplies in case of an injury.

He moved painfully toward a cupboard that had remarkably escaped destruction during the melee and opened it with his good arm. As he suspected, it was filled with linen cloth, thread and needle and prepared poultices.

Somewhere Aden Cole was mocking him from beyond the grave. An old, retired Aes Sedai was better stocked than the First Seeker himself when it came to emergencies.

The Indigo motioned Lysira over with a nod before grabbing an empty satchel, holding it as best he could while his Warder filled it up.

Then they were out the door. But not before he wove a Ward around the place. Threads of all Five Powers nestled tightly around the small structure, predominated by Air and Fire before he tied the weave off.

Should anyone channel or Shadowspawn enter without first cutting it, the place would be a furnace in a heartbeat. The Indigo fully intended to come back with a cadre of channelers to ensure an Aes Sedai's proper retrieval and burn the rest.

Jerid was quiet for several moments as he and Lysira made their way into the woods. His mind roamed over the entire assault, from the death of Seralyn to the Dreadlord's final words before he died.

Only Sojin had known they were coming and he wouldn't breath a word to anyone else, not without considering all the variables. Zae and Balen both knew they were leaving but he had been mum on the details.

This Dreadlord's return prompted some concern, mostly because he had breathed the names Fiery Serpent and Selan Asha'man as former masters. Selan had died by his own hand nearly 20 years ago in a stunt where most thought the Indigo dead.

The Fiery Serpent was rumored dead, coincidentally at the same time as the Healer M'Hael. It was something the Indigo had never bothered to investigate.

The woman on the other hand … she had been there to observe and knew in advance when to run. Why take the risk of putting your own neck on the line when you evaluated the losses?

Jerid deduced she may be the source of information the man was blathering about.

“He was flaming telling the truth about the Black Aes Sedai,” the Indigo muttered after a time. He smirked. “Tell enough lies and you doubt the truth.”

Very keen observation for one who deceived a man you promised to let live, a voice mocked. He buried it. It was topic for another discussion, another time.

He looked at Lysria. He was equally perplexed by the transformation she underwent during the battle. She had enough adrenalin pumping through her system to keep her on her feet for hours until she died of sheer blood loss. Wounds she had received should have knocked her unconscious.

“Lysira, what happened?” Jerid asked after a moment, concern very much in his voice. He knew why her altered state had been triggered — he had sensed it the second the Dreadlord mentioned harming Cade. He needed to the source, or the reason. “Have you any idea what might have been the source? Something consumed, encountered? A ter'angreal or channeler?”

[Bella]

Lysira Walker--nee Viathene and once Mouse--was not a stupid woman.

She was hard the most intelligent woman to ever walk the Creator's lands, but she had a quick mind and could reason well. That was a blessing, but it felt like a curse now as it made her more frustrated with the chaotic jumble that her mind had become. When they had arrived in the Mirk, she was very aware that there might be trouble. But the trouble they found--or rather that found them--was nothing as she had expected...

Lysira had some emergency supplies in a small pack attached to her quiver, but finding some in the Aes Sedai's small hut was fortuitous. She slung the bag over her shoulder, in such a way that she could still draw her sword as necessary. She walked with him out of the house, looking around in every direction as they did; making sure that there were no other surprises, but everyone was dead or had run.

What happened?

Well, that was the question of the moment, now wasn't it? Or, really, one of many questions...

She didn't answer right away, waiting until they were far enough away to feel safe. She gestured for him to set on a fallen log they were crossing. While waiting for her to sit, she set the bag down and signed. 'I have no idea,' she admitted honestly. 'I felt something near that during the border patrol, but...' She bit the corner of her lip for a moment as she pulled things from the bag.

Lysira gestured for him to take off his shirt so she could clean the wound, which she helped him to do since it was his shoulder. Once he had and set it away, she said, 'The only thing was when Cade was attacked at the manor...' She chewed on her lip. The Object of Power they tried to use, what youthened me, but...

She sighed and shook her head, using a rag and some water to start cleaning around the wound. She was gentle but efficient. While she worked, she lifted her dark eyes to meet his gaze. Everything else was written there: she had no idea.

[Jack]

Jerid removed his shirt after he sat down, wincing in pain as he did so. No matter how deeply he buried his emotions, the rawness of his wounds had already made an impression on his body.

The knife wound on his left shoulder was deep, and he had been fortunate the Darkfriend hadn't punctured anything vital. The wound in his back left side had been more shallow since the man had been pinned under a dead corpse, but it still seeped. And the slash across the left side of his waist was just as irritating.

He endured worse injuries in his life, especially the last decade. Access to a Healer had been limited for him in the years he and Sienna had hunted Black Ajah, so many of the scars across his back and chest were only a few years old.

“You look very much the same as I met you so many years ago,” Jerid murmured almost absently, honestly. It was a sight Jerid had long ago adopted when he stopped aging at the same rate as others. He noticed the difference, of course, but chose to reflect on the person he knew at the time he met them.

Most people never changed or did so very slowly.

His mind roamed over Lysira's words as he tried to determine what ter'angreal might have been used. His time in the Indigo Ajah had not been wasted and his access to the Vaults had only been restricted to the most sensitive of item

As First Seeker that had changed and he had reinforced the measures meant to keep the items safe.

But there was nothing that Jerid knew of that could instill such an effect. Light, but ter'angreal like that could almost prove to be a danger to the person who used it as surely as to the person they used it on.

And then there was the question of whom the item was supposed to be used on: Lysira or Cade.

“I'll have to check the records and see if there has ever been any reference of such an item being encountered by the Grey Tower,” Jerid murmured.

He looked at Lysira, his gold-green eyes meeting her wide, obsidian gaze. “I promise you though, we will find out, even if it means hunting down the people responsible.”

After a moment Jerid tilted his head and murmured, “You should know something before we return. The day at the Portal Stone … the day the bond snapped … something else was cut as well.”

To be an Asha'man or Aes Sedai was to live by a certain code and abide by stringent rules in many ways. Three things ensured that, things that the Indigo at one time had welcomed. Light, but one of those had given him no choice but to speak his heart to Lysira so long ago when he had been Master of Soldiers. It was also the same trait he had been so famous for even as a youth in Ebou Dar.

Then he had attempted to use a Portal Stone in conjunction with a ter'angreal.

Today was the first time he had slipped in keeping the secret, and the first time in more than a century that he had lied.

[Bella]

He didn't say it directly.

Lysira had unwound the bandages with swift and sure hands, listening to him as she did so. With her hands full, she could of course say nothing, but she found a jar of salve she recognized by smell for being to prevent infections. While she didn't anticipate these bandages being required for long before they found a Yellow, she knew that what she anticipated and what actually happened weren't always that similar...

She swiftly spread the herbal remedy on the bandage then gently packed the deepest cut on his shoulder to staunch the bleeding. He was trying to think through what the device was that could've affected her so. Did the Object of Power that youthened her also instilled this...thing in her? It seemed likely, since she could account for it no other way. Or had there been something all along and this object had in truth just...

Unleashed it.

Then that thought was taken as she tied off the first bandage. She was no healer, but she knew enough of battlefield triage to keep him from bleeding out on her till they got back to the Tower. His mention of the Portal Stone of course brought the faint memory stab of pain over what else had happened because of it, but there was the reference of 'something else' and she peered at him. Her dark brows drew down slightly with thought. Her eyes on him, her hands unwound another bandage. She looked at it while thinking.

It dawned on her. That was what she had caught while they had been in the house with the dark one.

Jerid had lied.

She lifted her head again and looked into his eyes, beautiful and unique and something she had always loved, with the realization clear in her own. She didn't 'say' anything while she bound his next wound. Then she tied that off and took a moment for her hands.

'Your Oaths.' It wasn't really a question, although it requested an answer by its nature.

Another bandage and more salve, holding his gaze while she bound the final wound around his waist. Wishing that they were requiring the shirtless state and touch for a more pleasant reason, but as ever, accepting life exactly as it was placed before her. Just like there was no judgment in her gaze when she referred to his Oaths. She just wanted to understand.

[Jack]

Jerid had always wondered why the Oaths had snapped the day he had touched the Portal Stone near the Tower so many years ago. He recalled more than 20 summers, but the days had since merged into one blur.

The Three Oaths had been a sacred duty for nearly 3,000 years, since the Aes Sedai of the White Tower took it upon themselves to bind themselves with the Oath Rod. Never to tell no word that was untrue, never to use the One Power as a weapon except against the Shadow or protect one of their own, or to make a weapon with the Power with which one man could kill another.

For the years he had been a Soldier and Dedicated, he had abided by those oaths as best he could. He had always spoken truthfully, sometimes to a fault, and he had always refrained from making weapons with the One Power.

Jerid inclined his head at Lysira's only comment before she returned to addressing his wounds. He smiled briefly under her touch, wishing the circumstances were different. But if wishes were answers to secrets, he'd be happy to retire after eluding all the mysteries of the world.

Such was life.

“I left the Tower for a short span,” the Indigo murmured as Lysria continued her efforts. “After I returned I debated whether to swear them anew.”

It had been a long struggle. During that time, he had been another person in every sense of the notion. There were many similarities that mirrored one another, but just enough to distinguish that the Jerid Walker that once existed was no more.

He tried to live his life, had attempted to re-integrate, had even taken a new Warder in the form of Corsedai and had strengthened his position as High Seat of his house.

By then, Miahala had been reported dead, Caden Ives wandered off and Lysira gone with Cade. Amora and Liana had been long gone.

He had held the Oath Rod in his hands after he returned from the Caralain. And he made a conscious decision.

Jerid touched Lysria's face gingerly. “I once told you, not long after we first met, that there were times when I had to walk with one foot in the shadow,” he murmured. “It was done with the intent to protect those I loved, those I cared for and those I served. Then there was a day not months after the Portal Stone that I held the rod in my hands and decided that must be the way of things once and for all.”

He smiled bittersweetly. There were few handful of proud moments he held dear to his heart. The birth of all his first two children and grandchildren, his wedding day to Lysira and the birth of Cade held highest in his heart, but swearing the Oaths had been a particular accomplishment.

He was 87 when he was raised to the cord, older than most in the Tower to accomplish the feat.

“We all suffer for the decisions we've made and losses we've endured,” he murmured, gripping her hands as she finished with our wounds. “It's how we past them that make us what we are. I chose to become the Tower's weapon should it ever need it, to protect a place that became home and a people who became family against the Shadow at nearly all cost.”

He stood slowly, guiding Lysira with him slowly before he released her hands. And he kissed her softly before whispering, “I'll be burned if I give up a curse that will see Cade, you and our home safe from the Shadow.”

[Bella]

Unblinking, her gaze held him as surely as her arms would while she listened to him. His revelation did not change her opinion, or make her think less of him. She understood, and perhaps better than most. He had always slid around those edges when necessity called for it, and she had made her own dark decisions at time. And considering what had just happened to her...

Who was she to judge?

She softly returned his kiss as she thought back over the years. 'We are none of us who we were,' she said what she had said more than once now, but it remained true. 'I am yours, and your secrets I will keep. Your paths I will follow. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and there is a reason for all. You and I shall protect our son, and our family, and our home. Together.'