Harry Potter and the Pattern of Fate Redue by Sadsack's newAccnt

by SadSackII

Book 1 The Serpent's Truth: Truth about one founder is not what is taught. Did he see more and be more than taught? Harry and Co. are about to find out that the universe and magic is not what they've learned. Will they survive? Can they grow and return in time to save the school, world, and all they love? pro OOC Ginny(non-fanon or canon) Harry/Multi read AN for more warnings.

35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling or Robert Jordan and their worlds of Harry Potter and the Wheel of Time. These two created the fun little worlds I have decided to play in with no thought of profit to myself. So I promise that if I did own these I wouldn't have had Hermione with Ron, though I would have been happy to see her be married to Rand al'Thor if ever the two worlds should meet.

Chapter Thirty Four: The Good Shepherd

Early morning light welcomed the age burdened Olven and his orphaned niece Collia Rai. Life is hard for any that try to make a go of it on the shores of the Sea of Storms. Outside of Illian and Tear, few ports could stay long open for trade or fishing as the coastal waters were full of treacherous traps of rocky shoals, shifty winds, and swarms of freebooting pirates that infest the few partially accessible points. Those factors left clamsmen like himself and his teenage ward few competitors, but also an extremely limited customer base to trade with.

Even considering that, it was days like this that sets his sails as they were marvels of the gift the Creator made in crafting the rough handed sea and rugged beaches lining it. Sunlight breaking through the heavy clouds, bathing the barely waking world after a wicked storm gives meaning to an old salt. People are small and fragile but the Wheel be praised they are a hardy lot if they're willing to fight for what they want. Inhaling clean ocean chilled air on a strand soaked to its deeps, with fresh growth of green grasses and trees purifies a worn heart. At least this is how he sees it.

Hobbling along on his crutch he's been using since his injuries in the Whitecloak War, Olven took in the glory of his childhood home. It was a magnificent land to dwell. Too bad for his niece, it offers little in the way of a future. Opportunities for finding a life outside of aiding an ancient sod like him are few and maybe impossible when they have nothing to offer others to join them. A rotten shame that.

A girl as full of joy and life needs a young laddy buck to provide a safe harbour for her to build her hearth in. She is such a vibrant thing she'd be a natural mother her uncle wagers.

What a sight it would be if the Wheel did her a service and washes up a fine volunteer for her to claim. Someone his niece can take to heart as he'd be a man with no home elsewhere or promised girly to call him away. A dream he'd not imagine actually ever occurring.

Sighing at his musings, he sets about with a critical eye to locate the hidden gems of food under the shifting wet sands. Fools run out to rake madly at the vast beaches and end up worn out before getting much more than a pittance. Care and practice locates the small blighters far more abundantly, and saves a sharp eyed fellow a better portion of the day.

A chill in the morning breeze carries the scents of a long dead fire some ways out in the deeps where many a fool has run afoul of the waves. Sniffing it for signs of danger to him or his, he decides its safe enough to keep about his day. Locating a likely patch, he sets to forgetting the ashen scents in the air. He does find himself drifting in thought as the work's monotonous nature leaves his body on rote. Idle thoughts of his niece and her as a happy mother has him wonder where in the Light she's got herself off to. Rai was a fine lass on the whole but was still a bit flighty when the mood strikes her, just like her mother was at the same age.

Still she knows very well it is not a thing she can do as a sweet meat of a little miss. Every mile of this stretch is like as not watched by scoundrels and worse so skipping off far afield can end poorly for a lassy. Boys with a rake and a bucket usually can be left alone. Same for a girl caring for an ancient broken sod such as he, but a girl alone is a treat waiting to be gobbled up by low sorts sneaking about.

Frowning after he's dug up a fair sized catch, he is too worried to wait up any longer for her to just show up as she should've already. So with a long weary sigh he secures his hamper sack to a nearby deadfall log of driftwood alongside his claming rake. Both were prizes but only to those like him, and all those in these parts knows what's his as he knows theirs.

Drawing his old poorly kept field short sword, he goes in search for her. Fears of finding her dead or ill used or more the like both has his arthritic hands tremble. Calling out to her, he hears nothing in reply aside from fiendish gulls cackling in their endless hunt of food. Today the things were extra loud or in frightening abundance judging by the awful ruckus they were making. Either case only left it that he barely could hear over the din from flying vermin and the rough seas hammering the shoreline.

Rounding a bend in the cliff faced portion of the beaches he'd been forever trying in vain of curing Rai from traveling, Olven's eyes lay sight of his niece picking over the remains of a shipwreck with a frantic tugging from beside some rocks and a stretch of broken decking. Dread that the land rat pirates nearby would be on the site soon has him hobble into a limping run to her with his crutch springing him ahead faster than his non-bum leg alone could manage.

Coming up closer on her, she sees him and begins crying with her skirt hems floating in the eddying rising surf., "He do be trapped Da! He'p me get 'im clear 'fore them murderin' butchers be findin' 'im."

Going over to check on who this was, Olven found a badly battered lad stripped to the waist and loaded down at the hips with a wide array of little pouches and purses. There is a broken bill hook jabbed into one shoulder and a ragged slash across the wiry muscular back. A few burns were angry red and bloody along one side that wasn't pinned down by the wooden remains of the lad's onetime ship.

It was clear to him that sweet Rai was in for a real heartbreak. Even if they rescued the fellow, he doubts they'd be able to keep death from claiming what the sea spat up.

"He's be as good as dead lassy." he tried to reason with his distraught niece.

"No he do be livin'. He was a yowlin' fer all e' be worth an' covered in those wingbourn rats." Rai pointed at the waiting carrion eating gulls gathered near to hand. "No man do be a deservin' death like that. E't 'live while stuck in the ruddy sand, tain't be right, Da. Jus' tain't."

She had a point. So he holds up his hands in surrender. Best he could do was hand her his sword in case of danger while he hobbles away in need to grab up his tool and catch. Besides, the wreck may hold salvage worth a lost day of clams.

Returning he was struck by a new dread. A wide ring of a horse riding band of them murderous pirates whom ruled this Lightless section of beach front were gathering around his niece. Taunts and grabs from the wicked land rats for Rai's valiant but foolish defense of the somehow freed boy is a sight the world weary clamsman never wished to see or imagine happening for the child.

Snatching up a length of driftwood for a cudgel, he starts a wild hobbling run, well beyond certain they were dead. He couldn't think too much more on it as he scrambles to rescue his ward. The best girl a man could ever have as a daughter even if she wasn't his true one.

"Back yer bilge wallowin' land rats! Back er I'll be a guttin' yer good!" Rai was screaming in defiant fury. "Yer be no gettin' me claim."

One evil eyed pile of scabies laughs cruelly, "Nah yer be wrong thar lassy. We've a min' fer that thar young laird. Moneys an'a ransom do be a fine thing in exchange fer 'is blue blooded 'ide, yer see. Fer yer own it do be jus' a bit a fun among me an' me fine boyoes 'ere. Me Mates do like a fire in e're lasses liken' yer be a showin'. Tha's all we do be a requestin'."

"Yer try an' I'll be geldin' yer good." she spat back in the man's face as the freebooter tries to swing down for a grab at her.

Making up their minds that Rai wasn't going to go quiet and submissive, the lot charge in. It looked the end of his dear niece he's raised since she lost her folks eight years ago at the age of five. Screaming and whooping in anguish to distract the lot somehow, Olven tries running faster. There isn't much hope for it but he loved his little niece more than his old grizzled hide.

As it turns out he didn't need worry. The fish bait lordling was up on his feet incredibly enough, ripping out the bill hook and leaving a long running pool of blood in the sandy strand. Holding Rai back with one hand the boy parries the first rider's jab. Then instead of attacking the man, the lad cuts the horse's throat to send the pirate to the beach. Still pushing Rai back, the lad then snatches up the fallen pirates sword while crushing the fellow's throat with booted stomp. In the mean time a second nears but is after Rai to avoid the bleeding boy.

Nothing doing that as the lordly shipwreck victim jerks aside the girl to hamstring a second horse. Then rolls to the side to pop up and throw a knife into the throat of a third pirate. Taking a leap he takes control of the horse to meet the attackers on equal ground. Which terrified some enough to pull up on the reins but not the evil sod who spoke to Rai. That one thunders in to try unhorsing the lord. It fails as the boy does some side roll with a grip on the bridle to dodge the sword stroke then come up with a kick to the pirate's head followed by a half spun slash that guts the fellow.

None of the rest feel it wise to stay but the lad wasn't having it. Chasing the last three down the boy flip throws a new knife into the back of one, runs a second through from behind, then leaps onto the last's horse to do some unholy grab of the fellow's head before giving it a jerk. A sickening crack precedes the pirate falling limply from the horse dead as the scary lordling should be.

Olven has only seen the like before once in his wide roaming life. Back when he was still in the army of Illian to support his family, he witnessed an Andoran in the king's service, an al' something northish ride down some would be assassins. If he remembers right the fellow had been rumoured to be a Blade Master and proved it that day. These pirates only got the honor of witnessing such a fight once, though they may not have enjoyed it.

The lordling rides back at a cantor to Rai, whom is watching him with open adoration. If honest about things Olven himself was close to it. Yet his niece was far more exuberant about it as she runs to leap into the boys arms as he dismounts a bit woozily. Her slamming into him has the pair tumble to the sand in a tangle of limbs that turns into the girl's lips sealing tight with the lad's. This was a sight the ancient clamsman begins to think maybe the Pattern had heard his wishful dreams for his niece and washed up this man for her sake.

The boy looks surprised and may have said something, but blood loss and injuries has the boy go limp in Rai's slender but sturdy arms. Running again for all he is worth Olven sees that his first thoughts on the boy were turning true. However the inexplicable occurs as his niece cries out in anguish before kissing the boy again, then the miraculous happens as the lad jerks and sits back up and returns the kiss just and maybe in defense. He then crumbles into a pile in Rai's arms, but breathing and alive.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Standing beside Wise Mother Garla, Rai watched the woman work on the boy she found on the beach. Running her fingers through his glorious wild untamed night black locks, she felt worry hold her heartbeat to a thick iced pace. Her eyes were mentally tracing the lines of his chiseled features with adoration. She is unwilling to let go of him. He is her's and she wasn't going to easily pull anchor at anybodies demand. Nor was she ever accepting his sailing home to the Mother, a feeling she got the very first moment when she saw him in the heap of washed up wreckage, then after his brave slaughter of those misbegotten land rats in her defense it was a lock for her. He may have been ready to cast off lines before then but she knew that the Pattern must have heard her plea to keep him alive and hers as he stayed. In Rai's eyes he was never bound for any port of call save her hearth and arms.

Blushing she curses herself for being so forward as to kissing him so early in their relationship. Some may mock her decision to cast her nets for him when she only knew that he was devastatingly gorgeous in a lean wolfish way and that he was wicked scary in a barney. They were the mad ones she just knew it. He feels as if he were calling to her, needing her, and for that she would set sail by his side even into the full toothed might of the raging Sea of Storms. Then again they were like as not jealous of her. Has to be as the Laws of Salvage state that anything found on the beach unclaimed by someone right off, is free to be claimed by the finder.

Well she doesn't just trawl the beach day in and day out, but she is staking a claim. He is her rightfully claimed stake. She rescued him from the murderin' gulls and the wreckage as she chopped him free. Thus she has plenty of rights to him. Plus a girl could go spare out in this empty land in hopes of raking up a catch even half as good as her chosen laddy looks to be. Simple as that he will be hers and none can gainsay it.

Caressing his bearded cheek she sighs in delight, ignoring the fact she was being watched. The Wise Mother's eyes were observing her in judgement. Barmy fools and worse have wilted under that weighty stare the Healer can give. Hardened stone could be cowed by it Rai figures, but this was a special case. This is her future husband the woman is fixing up right and proper.

However she has to admit it is unnerving being on the receiving such a look, "What Honored One?" she squeaks under the scrutiny.

It was always hard to face the woman whom seems able to defy even nature and time as the woman's stern horse face was as youthful as girls a little older than Rai herself. Yet the woman has to be ancient by the near pure white crown of hair the Healer was renowned for in these parts. So when the lady purses those delicate wide thin lips, a girl like her has to be on the watch for being a bad thing.

With a no nonsense sniff the woman states firmly, "Child, will you please refrain from any further plotting a course for the lad to land in port at your hearth. He is weak yet and may not last much longer. Then we have to assume that he is like as not beholding to other factors than just surviving a shipwreck just for you to find him. He also by this thought may have ports of call anxious for his anchors to hold him fast to."

Biting her lips. Rai prays that's not the case. Then as brave as only a sea bred girl can be, she leans in to whisper in the cute lad's ear, "Come sailin' back. Me hearth do be a callin' yer home." she then kisses his ear followed by one for his forehead. He was so perfect she wants more and knows that is wrong for a girl of her station compared to his obvious one as a fine lord.

"Will 'e be a makin' it ma'am?" she asks with a longing sigh for her chosen.

"I can only say he is out of immediate danger child. Now to see he makes more than the night I must work and he rest. You can come calling tomorrow, not any sooner. Now be a dear and depart for my sake and his. We will need to discuss some important things later, but not the now so scoot." the Wise Woman's glower for her is clearly making the suggestion not optional.

Guided by a fiery spirit of determination, she kisses him once more but this time on the lips like she had on the beach. Seeing Wise Mother Garla's frightening visage she dashes for the door with only one more glance back at her salvaged princeling. She will marry him, she just knew it.

She fully intended to sneak back in the night to lay beside him for both their comforts but for some reason she must have found a bad clam in her stew as she became horrifically sick. Enough so that her Da had went and got the scary old besom Garla to look her over. A discussion she couldn't make out that well took place where her dear uncle ended up crying and nodding as the Wise Woman treated her.

In parting, the old woman informs her in a soft smiling voice, "Life has been unkind to you in many ways but maybe the lad you found has aided you. Things may not be as you dream, but he has opened a great gift for you. Sleep now child and I will return to that remarkable young man. Rest up and we four will be making some rather over due decisions for your future."

She hopes upon hearing that, that she will be presenting her case before the Women's Circle for a marital evaluation. It simply must be so as she was his sole woman, she has to be as he saved her and she did the same for him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Yawning from the exertion after two near solid days of fighting the Sea of Storms' clawing at its reclamation of the unusual young buck dear silly little Collie Rai Jabeth dragged out of its hungry depths. Garla al'Saalthre of Devon Ride made up her mind that it was well past time to gather up and send that lovely winsome waif packing for the girl's own good. Three times now the old Wise Woman has seen and felt the girl burst free with Saidar. Three times is a sufficient enough number of incidents for the Sewing Circle to act even if the girl may initially object. There are no places for the dear thing outside of Salidar or Tar Valon now. Those first two events were minor and could be seen as something other than what they must have been. Even with the sicknesses that followed, this time was different. There is no other explanations.

Whatever had occurred on that beach, even Garla felt it from her small cottage. A fair powered pulse of Saidar that gave her a jolt as she lay dozing in the warm sun of the early morning. Without it they may not have been able to bring the young lord to her care as she had them do after a frantic ride to the improbable scene.

Dressing in a dress she hasn't let herself think of for longer than most alive could claim for their lives' lengths, she sighs at the hidden treasures of her younger days. The caress of silk upon her skin was like the touch of a long lost lover she never dare dream come back to her in her self imposed exile. Glove like, her favorite dress clung to her, lending its elegance to her less than stunning features.

It was a surprise to be given this chance to be the woman she once had been. Just as it will be for Rai, it was also a shock to learn why the old Wisdom of her hometown at the time told her and her parents the shattering news she now is going to be delivering to the young girl. It may be near two centuries now but it is still as clear as if it were weeks ago. She was in need of training in the White Tower to gain control of her connection to the One Power. Poor Rai will now face the same for the same reasons, young girls that are born with the natural Talent to use Saidar are dangerous to themselves and those around them. If not trained they will die more like than not, possibly taking others with them.

Yet being discovered is not a horrible event in total, just life altering. Her own tale is one of great things as well as terrible, with the latter mostly from her own poor choices. To live as a vibrant powerful woman at the fore of her kind had her able to forge and shape the future of not only Tar Valon, but the world as a whole. People today have things going on in their lives that did not take place before her time. Women in the Tower have advantages that were only dreams for those of the all white or banded dresses of her day.

The intoxicating touch of her silks reminds her of those terrifying days when she were left alone in a cell afraid for the next day or if she was truly a monster of myth and legend. Running her hands down her now sleekly clad belly she remembers the touch of her loves she never would have had if not for life in the White Tower. The tender caresses of both men and women that knew her and treated her as more than the spinster in the make sent to train with the old Wisdom of Devon Ride when she was merely thirteen. The fear she felt when she knew she had foolishly let a merchant's guard get her alone, then shoving him so hard he flew through a new oak wall in the corn crib of the Inn. How scary it were to be in her cell alone then to find her next door cell Novice neighbor sneaking over on account of the Domani noble girl was as scared as she. The taste of her new friend's lips, the excitement of her first time in the Ogier Grove with the same girl. The night her lover proposed to her under those same trees and their secret wedding with the Sisters of the Order. The day they both were raised to the Shawl together, both Yellows and the man they found to share as Warder, and how his strong arms held them. How free they felt to be like they were as a family unto themselves. Yet then also is the loss of them...

It has been more than a century since that terrible day, nearly as long since any soul ever knew she once strode with thunder in her steps. The Tower may never remember when she sat for her Sisters in her Ajah or that some considered her for higher office still.

Running her fingers threw the folds of her Yellow prize she holds back a tear forming in her eyes. Just as marvelous as the silky yellow cloth of her Shawl, her life back then was bitter, sweet, and exceptional. Garla knew little Rai has much to look forward to, and no other choice but to live it. Rai is a beautiful fierce soul that will set the world on its ends, and that is a comfort to old Garla.

Dressed as is proper for Garla Aes Sedai, First Sitter for the Yellow, she lightly steps down her thin ladder from her loft bed, she is given quite a shock. The one time water logged lordling Rai found was dressing in clothes she's positive he did not have yesterday. At his waist hung two fine if brutal implements of warfare. The sword wasn't unexpected save its alien perfection and Shadoweyed theme. If it wasn't power wrought, she wasn't worth her status as Widom or Sister of the Yellow. It was the same for the chilling mace at his other side that has her stomach grow sick and unsettled just to look upon.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked in a firm voice that said he is leaving soon, healed enough to try it or not. His war torn flesh breaking her heart as such scars always do upon the men that earn them. Yet some she suspects were from hands not enjoined in battle but full of evil intent for a child as the age of them are years in the make and the boy was not so aged.

He has yet to turn to look upon her as he dresses, giving her a mournful show that is both titillating and terrifying. Swallowing her bile at knowing this manchild has bourn a heavy burden for a life, she speaks as the mighty Sitter she once had been, "However much it will take for you to escort the girl whom rescued you to Tar Valon."

She was amazed she remains calm with how sleekly beautiful he is and absolutely frightening in the same breath.

Pausing with a pained shifting of his feet and ragged shoulders, he replies, "So it wasn't you that Healed me." It wasn't a question nor a frantic cry of fright for being touched by the One Power. It also fails to comfort her as it were delivered in a voice as dead as last weeks catch.

"That is true." she replies, eying him. "You're of the Tower I see. So it will be little enough trouble for you to guide her. All who serve the Amyrlin Seat and the Hall of the Tower must take it as sacred to protect those like her."

Still half naked and very much a prime specimen of his gender and likely rank as a Warder, he takes a long deep breath. "You don't know what you are asking of me."

She makes an indelicate noise in response to that and steps nearer to him. "Do you not feel any responsibility to that dear child? She saved you with her more or less true First Draw. She will die now without training you know this."

Slumping some he stops dressing to walk over to her window overlooking the local village of Whispering Gale. Misnamed hole if there ever was one aside from Four Kings in Andor. With a lean hard muscular arm he swishes aside the curtain. His other hand grips tight the sill above her herb laden window box. A trembling shake in his tense muscles causes the small security chimes to tinkle.

"I may have sworn fealty to the Amyrlin Seat because of my betrothed, but I do not hold to them when they tried to murder whom I belong to. Besides, I know that as a Sister you have more stake or duty to this than I do. My life is no longer mine and must be in search of my life's holder. To do else wise is a dishonor to my oaths and loyalty."

"Do you think she would wish for you to condemn young Rai to some horrible death just to follow after her? What would she say to you on this?" she sees an opportunity to change his mind. "Would she see you the same if you let it occur?"

Wincing in disgust the boy half looks her way, "Do witches all play games with a man's heart and mind just out of natural habit?"

She bristles at hearing the word witch.

"Oh stop that Sister. To me a witch is as equal or better than normal women. It is an honor. My own mother was one so are- Bugger me there I go. Falling into games of semantics with a Sister out on sabbatical when my duty lays with whom I belong to not to any other." he growls with a clenching fist ground into a hip. "She can be sent by a merchant as best or better than by me. Besides I will never step into the gates of Tar Valon till that Reg Hag is dragged down."

Weighing the lad as she interrogates him, Garla moves over next to him, "Why use a derogatory term if it is such an honor? Why not be simple and kind in speech and thus take the teeth out of our enemies' many tools to harm us?"

He shakes his head and turns to look her straight in the eyes, "Where I come from it is not a foul curse word. Just a distinction between those gifted and not. As for bigots, they'll be the same no matter the words we use. I know that as well as any alive."

Compassion for the boy returns as she hears the ring of personal truth in that admission, touching his shoulder she asks, "Are you willing to see Rai suffer too?"

"Where I may have to go will not be safe for her either. I am not my own man but belong to other ports of call as I've heard it called here abouts." he sighs tiredly.

"Rai has her heart set on you and may try following you even if we were to forbid it. Your needing to find your woman, and as you are not utterly mad with self annihilating grief she will be heading to Salidar too. We may meet her on the way or you might sense her if she allows it. You will do her more service by guiding Rai and myself to Salidar. The times we all fear are coming and all must be in place to fight." she directed him gently to avoid his mulish male nature. Warders were often more stubborn than most men alive ever can become.

Staring at her with icy green eyes, he tries a different tact, tossing her one of his many small purses, "I will not be a party to toying with the girl's heart like that. Take this and see to it yourself. Take her and the old man to safety. In the end it will be better for all concerned if you do it this way as I may not be myself. You and I know that she is going to take decades to become ready for one such as I so why ruin her innocence by playing her a fool."

She is perplexed by this Warder. Most never question a Sister save in direct need of combating trouble. Caressing his arm, she asks, "Do you feel nothing for her?"

"She is lovely but not mine. Peace please be given me in this." he sighs to turn back to study the seas, "I'm a danger to any that travel with me."

A knock on the door forestalls her having to correct that. He goes to answer with a hand on his sword's hilt. "Who is it. Speak your business and begone, the Healer is busy."

The door opens at a thunderous bang as in streaks Rai with open arms and delighted laughter. "Yer be healed! Bless me iffin' it do be true!"

The vibrant youth slams into him with a mighty squeeze. He appears conflicted and jumpy, then returns the embrace a bit awkwardly as his arms are pinned, "Blimey, you could give Ione a run for her money."

That doused the exuberance of the girl, "Ione?"

The haggard Olven hobbles in about then with a load of clams. It is a good thing for Garla that she loves the little morsels as they make up a large portion of her pay for Healing, Well them, fish, and the produce of small gardens to add flavor and colour to her table.

"Ah the boyo be 'wake. Ged thin' that thar be trooble with dem pirates. They do on the look fer who be a guttin' thar leader's brother." Olven announces with relief at the sight of the lad.

Snorting the boy shows a fine cocksure side as he growls, "Bloody lot of rotters can try it."

"They may seek to harm them if we all stay and provide them the opportunity." she suggests for him to have one more reason to aid her in seeing Rai to training.

He looks torn, and yet sounds as any Warder does in these situations, cold and clinical "If I were to have a week, they would be no more a problem for anyone. How do you know they're hunting me?"

"They stopped us an'a demanded ter know if we de be a seein' men frem elsewhere. They didn'a 'ave a description but it do soundin' as iffin' they feel outsiders e're invadin' der territery." Olven explains.

"How far is Salidar from here?" the mysterious boy Warder questions, "I'm not from this area, and my map studies were not focused around here as much as Illian proper."

"Salidar?" Rai questions him and her.

"Not an easy ride. Tar Valon will be safer." she sighs, "Seanchan and Whitecloaks are in the area ahead. Scouts I suspect and both appear to be less than polite to our cause."

"Tell her of her fate Sister. I'll see to the clams. I hope you like choweder as that is my main recipee I know off hand for the slippery little sods. Do you have any cheese?"

Rai was now looking between them like a lost child, so very like she must have been seen by old Wisdom Havla and Kaliandra Sedai when they were discussing her and her fate.

It wasn't long before she was hugging tight little Rai and letting the boy set a table for them as if he knew the way of it better than many a goodwife. His tender eyes were regarding Rai as if he knew what she were going through in some ways. Was he truly a lord or a gifted boy who followed a Sister in going to the Tower with love in his heart and determination in his blood.

"Why do I be evil? I've ne'er be a doin' a mean thin' in me life?" the girl wept.

"Your not evil Rai. A witch is not a being of evil but a gift from the Creator to the World to see it is ran in the Light." The boy answers for her with a tenderness that is surprising. "The One Power is not of the Shadow but a tool of creation that is made available to a person to fight the true evils of the world. Think of it as your own chance to defy the darker sorts that infest life. I am not saying that it is an easy path to live by but you are not given any other choice so why hide from it. Instead take it and bring Light to places like this one just as Garla Sedai has done for decades here. We are not taking away your pain in being different, just providing a safe home for you. Witches such as you have been born with so much of the potential and duty of the Wheel and Creator's will that you bubble up with it. However in that vein, you must be trained to meet your gift and be worthy of it. Others can hide but not those gifted as you are, which is good as you have the potential to do great harm if left to your own devices. At a sray thought you could kill or maim, yet if trained you can Heal, Lead the World, Teach, and maybe fight as a warrior of the Light in these coming dark days."

Rai was enraptured, and truth be told Garla was as well. No one had put it exactly like that for her. It was there in the training but never laid out as is she were a devine device of the Pattern, preselected to be a paragon of the Light. The boy was clearly not an average sort.

"Will yer be wit' me the whole time?" Rai begs him with open hearted adoration on her tiny young face, "I don'a knowin' iffin' I can do be doin' this wit' out yer help."

He examines her as if making a decision. "I won't be as bad as Hagrid was. Light he tried but was not who needed to be there." He turns to look Garla in the eyes with a sternness that was frightening, "I'll help as my Circle will wish it of me and that I need to repay a friend from a different life. Rai will be safe only if I help all of you. However the rules will be very specific and direct. No Aes Sedai wrangling or games. No trying to make me do or see things other than I see them. When I say run, do so and do not look back. If I say stay, do so without a question or argument. Do not push me to take a path I deem unsafe. Do not ever depart from Rai's side. Take her reins and run if it comes to it. Do not try to be brave or try to get in my head, you won't like what is inside. Rai, the same holds for you, same for you Olven. I am like as not a bit on the razors edge, and outside forces may take a hand in causing us having to suddenly part. Till then I will be your guide, or more guardian."

Rai's lips tremble in worry, "I won'a be a goin' less yer be comin' ter."

Feeling his conflict and having a good idea why it were there, Garla comes to his rescue, "Child he is a Warder, and as such if his Aes Sedai calls he must obey. Or if as I think he fears, she may die without him protecting her, if she does then he will not be himself as he will ride off immediately to avenge her. Then..."

He takes over with some relief, "I will ride for the Blight to vent the last of my wrath upon the Enemy of All till I die."

The way he put it caused her heart to break to think of such a young man doing as is custom for the Sworn Blade Brothers. To know that some Sister is out there holding herself hidden from him when he is positive she is likely to die soon is a cruel thing. Poor Rai is staring in horror but Garla suspects the child has plans of challenging his Sister for rights to his bond.

For his part he takes a kindly glow into his dead seeming eyes, "In the mean time I am going to begin teaching you how the speak without your accent so that no one will hold you as silly or ignorant. You will be as great a Sister as has ever walked this mirror world or Age."

That term intrigues Garla but not as largely as his providing two plain canvas sacks for them. "Sir, this is for you and Rai's possessions. Do not fear its size as it will carry all you own, even if it were a castle the size of the Stone. Sister, this one is for your things, and no these are not ter'angriel of the 2nd Age. They were created in my homeland very recently, so don't you dare try taking them for the Tower's collection."

Rai was gazing on him with pure adoration, then asks, "Do Warder be a meanin' husband?"

"No, child. He is a companion and guardian to a Sister. He is bonded to a woman out of fealty and mutual need of a compatriot." she answers while ushering the girl away.

"Umm Sire, what be yer name iffin' we canna learn it?" Olven inquires of the lad.

"Call me Raven for the now as I am hunted by some powerful enemies." he replies grimly. "For now I will see to the horses."

When he has departed for the outside, she surreptitiously open's his tiny purse he handed her earlier. It was such a strange sight it causes her to gasp, not merely for the fact it was a fortune, but that it were mostly Mantherin Eagles and other coins of the Compact of Ten Nations. Even more startling is they look as fresh and new as if just struck in the mint. Few alive would know what these were let alone understand the impossibility of their existence which alarms her of how the boy has them and sees them as nothing. As a scholar of that lost kingdom of her homeland she knew this lad is hiding a story worthy of legend.

Going back upstairs, she puts on her Shawl whispering a prayer for strength and courage, "Janman, Lealdris my loves it appears I must return to my young Sisters. I promise I'll not shame your sacrifices again." She vows to be the Sister her lost loves thought worth their lives to save so long ago no one may be alive still to ever remember them.

Out the tiny upstairs window she sees the boy and wonders if there may be a way to save him from being lost on account of his own Sister's foolishness. It would take care and a soft touch as he is young and brash. Would he accept the options available? Rai is young still but determined and may double down on her studies if he were her reward. Then again an older hand may be best for him, one whom will appreciate what his oath and bond is worth in truth.

Never mind that he is a wonder to look upon even if he is less a true beauty and more an untamed wild majestic creature to take the breath away.

She fans herself for being a silly slip, though she will see him safe from Riding the Blight as he is like to do because of a woolheaded Sister. If anything it would help her atone for her own costly mistake that murdered her two lovers both simply from her own vanity leading them to where they should stayed well clear of.

The Ways are simply too dangerous to try ever traveling again, even for two powerful Sisters.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Fine clear skies over head tell a strange tale to those out today. A blind fool may just assume it were a beautiful day alone, never minding the lack of sound or sight of birds, Ill omens for any seasoned campaigner. The Creator blessed the forces of the Light with the wariness of nature to tricks and troubles of the Shadow. A keen eye is all it takes for a soldier of truth to see and be ready for the devilry planned by those whom have rejected the glory of living pure.

Standing up in his stirrups, Captain Val al'Radorin studies the horizon with naked concern. Reports of strange creatures and men seen uncomfortably too often is forcing the Children to ride farther out afield to confront this new threat from the Shadow. Its clearly growing numbers in the West following several False Dragons appearing alongside this invasion from supposed armies of Artur Hawkwing was upsetting to confront by the beleaguered forces of the Light. The Children of the Light simply do not have near enough men and strongholds to hold all of the West safe. Yet this was practically on their doorsteps so these Shadowsworn absolutely have to be found and be brought low for the good of the entire world, not just Illuminated Amadicia.

He knew that the loss of a full cohort of the Children in the wild dark souled Almoth Plain has cut deep into the Light's forces already. Lost to reported armies of the Darkfriend legions riding similar beasts as these have been testified as being. Grim facts he is very well aware of being capable of butchering his own small command if proven true. So in this unnaturally silent clear day he is determined to not be taken unawares by these wicked boogy men.

"Anything?" he asks his forward scouts once more just for confirmation to ease his fraying nerves. His men were depending on a solid commander, not a hard charging lunatic.

"Nothing sir!" their officer barks in repeating their report with a crisp salute.

Hesitant as the region is rife with terrible ground to fight on coupled with a long history of major battles being turned into disasters by clever ambushes, he turns to inspect his small command of two hundred men, wagons, and servant camp staff. All their lives depend on his decisions keeping them from becoming one more side note to cruel history.

"Sir?" his second, a brash young man from Saldea asks with impatience.

"Oh fine, give the bloody order." he waves to move into the exposed bowl shaped vale ringed in by some strategic hills he will see turned into watch tower strong points. This was the location chosen by the Lord Captain for the bulk of the legion coming to take control of this backward rural den of Shadowsworn. All he has to do here is establish this base then await the true bulk of the legion his men were just a small fraction of. As forward units, his men make ready what the army will need for the coming campaign in a hostile environment. This valley was selected for its many advantages as a forward headquarters, and that left it where he and his men make it exactly what is needed for such a vaunted position. No matter the cost.

"Children Ho!" his second bellows with leathery lungs.

Moving again, the men relax, as does everyone of the officers save their commander. He is worried. Quiet makes him nervous after similar happening to him as a brand new lieutenant back in the Aiel War. That had ended badly, as a mere fifty odd mix of men and women of those Lightless devils slew a full battalion of men in half an hour of fighting. Then again when he was in Caemlyn, a fellow Captain whom had been a good friend and solid warrior of the Light made a rash run on a coven of them Aes Sedai she bitches. The now departed man wanted to catch and bring to justice two full Aes Sedai and a whole slew of baby Shadowsworn whores. Unfortunately it too ended in tragedy as the wicked beasts burned the entire company from the inside out or tore them limb from limb in an unholy orgy of sacrificial slaughter to their Dark One Master. It had been a quiet night before then, and it turned in to a terrible night for the Light. This day just feels as if it were on the same track.

Professionals all, his men perform, with little direction from him, their multiple duties. A series of defensive rings laid out in concentric circles with sharpened stake barricades came together swiftly. Tents are arising from the earth in neat, orderly lines to shelter thousands of men. Ten portable smithies were already being heated up to a state where they can pump out fixes or full armour in a day or two. The infirmary too was coming along nicely as the massive tent was only needing to be secured by its mooring lines to be stable in the wind. A real feat of human indomitable spirit to defy the Shadow as the work has barely taken less than half a day. The bowl vale will be ready for the legion, and so far had been free of falling to trickery or evil magics.

A shadow passes quickly overhead, causing him to jump in alarm. Either it were trick of the waning sunlight, or it was an impossible bird. He thought to call for battle stations, yet was interrupted by an unholy cry of some monstrosity of the Shadow that spooks the horses into bolting in a hundred or more directions. The needless warning call of danger by the outlying sentries could've been laughable after hearing that beast, but Val knew his fears were just realized to his chagrin.

Another trumpeting call of the brute up above was now directly overhead as the shadow circles his command center. Having already been thrown from his panicked mount, he is a bit dazed in the midday sunlight baking the earth. In his stupor he sees riding the unnatural creature are an insectal man in matching armour, at the reins, behind the impossible man are two pair of women. Each of these are of a woman in lurid silky red dresses holding silver leashes on poor wretched looking ladies, one no older than a girl his daughter's age. Both of these latter were in bedraggled shapeless grey smock dresses, and looking sick at being a part of this evil party.

He gasps in horror as the leash holding women start pointing and things in his neatly laid out camp erupt in flames or terrible tornadoes out of clear skies. The insect man is laughing as if enjoying the show of some Illuminator for a feast day. If these were not from the Shadow, they at the least were in league with it.

This was turning exactly as he feared, another dark day for the Children of the Light.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Staying hidden from view of either side, Harjit turns to Rai whom he has taken to training in both proper speech alongside Warder skills to get her safely to Salidar even if he falls. She is an apt hand at the work and has gave him thoughts of training his own loves if they ever reconnect. That and if the ruddy Sisters allow such base teaching.

She is dead terrified he can see but when his eyes meet hers she calms. Taking her hand he uses the Warder secret speak to tell her to head back to where Garla and Olven await them. In a bare whisper that hardly stirs the air he tells her his orders, "Stay, do not use Saidar, and if you hear the sound of a Saldean Woodspike, run and do not look back."

She gets a terrified and saddened look that he feels worried over as she may baulk. She doesn't but does scoot in to kiss him quickly as if they were lovers and this may be goodbye. He wishes she would get that he is a spoken for man, but has to stay mute on it here. She touches his cheek as he rubs away a tear on her cheek.

Departing she signals good luck, and he can see she aches to stay right by his side.

Taking out one of his pouches he prepared with his mates back in the White Tower, he draws out what he'll use. Today he will see the end of many bigots, from the West and across the seas. He enters the Void and is relieved to not have to play games with Saidin. All his tools of destruction are needed.

Pulling out his Two Rivers long bow he traded a good pair of Tearen steel short swords and a cask of Cairhenin wine, he sets himself and his weapons at the ready to kill in a blizzard of death. No one will be expecting this.

Smiling in spite himself, he does feel better that Rai will miss him at least if this goes south as it very well may. If he were not already belonging to his five true loves, he might let himself be caught by the impish but honest hearted Illianer girl. She is fetching and a good soul.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Standing in the smoldering camp as her men finish up with the last few pockets of resistence, Ahlarunda smiles in unabashed pleasure as she pets her sweet new Cambra. The pretty thing has proven a valuable acquisition for her, and not just as a bit of fun in her bed. The disgusting marathe damane has been a thrilling toy to shatter compared to properly born ones from her homelands. For all these reasons Cambra has been amply shown the worth of the capture even if the hunt was costly in the short term. The silly deluded men defending the unleashed bitch were a sad loss as they fought better than most Oath Breakers she'd seen. Unlike these gleaming white peacocks she has crushed today.

Petting her damane, enjoying the shudders her touch is eliciting from the beast, Ahlarunda began thinking on what to do as a suitable reward for the dear. Of course she is going to take the thing to bed, this has been glorious and such gives her a need to be worshiped, especially from one who can do nothing but what is demanded. So that is not enough of a treat when most of this was done well before the bulk of the land forces arrived to clear out this trouble spot. Perhaps a piece of cake? That is always special for any leashed by her. It would have to be small though. Fat damane disgust her nearly as much as disobedient lovers, male or female as she is a goddess made flesh and deserves perfect compliance. So it will be a tiny slice only as flabby damane are wretchedly slow, petulant when made to walk or exercise, and are absolutely repulsive to catch even a glimpse of.

Worse yet for herself is the fact that suldam with hideous damane are overlooked for greater assignments or advancement. Well that is the case most of the time, a blobbish beast with exceptional gifts or Talents can be forgiven and allowed to remain in general view. Far as she is concerned those were the perfect ones for being taken in hand and rigorously set right as it shows a lack of discipline in the filthy damane ranks.

The thought of such has her pinch the ear of her current damane violently, cutting the thing's ear enough to draw blood. Cursing that she signals her sister suldam to have the younger beast heal hers. All the while speaking to her bleeding Cambra in a sweetened tone, "Cambra my dear, do be a darling and show me how much you love me. Tonight you will be allowed a portion of cake. You will be allowed to eat it with utensils if you can make one of these Oath Breakers beg to tell us where their main body of rabble lies. I tire of flying across half this continent in search of them, so be my loving little bit and rip it from them now." she explains to the abomination loudly for the hearing of these dull witted peacocks. "Do it within the hour and I'll even let you sleep the night at the foot of my bed instead of on the line with the horses, where you belong. As my good little bitch I know you yearn for that don't you, Cambra. Yes you do. I feel it in you."

Nodding with teary eyes, the damane begins to work. Watching the abomination at this chore was a thrilling vision as she knew it was all for her pleasure and direction. The questions of her interrogation team wash over her as nonsense as she is euphoric from the pain it is causing her damane to inflict such horrors on these men. These foolish men whom she knew from other investigations were as hateful of the marathe damane as the People, so it should be a treat for the dear, but the thing still has yet to learn the joy of destroying another human being.

Reveling in the screams of the officers whom she has directed Cambra to rip to shreds, she almost feels the orgasms building as it was all done for her pleasure. Few gifts of the Wheel exceed the thrill of crushing another's soul till all they wish is to do as she wills it to be. Doing this to one of these haughty marathe damane is a double treat as it is all they deserve for defying their natural born rank as cast off rubbish of the Pattern. Not the ranks of near rulers of the world made by the Creator for the glory of the Empire.

Blood is starting to leak down the cheeks of the supposed Captain of these traitorous if pretty brutes. His one time pristine white raiment is a wrecked ruin of dirt, ash, and his own blood.

"Please... Please for the sake of the Light..." he wails as Cambra turns his insides into a burning mass of semi-liquified mush.

"Speak and I may allow her to stop this. But only if you are very, very good." she titters at the un-Oathed heathen.

"I will... plea-" the fellow tries to plead but is silenced by a yard long arrow shaft sprouting from his windpipe.

In shockingly short order the other seven captured men also are feathered. Ahlarunda's mind is frozen by the sight as it could not possibly be the fellow's allies trying to rescue him. Friend's do not murder one another.

Jostled by the interrogation teams lead trying to run from a fire spreading through the camp, she is returned to sanity. Shaken but unbeaten, she starts to speak the order for Cambra to seek out and kill, that too is cut short for her though. A new arrow shaft cuts the a'dam in twane to pierce the ground a few yards away from her. Staring at it in horror she sees the happy hate in her pet's eyes as the beast is free of her domination and will willingly let her die.

Trying to run for her life now as well, she is caught up in her panic. That is till she stumbles over a mooring line, in her fleeing down one of rows of tents in an attempt to escape. Scrambling on hands and knees she comes up to find a slender runt of a man standing imperiously ahead of her. His evil green eyes were on fire with pure hate as he stares down on her with a bow in one hand. His quiver of yard long arrows were all loaded down with Illuminator tubes and in his fist is a rod of wood that gleams wickedly in the fire's light.

"I don't think so. You will never enslave another honest witch in this life. Avada Kedavra!" he snarls and a flash of green light is the last thing she sees in life.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Watching the last suldam die under his curse, the one time Boy-Who-Lived, renowned in his Age for surviving such, feels vindicated and sick with himself all in one. The evil cows deserved such a finally to their cruel lives, but he was also raised to never do that spell, or in truth weave. Now he has done it twelve times in one day. That and slaughtering over a few hundred men in the same span of time. He knew he had done such before, but this time he'd done it with full intent and planning. This was not an act of self defense but that of a man at war. He did not fit the mold of the naive boy wizard he'd been back in his birth Age.

"Raven?" his ward asks from behind him. Her hands full with a sword and shield as she stares at him. "What do we be doin' now wt' thar otha' women?"

"You're not afraid of me?" he asks.

"Ne'er happin', I do be in love with yer." she replies with no hesitance at all.

"I'm property of other women, you do know this?" he sighs with weariness, "Plus I told you to wait with Garla Sedai."

She sets the weapons of war aside to run to him as if to catch and hold him. "I did, yer no be sendin' signal iffin' it do be clear or no." she crushes him, "An' iffin' yer Sister be gone I do be here ter take yer on. Me port is yer's."

Petting her hair he feels an ache. She deserves a real man of her own. "I feel I am tearing apart."

She kisses him on the chin and announces, "Yer no be dead, that be a ged thin'. Thar be worse than dead I be a thinkin'. Let me love yer, an we'll no be tellin' the Sister of all this here. We'll see yer safe an' in harbour."

He studies her some then decides, "I'm going to be teaching you how to use those tools you have there. I can only keep you all protected for so long. You're going to need the skills if I fall."

She blossoms with a delighted laugh before kissing him full on the lips. "I'll be a doin' me best. One day I be a'comin' fer yer bond an' I wanna be worth it."

She left him with a quick blushing smile, squeakily saying over her shoulder, "I be gettin' me Da an' the Sister. 'Member ter not be sayin' what yer be doin' here ter her."

He was confused, tired, and lonely. If he did not have five witches out there he'd hard pressed to tell Rai no any longer. She is going to be a fantastic Sister if he has any say in the matter.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Kneeling at the feet of her rescuer, the one once known as Chalin Sedai awaited for his order or fated end. His liberation of her and the other eleven damane had been exhilarating. It also had been terrifying as he must be a male channelor as he'd cut down both Seanchan and Whitecloaks in a blistering storm of horrors, weapon skills, and unthinkable uses of the surrounding environment. The still burning grassland encircling the bowl valley being the most evident proof of his ingenuity in pinning both factions in place for their slaughter.

In the middle of the headquarter tent of the Whitecloak encampment where him and his little follower had gathered them, a massive table was erected to allow the Children to plot and plan a campaign in this region of Illian. It was patently idiotic to carry the big brute, but the gleaming whited sepulchers were a moronic lot in her estimation anyway. She was just glad that both them and the vile Seanchan were wiped from the face of the earth.

Upon the table in the centralized tent, her rescuer has strewn a wide selection of maps, field reports, and other vital documents for the annihilated contingent of bigots. Picking them up, then discarding them after barely brief perusals, he moves on to the next. Red rimmed eyes and weary he acts as if he is even unaware of the women watching him with trepidation.

"Are you going to kill us?" Tinmah, a thirteen year old damane from the Seanchan homeland whispers with naked terror.

He pauses only a moment to grunt, "I'm not a monster."

Picking up one long report in a scroll tube sealed by the mark of the Inquisitors, he reads it and turns rather more frightening if that were even possible. Taking a calming breath he catches sight of her on her knees. Slamming down the scroll tube, he turns to face her fully, "Sister will you ruddy well get up off the ground. You're Aes Sedai, not a bloody bad dog in need of a good smack. I don't have a rolled up newspaper either, so stop it already woman!"

His glacial green eyes were hardening as he studies them on their knees awaiting his pleasure..

"Burn the lot! And no, I will keep the lot alive you psychotic arse. They are precious gifts from the Creator, not rubbish or freaks. Blimey will you just shut it already! Shut it! Shut it! Shut it..." he begins to actually cry like a broken child, unfortunately it did nothing to warm his scary compelling green eyes that seem to both chill her and make her aware she is a woman and he is a very attractive man.

Those same eyes lock hers into a gaze where it is growing hard to breath from the intensity. In there is a man she knows will rock the very foundations of the world. He also is a man a woman can find peace in his arms. It frightens her how he can hold her like this and yet she feels he will never take what she may well give him without a second thought. If she did not fear his wrath she'd bond him and feel alive again for what has been months of horrific sorrow since her three Warder lovers were stolen from her along with her freedom.

Capturing and gentling him immediately may have been her advice to the White Tower before her leashing. Now free of her hated a'dam by his hand, she refuses to even contemplate it. He is plainly insane, Taint Mad and maybe worse by the scars appearing from the rent holes in his shirt's back, but he killed Seanchan to release her. She saw him deliberately aim at her leash to break her chains and then stalked her tormentor like as if he were her vengeful Warder or lover. It was astounding and invigorating. To her he was no longer a feral mad man but a saint above all saints.

With no reservations whatsoever she'll follow him forever, serve him for life, be his kept woman - anything at all if he so asked it of her.

"Please will you all stand?" he asks softly.

She does and so do the others with little resistance. They were terrified, but they were his to command by their own choice. They were free women, no longer vile beasts or playthings.

He seems to relax visibly at their compliance with his wish. A fact she found intriguing that he wanted equals not servants. It was marvelous to witness in a man. She knew he was a danger to any woman near to him, yet he was arousing sensations she rarely gets these days. Her lost boys were as he is, beautiful and frightening but men of character. If she could convince him of it, he may hold off the madness for a time longer than is the norm if she were to give him peace and comfort. It will break her heart utterly when he passes, but it would be perfect till then.

The tent opens causing her to embrace Saidar in the same heartbeats as the other damane. They were surprised to see it was only an old man, the girl with the bright feel of a powerful gift with Saidar, and a Sister she only remembers from her first few days as a Novice.

"Chalin? A pleasure dear. Raven are we ready to depart now?" the ancient one time Sister asks with care of the boy's ire.

"Not yet. The bleeding Whitecloaks are just days away, dead in the middle of our path. Plus by all this more are heading this direction. I now have more than you two to worry about, I will not allow these here to be recaptured either. Sisters we have only one option but to head further north. Light I'm tired." he groans weakly in a lean upon the table.

"We can risk it. The Children are easily avoided if we try." the one time Sitter for the Yellow offers in assurance to him.

He wasn't having it and slammed his fist down into the table, causing it to creak dangerously, "No woman. I will only do this if you listen to me. I had no choice but to act here for us and these poor witches. More of this as tired as I am will end in us all returning to the bloody Mother. I will not let any of you spend another day or any at all for you two, in a bondage worse than death"

"But to be a save'in' time-" the old man tries to propose.

Drawing out that hateful mace he'd used to end the to'raken the filthy Seanchan rode to destroy the Children, with a mighty skull crushing blow, he strikes the table. The massive oaken thing faired a little worse than the giant lizard had. Splinters and paper work flew wild and free in the wreckage left of the fractured table.

"We're not doing that. Period Olven. I seen how they treat women like these and the girls that are caught by them. We're heading too bloody far north but the risk other wise is too great." her rescuer visibly fights not to lose his temper any further.

The whole lot inside the tent jumps at his assault on the table but resist the urge to cower from him. They simply wait for him to calm down again. He stops seems to get the urge for violence under control then snaps, "Even if its too bloody far off north, I see no honest way forward. We go north and I bloody well pray those I belong to will forgive my taking this circuitous route to them. Lets see about horses and supplies from these rotters."

He turns to look directly at the damane sighing, "There are three main rules to follow here. If I say run, do so and never look back. If I say stay do so till I come for you or if it is best to run as in the first. Third is you will be learning to be Sisters, or relearning it as you will be worth my owns lives if it comes to it. I am not likely to live long so do not mourn me, just live where you are a person of good and honor."

He turns to go to the door but something happens and his face grimaces with a rictus snarl as his knees buckle beneath him. He would have fell to the ground below if not for his catching hold of the commander's camp chair.

The girl who seems devoted to him rushes to help him. Holding up a hand he stops her so that he slowly rises after an indeterminate length of time, he stands on his shaking legs. Speaking in a voice that will haunt her for the rest of her life, she is chilled by its brimming in a grim hopeless determination. "What foolishness pride. Grit our teeth and hoist sail where others point. Assured by a selfmade legend that our armada's gilden glory is everlasting and our men are born with the Salt of Ages pumping in vein, heart, and sinewy muscle. No port, no harbour, no sea is mightier than we who built the Seventeen Spires or marbled wonder of the Grand Senate."

Shuddering at that, the boy turns to her with the same hued eyes, but not the furious, souless warrior whom slew two small armies moments earlier. "Lets be away alright. Light I am tired. We don't have time to rest so lets hurry. There are a blessed enough horses here for remounts and supplies for out number to eat for quite a while. Rai please see to the girls your age as they need the most guidance as free folk. The older will follow Garla Sedai. Olven be about getting the food and what not together. I... I need- need some air is all."

Rai, the girl was at his side then, "No you be a needin' more a true rest. We be all gettin' this place picked o'er fer salvage. Garla Sedai what do you be a sayin'?"

"He hasn't had a rest since you hauled him in from the drink. So lets see to our own needs and let him have a break." the ancient Sister nods and then claps her hands sharply, "Ladies lets do this proper. He has gave you all a chance to be free women and that mean work. Sister?"

That last was said to her and she had to shake herself from her own bewilderment to nod and confirm, "The suldam will never be telling us what is or isn't our due. We decide it ourselves from now on so go find the food stuffs and any other usable goods for all of us. Blankets and clothes are a must but so is bows and such as we must be able to care for ourselves till we have reached our kind and safety."

It felt good to be a woman again instead of a toy or pet bitch.

It took a second or two as none wished to leave the safety of the dying lad who gave them so much at such a terrible cost to himself. She levels the other damane and that sends them all a running to do as bid. Turning she meets the older Sister's eyes in challenge.

"So what will it be Sister. Do you dare try sending him to the Red to be gentled?" she will protect him no matter the cost to herself.

"Never. I've a theory that he is bonded to an actual group of Sisters or more or less such. They are holding him sane and that is all I wish of him. He needs them and we all need him as I have a feeling he is ta'verin. Gentling him will ruin him and we must fight that at all cost. Little Rai and him are the only reason I am out of exile and I wonder if its not more his work. So will a Green work with a Yellow to help a man we both care for?" her colleague questions her.

"We work to save him and all the rest like him is what I say. I was leashed and felt the terror of being an animal instead of a human being for my gift. How much more do our male brothers must feel this in themselves?" she decided.

Letting the others leave she takes one last look at their Light sent champion, her eyes beheld the mad man crying like the boy he should be. His voice was less cold and dead as it matches that of the boy as well, "Please Light... Creator... God... Allah, whomever you are... please keep them safe. Help... Oh Please help me. Help me die well if anything."

The lack of hope in that broke her heart. This poor Taint Mad manboy had gave his life for her as every touch of Saidin was murdering him.

Closing the tent flap behind her she swore her regifted life to making his sacrifice worth it. First she will aid him in shepherding these girls and Wilders, these fellow freed damane to her Sisters, then she'd dedicate her life to caring for poor men like him. It wasn't their choice to be born as he so why must they die unloved and treated far worse than Shadowspawn?

Rai was staring at her in challenge, "Donna be a plottin' ter have 'im. He belong ter others, an iffin they should pass 'e bein' mine. I do be 'is e'en iffin' 'e no be claimin' it yet."

Smiling at her apparent rival for his heart she let the girl know the truth of things. "He may die soon. I will fight to keep him alive as long as it takes for him to find peace. Can we both work to keep him safe and loved?"

Rai still has a wary eye for her but nods with a glance over her shoulder at where he was inside weeping. "Fine. No tricks though, e're I be fer guttin' yer."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Coming to a town of ,ore size than the tiny specks of the rest of the region so far, Rai sat on her horse with her mentor and one day Warder watching the world with wary eyes. His shoulders were slumping some from the lack of sleep he's been having to her heart break. He was hers but not and that did not sit well for her.

"I'll go in alone. Keep the others back and safe. I don't trust this place." he directs her then meets her gaze with a sad smile, "Don't worry as I will not be caught unawares in there or when I leave. However I won't lead them to you lot either. True most of you are witches, but that does not make me comfortable enough to trust the Wheel to play fair."

She was going to have to be more direct she decides. "No Raven, we both go."

His rigerous training how to speak like a proper lady was difficult but to her it was her chance to spend time alone with him.

He nods but ads to her chagrin, "I know you are capable of some things but I am the Warder and the others do not have a protector other than you if I fail."

Taking a breath for courage, she guides her horse in next to his, "If you go I won't be wanting to go on. I know you belong to another but I love you. Please don't leave me alone."

He studies her again then chuckles, "Bloody old blood I think. Rai, you are a wonderful girl but I am in love with five other women and I have to think of them first and foremost. However I feel you will be a brilliant Sister one day."

"Bugger being a Sister. I want you more." she announces to the world and him in a determined declaration of intent. "One day I will come for your bond and I will have it. I will be the witch you deserve. Can't you let me try even?"

He inhales deep of the loamy farmland air, "I wish it could be easy for us all. But you are a child of this Age and I will be heading home to mine sooner or later."

She wants to howl and then she gets an idea. With the skills he taught her of horsemanship, she swings in behind him to hold him tight and kiss his shoulder. "Then Promise me that if you can't find your loves you'll not ride of to die. Instead come to me and let me save you. Let me be your safe home harbour."

He stiffens then relaxes, "You do have a fire in you. Listen, you know what I am. My kind do not live long."

She kisses his shoulder again then moves up to his turned face to do the same for his bearded cheek. "I don't care. I know you and me were born to be together."

He slid off the horse and she follows. Here was the time to be brave she felt. Moving into his arms, she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck to be pressed as tightly against him. To let him know that she were not walking away, not today.

Holding her, he kisses her brow. "Rai, I will concede to not riding off if my... Light girl I won't give up on them. I love them."

Her heart wants to quit beating but she is a hardier stock than some land born Wilting Wella. She will have him hers one day, and the sooner the better. Standing on tip toes she kisses him fully, using her weight to pull him into catching her and holding her. He does and she wants to cry out in joy. His hands gripping her bum and thigh gives her a jolt of something she can not give words for. Wrapping one leg around his for security, she presses more into the kiss.

Breaking apart he sighs with a look of pain and loss. Which may have hurt save his turning to look into her eyes to whisper, "Alright Rai. I will think on it, but know that I will not betray them. I love them and would never have left their side if not for the shipwreck. However if I learn of their deaths or time has passed and we learn nothing of them... I will be yours."

She wants to crow in victory till she asks what he meant time. "Is it a year or more?"

He pets her hair then kisses her of his own accord for the first time. "A Year and a Day as the old ways say. Can you live with that?"

"What of today? Can we pretend that you and I are together for the now?" she knew she was pushing things but he was her Salvage Claim.

He digs into one of his miraculous pouches to find a strange broach of fine gold and silvers, with an inlay enameling of a Lion Crest with alien writing. "This is my Gryffendor Pin, from my first life before me and mine got lost here. Take it as my Promise to you on this being our day and the possible future we may share, forever it seals our souls together even if we never become lovers. On the condition you do accept that if they are alive and want me back you will not let it destroy you. I want to see you become the witch I see in you. This will be our binding agreement that if I am gone for any reason, be it death or reclamation by my loves or the Taint taking me, you will stay the course and become a full Sister."

She wanted to force him to say different but has no other option in his eyes that she sees. "I do."

He smiles as if relaxing again then he kisses her as if they were solely unto each other. It was sweet and incredible, yet the villainous ghosts of his first lovers hung in the background making her want to cry. Yet she has him all that closer to being hers alone. What is a year and a day when compared to his riding off to die in the evil Blight?

He touches her new broach, his Promise Token, and a warm heat infuses it. In her mind is a sense of time but also the vibrant images of their lives together, including this sweet kiss. It left her a bit dazed till he was no longer insight of her. His horse was beside hers and she knew he was again on the Hunt for a way to reach Salidar safely for them all.

Staring off towards the distant town she is caught off guard by Chalin Sedai stepping up beside her. "I feel him on you. Did you...?"

"He has Promised himself to me if his loves are dead." she struggles to speak as he was teaching her. "I will not betray him."

"I wouldn't wish anything of the sorts." Chalin sighs before taking her hand in a tender caress, "He must live. He's gave me my life. Promise me you will keep care of him."

She turns to the Sister and makes a decision, "We will. You and I are his sole remaining friends more do be the like. I wanna keep 'im, so help me please."

The older woman, "I will, if you agree to help me help others like him along with any damane that can be or are freed. This world is too big for his good acts alone to fix it."

"How?" was the best she could come up with and not sound the silly sea bred girl.

A silence held the moment for a time before the older witch asks, "What will you do if his loves return and claim him?"

"I donna know fer the now." she slips to her shame.

She feels the woman embrace Saidar and ask, "Would you mind being my companion in life?"

Looking up into the woman's face with a question she asks in answer, "What way?"

"Let me teach you a weave we might use on him, it will be a sael between us as you and I will place it upon each other when and if the time comes." Chalin Sedai directs her, "But that day we place it permanently will have to wait till we know his and your fate."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Strolling along the country road, Harry thought on Rai. She looks so much like a girl he knew from his proper Age it isn't funny. They were so sweet and beautiful it hurts to think to heavily on. For that matter he has to say that Chalin and Garla too remind him of women he knew from that other life. The myth of the Old Blood those in this Age may not be so big a myth if what he sees is true. He knew holding and kissing Rai was wrong in ways but there was a sense of a Promise as well.

What would his loves' say to his attraction to other witches? Were they alive even? Should he let himself love again if they were gone?

A warm breeze caresses his flesh as if the Wheel itself were consoling him.

Taking a drawn out breath he watches the area he was waltzing into. The place felt off even if it were seemingly just another farming region. It was hard to pin point. It was in the air like a wrongness in the smell of meat or grain going wrong. Not a full on rot but nevertheless something best left uneaten by him unless he were very hungry.

Watchful now more than he were with Rai, he listens for any clues of threats.

Like an itch it hung under his skin till he enters the main part of the small township. That is when he was beyond positive things were rotten in these parts. It was in the glances of the townsfolk as if they were either afraid or eager in different people he surreptitiously observes.

Sighting the Inn, he wanders to there with his senses on high alert. The two story tall structure has an untidiness to it. Nothing flagrant but in general it was unkempt. Shabby is a gooid description by the chipped and missing paint over walls of brick. These bricks were also heavily cracked like what he seen in the village of Four Kings, but nowhere as flagrantly disreputable.

Opening the Inn door he is struck by the nauseous scents of puke and spilled alcohol. Men of low character were gathered in the corner and all looked up to watch him with naked interest. What decides him in not bringing the ladies in here is the appearances of the tavern wenches. Tired, half dressed, and smelling of cheap booze and sex. If the lot were not working in more hospitalities than slinging rancid brews he'd eat his cloak.

A girl that could double for Hermione save strawberry blonde hair limply hanging in greasy ropes wearily stumbles over to his table. Behind her is another girl he almost can see the resemblances to a red head he loves pouts. Her black hair was shorn crudely and a black eye told him a tale he does not like the hearing of.

"What will it be?" the tired Ione clone grumps with a lean over to show him what he did not need to see. "Ale is ten copper, Ghealdaner Whisky is a silver and three, me is two silver or a gold if you wish me and another."

"Do you come for good if there is more?" he asks with his eyes studying the men behind her and not her bruised flesh.

"I? I don' be a knowin' ser." she yelps in surprise.

One of the drunks snoozing near the bar's lamp jerks awake muttering too quietly for Harjit to make out, then inexplicably pours out a half drank pint and wobbles out the door. Distracted by that Harry is surprised by a man that could be a cousin of Dumbledore's arriving out of the horrid smelling kitchen to ask, "You be a wantin' to be buyin' me daughter?"

"Her and the other over there. In fact I'll buy all your ladies like the girl here." he decides as he notes the look of eagerness in the men in the corner. All were far from shy in pulling a bit of murder if he were any judge of men. "How much?"

The fellow looks him over then stops to stay watching his weapons with naked fear, "Do yer be sure of thet?"

Taking a second to translate that he nods, "Ten gold each?"

The man licks his lips then gives a yell and soon three other girls were standing beside the Ione doppleganger. Each were battered women from the yellowing and fresh bruising. He ached to kill the man not pay him, but he could not endanger his many wards. So the fellow is spared.

One of the men in the corner gripes, "Not me Dessa, I werra payin' fer her already."

Harry flicks a fat Tearen Lord at the man to test the fellows worth. The sod just snatches it with a tip of the cap. "Thet'll do'er ser."

Nonplused the one time whores watch him with a wariness he could empathize with. The Gin-Gin with the raven tresses waits till the money changes hands before getting the other girls to drag him outside. Once there she hisses, "They're going to kill you like they did my husband when he was bringing me home to his blessed Coltran's Downs. We can't stay any longer."

"I know they'll try. Go here," he replies with a quick map in the dirt. They study it with hope and fear before he scrubs it out. "Don't stop till there and tell those there I will meet up with them but they must leave. I will find you lot but must do what will be unpleasant with certain parties."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Stalking the lone man on their road, Hablin and his brothers along with their men were eager for the rich pickings the stripling of a fool Hunter of the Horn must have on him. They will find from him or by simple tracking get their whores back, but for the now it was time to get what they wish from this rich brat. It was patently obvious the boy is one of the noble hearted fools dashing about in hopes of finding glory with the Horn of Valere. And this one is worse than most for being a nobleman too boot by all the coin the idiot is flashing about at their father's Inn just for the welfare of a bare handful of wenches.

Who'd care about or look for a missing adventurer out here? Not many travel their roads without protection or paying them heavily for such silly casualness. This woolheaded lordling has done neither and so he'd pay all for his daring. Brass ones don't earn one much if it comes between Hablin and a fine haul of glittering gold.

Coming up on a wooded stretch they've used countless times over before, the boy waltzes on as if he doesn't have a care. It was ludicrous how this lordly brat acts as if there isn't a soul alive out here save himself. Hablin knew it was all for the best to remove the sheepherder from the roles of life as nobody of worth should be left to worry if the fool will come home or not.

Giving the signal his men have used for these more violent dust ups since he took over from his uncle, Hablin waits for the rest to cut the brat from the Pattern for him, and thus winning him his hard won treasure. It did have him catch sight of the lordling change pace and stride to what was a baffling casual ease. The seeming swaggering amble put a burr in his saddle at how it came with the signal impossibly enough. This worry was only for as long as it took the first arrows from his men to fly in a graceful arch into where the boy walks.

Gold, sweet gold was singing in Hablin's ears with tinkling seductiveness, so he is left agog when in a whirl, the Hunter brat snatches three shafts out of the air with unnatural ease. It looked like an experienced orchard hand gathering up a bushel of apples. That was not the worst of it as the other six miss completely, or were scarily halted mid flight, stuck in the air as if striking a tree trunk.

Those three caught arrows were whipped back into the woods with unnatural unerring accuracy and speed to kill Hablin's brother Garmer and their friend Smedvev Fleetfoot. The third seems to weave through the branches to pin the arm of Hablin's eight year old baby brother, Hevrum, to the tree the boy has perched himself in to watch and learn the trade.

Enraged at the sight of his family being hurt or murdered by a no account Hunter as they go about their honest labours, Hablin whips his horse into a charge. The recently acquired beast was a profitable blessing just as has been the wife of the horses one time merchant owner. The fat obtuse moneybags had thought that having a few purses to bribe Hablin could keep the toph safe, which may have been if not for what else the fellow rode with. Seeing those pretty baubles meant the money alone were not enough to keep the fat guv above ground when that pretty wife had potential as did the horse. Hardly even noticing the noble brat was grabbing and flinging the frozen arrows like giant deadly darts, the king of these here roadways was beyond reason at the daring affront anyone would murder his family.

A second rain of arrows were luckier as two feathers the noble's leg and wings a shoulder. However the return thrown volleys slew Hablin's other brother, Creb Slow Eye, by an arrow pinning his skull to the tree holding Hevrum. Two other good honest solid lads were also butchered in similar fashion. Thankfully three more of his best were not downed yet though.

Led by Hablin's bestmate and second in charge, Perdick the Pounder, they roared in to meet the noble in a steely clash of blades. Or two handed warhammer in his second's case.

Where this lad had been spawned from though was up for debate. He just wagers it were far from any place in the Light by how wickedly fast the brat was. In the back of Hablin's mind was a gleeful calculation how much those weapons the boy had were to be worth in certain quarters. A kingly fortune was for a certain in his judgement, same with the clothes the brat is prancing around in.

One of his remaining boyoes, Knifehand Heck was rolling in from the side while Perdick's brutal hammer rang out in clash with the evilly screaming raven headed mace. Bortrun, their mate was stabbing in with that long spear the fellow's Da had brought home from the Aiel War. A perfect trap Hablin was beyond positive would be the end of the Hunter, if not for the brat's Shadowspawned speed and serpentine agility instead of an honest man's abilities.

The spear thrust which most men they'd faced would have been skewered by was the first of many unexpected failures. That nasty noble brat's long raven hilted blade shears the wear worn haft off at about the wide boar killing head. Bortrun's own inertia may have still slew the stripling with the clean new slant end of the spear. Yet the follow up parry was turned into a twirling move with Hablin's solid man being sent a stumbling out of the fight for the now. This maneuver also deflects Perdick's hammer into Heck's lancing in stab. Scarily the noble wasn't through as the cackling mace was now free to follow the hammer to land a bone shattering blow on Heck's exposed side. Trying to counter with a mighty heaved return swing, Perdick's chest is slashed open by the sword's following the mace.

Diving back into the brawl, Bortrun whips around the long haft of the ruined spear like a quarter staff. The blistering speed of the spinning wood is blinding. Unfortunately the brat who should've been dead a thousand times over here catches the whirling Bortrun off guard with a strangely elegant low bow under the wooden haft strike that catches nothing but air instead of the Hunter who'd been there seconds ago. In the twirl back into place with a twist to try once more for their vile foe, Perdick is whom receives the hard blow right between the eyes as the serpentine slippery Hunter roll spins aside and out of the way.. As for Perdick, the big brute is stunned into a stumbling wobble.

With all that Hablin knew it were up to him as the biggest and meanest fighter amongst them to save the day from their evil Shadow bred enemy's abilities. He did not anticipate how evil though when the blade twirling serpentine nobleman spins into a roll with an up raised hand aimed Hablin's way. That may have been laughable except when the very ground of the ancient broken cobble lined road explodes a scant few feet in front of his charging horse. Scorching hot steam and molten rocks erupt in a spewing jet out high and broad over the area. The wicked assault on him has his horse baulk in a panicky bucking. Turning and rearing up wildly in abrupt bursts the traitorous beast tries avoiding death by the still spewing vent. All this did to Hablin's chagrin was to send him a flying eventually in a backwards lung emptying crunch upon impacting with the road.

Laying in a wheezing dazed lump, he witnesses the end of his last few men through a shrouding haze of boiling hot mist clouding his view. First was Bortrun whom was barely recovering from yet another miss, a flickering flash of that unholy blade opens his mate's middles to empty out a surge of entrails. But that wasn't the end, a blinding light of sorts rips off his good man's head with a wet splash of blood and brains over the roadway. Perdick's own daze leads the big bruiser to try a wild swing, which only meets empty air and ends with a crushing mace blow to the spine, crippling his best friend in an instant. Blessedly if still horrifically the evil monster slaying them does an almost elegant spin with that cruel sword to decapitate the doomed man. Wheezing in a back peddling run, Heck is stopped by some invisible force then snatched up and flung into the murderous spewing guyser. Pitiful screams of mercy tear at Hablin's fleeing sanity as his last friend is cooked alive before him.

Scrambling away in agony and sheer terror, he is flattened by some unseen force that lifts and drags him back inexorably towards the wicked soul he once thought an easy mark. Flipped over as if he were a mere whore like those stolen from him by this vile killer, he is left to numbly gasp for air under the glowering visage of the strange inhuman monster. Frigid hate seethes in the monestrous man's unholy green eyes, freezing the ounce proud master of these parts and roads. There is no forgiveness, no humanity, and definitely no compassion whatsoever in those hateful eyes examining him as he strives to tear free of whatever witchcraft the villain has him held by. Fighting for breath he wishes he could scream as he knew he is a dead man.

"I saw you in the Inn." the chilling voice of the viscous monster notes with a heatless hate for Hablin, "You have been hunting the innocent travelers passing this way. All you have ever met before were easy unsuspecting meat. You saw me and my kindness to those poor women you've captured and whored out as proof I was the same. So like a filthy beast chasing too big of game you stalked me. I think that has proven your assumptions false. You've harmed the innocent, killed men and probably more just for pretty baubles. Then to add to your sins you've forced women into lives worse than death. For all these crimes, I can not forgive you. Nor will I let you go with only a warning like some had tried to teach me as my only option for the likes of you. So this will not be easy or quick. You will not enjoy this, and all that pass here from now on will remember the price of your crimes."

Pain the likes of he's never heard tell of before this explodes through out his entire body at the same time. Blood starts to seep from his every pour and he feels his bowels loosen. All of it was so intense he misses how he came to be standing by a large tree trunk. Nothing matters to him as he began to try cry for death piteously. It came eventually after he barely notices Heck's bewildering collection of knives are used to suspend him as they puncture his body like a pin cushion from the tree. Bortrun's severed spear head is the final pin as it punctures his face to finally end his torment in this life.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Weeping in horror and yet joyful at surviving, Hevrum had witnessed the wholesale slaughter of all those men he'd been eager to grow up to be like. None of them had stood a chance against the stranger. A fact his father had warned them of when Hablin decided for them to ambush the lone nobleman to reclaim the Inn's whores and liberate all the foul fool's riches.

"He be a real killer I be a thinkin' me boyoes. Benn up ter Tar Valon in thar war wit' them black eyed Aiel. Them an'a othe's were inhuman in the scappin'. Solid lads of ged 'ard stock weren' butchered by them devils. On'y thar them elite men o' thar royals an' Warders were equals. I tell yer... No... I do be'en a beggen' yer ter be a stayin'. Let this on' laddy buck alone an'a ownin' them whores. We can be a gettin' more'n of them. I do be a wan'in' me boyoes alive." his father cried pitifully to Hablin, Hevrum thought it pathetic compared to his heroes.

Seeing all this, the lone survivor knew his Da hadn't even scratched the whole of the truth. That noble was wicked with those two unholy weapons, but more than that the man was a Lightless channelor. As if the Wheel had forsaken the hard working honest men the boy worshiped.

Thanking the Light for his chance to yet live on, he curses his fate in having to tell his Da what transpired here. Evil has cast its shadow over them in that seeming easy mark's appearance in town. None of his heroes deserved such brutal ends.

Running for all he was worth, the boy saw smoke rising from where his family's Inn stood in town. Weeping in dread he charges full tilt into town to witness Whitecloaks burning his home down with Da hung from the top floor windows. A Dark Mark was scrawled into the door as big as life. Bellowing for all he was worth is the town drunk, Normrits Kelb, in joyous defiance of Da's rule of the town.

"Serve me Shadow Spit will yer now? No'm more voices fer me now hey!" the man cheers.

A woman Hervrum knows only as the village Wisdom, grabs his eight year old body up tight and rushes away before the Whities see him Her words were frightening, "Quiet boy. The Children don't bat an eye at murdering true children. Keep still and we'll both get out of this town alive hear me?" He let her carry him away as he was to heart broken to speak or think.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Watching the boy finally escape and flee, Harjit sighs in relief, "Now use this bit of forgiveness. Don't make me regret this."

Killing and savage war is a gift of his, but he doesn't particularly enjoy it. A boy of no more than that one is in age has no business in that lot's mischiefs. Butchering babies is something he sees as not a thing done. If he ever ends up doing such it may well send what little sanity he has left to jumping straight over the edge.

Wheeling his new horse around from his hilltop lookout, he decides its past time he go find his lot of women he's shepherding to the safety of Salidar. Plus he might find his true loves or hear word of them. His Promise to Rai not withstanding, it was only the love of his five witches that has held at bay his insanity.

Birds may be singing again after that bit of a dust up today, but their sweet joyful harmonies do not touch his cold sickening soul. He'd already threw up his socks from the Taint well outside of his spared enemy.

Riding out to the road he is a bit stunned to meet up with Rai. She has a fierce set to her shoulders as she rides hard to meet him. Behind her is the Ione doppleganger hanging on for dear life but pointing the way. Cantering up to join his may soon be new betrothed and the freed whore, he is amazed at Rai's clearer speech. "Raven! Thank be the Light. Whitecloaks do... Are around hunting witches. Isla her knows a way to safety. The others are already on the way. But I could'na leave you, my love."

Pulling up side the pair he nods to the battered Ione but is pulled into a quick kiss by his young ward Rai, letting her have it as he did say this was their day he spoke tiredly, "Thank you Rai, Isla. I could dodge those sods but I think I need company anyway."

Isla blushes at his glance reminding him of his precious friend and lover he misses madly.

Riding at a quick clip they follow the woman's directions to the letter. However on the side road up into the forested hills they meet an ancient woman riding a mule with a boy in the saddle behind her. He knew the boy and was afraid the child may scream for the sight of the man to kill his whole family.

The whore he bought though lets out a cry of joy, "Hevy!"

The boy whips around to see her first. "Sissy? Oh Isla e're yer safe?"

"Best bein' I e're were. He is a ged'un Hevy. He be a seein' a whole load'r us gels ter the Sisters." she laughs with joy.

"But 'e kilt our brothers. 'E be-" the boy about gave the game away, but Isla cut that off.

"Hevy 'e be in service ter Sisters, an can yer believin' it? I can be one ter soon." the not his Ione cheers. "The Aes Sedai mus'a been comin' ter get me an'a thar oth'as." The boy relaxes and smiles at him as if forgiving him. Nothing more was said. Rai silently takes his hand with love.