The Mistake of the Myrddraal
Moghedien sneered internally, though she kept her face impassive. She didn't like it. She had told the fool Myrddraal to drop the woman into a cell, and the fool creature had dropped the Warder in with her. Was it truly that difficult to tell a Warder and his Aes Sedai apart?
The one in a cell to await questioning, and the other should have had his throat cut, no delays. Must she do everything herself?
She opened the door. The shield she had tied off on the pathetically weak woman was still in place; Moghedien could feel the weave's prescence. There had been no attempt to break free. Apparently she was still unconscious.
Two shapes lay now on the floor of the cell. Neither moved much. But filled with saidar's sweetness, and with a small ball of flame hovering ahead of her, Moghedien could see easily.
The Aes Sedai lay on her belly, but her empty eyes stared straight up at the roof. Her neck had been snapped - with much more force than strictly necessary.
Moghedien blinked. Who?
Her eyes fell on the Warder in dawning comprehension. He was on his side, his own eyes unfocused, and the slight repeatitive hitch of his shoulders seemed to be an attempt at a merry chortle. Or perhaps a helpless giggle. Or a despairing weeping.
Moghedien couldn't tell, and she didn't much care. She whipped out a flow of Air to sieze him and jerk him up. He hung limp, his head lolling to the side, and his breath came short and wheezing, still as if he either sobbed or laughed.
She knotted Air around that foolish topknot and snapped his head up to look in his eyes.
Blue eyes, glazed, trailing to the side even when they tried to fix on her face. His grin was a thing of madness, a last living effort. Blood stained his teeth, his mouth, chin, and cheeks - he had bitten right through his own lower lip. "You can't have her," he managed, the words slurred. "By the Light, you can't bloody have her. She said..." His voice trailed, and this time Moghedien was certain that hitch in his breath was weeping. "She..."
Moghedien slapped him with Air and Flame - a slap which would burn in more ways than one.
He would have slumped if not for being held up. But he didn't make more sense for it, and his eyes fluttered closed. A wheeze of words was his only sign of life: "Can't... bloody..."
"Pull yourself together," she voiced icily. What was wrong with the man? Even if he'd loved the woman ever so dearly...
There was no reply. For once, Moghedien wished she had been more proficient with Healing. She looked him up and down - had that toss into the wall before his capture actually hurt him this badly?
Her gaze fell on his wrists, and with more Air she raised his hands. Both wrists were open and out pumped what was very likely the last of his blood. Cut open. No, not cut. There was nothing in the cell sharp enough to cut. All blades had been removed; that, at least, Myrddraal understood.
Bitten.
Bitten open.
Moghedien glared at him. He no longer breathed, the bloody man. Fool. So he had broken his Aes Sedai's neck, and gnawed his own wrists open. Bloody fool.
And he hadn't even had the courtesy to keep alive long enough for her to punish him. She'd have made him die screaming.
She let the weaves drop and the corpse thudded to the floor.
Was it that difficult to seperate Warder and Aes Sedai? The Myrddraal would be taught the difference, she decided. All composed rage, she glided out of the rooom. Icily composed. Icily furious.
It would be taught. That was, if she didn't make it die screaming.
Author's Note:
Just a dawdle done in a moment of inspired boredom. Please tell me what you think.