Gale heard voices, distantly, and then the blade was taken from his throat. He heard the voices recede into the night and he felt the metal blades slide from his hands before he was roughly tossed aside, sending waves of pain through him that caused him to whimper, the intensity almost unbearable. He huddled where he landed and came more awake with the fresh onslaught of pain. He heard that he would be dealt with later, and that he would be given something to bind his hands. The man's cloak was tossed on him before the Inquisitor walked into the night.
With much pain and effort he propped himself up against the side of the tent and pulled the cloak toward him. Every movement was agony and he gritted his teeth as so not cry out. He tore strips off the cloak and wrapped them around the middle of his hands groaning. He would not be going anywhere for a while he knew, and he almost wished he had been killed, just so this could end. Almost. He knew he was saved if only for the reason that he could give them information. If they found out he was Ashaman, he did not know what would happen.
Uncaring, he seized the source and it hid his pain a little bit, making existence more bearable. He made little pictures out of weaves of flame end they danced through the air above him. His breeches were soon soaked, and he sat in a puddle of his own blood. He extinguished the pictures when sunlight began to stream through the tent. No use giving it to them for free, he thought. I will die before the black tower is condemned by me. He smiled and it looked odd on him, for he should be crying it seemed, with his torn and broken body.
He studied the Warder. He was still covered with the itchweed, but was still, it seemed, uncaring. Gale suddenly admired him for his strength and unyielding. He knew he would never last out this imprisonment, the way he was going. He liked to think that when he died here, it would be soon, and bravely. He thought he would welcome death. Movement from the doorway brought him back to reality and, to his pain.
xxxx
"If you are delusional..." Lain had to resist laughing aloud, gallows humour strong within his bones. Did this thing have no sense of humour? Or at least enough of one to tell when someone was making fun? But perhaps that was a good thing- otherwise he'd probably be dead. He deadened his hearing as the creature droned on about how soon he would beg for death- I already wish I was dead, fool...- then switched subjects. So. He was going to believe- for a moment- that Lain was telling the truth. He bit his lip at the Thing's next words- did he think him a broken man already?
Lain stared contemptuously as he sat in a hard-looking wooden chair, as good as a feather bed in Lain's eyes. "Fine, Questioner," he said, hatred burning in his eyes. "I shall answer your questions." He focused on the pain of his leg, avoiding the intense itching feeling creeping across his body.
He raised his chin, gazing unafraid into the Creature's eyes. "The defenses are such that you will never break through them, not if your numbers doubled and the White Tower held thousands of your spies. The numbers of the Tower Guard are such that you would quiver at the very sight of a quarter of their numbers, and there is never an exact amount of Aes Sedai and Gaidin, though even if there was five in the entire city you would never live to do battle with the Guard."
His lips curled into a slight smile on one side, his chin lowering until he glowered at the man like a demon. "You will never break me, Whitecloak, for I can be broken no more."
xxxx
Mikel smiled. A less experienced man would have lashed out then, perhaps pummeled the victim with wild punches... but this would only end in certain failure. To give into one's emotions was the surest way of spelling out to a man that he had the advantage... hence, increasing his morale to a point where he might even find the strength to resist the very highest levels of torture. That could not be allowed. Calmly the Inquisitor moved closer to the Gaidin, looking at the expression on his face, twisted by the pain and torment of loss. He realized then that Lain had been telling the truth; this was an already broken man. A strange sense of compassion enveloped itself mercilessly around Mikel and he sighed sadly, shaking his head at the thought of the madness that must have overwhelmed the poor fool when his tainted bond with the witch was broken. He could not allow himself to soften though; his life was nothing if not guided by duty.
"You know that the body of your witch remains within our possession, yes?" he mentioned in an offhand, casual manner. "Despite the fact that the attack was unsanctioned, it is highly likely that the normal formalities of our order will be attended to. There are some superstitious enough to believe that she might yet raise herself from death and so she will be hung, drawn and quartered before a prompt burning of her remains. Anything that is left after this will surely be put out for the wolves to feed on." Mikel smiled coldly, not at all off colour by the thought of such an atrocity... like any Lord Inquisitor, he had seen too much in his life to be affected by very much. "Do you truly believe you are as broken as it is possible to be now? Are you so naïve?" The man simply watched him, haunted eyes waiting for whatever his fate might be. "Perhaps I will allow you to watch her passing from this world...? Would you appreciate such a gift?"
No answer. This was fast becoming tiresome and Mikel knew the Lord Captain Commander would not be accepting failure. I have no desire to be the one hanging by my feet at the end of all this... the Amadician reminded himself dryly. It was high time to stop playing child's games with the prisoner and to start being serious. Striding forward, his hand whipped out like a blade and twisted the Gaidin's right arm painfully until an ugly crunch indicated that Mikel had just broken several bones in the man's body. The arm was hanging limply in his hands while the Inquisitor bent it further and further, pushing the bodily limitations of Lain to an all-new level, to a point where anyone else would have been squealing like a girl and begging for the great honour of telling everything they knew. It was truly a shame that this one's fate had taken him to the White Tower... in another life they might even have been friends.
"I am fast losing my patience, young Lain," he muttered, pressing his mouth uncomfortably close to the man's ear as he spoke. "I will not tolerate these... humorous... comments for much longer. I want exact numbers. Will you comply?" Silence. Mikel stretched the arm just a little further, a disturbing creak of torn muscles emanating from within. "Our intelligence indicates that there are fifteen thousand Tower Guard, five hundred Gaidin and some six to seven hundred Aes Sedai. Nonetheless, I have always believed that our agents tend to underestimate the truth. My father always taught me to prepare for the worst though... then all my surprises would be pleasant. So how about you enlighten me as to the exact accuracy of my intelligence?"
xxxx
Gale winced as he heard the bones in the Warder's arm break. It took a lot of self-control not to clutch his arm as it happened, but the thought of his hands made him pull it back. He was almost used to the pain now and knew it would be a long time before it went away. The whitecloak seemed almost frenzied in his questioning about the numbers of the White Tower, Gale was grateful that he was not a well known member of the Black Tower. He hoped his resolve could match the Warder's, but he did not think it so. He remembered when he had met a warder, growing up in Mayene.
He was running, a seven year old boy, running errands for his father, the First's groom. He was going to a blacksmith, so he could grab some more horseshoes that had been ordered. He remembered running into someone so hard he could have sworn it was a wall. The mad wore an eye-wrenching cloak, and his face was deep in a cowl. Soundlessly, he was picked up, dusted off and sent off, but he remembered seeing the man's eyes for a minute. They were dark, yet like eyes, as if the quirking smile on his mouth could never reach them. He had always steered clear of them after that, though they were few and far between.
He was brought out of his musings when he was kicked sharply. He looked up. A face swam in front of his eyes and instantly he regretted the attention he was being given.
xxxx
Lain watched warily as the Monster smiled, moving closer. Lain resisted the urge to spit in the man's face, holding his breath so the Creature's fowl stench wouldn't enter his lungs more than necessary. Disgust twisted his mouth as the man sighed, speaking.
"You know that the body of your witch remains within our possession, yes?" Lain stiffened, his body as rigid as a board. Mileni... But she was gone... there was nothing they could do to her now. She had always told him that the body did not matter, just the mind within it... unless it was his, she would tell him jokingly. And now that she was gone... Repulsion filled his empty stomach as the Creature described what they would do to her now, but it would be useless to die... or even tell them anything... purely to prevent her body being disgraced. Even after he had told them all he knew, they would probably continue on anyway, if they truly believed such madness. Oh, how he wished now that she could live again...
"Do you truly believe you are as broken as it is possible to be now? Are you so naïve?" Lain stared stubbornly back at him, his mouth set in a firm line. "Perhaps I will allow you to watch her passing from this world...? Would you appreciate such a gift?" Lain bit his cheek as he spoke, drawing the metallic taste of blood into his mouth. He would not speak.
Like a striking snake, the Questioner struck forward, twisting his right arm. Bones splintered as blood flooded into his mouth, stars flashing before his eyes. Teeth clamped into his cheek as he relaxed his muscles, trying not to make this worse. If he fought now... He concentrated furiously as the man twisted further, the agony bursting through his thin shield. I have to save that for later, he thought, desperately as he pushed aside his vivid memories of his love.
"I am fast losing my patience, young Lain," the Creature spoke in his ear. Asking for numbers, he twisted the arm still further, past what Lain thought was possible without tearing off his arm. The limb began to go past physical pain, the point reached where it was so intense it was almost possible to completely ignore it. Odd sounds came from the mangled piece of flesh, and Lain turned his face away, not wanting to see how it now appeared.
"Our intelligence indicates that there are fifteen thousand Tower Guard, five hundred Gaidin and some six to seven hundred Aes Sedai..." Through the numbness he had sunken into, a harsh laugh burst from his lips, stripped of humor. How very wrong they were. He raised his head to look into the Monster's face, a hair from his own, pointedly ignoring his right side. "You actually think that?" he muttered incredulously around his bloodied tongue. "You know my purpose, as a Gaidin," he spoke bluntly, his voice thick with torment.
"Most Aes Sedai have at least one Warder, and the Green usually have more," he said pointedly. "So would it not make sense for there to be more Warders than Aes Sedai?"
He licked his lips, wetting the cracked surface gingerly. "And then there's the Novices... and the Accepted..." he trailed off, his face screwing as a wave of pain wracked his body. Panting, he studied the creature before him. "There are never exact numbers, and no-one but the Amyrlin herself would know anything close to the actual figures. Dropping his head from the effort, he looked up at the Questioner again. I hope that's good enough, he though suddenly. I don't know what other answer I could give, even if I wanted to tell him...