David and Caden talk about Dared

"She wants to parley with your fath-" he stopped short as Caden's anger roared to life, wings not quite breaking the surface, dry heat rolling off of her in waves that broke against David, making him stumble back a step. "...with Dared."

He regained the inches that had been lost between them and reached out to brush her bare arm with the callused pads of his fingers. At the center of the slowly waning heat, Caden's skin was surprisingly cool. Her eyes softened, and the heat lessened another few degrees.

She leaned against him, the magic surrounding her now just pleasantly warm, like toast just from the pan, like a freshly filled mug snug between his palms. He chuckled softly. She reminded him of breakfast.

He enveloped her in his arms, toying with the tight, dark curls that now hung past her shoulderblades until the memory of the smell of her full anger - burning flesh and singed hair - made his stomach clench. His hand left her hair to run broad, firm strokes down her back, calming away her uncontrolled magic, tamping down the inner flames with his sure touch.

She relaxed into his ministrations until, had they not been standing, he would have suspected her of being asleep.

"He is a hard man." she murmured into his shirt.

"We will be just as hard." he whispered into her curls.

"He will not keep his word." Suddenly, she was trembling against him. He thought it was from the loss of heat, and drew her up tighter.

"Aestril will keep hers."

Caden tilted her head back, her black eyes searching his for a long time.

She shifted to stand upright, her full height still small next to David.

"We will need a white hare."

Here it is

Suljemen – the biggest man she’d ever met, so strong, so beautiful, so powerful…

Suljemen lay crumpled at Caden’s feet.

The lines he’d traced along her shoulder blades burned, icy-hot, and spread, numbing her heart, creeping up the back of her neck to freeze the flood of guilt-tinged sorrow. The frigid air gathered around her; a cocoon of numbness, a shield against feeling that sucked the icy wind toward her from all directions, making the tunnels howl…

The icy fingers completed their circuit through her body, and she realized that the howling was no longer the wind, but her own voice. She roared at her father, at the strangely numb pain…at her Kennari who had left her.

When the time comes to fly…

The wind burst from the place on Caden’s back that the Kennari had marked, flaring out behind her, solidifying into crystalline wings.

There was no slow spread of wonder, no warmth of gratitude within her. The numbness was all.

Dared reeled back as Caden’s wings spread and the whirlwinds of ice at her back lifted her. She glanced down at the scuffs in the dirt where her shoes had been and saw the long blonde braid snaking in the dirt.

Suljemen…

Her teacher…

Her love…

A spark of anger hidden somewhere in her frozen heart roared to blazing life. Heat scorched through her veins, hunting the cold as it fled.

Her father was moving at the periphery of her vision, and she snapped her head toward him. He swayed slightly, as if buffeted by the hatred that rolled from her in waves. Their eyes locked and, deep in her father’s eyes, Caden saw the unimaginable.

Fear.

Fear that fed the rage that consumed her.

Her wings shattered, ice crystals melting as they sprayed around her, spattering the walls like a cloudburst, as flames, born of the molten hate that flowed through her, took their place.

She dropped the little way she had risen, and stood once again in the middle of the room. Dollops of liquid flame dripped unheeded from her wings, singeing holes in the carpet. She went to her knees next to Suljemen, her tears softly hissing into puffs of steam as they landed on his face. Her fingers brushed against his arm, leaving a charred trail and the smell of burnt cloth, and she recoiled.

A deafening crack echoed down the stairway as a huge chunk of the ceiling fell and rolled past the open door – a reminder that Ebon was dying around them.

The Arch Falls

"The Kennari, my King."

Caden and her Kennari were thrown down to the carpet upon which Dared stood. They rose to their feet and stood, facing the King. Flames of rage and disgust flared in Dared's eyes. He growled at the Kennari.

"You and your...student," he turned his eyes slightly, indicating the girl, "will show proper obeisance when brought before me." Caden realized that her hood had stayed up through all her rough treatment, and her father did not know her. Perhaps that was best for now...

"Do not pretend to be surprised that I am here. You have long known of the danger that is now upon your doorstep. I do not ask you to accept me. I only beg that you let me save your people."

"CORRUPT MY PEOPLE!" Dared roared, and lurched forward, grabbing Caden's arm painfully, pulling her toward him. "As you have corrupted this..."

The words died in his throat as he ripped the fur lined hood back and recognized the face concealed within the fur. For a long moment, her father stared into her eyes, the flame within his eyes growing more and more crazed, his grip growing tighter and more painful. Then the King shoved his heir into the arms of her Kennari and stared at them, silent.

Caden had learned her father's subtleties from infancy. She knew the intricate web the man could weave, and more than that, she knew her father.

Dared was going to kill her Kennari.

"Father..." she began, but he cut her off with a violent chop of his hand through the air.

"Dared," the Kennari tried again. "They will all die."

"And better so, than survive through your means, Suljemen" The king spat.

The sound of the name flowed into Caden. It slid along her veins, tingling as it went, until it crept into her heart and warmth spread through her, making her tremble.

The men stared at one another without a word, silence battling silence.

Caden trembled again, this one seeming to radiate from her and shake the whole room.

Both men looked up in surprise, and Caden realized that it was the city that was quaking.
And then she realized: the city had been still.

When Caden had last felt one of the small tremors common in Ebon, she couldn't recall any more than she could the last time she'd felt her heart beat.

And the city shook again.

The tremors were strong and following one another quickly.

A high-pitched scream ripped Caden's attention to the high-arched window. As the pitch rose, her eyes darted, searching for the source of the terrible noise. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the wail ended, and Caden knew.

"The Arch" she breathed.

She reached for her Kennari's arm, willing his heat to reach through her, warm the icy tendril of fear as it snaked around her heart.

The Buried City sighed heavily, sending a great whoosh of icy air over Ebon, and The East Arch disappeared beneath the ice.

He is Dead

"He is dead."

The Speaker flung out an arm angrily, sending the brazier on the small table flying, then pressed her palm flat against the warm, pale wood and let that arm support her as she leaned forward, covering her eyes with her free hand, struggling to calm the anger that had surged within. How had a child - not able to speak, let alone Speak - managed to kill an Azzeren?

The Speaker could not afford to let emotion control her actions, especially where the girl was concerned.

The Speaker drew a deep breath, raising her head to look into the Azzeren's eyes.

"Get out."

The man all but ran from the room, a quick "Yes, Speaker" left hanging in the air behind him.

The Speaker straightened and massaged her temples in small circles.

She thought how it would look to an unknowing onlooker...a large - well, huge would more accurately describe him, really - man cowering before as diminutive a woman as herself, and practically scampering through the door to escape her presence. But then, she thought how it go if she were caught with an Azzeren, and the smirk which had formed there only moments before slid from her face.

Sometimes, Thaela felt her power wearing her down.

She bent to retrieve the brazier.

"Cooler."

She grasped the metal in both hands and hoisted it onto the table again, then hurried to step on a cinder that had fallen and begun to burn a small hole into the inlaid pattern of the wood floor.
With a small poker, she stirred the contents of the brazier, making the coals glow red and billow heat up past her face. She rubbed her hands together and held them in the aura of warm air above the small brass bowl. She stared at the wrinkles that creased the backs of her hands.

Time. It was the true enemy, but how did one fight an enemy who always slipped past unnoticed and did such irrevocable damage?

A small bruise was blossoming on the side of her right hand where it had contacted the brazier in her fit of anger. She rubbed at it absentmindedly, her thoughts focused on the redhead whose hired assassination had backfired. The intended victim had managed to kill her assassin, a feat easy enough for any Speaker...a muttered word and the attacker would combust, suffocate, or their heart would simply cease beating...but this Speaker should not be Speaker. She lacked the gift of speech. A silent Speaker was as laughable as a blind Reader, a Writer without hands...
Yet, there she was...the enigma.

The Speaker sighed as once again the armies of her thoughts took up arms against one another on the battlefield of her conscience. There was no proof that the girl was dangerous, in fact, her silence would seem to render her harmless - but there was the Telling to take into account. A lone sentence, recorded in The Word a millennia before any man now living had drawn first breath.

The Speaker who cannot speak will draw together the water, the earth, the ice and the flame and, for the black of heart, shall call down death.

In the thousands of years since the Telling had been Spoken, no one had really taken note of it. Yes, it sounded gloomy and fateful, but so did the majority of The Word. The early Writers had put little in their precious book that didn't indicate disaster.

New stuff!!! Finally!!!

For Ing, hoping the double vision will make this twice as good. =)

David lay on his stomach, his head turned to the left, his right ear pressed against the wooden table. He stared hard at the folding screen that stood between him and his mother.

He was surprised by how little noise came from beyond the make-sift wall. The soft shuffling of slippered feet, the low rumble of a male voice, his mother's breaths - she was practically panting - and her occasional muffled cries at the pains of childbirth.

A young woman slipped from behind the screen and padded silently to David. She bent and spoke into his ear so softly that he nearly missed the words hidden in the currents of her warm breath.

‘The Speaker is coming. Remember, you must be silent throughout.'

Then she disappeared from his peripheral vision.

Another muffled cry sounded beyond the screen.

And then the young woman was back, carrying a large, flat sheet of copper. Black lines snaked across it. She placed it on his back, and the cold of it made David's bare skin pebble. It was twice the width of his back, centered so that it extended out on both sides, and long enough to cover him from shoulders to waist. The young woman drew a pair of tongs from her belt, and bent over a brazier that had been smoldering nearby. She straightened, a white-glowing coal held firmly in the tongs. She placed the coal on one corner of the copper sheet. She retrieved another, and another, until each of the four corners held a glowing white coal.

His mother gave one more muffled cry, and David tensed. Any sound at all could set the copper plate vibrating, making the coals dance across it. That was the function of the ting, after all. When a Speaker was born, the one who was to be her Protector was brought into this same room, laid on this same table, weighted down with this same sheet of scarred copper, and branded by his Speaker's first cry.

Quiet footsteps sounded, and a man darted from behind the screen and hurried to kneel at David's side. The plate would react to any sound the new Speaker made. He gritted his teeth, trying to calm himself. He'd been prepared for this since his birth, but suddenly those twelve years did not seem long enough.

Any moment now, the baby would cry, the coals would skitter across the plate to the vibrations, burning their crazy dance into the flesh of David's back.

Any moment now...

Nothing.

The Speaker was silent.

David could hear the other people in the room whispering, wondering why the baby didn't cry. Finally, the man stood and gestured for the young woman to remove the coals. She stepped to David's side, and in a perfect reversal of her motions earlier, replaced them into the brazier.
He waved a second young woman over to him. ‘Fetch one of the Speakers. We must know why this has happened.' Then he sighed deeply. ‘Remove the plate.'

The young woman grasped the copper sheet, lifting it from David's back.
David realized that his eyes were squeezed shut. He opened them slowly and looked at the serene face of his new sister.

Slowly, baby-grey eyes opened, then locked onto David's. His sister thrust violently into his mind. Suddenly his back was screaming in agony as fire seemed to burn across it. He was not supposed to allow himself to scream, cry, or even flinch, lest he alter the course the Speaker's cry lay forth for the coals to follow, but the agony was beyond the simple burning of his flesh. David's muscles cramped as his body reacted to the pain. He bit down on his lip and tasted blood. The bone-deep knife of pain sliced its way across his shoulderblades.

David screamed.

And as suddenly as it had begun, the pain ended. The newer conciousness disappeared from his own.

The baby's eyes drifted closed.

David felt the copper falling before it hit the floor, ringing loudly, startling everyone in the room.
‘His back...' the young woman murmured.

For a long moment, no one moved.

The man spoke quietly to himself. ‘The Speaker is silent, yet the Protector is marked...a silent Speaker...no less, a baby who does not utter a cry...?'

Entering Ebon

Silence swirled with the fluttering flakes of the light snow that fell on Caden and her Kennari as they made their slow way to Ebon. The onyx city was invisible against the darkness, even reflecting stars from its glassy walls. From Caden’s vantage, the city reflected the Rider – two huge, starry horses reared at one another, each with a mounted Eamron, swords drawn upon one another. Suddenly, blue fire blazed along the edges of the star-swords. Caden gave a small gasp and squeezed her Kennari’s hand. She knew the fire was simply a trick of the atmosphere, but the Rider’s sword awakened her confidence. Just as Eamron conquered the encroaching armies millennia ago, Caden knew that she and her Kennari would conquer Dared this night.

‘Eamron’s sword lights for us’ she breathed, the mist of her breath swirling in the icy air.

‘He sends us hope as we face those who will oppose us.’

Caden looked sideways at her Kennari. Bundled in his furry parka, he seemed not merely taller than most men, but a giant. Anyone glimpsing them from the city must think they saw a father leading a small child by the hand. She slowly slipped her gloved hand from his. She would not be seen as a child this night. She would stand up before the King beside her Kennari. She would do what she must to save her people.

The Twins were hardly visible in the inky night as the two passed through them and entered Ebon. A short guard threw open the door to a small guardhouse carved into the foot of the northerly Twin. The small fire within the guardhouse lit the man from behind so that Caden could not see his face, but the firelight flooded over herself and her companion. The Kennari drew back his hood just enough to give the guard a clear view of his face. When the guard recognized him, he stopped short.

‘So, it’s you,’ the guard snarled. ‘The King said you’d be here this night.’ He eyed the Kennari with disgust.

‘You are to be escorted. You will wait.’ The guard turned on his heel and marched back to the foot of the Twin, barked an order into the small room, then slammed the door hard enough to cause the Twin to quake. Caden shivered, remembering the lesson her Kennari had taught her today. For a moment, she saw the twins toppling, crumbling down to block the gate. The Kennari’s gentle hand on her arm jolted her from her vision. The guard, obviously expecting them to follow him, had marched ahead. Caden had to trot to keep up with her Kennari’s long strides, but he slowed a bit when they caught the guard.

The three figures walked quickly and quietly among the deep shadows of the moonless night. The guard led them down narrow back-ways, as he would have a prisoner or a Buried - hidden from the eyes of Ebon.

The End of Ice pt. 2

It was dark, and the spicy smoke from the fire had long since ceased its lazy circuit around the rapidly cooling interior of the Kofi when Caden's mind slowly dragged itself back into awareness.

The strong herbs her Kennari added to his fire usually pulled her mind in strange directions, and it was their comfortable habit to sit, holding one-another, as her thoughts followed the various paths laid out before them. Caden tried to concentrate on the day's lesson as her Kennari instructed, but often the paths her mind followed would explore the relationship that had developed between the student and her teacher. She loved him and suspected that he harbored similar feelings for her. The comfort they shared, the softness in his voice and eyes when he spoke to her, had to mean something...She stirred against the hard chest of the man snuggled behind her and, as usual, glanced up to find the time by the light that filtered through the smoke-hole at the top of the small hut. The small pinpricks of light tickled at her foggy thoughts, pulling some meaning from the recesses of her mind where clarity was slowly taking hold again.

Stars. Caden knew them all, of course. One of the first lessons from her Kennari had been learning to read the stories that were played out against the velvet-black backdrop. Her favorite was the rider Eamron who, as a last, desperate attempt to save his people from destruction, had bargained with the Horse God to carry him and his warning of imminent doom to his homeland. The Horse God had flown with Eamron on his back, faster than the wind, and they'd reached the great city of his homeland with the vast armies of the enemy on their heels - the city would have no time to prepare for battle. Just when all seemed lost, the Horse God leapt to the top of the City wall and reared up as Eamron drew his sword and held it aloft, blue flames climbing the magic-wrought blade and reflected in the polished steel of his armor, and drew upon the power of the Horse God. His voice rolled forth from the wall like thunder, a great cleft opened beneath the boots of the enemy, and they were swallowed by the earth. For his part of the bargain, Eamron had pledged himself in service to the Horse God. Together they took to the skies and still, thousands of years later, they patroled the skies each night.

Night.

Caden's mind finally cleared, and she realized that it was indeed night. She'd stayed far longer than ever before. Her father would surely be in a rage. Caden had begged him to allow her to learn from the Kennari when she was small. Once she began to go to the Kofi for more than just the daily history lesson, she'd lived in terror of the King finding out. If he ever did he would forbid her lessons, perhaps even kill her Kennari. Caden stiffened at the thought, and finally disentangled herself from her teacher. The warmth he had been against her back was quickly replaced by the cool air, making shivers travel the span of her spine, adding to her fear. Her father would have sent someone for her. Caden cast her eyes about, as if looking for a way out of the predicament, then settled her gaze on the dark eyes of her Kennari who, as usual, seemed able to read her thoughts.

‘Dared has not sent anyone to collect you. I told your father that I would be accompanying you back to Ebon this night. He has granted me an audience. I must speak to him of the magic...'
‘He will not listen!' Caden interrupted, slashing the air with her hand to emphasize her point. ‘You told me yourself, he fears the magic.'
The Kennari reached out to take the hand of the young woman kneeling before him.
‘I must try, Nemi. Even if he will not listen, I must do what I can to save them.' He pulled her to him.

‘I will save you, Caden.' And then he was kissing her. The shock of her Kennari using her name faded into the heat and desperation of the moment. He seemed to be seeking her very soul, desperate to make a connection, holding her as if his arms alone would save her from the fate of their world.

A millenia or just a moment later, the kiss was ended. Her Kennari's gentle hands caressed her cheek, his thumbs tracing the slope of her nose and the bow of her lips as his crystalline blue eyes gazed deeply into her her honey-gold ones. Emotions flitted across his face, until determination finally took hold there.

‘I will save you' he whispered again. He stood, extending a hand down to help her up. As she rose, he pulled her to him. Her temple nestled securely against the hollow at the base of his throat, Caden was, for once, glad of her height. Held against her Kennari, she didn't feel lanky and awkward. They fit one another - hand and glove, lock and key. He tangled his fingers for a moment on her sort, dark hair before his hands dropped to her shoulders. He gently pushed her away and turned her so that he faced her back, then trailed his slender fingers down her back to grasp the hem of her linen shirt and tugged it upward, exposing the dark, soft skin of her back. He tucked the hem of her shirt into the collar to hold it in place.

His thumbs traced a burning path from her shoulders down either side of her spine, and up again, then arced out to either side. Caden's heart raced.

‘Be very still...' he murmured.

The pressure of his thumbs steadily increased as he traced along the inside edge of her shoulder blades again and again, murmuring soft, strange sounding words. The path his thumbs traced chilled, turning icy, until it felt like chunks of ice were trailing along the bones. The Kennari's hand trailed up her shoulders again, grasped the hem of Caden's shirt, and pulled it down to cover her back once more.

Caden turned to face her teacher. The icy lines still burned, deep in the flesh of her back. Her Kennari saw the question in her eyes.

‘When the time comes to fly, you will know.'

The End of Ice

Part One

Caden tugged her mitten from her hand with her teeth, freeing slender, dark fingers to resettle the fur-lined hood of her coat further forward, then stuffed her hand quickly back into its thick, fur-lined sheath. The wind let up some near Ebon, but she was far enough from the city that the wind blew free and fierce, sending swarms of tiny ice crystals to bite at her face. She pressed onward, ignoring the stinging sprays.

She was close.

Raising a still-gloved hand to her brow, and making a snowshoe-hindered attempt to stand on tiptoe, she scanned the horizon.

There...just peeking up from the flat whiteness...

Swinging her feet sideways and forward, Caden continued to the small hut.

When she reached the Kofi, Caden bent to unfasten her snowshoes and hung them on a pair of small hooks sewn into the hides that covered the small building. Another pair of snowshoes and a large, furry coat hung on the other side of the doorway. She unlaced the front of her own parka and hung it next to the larger one. The two coats nestled together like lovers too long apart. Caden smiled as she piled her mittens and boots below the coats then turned to face the entrance.

"Kennari?" she called softly.

A soft, rich voice answered from within. "You may enter Nemandi."

Kneeling, Caden pulled aside the heavy furs and crawled inside. The air inside the Kofi was warm and heady with incense. Caden breathed it deeply, willing the smoky smells to fill every part of her. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke swirl lazily in front of her. She squeezed her eyes shut to help them adjust to the dark. On the back of her eyelids rode a vision; her Kennari sitting on the far side of the glowing brazier as he always did, legs crossed, hands resting delicately on buttery soft caribou-skin pants, wide linen sleeves rolled back, feet bare.

Opening her eyes, Caden thrust forward her lower lip. "Nemandi?" she pouted prettily.
Her Kennari leaned forward, his long, golden braid slithering over his shoulder to curl on the piled rugs that made up the floor. He reached out a gentle hand to brush her cheek lightly with his fingertips.

"Nemi" he whispered.

Caden sighed, pout dissolving into a small smile. She knew that her Kennari would only use her nickname if he knew for certain that it was her. He can't see through walls she chided herself. They had never exchanged their actual names. Her Kennari said there was no need to. He knew he knew who she was, and she would learn his name when the time was right.

The Kennari settled himself back onto the rugs, and Caden sat across from him, legs folded and hand resting on her own leather-covered knees. They sat in silence for a long while, as they did at every lesson. Caden concentrated, as her Kennari had taught her, focusing on clearing her mind to make room for the day's training.

After a long time, the Kennari stirred, then whispered, "Til læra, við verða vera sjón."
The Kofi melted away and blinding sunlight assaulted Caden's eyes. She threw a hand up to shade her eyes, blinking away stinging tears. When her eyes had become accustomed to the light, Caden realized that her Kennari was now sitting just behind her.

He gestured with one hand, and the landscape seemed to fly toward and past them until Ebon appeared on the horizon, and seemed to grow before them. The city's name suited it. It looked like an enormous, awkwardly cut chunk of onyx lying in the snow. Ancient, hulking, dark stone buildings were tunneled within and hewn from the giant boulder of a city.

The swift flight of the land stopped, leaving Caden and her Kennari sitting just before the main gate, The Twins. Giant men were carved into the gleaming black stone on either side of the gate, each hefting an axe taller than any man. The statues were supposed to be in the likeness of the brothers of the first king. Twins, who, when their brother discovered the pile of black rock, spent their lives tunneling and carving - creating with their own hands a stronghold for the people their brother led. Time had worn away any discernable features, however, leaving the men of Ebon to imagine that some heroic deed might lead to his own face carved in place of one of the Twins, to inspire fear in the hearts of the men of The Buried City.

The Twins faced west, directly aligned with The East Arch, the main entrance to The Buried City. The East Arch stood within easy sight of a man standing at the feet of The Twins, but the flat landscape was deceptive. The Arch was not as near as it seemed. Nor was it really an arch anymore. As the elements had worn away the identity of the Twins of Ebon, so had it affected the Arch of The Buried City. The abutments and voussoirs of the north half of the arch had mostly crumbled, leaving the arch only two-thirds complete. The south side rose, gleaming and white, from the snow and arced gracefully northward. Just past the gold keystone, the arch headed earthward, only to end abruptly in midair. Ebons whispered that the Arch was held up by the magic of a sorcerer who was being held deep within the Buried City.

The Kennari leaned forward slightly and rested his left hand gently on Caden's left shoulder, letting his arm drape casually across her back. She sighed with contentment and leaned back against him as he spoke softly in her ear.

"The two great cities of our generation," he gestured toward Ebon then swept his hand toward The Arch that marked the entrance to the Buried City, "so close to one another, and so full of hatred for each other." His hand left her shoulder and his fingertips traced winding paths up and down her arm.

"The Cities have always been great enemies." Caden murmured. She'd heard this before.

"Not always." Her Kennari replied. "The Buried were once Ebons."

Caden came more aware at this. This, she had not heard before.

"In the reign of your grandfather's grandfather, there was an uprising. The thing almost came to civil war before your grandfather's father ended it." He glanced down at her face. "You have not been told this?"

Caden shook her head.

"Your grandfather's father had traveled beyond the ice in his youth, to the Far Sea, where there is magic in the very air. There, he learned to use the magic. This is what caused the uprising. People who know little of a thing fear it. So, the Ebons feared the magic that your grandfather's father had brought from the Far Sea. Fear can make monsters of good men. One evening, your grandfather's father called together all who did not fear the magic, who wanted to learn and explore the things that the magic could offer, and led them out of Ebon through The Twins. They walked on the ice all night, and when the first rays of the sun illuminated the ice, they stopped. There, your grandfather's father taught his followers the magic. When they were all powerful enough, they joined their magic to one another and used it to create an exact replica of Ebon. Exact, that is, but for the color. Their city shone white, for they had called forth the ice from below to form it."

The Kennari sighed deeply, and pulled Caden a little tighter to him before continuing.

"After a time, however, the men who had created the city began, one by one, to die. The magic began to fail. Many of them tried to pass the knowledge on to apprentices, but only one found a student who could harness the magic, bend it to his will. As the magic faded, the city weakened. Finally there was not enough of the magic left to sustain it, and the entire city sank into the ice, still in the same form, but now below ground."

"The sinking of The Buried City caused instability in the glacier on which we live. This instability has been increasing below the ice without giving any hint of the danger it poses to the cities which rest atop it. Early on, the instability could have been counteracted, but it is now beyond repair. Ebon and The Buried City are in imminent danger. The cities could collapse any day. I have warned others of this. I have spoken of it to Dared."

At her Kennari's mention of her father, Caden trembled. The thought of her Kennari speaking to her father terrified her. If he were to have the tiniest inkling that his only daughter went to her teacher for more than history lessons, Caden's small freedoms would disappear, and so would her beloved Kennari.

The Kennari felt her trembling and drew his arms tightly around her, and mistaking her fear of her father for fear of the cities' destruction, whispered in her ear. "There is a way to survive, Nemi, but I fear that most people, your father especially, will not accept it. Remember what I said of fear...they will fear the means with which they may save themselves, and because I will be the one to present it to them, they will fear me and most likely devise to kill me."

Caden could not imagine anyone fearing her Kennari. True, he was an imposing man, taller than average and with that odd, fair coloring, but he was the most gentle person she'd encountered. What solution could possibly be so horrible that the Cities would rather kill their savior than embrace it? Caden's breath caught.

Her Kennari guessed her thought.

"Magic is the only thing that can save them. Magic brought from the Far Sea by your grandfather's grandfather, passed to many, then passed to only one apprentice."
"Passed to you - the last man able to access and wield the magic."

"Yes."

The City and the Arch faded, leaving them once again in the sweetly scented darkness of the Kofi. They held each other in silence for a long time.

The Eye of the World (a parody)

Warning to my mom: this story contains mild language.

Rider in black: …
Rand : Eeeeek!
Tam: What the…?
Rand : I'm not crazy!
Tam: You're not my son, either.
Rand : What?
Tam: Oh, nothing…

Mat: Hey, Rand and Perrin, does that bird on the roof there remind you of anyone?
Bird: …
Rand: *throws pebble*
Bird: *flies off*
Rand: Now we're safe.
Mat: There's some rich lady in town. Let's see if we can find a way to sneek a peek at her boobs!
Perrin: Mat, you always were the best with women.
Moiraine: *looks Rand, Mat and Perrin up and down*
Three strong boys, eh? I may need something from you…
Mat: *silly grin*
Moiraine: Tell me your dreams.
Rand: Why? I'm not crazy!
Moiraine: The wheel weaves as the wheel wills…
Lan: Something stinks.
Mat: Smeller's the feller. *giggles*
Trolloc: Boo! Roooooar!
Moiraine: *shoots fireball*
Trolloc: Sizzle!
Boys: *jaws drop, stare at Moiraine in horror*
Moiraine: You have to come with me now.
Egwene: I'm coming too!

Ba'alzamon: Serve me!
Rand: No!
Mat: No!
Perrin: No!
Ba'alzamon: What do you guys think of my CG effects? I had them done at Weta! *fire whooshes from eyes and mouth*
Rand: I've seen better.
Ba'alzamon: *gives Rand a wedgie*

Rand: What a crazy dream! Wait…why is my underwear clear up to my ears?
Mat: Yours too?
Rand and Mat: *look at Perrin*
Perrin: I don't wear underwear…

Lan: There are about 2 million Trollocs and Fades behind us.
Nynaeve: Well, then let's get going, studly. *tugs braid*
Lan: Where did you come from?
Nynaeve: I followed your trail.
Lan: You …tracked…me??? Yeah, right.
Trollocs: Here we come!
Moiraine: Hurry, we can escape by going into this dead city that is built of pure evil!

Mat: Rand, Perrin, let's go get into some trouble.
Mordeth: Help me carry this treasure and I'll give you some!
Mat: Ok!
Mordeth: Just follow me into this very dark room waaaaay under ground…
Boys: Ooooooh! Shiny stuff!
Mat: I'll just sneak this dagger into my pocket…
Mordeth: Don't you think that I'm creepy?
Rand: Well, now that you mention it…you are stretching out all thin and wispy like right in front of our eyes.
Perrin: Run away!

Moiraine: Where the hell have you been…and Mat, what are you doing under your cloak?
Mat: *stops stroking dagger*
Lan: *bursts in* The trollocs are here! Everyone stick together and don't touch the fog. *everyone rides off in a different direction*
Lan: Shit!

Nynaeve: *sneaking up to Lan and Moiraine's campsite*
Moiraine: Nynaeve, get your ass out here!
Nynaeve: You dragged us all out here, almost got us killed, and lost the kids…I'll get even with you as soon as I can channel at will! *tugs braid*
Lan: Damn, she's hot when she's angry! I'd like to tug that braid… *winks at Nynaeve*
Moiraine: Oh, get a room.

Perrin: Hey, Egwene, let's wander north on our own. I'm sure the rest of them will catch up to us.
Egwene: Maybe we'll meet some hot guys along the way!
Perrin: But, I thought you and Rand…
Egwene: Oh. Yeah.

Rand: Hey! There's a boat!
Thom: Well, what are you waiting for?
Mat: When did you get here? T
hom: I've been here pretty much the whole time. Now, get on the damn boat!
Perrin: Hey, look! Wolves!
Elyas: I'm not a wolf…or am I?
Wolves: Hi, Perrin.
Perrin: Get out of my head!
Wolves: Here come some people in really bright clothes.
Perrin: They're like ten feet away. Thanks for the warning.
Tinkers: We're loking for this song…
Aram: Hey, Egwene. Wanna make out?
Egwene: ok.
Perrin: But, I thought you and Rand…
Egwene: Put a cork in it!
Tinker girls: Watch us dance Perrin!
Perrin: Must…not…watch…sexy…bodies…writhing…

Rand: Hey, Inkeeper. Have you seen a big, hairy guy with golden eyes, and a really hot girl? Or how about an Aes Sedai and her Warder?
Thom: Nice and subtle, Rand.
Inkeeper: *kicks them out*
Mat: I bet that guy's a darkfriend.
Myrddral: Speaking of darkfriends…tada!
Rand and Mat: Eeeeek!
Thom: Geez you sissies. Here, take my stuff and run away, since that's all you seem to be good for.
Myrddral: Bring it on old man. *giant blue flash*

Egwene: We left the Tinkers days ago. How much further, Elyas?
Elyas: Not far now.
Ravens: Peeeeeeeerrin…where aaaaaaaaaaare yoooooooooou?
Elyas: Shit! Run!
All: *suddenly shiver*
Ravens: No fair going into a stedding!
Whitecloaks: Stedding won't keep us out. You guys are obviously darkfriends, so we're gonna kill you.
Perrin: I might as well take a couple of you with me. *kills two whitecloaks*
Whitecloaks: We were just BS-ing.
Perrin: Oh…
Whitecloaks: Well, now we have to kill you. We'll just leave you in this unguarded tent until we decide how.
Lan: I'm here to rescue you!

Mat: *whispering* I love you, little dagger. I'm going to stroke you and keep you in my pocket and…
Rand: Holy shit! Look at the size of that ruby!
Mat: Mine! *hisses*
Rand: Ok, ok! Sheesh!
Mat: Everybody is a darkfriend…they all want my dagger, and to kill me.
Rand: *plays flute*
Mat: *juggles*
Inkeeper: Here is a dark, smelly cellar with only a tiny window and one door…uh, I mean your room. *closes door*
Rand: I know you're still standing out there.
Gode: Actually, it's me.
Mat: Are you a darkfriend?
Gode: Uh….no?
Mat: Yeah, right.
*cellar explodes in fantastic burst of light*
Mat: I'm blind!
Rand: I'm sick!
Darkfriends: We're gonna get you!
Passing Farmer: This story is getting way too long and boring. Get in, I'll give you a ride, and we can move on with it.
Rand: I feel better now.
Mat: You were faking to get me to sell my dagger!
Loial: You're a cranky little buggar, arent you.
Rand: What the hell are you?
Loial: I'm an ogier.
Moiraine: He's going to help us find our way through The Ways.
Loial: I'm what?
Moiraine: The wheel weaves as the wheel wills…
Rand: I do not think that means what you think it means.

Rand: Will you teach me how to use my sword, Lan?
Lan: First, let's see what you already know.
Rand: *stabs himself in the foot*
Lan: Oh, brother. Ok, then. Rule number one: always practice as naked as possible.
Lan and Rand: *strip to their underwear and start hitting eachother with sticks*
Nynaeve: *drools*
*stick fighting continues for about five minutes*
Lan: And that's everything I know.
Moiraine: Heigh ho, heigh ho, into the Blight we go…
Lan: The Blight is full of dangerous and deadly creatures…
*a ladybug lands on his sleeve*
Lan: Aaaaaahhh!
*flails sword about wildly*
*ladybug flies off*
Lan: See what I mean? *to Nynaeve* I almost died there you know…
Moiraine: Here's the Eye of the World.
Mat: Uh, this is a puddle.
Aginor: *jumps from behind bush* Ah-ha!
Balthamel: *jumps from behind bush* Boo!
Moiraine: How did you get here?
Forsaken: We followed Mat.
Moiraine: *glares at Mat*
Jolly Green Giant: Ho ho ho… *grabs the Forsaken and squashes them*
Moiraine: Gee, thanks!
Jolly Green Giant: *leaves*

Ba'alzamon: I will kill everyone!
Rand: Not if I cut this black thingy sticking out of you!
Ba'alzamon: Noooooo! *dies*
Moiraine: I found this box in that puddle.
Rand: Well, are you gonna open it?
Moiraine: *opens box, hands horn to Mat*
Here, you hang onto this…Holy shit! What is that behind you Rand?
Rand: *turns*
Moiraine: *stuffs dragon banner into Rand's saddlebag*

The Plant

The young woman sits on her haunches, examining the rare plant that I pointed out. It is a spidery thing, all tendrils and thin, curling shoots with one large, dark flower right in the center.

“Why is it so rare?”

Because it kills. But I can’t tell her that.

“People were afraid of it, the color being so unnatural. They burned it whenever they found it. This is the only specimen of which I am aware.”

“Were the fears founded?”

“There is no documentation of anyone being harmed by it.”

Because we destroyed every last scrap.

She leans in closer, one slender finger outstretched. She closes the distance so slowly that the movement is nearly undetectable. Finally fingertip and flower touch. The blossom unfolds, long, velvety petals a deep midnight blue. Yellow headed stamens, heavy with pollen sway free of their confines. A heady perfume wafts to us, but my body is trained to resist it. The silly girl inhales deeply.

“The smell is unique.” She takes another whiff. “Like Jasmine, but combined with something acidic…”

I watch the thin tendril snaking up her back. The poison has numbed her slightly – she can feel, but not a touch this light.

The plant wraps itself around the young woman’s neck like some macabre necklace.

Now she can feel it. Her hands fly to her neck. As realization dawns in her eyes her fingers claw madly at the vine. She is pulled to the ground.

The young woman’s fingers rake furrows through the dark soil. It smells earthy: warm and rich and damp. Spotty sunlight filters through the thick canopy of leaves overhead dancing shadows along moss-covered trunks.

Her foot contacts a stone, sending it tumbling into the rippled water of a small brook. The splash sends a handful of birds to the sky in fright. Their bright wings beat the still air and dislodge a smattering of leaves, sending them down to brush our faces and arms.

The young woman chokes on a sob. Tears run from her dark eyes and disappear into her dark hair.

Her lips move, trying to call my name perhaps? To beg for mercy? To beg for death?

And then it is over. She is still. Her glazed eyes stare into mine.

394

“High Lady, I am honored to bring before you Writer Shelan, Daughter of the Keep, may the Light ever descend upon her.” The ancient man’s white hair brushed the marble floor as he bowed more deeply than his apparent frailty made him seem capable of. He straightened and turned to address me.

“Writer Shelan, Daughter of the Keep, may the Light ever descend upon you, I am honored to present to you the High Lady of Cadrithian, whose Name may not be spoken. You have brought an offering, yes?” Frail hands, translucent skin stretched tightly over knobby, arthritic knuckles and blue veins, stretched toward me. I fished deeply in my sleeve, and produced with a slight flourish a small roll of parchment. Without further ceremony, the paper made its way from my hands, to the skeletal hands of the servant, to the High Lady.

A gift from a Writer was a rarity, even for the Highborn. The Keep was jealous of the ability of its Daughters, the Writers above all, and did not like public demonstrations.

The High Lady looked for a long moment at the small scroll that rested in her palm. It bore neither seal nor ribbon. She knew it is safe to touch, for had it not been, her withered servant would have detected it and I would already have been dead.

The scroll made a soft sound as it was unrolled, as if it was whispering its contents. It was not the single word scrawled in midnight ink that was the usual gift of a Writer. On the small paper, four words flowed in crimson ink, I touch his hand.

The High Lady was quite aware of the power the small paper could give her, but unlike most others would have done in her place, she gave no sign of desire to use – or abuse- the power I had given her, and I knew I had made the correct choice. For this sort of power, you had to pick people who knew how to exercise it in the proper way.

If only the Keep felt the same way….

The High Lady nodded, the slight movement caught by the sharp eyes of the old man. He addressed me again.

“Acceptable. What does the Keep ask of the High Lady?”

I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I spoke.

“I do not come as an emissary of the Keep, High Lady. I come on my own behalf.” I breathed heavily, aware of the ramifications of what I had just said.

“I know that I have no right to address the high Lady.” I rushed on, raising my eyes to meet those of the High Lady, as well dead for a sheep as a lamb. “I beg only that the High Lady hear what I have to say.”

A long silence descended, and the one who’s Name could not be spoken took full measure of me with her crystal eyes.

Suddenly she rose from her seat, waving her servant away, and stepped down in front of me.
“Walk with me, Writer.”

I rose and fell in step beside her.

“I have something that I feel I must show you if you are to understand the full gravity of my situation.” She nodded indulgently and motioned for me to lead on.

She followed me to the large, covered cart I had arrived in. I unlaced the canvas flap at the back and pulled it open. Inside sat a man, his long legs folded underneath him. His dark hair fell past his shoulders. His boots stood to his side next to his folded black coat. The long sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, exposing an intricate tattoo that climbed his left forearm. His eyes were closed.

When I turned to her again, the High Lady’s eyes were wide and riveted to the man in the wagon.

“He is a Speaker” she breathed.

The Speaker’s eyes opened and fixed on the High Lady’s eyes, causing her to inhale sharply. His eyes were solid black. A smile crept halfway onto his face.

“He is, High Lady, but he is not only a speaker.” Her bright eyes snapped to my face, fear and wonder warring in them, then comprehension.

“He Writes?”

“He does, High Lady.”

Wonder won out, and the High Lady stared openly at the man.

After along moment, she spoke again. “We must take him before the Six.”

At this declaration, the man finally spoke. “I’m afraid I won’t be going before them, High Lady.”

“But there are rules…”

He opened his mouth to tell her that he was finished with her rules, and with her, too, if need be.

“Speaker…” I warned in a low voice.

The Speaker’s eyes shot to my face, flashing with hot anger, but they quickly cooled. It was only when he relaxed back to the floor of the cart that I realized that he had risen.

“Do what you must, Writer.”

I dropped the canvas back into place, and turned to find the High Lady’s haughty composure fled. Her elegant features had turned fish-like, all bulging eyed, wide mouthed fear, but she schooled her features quickly. We resumed walking, making our way slowly back the way we came.

“The Keep has no knowledge of him. I have hidden him, but he has told me things that frighten me. Sometimes he thought he could hear footsteps beyond his door – not when the food was delivered, but at other times when everything was still and the only other sound was the buzz of insects in the distant trees. Those were his exact words.”

We walked in silence for a time. Spending time with a Speaker had taught me that words were not always as necessary as people thought them to be.

“You know that there are no true secrets, Writer...”

“So, you will take me before the Six.”

“I have a duty…” she seemed to fumble for the right words. “…there are rules…”

Silence descended again as we made our way across the vast, cobbled courtyard to a high canvas tent. I followed the High Lady into the enclosure, ducking through a low flap in the wall.

Six men sat in an outward-facing circle, chained hand and foot to a raised platform. Their heads were shaved, and their naked bodies were oiled and gleamed in the light of the fires burning in each corner of the tent. The fires let off sweet and heavy smoke that floated in lazy swirls along the ceiling. The smell was heady and I inhaled deeply, enjoying the relaxation that crawled through my body.

The eyes of the Six were glazed, far off, as if they were seeing things others didn’t. I felt them staring into my mind, my soul.

One of the Six spoke.

“You Wrote true when you Wrote for the High Lady. You did touch him, but you are no longer the only one. Another stretches forth his hand as I speak to you. Your Speaker is dying.”

I did not remember leaving the tent, but I must have run. I reached the cart and threw open the canvas. The Speaker lay, slumped forward. A large knife stood up from his back. His eyes fluttered, and he whispered, “…they know…they are looking for you…they do not bring you a swift death. A thanks for your kindnesses, Writer…” Then the air around me rippled as he Spoke.

“Die."

The Light surronded me, wrapping me in warm, liquid gold.

David

Forest birds sang quietly in the tall trees that surrounded the small pool. A gentle breeze drew small ripples across the face of the quiet water. David stood waiting at the water’s edge, the thick mud sucking at the soles of his heavy boots as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Aestril floated, face-down in the sparkling water. Her flame-colored hair fanned out around her head mimicked the reflection of the setting sun. Two fiery red drops in the deep blue of the reflected sky. Her arms, flung wide, floated at her sides. The water played with her dress, opening it fully one moment, pressing it against her body the next like a moss-colored umbrella. The crimson ribbon of her sash meandered away from the floating girl giving the illusion of her life-blood trailing on the water.

David shifted impatiently once again, fiddling with his belt buckle to keep his hands occupied. An image floated into his mind…himself stalking angrily from the pool, his cloak flapping behind him on the breeze looked like strange wings from this odd, observer’s view of himself. He shook his head to aid in clearing the vision. He’d long since been able to clear his head of his sister’s unique and only means of communication, though lately he’d become suspicious that he was able to clear the visions voluntarily only because she allowed him the option to do so.

As the vision melted from his eyes his sister came into focus, still floating, but on her back now. A small pout adorned her freckled face.

“Do you really want me to leave?”

Aestril’s chest rose and fell in a deep sigh. The pout remained.

“You asked me to come, Aestril…”

David felt the odd sensation of his sister manipulating his thoughts, causing him to see what she wanted to tell him.

He watched his sister walking a wooded path…he reflexively jumped as a huge man thudded to the earth behind her…his anger rose as the dirty man pawed at his sister’s collarbone…she was speaking to the man…the man was plunging his own dagger deep into his own heart…

As David’s mind cleared, he felt her arms around him. He hugged her tightly. Aestril had always been small, and David had always felt obligated to protect his younger sister, especially since she didn’t ask for help. She never was afraid. Until now. He could feel fear emanating from her, and he held her tighter, wanting her to feel safe. Aestril lifted her face from her brother’s shoulder to look him in the eye. She spoke to him in the gentle way she usually did, not completely clouding his mind as she had to tell him what had happened to her. A small picture formed in the corner of his mind, Aestril floating in the water, face-down, as he had found her not long ago. David stood at the edge of the water. His face showed obvious grief. The expression on his sister’s face made it a question.

“How could you even wonder, Aestril? If you died, I’d follow not long after...” He hugged her tightly to him again and softly kissed her wet hair. His next thought, After I killed whoever took you from me, he left unspoken.

They stood, embracing, for many minutes until David realized that his clothes had taken on much of the water that had been dripping from her dress, and the front of him was now as thoroughly soaked as his sister.

Aestril

The bulky man sucked his yellow teeth as he waited, watching the road from the top of a large boulder. It was not a main thoroughfare, not even paved. It was little more than a path, and unlikely to be chosen by any traveler but one who wished to avoid meeting others. The girl he stalked had used only wooded paths. A quiet chuckle rumbled in the man's deep chest. It was almost as if she sought to aid him in her capture.

A flash of color through the leaves of a short tree drew the man's eyes up the road. He stiffened as his quarry appeared. As she drew closer a wicked grin crept across the man's face. No orders had been given as to the condition the girl needed to be in when she was handed over. She appeared to be near her mid twenties, only a youth as age was measured here, but the body of a woman was apparent where her blue dress clung and fell in soft ripples as she walked. The girl minded him of water.

The man's grin widened as he imagined the girl's fiery hair splashed across the dirt, the feel of her body fighting against the weight of his. Another soft chuckle echoed in his chest. She wouldn't even scream, so he wouldn't have to occupy one hand with muffling cries for help. His mind made up, he jumped from the boulder landing with a deep thud in the soft dirt just behind the girl.

In one quick movement he had her wrists pinned to her back in one of his large hands. He pulled the girl roughly toward him as his free hand wrapped around her throat. Tilting her head back sharply, the man growled into the girl's ear. Hot breath caught loose tendrils of the girl's hair and played them across her cheek as the man whispered. "You made it almost too easy for me, girl. You should have stuck to the main roads where you'd at least have a chance of someone coming to your rescue. I've no idea why they sent me after a girl…but I've decided to make it worth my time." His calloused fingers crept down her neck and spread over her collar bone, rough nails scratching soft skin.

The image that suddenly exploded into the man's mind drove him to his knees. The certain knowledge of every horrifying detail of his own torture and death was played out within his head. It was not a suggestion, tickling in the back of his skull, drawing out small doubts. It was certainty. The truth of it drew tears from his eyes. Any death would be preferable to this.

Sweat trickled a path from his greasy scalp, through the grime on his forehead. His rough, shaking hands released those of his captive and dropped to clutch blindly at his waist for the hilt of his knife. The blade slid into his chest silently, save for a soft noise as hilt met hard muscle.

Slowly, the image of his destruction slipped from the man's mind and he realized what she had done. A last deep chuckle escaped his lips. Of course she wanted him tortured, killed. He reassured himself that the vision she had planted in his head was a lie. He had the girl. He had not failed. When he returned with her he would be honored above all, and before he returned…

The man tightened his grip and realized for the first time that he no longer held the wrists of his captive. Horror flooded his face as he saw the hilt protruding from his chest. As he drew his last breath, his eyes rose to meet those of the girl, who had turned to face him. Their eyes locked and another image slipped gently into his mind. He sank, the weight of the crystal water above him crushing. His lungs burned and heaved, desperate for air.

As Aestril walked away, the dead man lay on the dusty path, water trickling from his nose.