THE WHEEL AND THE GREAT TOMB OF NAZARICK
A FAN FICTION BY BUF_BUODA
CHAPTER 10
AN: Hello! Forgive me for the very, very, very late update. I've had to spend some time away from this fic because I found that I'd written myself into a metaphorical roundabout. I'd been sitting on this chapter for months - literally since July. There were a lot of ways I could take the story - wanted to take the story, but I think I've finally chosen one. For those who liked, subscribed, and reviewed, thank you! I hope you like this new chapter.
Nazarick...
Excitement coursed through the metaphorical heart of the Overlord of the Tomb of Nazarick. His emotion dampener kicked in, draining the fire of excitement, but he still felt satisfied – even with the dregs left behind. He felt the way he felt when the original guild – Nine's Own Goal – was exploring Yggdrasil for the first time; full of eager anticipation.
'I had almost forgotten this feeling,' he thought to himself. 'This feeling of seemingly endless possibilities waiting to be explored is the best,' he thought as he lay on his bed and relaxed.
Since the Isekai Event that brought him to Nazarick in the flesh (or bone), and then brought Nazarick and its inhabitants here, he engaged in what the maids had taken to calling The Secret Ritual of the Supreme One – mostly because he always drove them out before doing so. The ritual was, simply put, a thorough romp alone in his impossibly comfortable bed. As an Overlord, he didn't need rest or sleep. Yet, he discovered that it was pleasant to lie in the bed and just do nothing. He had always done this alone – until now.
A being of indescribable beauty lay beside him. Her horns lightly scraped his jawbone as she made minute adjustments to make herself more comfortable with her head on his ribcage. The first time she walked in on him rolling around in the bed was extremely awkward for him – not least because she promptly joined him, somehow losing her clothes in the time it took to cross from his door to his bed. He had painstakingly explained to the painfully horny succubus that this was his equivalent of rest/sleep. It only made the situation slightly less tolerable – she had immediately cuddled up with him as opposed to trying (and nearly succeeding) to rip off his robes, despite their durability stats.
"As your bride to be, I cannot allow myself to miss out on this intimate time between just the two of us," she'd declared rather happily, a strange quality to her voice. He did not have the heart to resist her. After all, what would his reason for resisting be?
That same night, she moved into his quarters. She did not join him in his room, thankfully. Rather, she took the bedroom adjacent to his in his suite. He was secretly grateful that she was so assertive – he would never be able to bring himself to chase her the way the smut and romance rags he'd read as a teenager insisted that women loved to be chased.
He was in one of those situations again, but the feeling of excitement was not because of the beauty on his ribcage – or at least not because of her appearance. His giddiness was at what she had told him.
The update on the strangers was the most exciting thing he'd heard since he levelled up. A new world to explore, new magic to learn, new skills to master, and a new enemy to defeat – all the stuff that good adventures were made of. As the dampener washed away the excitement, he began to think about the challenges he might face. There was the ever present danger of meeting something that was stronger than Nazarick. He was still no closer to finding out who messed with Shalltear – and with the introduction of new factors, the search was now more complicated. Not to mention this Dark One that seemed to be the antagonist of the new comers.
He mulled over Moiraine's request for aid. He had already decided to help her – not least because it would be a way to gain the gratitude of the woman and by extension those she represented. Thankfully, Albedo was against giving aid to this so-called 'Dark One' without eventually viciously back stabbing him - probably because he laid claim to a title she felt rightly belonged to him. The possibility for Nazarick to benefit from playing both sides was immense.
"Albedo," he said, speaking to the comfortably situated succubus. She looked up at him through night black locks.
"We should go to the office. We need to discuss what to do about this information you have brought me."
The succubus rose, albeit hesitantly. She was more comfortable showing him a wider range of her emotions now that she was no longer vying for his heart (in her mind).
He rose as well, and noticed her bringing her hand to her forehead as though to begin a [Message] spell.
"There is no need for that," he said, catching her hand before it got to her forehead. She blushed at the deliberate contact.
"Are we not meeting with the floor guardians?" she asked.
"Eventually," replied Ainz as he got to his feet. "I want to discuss this with you alone first."
Albedo pouted.
The gesture caught the Overlord flat footed.
"If we are not meeting the others, why can't we discuss right here?" asked Albedo.
Ainz's thoughts raced desperately as he tried to think of something to say to her. He resisted the urge to ignore her question mysteriously.
'I'm the one that talked a big game about their character development. I have to back it up too,' Ainz thought, grateful for the limiter as it washed away the trepidation he always felt whenever the guardians questioned him.
He cleared his throat, and decided to say the truth.
"Umu, with you so close and in an intimate setting, it would be difficult for me to concentrate on the task at hand."
The succubus took what he said in a manner entirely different from what he intended if her deepening blush was any indicator.
"Well, when you put it that way..." the woman said as she rose. Her pout had disappeared, and was replaced by a pleased smile.
'Somehow I said the right thing. Thank you, haxed luck!' thought Ainz with a mental fist pump while the succubus straightened her gown and put her business face on as she strolled from his room. He would be eternally grateful in situations like this that his libido (and indeed the organ for expressing said libido) was almost non-existent - not like that would be a problem someone like Albedo could not get around. He just knew that Peroronchino would curse him for 'not indulging the pleasures of the fairer sex'. The man could wax poetic about the weirdest things – usually shortly before sending a link to a steamy lemon or ten. As he strode out of the bedchamber behind Albedo, he could not help the wave of nostalgia at the memory.
Visitor's Quarters, Little Nazarick...
'What kind of person calls his domain a tomb?'
That was the summary of what was bouncing around in Rand Al Thor's head as he lay draped on the arm of a couch in the quarters they were given. He glanced at the person who stood patiently at the door, waiting for the rest of their group to emerge from their bedchambers. The beautiful woman paid him no mind, her face carefully neutral yet otherworldly in its perfection. Unlike the maids Yuri and Lupusregina, her uniform was mere clothing – or at least seemed like it. She had arrived a few moments ago and announced that they were "summoned by Ainz-sama at their leisure." Of course none of them were actually stupid enough to think that it meant anything besides "as quickly as possible".
His hand tightened on the scabbard of his sword.
His sword.
He could not pinpoint exactly when he stopped thinking about the sword as his father's sword. He still remembered that desperate flight from the Two Rivers. It felt like it had happened a lifetime ago.
He heard a door open, and the women came outside, dressed like they were going for a ball. Perrin roused himself from where he sat as the women crowded the sitting room. Mat remained leaning against the wall, his hands clenching the hilt of the dagger till his knuckles were white. Rising, Rand joined him, facing the maid at the door, and summoning the void for comfort.
Lan strode up to the maid, and indicated that they were ready.
Few moments later, the door opened and the little girl that had been with Sebas when they met him walked inside.
She was immaculate, as usual. Her blood red eyes took them all in and a smirk sneaked onto her face.
"Be grateful, worms," she began as the smirk grew to a sneer. "Ainz-sama has been gracious enough to take interest in you."
"Maybe if she had a bigger chest, she would not be this grumpy," Mat muttered under his breath.
Apparently, he had not been quiet enough.
In a moment of blinding agony, the void shattered, and Rand was on his knees. The air felt like the entire sky had crowded itself into the room. The girl was glaring at Mat, whose muscles had frozen, leaving him leaning against the wall, gasping for breath that never came. Rand felt warm liquid trickle down the sides of his head as his vision blurred, waves of red and purple lashing at the air.
"Shalltear," came the cold voice of the butler as he strode into the room leisurely.
"Sebas," she replied, never taking her eyes off Mat. "Ainz-sama might not need all of them after all. Can I have him?"
Rand could not turn his head to even glance at the others from his peripheral vision.
Sebas chuckled as he shook his head.
"He would not last very long, Shalltear-san. Perhaps if Ainz-sama is done with them and the fool has managed not to insult him, you can ask Ainz-sama."
The girl smiled, and it was the most terrible thing Rand had ever seen.
Abruptly, the atmosphere was back to normal. He heard the quiet sigh of relief from Loial – if bees the size of horses could be quiet. Bringing up his hands to the sides of his head, he touched the liquid that was running down. It was blood. Mat fared no better. Blood poured from his ears and nose, and he slumped against Rand almost immediately.
Moiraine glided to them immediately. Her face was carefully neutral, but rage lit her eyes up as she grabbed his head. A familiar feeling of cold gripped him as she wove the flows that would heal him. Turning to Mat, she grabbed his head as well and the stiffening was a telltale sign that she was healing him as well.
"We will have words," was all she said before gliding out towards the Butler who was waiting beside a tear in reality – the sort that had brought them here in the first place.
"I would suggest muzzling your fool," Sebas said to the Aes Sedai casually as she walked to the gate, somehow still conveying the aura of kindness as he delivered the casual insult. She nodded once before stepping in, followed by the rest, Mat very carefully not making any form of eye contact with Shalltear or Sebas. Lan brought up the rear and the gate deposited in what seemed to be a hall.
"Follow me," said Sebas as he strode down the hall.
The journey through the hall seemed like it lasted just an instant. The floors were made of a material that Rand had never seen in his life. It was studded with what looked like tiny jewels that seemed to glow from within themselves. The hall was brightly lit, even though there was no direct, visible source of light. Statues and suits of armour hung from the walls. The statues were of fantastic beings; impossible beings; beings whose shapes made no sense. The armour seemed nearly alive, as though it was on the verge of motion. Tapestries of unimaginable value filled the space between the suits of armour. Scenes involving some of the creatures portrayed by the statues were depicted in moving paintings that were so realistic it seemed like magic. Crystals of impossible size hung on chandeliers, glittering with an otherworldly light that somehow conveyed power, not illumination.
He tore his eyes away from the hall when they stopped. He had been looking around like a country bumpkin, but he was fairly certain that there were palaces less ornate than the hall they had just walked through; a hall that was in a place called a tomb.
They arrived at a hemispherical room that looked like a theatre – probably a waiting room. A pair of vast double doors stood at the other end of the room, commanding the most attention. Intricate carvings decorated both sides of the doors; a beautiful goddess reaching out on the right, and a cruel-looking creature grabbing at something on the left. The hands of the two formed the handles of the massive doors.
'Judgement,' thought Rand, a shudder passing through him as he looked at the doors. 'Those doors are doors of judgement,'
Tearing his eyes away, he saw ominous-looking statues arrayed side by side around the entire room like guards.
Silence filled the room, save for the heels of the party striking the floor. He glanced at the rest of the group. Sebas looked like he always did – serious and focused. Shalltear looked like she was filled with anticipation, a small smile on her face. Whatever was behind those doors was something she definitely liked. Moiraine looked determined, and her warder beside her was completely blank, his face like one of the statues that guarded the room for all the emotion on it. Perrin and Loial looked subdued, a sharp contrast to the gleam in Mat's eyes as he took in the vast treasure around them. The gleam was replaced by terror as Shalltear's eyes flicked to his, and her smile widened – a predator smiling at sheep. Nynaeve had her braid in her hands, looking determined yet on the verge of passing out. Egwene was a mirror of the normally fiery woman, except for her hands clenched firmly on her skirts.
Besides Moiraine and Lan, everyone else had shoulders that were drawn in, as though they were being reminded of their place by the things around them.
"We have arrived, and Ainz-sama waits within. Compose yourselves," said Sebas as he strode to the doors.
The maid that accompanied them bowed to them and stepped back, her part over.
As though waiting for that, the vast double doors swung slowly open of their own accord.
The ceiling that came into view was very high and very impossibly wide, covered with murals and crystals of blinding brilliance. The walls were a white so brilliant it was nearly unbearable. Patterns of gold streaked through the white in intricate patterns that bedevilled the eyes.
Chandeliers in the shapes of the open maws of great creatures, and bearing crystals and precious stones hung from the ceiling, radiating an eerie light.
Pillars bridged the gap between floor and ceiling – forty that Rand could count, twenty on each side. The pillars looked to be made from a strange material, and flags hung on their length, each bearing a different pattern of device.
The party stepped through the doors, trailing behind Sebas and Shalltear, and promptly stopped, unable to move.
An oppressive aura filled the room, and its epicentre seemed to be the magnificent throne on the raised dais at the end of the throne room.
Sebas and Shalltear continued forward, paying the terrified party no mind. Two maids approached the group, and Rand noticed the maids lining the sides of the throne room for the first time.
"Come forward," said the maids in perfect unison as their voices seemed to break the spell on the group.
Slowly, they began their journey down the carpet that ran down from the dais to the doors.
About a quarter of the way in, the single file of beautiful maids on each side became a double file of horrors.
Skeletons in otherworldly golden armour stood bearing halberds in front of huge, two meters monstrosities in black, thorny armour, and bearing tower shields and rippled swords coated in a black fog streaked with red.
About twenty metres from the dais, the maids halted the party. Sebas and Shalltear had taken their place at the foot of the dais when a portal opened beside the throne, and two strange children skipped out with barely concealed excitement.
'They're adorable,' thought Egwene, despite herself.
The journey to the throne room was the most nerve wracking experience of her life. She had thought that the journey through the Ways and Machin Shin were going to remain at the top of her list for the rest of her life. A simple stroll through the hall of this Tomb disabused her of the notion. She saw statues that were more horrible than Machin Shin; that seemed to draw a moan of despair from the very soul . The door opening into the throne room was simultaneously the most beautiful, and the most horrific thing she had ever experienced. It felt like her heart was held in hands that were comforting and soothing when she glanced at the creature of light. She could almost feel like she was truly sheltered by the hands of the creator. On the other hand, glancing at the creature of darkness, she could swear that the feeling of scaled, clawed hands around her heart was real. Despair as black as night made the soothing of the creature of light seem like a lifetime away rather than just a flick of the eyes. It sought to crush her very soul, not because of insanity (like Machin Shin), but out of mere boredom, like a spoiled child that reflexively ate pastries. She almost could not glance away, and the feeling of gradually attracting the attention of the creature grew the longer she looked at it. Nynaeve's whispered insistence that it was "just a door" lacked any conviction at all. She managed to swing her gaze back to the creature of light, and soon the despair was like a dream. Yet, it was with great relief that she left the door behind.
The children were identical twins, distinguishable only by their clothing. They were definitely not human – although she could not tell what they were. They both had dark skin and pointed ears, blonde hair, and heterochromic eyes that were large for their faces. The male looked like a dominant, confident child. He wore a reddish-black shirt of unknown material, and a white and gold vest with matching trousers, brown gloves, and shoes that looked gold-plated. The sister was more reserved – shy even. She wore what looked like a blue shirt under a white and gold vest with a matching pleated mini skirt, long white stockings, and strange high boots. Her slender hands were covered with white gloves, and she wielded a twisted, black staff.
'This tomb can't be that bad,' thought Egwene as she rapidly took in the appearance of the children that bounded down the dais to stand just behind Sebas and Shalltear. The pair that came through the portal next thoroughly disabused her of the notion.
Her breath hitched as the first of the pair strode out; a massive insect over 2 metres tall. The air seemed to freeze around it, and the frost was nearly visible like an aura. Sharp spikes that looked like icicles covered its body and extended down to its massive tail. It held a halberd as tall as it was, and its mandibles clicked together as it stood just below the throne.
The second of the pair stood opposite the large insect. It was about as tall as an average sized adult man, and wore a striped, narrow, orange coat cut in a strange style with matching trousers. Its shirt was brilliant white, and an orange narrow cloth wrapped around and under the collar of the shirt in a strange tie, with the excess tucked into the coat. If you could ignore the frog head and plated tail, it looked almost human. An air of anticipation hung around it.
She could feel her heart pounding as she struggled to keep her eyes away from the massive insect. She had been getting lulled into thinking that the tomb was 'not that bad, just different,' but the insect was the bucket of cold water on her face. This was the first, really non human thing she had ever seen up close in this place.
The portal remained open, and two other people stepped out of it. One was a male-looking warrior clad in full body, jet-black armour with two large swords on his back, and a red cape. Compared to the others that came before him, he looked very tame.
The second person was the most intimidating of all that she had encountered so far, but in a different way. Egwene had always been confident in her beauty. She might not be the most beautiful woman she had ever seen (that would have belonged to Lupusregina before this moment), but she had never met anyone who made her feel like a cow. Like a disabled cow. This woman did all that effortlessly, and more. She was like the light given form; perfect form and perfect figure. The horns on her head and the dark wings on her waist did nothing to detract from the beauty. Rather, it seemed like everyone who lacked them was horribly crippled. Her vertically slit pupils sat in golden irises, and her eyes shone with an intelligence that was palpable. She radiated confidence and authority that made Moiraine look like a child playing dress-up. Her eyes flickered over Egwene, and in that short moment, Egwene felt like she had been weighed and dismissed utterly. Such treatment would have put her back up normally, but there was a problem: Nothing about their situation was normal. Yet for all that she looked like light given form, the air of malicious danger pulsed from her. That sense of danger sharpened noticeably for an instant as soon as her eyes fell on Mat. Yet even as she consequently ignored him, Egwene could not help but feel like she still kept a portion of her attention on him.
As soon as they stepped through the portal leading away from their rooms, Mat's head felt much clearer. He was still reeling from exposure to whatever it was the crazy girl did while looking at him.
'Me and my goat kissing mouth,' he berated himself mentally. How could he have forgotten the horror he saw in Carne that was unleashed by those who were mere maids? How could he be so suicidal?
At any rate, the sudden clarity of mind he felt was so sudden that he couldn't help but notice it - probably as a result of the mind numbing terror he felt at the crazy girl's resolution to 'get him'. There was no scenario in his mind where that could be construed as a remotely good thing. He could only hope that this Ainz would indeed have some use for him. Yet the clarity brought on by the dread was welcome. It was only in that light that he could note the utter clutter that was previously his head. It was as though a voice in his head that sounded just like his own head-voice had suddenly been muffled, allowing him to make the startling discovery that it wasn't actually his. As they progressed down the hall, the riches on display managed to distract him from mulling it over - at least until he felt the hungry gaze of the girl Shalltear. The terror he felt kept him adequately distracted until they passed through the doors leading to what he could only describe later as a throne room.
As they approached the doors, he became more and more conscious of the dagger - mostly because it seemed to be screaming for him to get away from where they were.
'Whatever is addling me must be really strong for me to think that a bloody dagger is screaming,' he thought self-deprecatingly.
Regardless, he could have sworn on his ma's cooking that the dagger shivered when they passed through the doors and into the now revealed throne room.
The throne drew almost all his attention - he still had some left over to note the horrors that lined the path to the throne, and he could never be completely oblivious of the sheer wealth displayed around him. Yet, the throne drew and kept the majority of his attention. Even when their group reached their destination, the throne loomed in his mind. The portal that opened, and the beings that stepped out of it only served as a minor distraction from the enormous presence the throne exuded.
The power pouring off the creatures that stood on the dais was almost tangible. For the first time, Moiraine encountered creatures so powerful that she could not begin to place them at any level. Even Shalltear looked different – as though she was somehow more. All her years of discipline as an Aes Sedai kept her on her feet, and the rock solid alertness that was Lan helped to keep her grounded.
"The Supreme One of the Great Tomb of Nazarick," started the voice of the man frog in the orange, striped coat, "The Sorcerer King, Ainz Ooal Gown!" he ended with a voice laced with power.
Moiraine tore her eyes from him in time to see the creature that came out of the portal now.
'I-is that a... skeleton?'
The creature was undoubtedly a skeleton. It looked humanoid, but there were slight differences between it and a normal human skeleton
'Besides the fact that its walking around, that is,' she thought to herself dryly.
Then the rest of her perception caught up with her eyes.
Death oozed from the skeleton in waves that made her question how she missed the aura in the first place. It felt like all the despair and terror in the world had been concentrated into the creature that was taking its place on the throne. As it sat and looked at her, it felt like she was looking into her own mortality. Red pinpricks of light flared in the sockets of a skull that was bleached white. She could not tear her eyes away from those pinpricks - those pinpricks that weighed and saw straight into her very soul. The creature, this Ainz Ooal Gown, commanded awe. Then, she realized something else with a start.
'The look of the eyeless is no longer fear; not after this,' thought Moiraine. 'Whatever this Ainz Ooal Gown is, he is so far beyond anything I know that I have no frame of reference for categorizing him.'
Despite all that, neither Ainz Ooal Gown, nor any of the creatures below him gave her the impression of evil, at least in the sense of minions of the Dark One.
Power? Oh yes.
Benevolent danger? Definitely; probably a product of their idea of "good" not being centered in humans.
Maliciousness? Yes.
Evil? Surprisingly, no.
That alone kept a fist of hope alive in her heart.
"Ainz-sama," began Sebas, turning slightly to keep both their party and the throne in view, "This is Moiraine Sedai, her Warder Lan, and the charges under her care. They have been presented for your viewing pleasure, as you commanded," he concluded, gesturing to them in turn as he spoke.
In response, Ainz spoke directly to Moiraine.
"Welcome, Moiraine. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you and your party."
His voice did not match his appearance in the least. It held power and absolute authority, but also had that charisma that commands respect and dedication. She could almost say that Ainz must be ta'veren. It was nearly enough to make her forget the not insignificant fact that he was a skeleton.
Steeling her resolve, she curtseyed slightly like she would before any other ruler – 'It won't do to grovel after all,' she thought.
"On behalf of my party and myself, I humbly thank you for your welcome, your Majesty,"
It was impossible to gauge the impact of her greeting on Ainz. After all, a skull had no facial expressions to read. However, it turned out that her greeting was less than appreciated.
"Ainz-sama," began the one that announced his entrance, his amphibian eyes pinning them like they were particularly strange bugs, "it is not fitting for lowly creatures such as these humans to address you like a mere human monarch."
Her heart lurched at his words. Yet before he could continue, Ainz raised a hand.
"I appreciate your concern Demiurge, but it will be unnecessary. I trust our visitors will be on their best behaviour - as they perceive it. After all, unlike Jircniv, they didn't send looters to our beloved home."
That last sentence sounded nearly unbelievable to Moiraine. She could not comprehend the fact that someone had dared send looters to this place. This place!
The pinpoints flared as it seemed to focus on her.
"I am not one to take too much stock in formality. Let us set it aside and move into the business of the day."
He gestured at the figure in black full plate as it stepped forward.
"Momon here is closer to humans than most of us. He will hear you, and speak for us concerning whatever you might say."
For the first time in decades, the White Tower marched into battle in force. Against all odds, the Shienarans had held on, selling every inch of their nation dearly as their non combatants poured out of the nation and into Arafel. Desperate calls for aid had been dispatched as soon as it became obvious that Tarwin's Gap was in real danger of being overrun. Yet, before the first banner of reinforcements arrived, Fal Dara had fallen. Thousands had marched to defend Fal Moran, and the approach leading to the capital. The trollocs paid dearly - at least eight trollocs died for every Shienaran that fell. But the Dark One had trollocs to throw away.
Men cheered when the first of the Aes Sedai party arrived at Fal Moran early that morning. Thirty full sisters and their warders made up the contingent - enough power to turn the tide of any battle. Minus the obvious increase in fighting power, the presence of the Tower in such force meant legitimacy. For the first time since it all started, the Shienarans felt hope. They were not alone.
The party did not stay long in the city. King Easar himself had been on the frontlines since Tarwin's Gap. Lord Agelmar was presumed dead. It was assumed that he fell with Fal Dara, selling his life and the life of his men to render the keep and much of the city uninhabitable for the invading trollocs. The fires had raged for days, and the smoke provided backdrop for the shrinking front, which was now an ever retreating line of death as the trollocs poured in, hoping to bring their superior numbers to bear. In the open field, the Shienaran lances earned their pay. Time and time again, they were used by Easar to devastating effect. The light cavalry had been tasked with keeping their supply lines open, and forming the core of a quick reaction force to stall until their heavier counterparts could be brought to bear.
Easar stepped out of his tent, his personal guards falling into place around him. Word had arrived late last night that the Saldeans had dispatched Davram Bashere with ten thousand men to reinforce the Shienarans. Another ten thousand were expected to arrive from Arafel and Kandor in a few days. However, the most exciting news was from an unexpected source. His men had been approached by a dozen Aiel late last evening.
"The Spears march," was all one of them said before they melted back into the darkness. Hatred for trollocs was one thing they agreed with the Aiel on.
A flurry of activity drew the attention of the king. A party was returning to the camp, and they were flying the banner of Lord Agelmar. Easar changed his direction immediately, angling for the commotion. If Agelmar was truly alive, then the light had indeed been smiling on them with all the good news they had been receiving.
"Your Highness," a breathless messenger intercepted his party, bowing before falling in step with the small knot of men.
Easar gestured for the boy to speak.
"Lord Agelmar is alive. He just arrived at camp with a dozen men, and gave the passwords that were in use when he left us."
While the man was still speaking, another messenger ran up, bowing and joining the party.
Easar acknowledged him with a quick nod, and began to angle for the command tent again.
"Tell Agelmar to join us at the command tent," he said to the first messenger. The boy bowed and shot off.
"Your Highness," began the second messenger, "word arrived from Fal Moran that they are expecting an Aes Sedai party this morning. The Aes Sedai indicated that they would only stop to leave some of their party in the city."
Easar let his face crack in a smile. His situation seemed to be getting better and better. He dismissed the messenger with a small gesture and swept into the command tent. The air of hope hung around the battle hardened commanders who stood around the tent.
'Would it be too much to ask for Ogier?' he thought.
The small merchant party settled in to make camp for the night. The burly twins that served as guards had been jumpy for some time. They'd wanted to push for a village, and we're completely against camping in the woods. Paran overrode them of course; his trusty Jof had never been wrong in the seven years he'd ridden the donkey. She showed no signs of unease, so the woods were safe. She was infinitely more trustworthy than the two guards, and he would not risk her in a senseless push through the night. The rest of the party set about making camp. The young children ran to gather wood, turning the chore into a game of sort. Weary women and men chattered away. The serenity was shattered by a soft, strange, liquid sound. Silence fell, even on the pack animals. The second time seemed louder in the silence; a sort of skittering sound, and a gurgle of liquid lay underneath the liquid sound this time. The guards fingered their shortswords.
Something greyish launched out of the woods and unto the face of one of the women. They all froze in stupefied shock, unable to tear their gaze from the strange, bulbous sight. Their stupor was broken by the bloodcurdling scream of said woman as the thing stuffed it's tentacle-like appendages through her neck, like a little octopus from hell. Almost as though the scream was a signal, everything burst into motion. The guards tried to rush the unfortunate woman, but only stopped in horror as the thing wiggled into her screaming mouth, the appendages standing out like grotesque veins running from the now stuffed mouth to the puncture in her neck. Numerous other bulbous creatures materialized as though from thin air, launching themselves at the party in a mass of greyish green appendages. The screams of the party did not last long, and through it all, Jof remained placid, munching grass as though nothing had happened. No one could see the greenish mass in her head, tendrils adapting to harness a less sentient brain. In a few moments after the first blood curdling scream rent the night, there was no one left to wonder at the actions of the supposed loyal donkey.