Aviendha opened her eyes.
The first thing she noticed was that she was shielded, with saidin. She tested the barrier tentatively, and then pounded on it. It didn't budge. She had come to depend on saidar more than her spears, and without it she felt helpless.
The next thing she noticed was the Warder bond that connected her to Rand. At the moment, worry and despair flooded through, along with pain. She gasped. It felt like he had been beaten, and recently. But who could do that to him?
Perhaps the same people who had put her in here - wherever this was. It was completely dark, and the air was musty and cold. The floor she was lying on was damp stone, cold and hard.
She couldn't remember anything.
Aviendha sat up, and barely restrained a groan. Waves of pain washed through her head at the movement. Her mouth and throat felt dry, parched. It had been a while since she had been this thirsty - she needed water. What happened to me?
Ignoring her head, which was beginning to feel like it had been pounded on an anvil, she got up, supporting herself on the wall. The wall, too, was made of stone.
Her feet were bare, and it felt like she was wearing a dress. Feeling at it, Aviendha realized that it was rough cotton, coming in at the waist, with a hem that brushed the ground. She blinked in confusion.
Her hand went to her wrist, and she breathed a sigh of relief upon feeling the ivory bracelet that Rand had given to her. They could take anything else, but if they took this, I would - She suppressed the ensuing violent thoughts and felt at her throat for the next important piece of jewelry, a silver necklace of snowflakes from Egwene, her near sister. Aviendha smiled as her fingers met the carved silver.
She began to walk unsteadily along the wall. Roughly thirteen steps later, she met another stone wall. Nineteen more steps along the new wall, and she ran into another.
It was a moderately large room. She began to wish there was some light, and that she had her spears and buckler with her. Or that she could reach the True Source. She shoved again against the clear shield keeping saidar away.
She started walking towards the center of the room, when suddenly her foot hit something cold and sharp. It clattered with a metallic sound.
It sounded like a weapon. Aviendha crouched and felt for it along the floor. Her fingers closed firmly on a metal blade, and sprang open again when they were cut. Aviendha let loose a few curses she had heard Mat use in the Old Tongue and felt gingerly at the deep cuts. She cautiously reached out again, and this time her hand felt some kind of polished handle. Puzzled, she hefted it and moved her other hand along to where it gave way to sharp metal. Her fingers met a pattern etched into the smooth surface, and she ran her fingers over the grooves, trying to feel what it was.
A heron. A heron carved on the blade of a sword.
Aviendha flung the sword away, leaping backwards and frantically rubbing her hands on the rough material of her dress. Light, I touched a sword! If I survive whatever it is I'm in, if I get back to the Waste, I don't know if the others will let me live!
What happens to an Aiel who touches a sword? Fool woman! You didn't realize what it was until it was too late! She rubbed the slashes in her hand. Wounds from a sword. She shuddered uncontrollably.
Then she froze. The hilt had been an ordinary sword handle. Almost unheard of on a blademaster's sword - except in one case.
It was Rand's sword.
Aviendha shivered again, unable to stop. Rand is here. He is here, and maybe a prisoner as I am.
She began to concentrate intensely, difficult because she was so thirsty that it was a distraction. How did we get here?
The last thing she recalled was the light-haired serving woman who had come to take the tray from lunch away . . . she had thought there was something odd about her. Aviendha closed her eyes, focusing on the woman. It made her head hurt more. What had been odd?
Suddenly it came to her, as if she had been able to pull it out from somewhere locked up in her head. The woman had been too proud, stood too tall, and looked her right in the eye when she came for the tray. The other servants in the palace were subservient, meek. And they never met the eyes of the people they served.
Aviendha sank to the floor as the memories started rushing back. One by one, she grabbed them and studied them.
The woman had tried to shield her, so suddenly that it had almost worked. Aviendha had caught the knife-edge just before it sliced completely through her link to saidar, which she had embraced as soon as she felt something was wrong.
She had struggled for nearly a minute to keep the shield away, but the woman was too strong. It was then that Aviendha realized the woman was one of the Forsaken; she had not met anyone with that much ability other than Nynaeve.
The woman had woven a gateway and dragged her through, bound in Air. The other Forsaken were waiting. They called the one who had kidnapped her Semirhage. Aviendha was not told where she was, or why she had been taken.
Then, one of the other Forsaken, a man, had woven something of saidin that she had never seen before. She did not see it until it was flung over her, and then suddenly her skin started burning as if a flaming net had enveloped her. She dimly remembered screaming herself hoarse as blackness rushed in on her.
And now she was here.
The Forsaken used me to trap Rand, she realized. They knew he would feel me leave through the gateway, and come after me by following the bond. She blinked back angry tears. It's my fault if they have him! She felt the pain from him again, the gloomy emotions, and now a new one - anger.
What did they do to him? What are they doing to him?
And why is his sword here with me?
Suddenly, part of the wall seemed to come away, letting in bright light. She put her arm up in front of her eyes, squinting, and realized that there had been a door made out of stone that had seemed to be part of a wall.
The most beautiful woman she had ever seen stood in the doorway. She wore pure white, belted in silver, and reminded Aviendha strongly of Lanfear. The features were different, but the same cold, haughty quality was present.
For a moment, the two women just stood staring at each other, Aviendha glaring a challenge, Lanfear cool and amused. The air was thick with tension.
Then Lanfear lifted a waterskin. "Are you thirsty?"
Aviendha did not answer. She was once more acutely aware of her raging thirst, making her wonder how long it had been since she had last had some water. "What have you done with Rand al'Thor?"
"Answer me," Lanfear said. She was smiling, for some reason. "Are you thirsty?"
"No," Aviendha lied. She is taunting me! But is this wise? When will I get another chance at water? She avoided looking at the skin in Lanfear's hand. She could hear water sloshing in it. "Where is Rand?"
"Oh, Rand is quite safe, I assure you." Lanfear was still smiling. Now her attention seemed to be all on the waterskin. She shook it, and water splashed inside again. "You would be the one called Aviendha, am I right?"
Aviendha refused to lick her dry lips. "Yes. And you are Lanfear." The name did not make her tremble, as she had noticed other people did when they heard it.
"I am called Cyndane now. But I am still Lanfear, yes." Lanfear idly tossed the skin up and caught it. The sounds of water were making Aviendha crazy. No! She is toying with me. I will not be used! She seemed to remember Rand saying that often. Rand . . .
Suddenly Lanfear stopped playing with the waterskin and focused on Aviendha. "You have bedded him," she said matter-of-factly. "You love him, as well?"
Aviendha stared at her. The Daughter of the Night loved Lews Therin, she thought. "Yes," she said slowly.
"Lews Therin Telamon is mine," Lanfear said with sudden intensity, hands tightening on the waterskin. "He has always been mine, and will always be so. He loves me!"
Aviendha didn't reply. What is she trying to do . . . ?
Lanfear abruptly seemed to calm down. She shook the waterskin, staring at Aviendha. "I know you want this," she said softly, lips curving up in a smile again. "You deny it, but I can see it in your eyes. And I will give it to you," she went on, smile widening, "if you just do a small thing for me."
Aviendha watched the other woman as she might watch a wildcat about to spring. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to admit it," Lanfear said, still quietly. Her eyes were riveted to Aviendha's face. "I want you to admit that Lews Therin - Rand - has never loved you. I want you to admit that he loves me, and he is mine."
The water sloshed enticingly.
Aviendha reproved herself sharply. You are not thirsty. She unsuccessfully tried to ignore her parched mouth. "Rand al'Thor loves me!" she growled, stepping forward. "Lews Therin was yours, perhaps, but Rand al'Thor belongs to my near sisters and I! He loves me!" And I love him . . . .
Lanfear stared at her for a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "That was the wrong answer, Aviendha," she said with mock disappointment. "I'm afraid I cannot give you any water" - she looked thoughtfully at the waterskin, and tucked it behind her belt with a sigh - "until you do as I have told you and admit the truth." She waited for a moment, still smiling, and then turned, skirts swishing, to close the door.
The wall slammed shut behind her, leaving Aviendha in the darkness once more.
She just stood there for a moment, glaring at where she knew the door was, and then slowly but deliberately walked over to where she had thrown the sword. Suppressing the urge to cringe, the hatred and fear of swords bred in her, she picked it up and cradled it in her arms, thinking of its owner.
"Rand al'Thor loves me," she said to no one in particular.
But the fact was not making her any less thirsty.
The first thing she noticed was that she was shielded, with saidin. She tested the barrier tentatively, and then pounded on it. It didn't budge. She had come to depend on saidar more than her spears, and without it she felt helpless.
The next thing she noticed was the Warder bond that connected her to Rand. At the moment, worry and despair flooded through, along with pain. She gasped. It felt like he had been beaten, and recently. But who could do that to him?
Perhaps the same people who had put her in here - wherever this was. It was completely dark, and the air was musty and cold. The floor she was lying on was damp stone, cold and hard.
She couldn't remember anything.
Aviendha sat up, and barely restrained a groan. Waves of pain washed through her head at the movement. Her mouth and throat felt dry, parched. It had been a while since she had been this thirsty - she needed water. What happened to me?
Ignoring her head, which was beginning to feel like it had been pounded on an anvil, she got up, supporting herself on the wall. The wall, too, was made of stone.
Her feet were bare, and it felt like she was wearing a dress. Feeling at it, Aviendha realized that it was rough cotton, coming in at the waist, with a hem that brushed the ground. She blinked in confusion.
Her hand went to her wrist, and she breathed a sigh of relief upon feeling the ivory bracelet that Rand had given to her. They could take anything else, but if they took this, I would - She suppressed the ensuing violent thoughts and felt at her throat for the next important piece of jewelry, a silver necklace of snowflakes from Egwene, her near sister. Aviendha smiled as her fingers met the carved silver.
She began to walk unsteadily along the wall. Roughly thirteen steps later, she met another stone wall. Nineteen more steps along the new wall, and she ran into another.
It was a moderately large room. She began to wish there was some light, and that she had her spears and buckler with her. Or that she could reach the True Source. She shoved again against the clear shield keeping saidar away.
She started walking towards the center of the room, when suddenly her foot hit something cold and sharp. It clattered with a metallic sound.
It sounded like a weapon. Aviendha crouched and felt for it along the floor. Her fingers closed firmly on a metal blade, and sprang open again when they were cut. Aviendha let loose a few curses she had heard Mat use in the Old Tongue and felt gingerly at the deep cuts. She cautiously reached out again, and this time her hand felt some kind of polished handle. Puzzled, she hefted it and moved her other hand along to where it gave way to sharp metal. Her fingers met a pattern etched into the smooth surface, and she ran her fingers over the grooves, trying to feel what it was.
A heron. A heron carved on the blade of a sword.
Aviendha flung the sword away, leaping backwards and frantically rubbing her hands on the rough material of her dress. Light, I touched a sword! If I survive whatever it is I'm in, if I get back to the Waste, I don't know if the others will let me live!
What happens to an Aiel who touches a sword? Fool woman! You didn't realize what it was until it was too late! She rubbed the slashes in her hand. Wounds from a sword. She shuddered uncontrollably.
Then she froze. The hilt had been an ordinary sword handle. Almost unheard of on a blademaster's sword - except in one case.
It was Rand's sword.
Aviendha shivered again, unable to stop. Rand is here. He is here, and maybe a prisoner as I am.
She began to concentrate intensely, difficult because she was so thirsty that it was a distraction. How did we get here?
The last thing she recalled was the light-haired serving woman who had come to take the tray from lunch away . . . she had thought there was something odd about her. Aviendha closed her eyes, focusing on the woman. It made her head hurt more. What had been odd?
Suddenly it came to her, as if she had been able to pull it out from somewhere locked up in her head. The woman had been too proud, stood too tall, and looked her right in the eye when she came for the tray. The other servants in the palace were subservient, meek. And they never met the eyes of the people they served.
Aviendha sank to the floor as the memories started rushing back. One by one, she grabbed them and studied them.
The woman had tried to shield her, so suddenly that it had almost worked. Aviendha had caught the knife-edge just before it sliced completely through her link to saidar, which she had embraced as soon as she felt something was wrong.
She had struggled for nearly a minute to keep the shield away, but the woman was too strong. It was then that Aviendha realized the woman was one of the Forsaken; she had not met anyone with that much ability other than Nynaeve.
The woman had woven a gateway and dragged her through, bound in Air. The other Forsaken were waiting. They called the one who had kidnapped her Semirhage. Aviendha was not told where she was, or why she had been taken.
Then, one of the other Forsaken, a man, had woven something of saidin that she had never seen before. She did not see it until it was flung over her, and then suddenly her skin started burning as if a flaming net had enveloped her. She dimly remembered screaming herself hoarse as blackness rushed in on her.
And now she was here.
The Forsaken used me to trap Rand, she realized. They knew he would feel me leave through the gateway, and come after me by following the bond. She blinked back angry tears. It's my fault if they have him! She felt the pain from him again, the gloomy emotions, and now a new one - anger.
What did they do to him? What are they doing to him?
And why is his sword here with me?
Suddenly, part of the wall seemed to come away, letting in bright light. She put her arm up in front of her eyes, squinting, and realized that there had been a door made out of stone that had seemed to be part of a wall.
The most beautiful woman she had ever seen stood in the doorway. She wore pure white, belted in silver, and reminded Aviendha strongly of Lanfear. The features were different, but the same cold, haughty quality was present.
For a moment, the two women just stood staring at each other, Aviendha glaring a challenge, Lanfear cool and amused. The air was thick with tension.
Then Lanfear lifted a waterskin. "Are you thirsty?"
Aviendha did not answer. She was once more acutely aware of her raging thirst, making her wonder how long it had been since she had last had some water. "What have you done with Rand al'Thor?"
"Answer me," Lanfear said. She was smiling, for some reason. "Are you thirsty?"
"No," Aviendha lied. She is taunting me! But is this wise? When will I get another chance at water? She avoided looking at the skin in Lanfear's hand. She could hear water sloshing in it. "Where is Rand?"
"Oh, Rand is quite safe, I assure you." Lanfear was still smiling. Now her attention seemed to be all on the waterskin. She shook it, and water splashed inside again. "You would be the one called Aviendha, am I right?"
Aviendha refused to lick her dry lips. "Yes. And you are Lanfear." The name did not make her tremble, as she had noticed other people did when they heard it.
"I am called Cyndane now. But I am still Lanfear, yes." Lanfear idly tossed the skin up and caught it. The sounds of water were making Aviendha crazy. No! She is toying with me. I will not be used! She seemed to remember Rand saying that often. Rand . . .
Suddenly Lanfear stopped playing with the waterskin and focused on Aviendha. "You have bedded him," she said matter-of-factly. "You love him, as well?"
Aviendha stared at her. The Daughter of the Night loved Lews Therin, she thought. "Yes," she said slowly.
"Lews Therin Telamon is mine," Lanfear said with sudden intensity, hands tightening on the waterskin. "He has always been mine, and will always be so. He loves me!"
Aviendha didn't reply. What is she trying to do . . . ?
Lanfear abruptly seemed to calm down. She shook the waterskin, staring at Aviendha. "I know you want this," she said softly, lips curving up in a smile again. "You deny it, but I can see it in your eyes. And I will give it to you," she went on, smile widening, "if you just do a small thing for me."
Aviendha watched the other woman as she might watch a wildcat about to spring. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to admit it," Lanfear said, still quietly. Her eyes were riveted to Aviendha's face. "I want you to admit that Lews Therin - Rand - has never loved you. I want you to admit that he loves me, and he is mine."
The water sloshed enticingly.
Aviendha reproved herself sharply. You are not thirsty. She unsuccessfully tried to ignore her parched mouth. "Rand al'Thor loves me!" she growled, stepping forward. "Lews Therin was yours, perhaps, but Rand al'Thor belongs to my near sisters and I! He loves me!" And I love him . . . .
Lanfear stared at her for a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "That was the wrong answer, Aviendha," she said with mock disappointment. "I'm afraid I cannot give you any water" - she looked thoughtfully at the waterskin, and tucked it behind her belt with a sigh - "until you do as I have told you and admit the truth." She waited for a moment, still smiling, and then turned, skirts swishing, to close the door.
The wall slammed shut behind her, leaving Aviendha in the darkness once more.
She just stood there for a moment, glaring at where she knew the door was, and then slowly but deliberately walked over to where she had thrown the sword. Suppressing the urge to cringe, the hatred and fear of swords bred in her, she picked it up and cradled it in her arms, thinking of its owner.
"Rand al'Thor loves me," she said to no one in particular.
But the fact was not making her any less thirsty.