Chapter 9: Where Angels Dare To Tread

Sometimes, it is difficult to see the difference between oneself and one's enemies.

Asmodean

The doors were locked and barred. No attendants ever came into Lord Brend's chambers, not now. There was a space for food and drink to be left, the finest meats and wines available, and where the empty plates and dishes were left to be collected. No one ever saw the meals be taken or come back, but then, no one ever watched. Lord Brend liked his privacy, and Lord Brend was obeyed. Only his fellow councillors ever saw him, and even then, that was rare. Even when Lord Brend did not attend, his orders were followed as though he were.

Sammael sat upright, examining the map on his wall with a fierce concentration. The maps and plans took up all his time, now; he'd rather be out in the field, leading the armies himself, but he knew it was unsafe to leave now. He'd heard of what was going on, from sources other than Graendal; someone was trying to get to him, he knew, and he would not be able to touch the Source in the field. He never took risks with his own safety. It was how he'd lived as long as he had.

Graendal was the only one of the Chosen he saw, now. He had made it clear that he would react poorly to any of the others showing up in Illian, and he meant it. Truth be told, he was not so certain of Graendal any more. He had a few tricks left up his sleeve that would hold her, but he wasn't sure how much longer it would last. And he needed her. For his plans to work, among other things.

He turned back to the map. The world looked so different from how he remembered it. It made it difficult to form plans, sometimes, but the good leader was the one who adapted to his new circumstances. Lews Therin had taken the coward's way out when he realised that he couldn't defeat the superior general, denying him the only glory left for him; he was not going to allow Rand al'Thor to do the same. It was all Sammael had, now, and he couldn't let it be taken from him. Now. If al'Thor was hiding in –

A line appeared in the air not far from him and widened quickly. Through it came a huddled Graendal, keeping her head down and moving fast, shooting glances behind her. Sammael regarded her curiously. It wasn't like her to act like this. He had known her to keep her wits about her when the walls were collapsing around her and lesser men and women were fleeing for their lives. She was composed now, in her own way, but it was obvious to anyone who really knew her that there was something very wrong, and Sammael really knew her. He wondered what was wrong, but he knew how dangerous Graendal was. He couldn't afford to let his guard down around her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, stepping away from her and seizing saidin. "Did I not tell you that you mustn't come here without arranging -"

"Be quiet, Sammael," she said shortly, quickly closing the Gateway behind her. He stiffened at that, but it was a measure of her concern; she knew better than to speak to him like he was one of her pets. "I risked my life to come here for you, so I expect some gratitude."

"What do you –?"

"They are coming for you, Sammael."

Instantly he knew what she meant. He had been able to read between the lines of what she was telling him about the meetings he had started to avoid, and he knew what it meant. The other Chosen would take any excuse to take down the strongest of them, and they knew Sammael was the only one left who could be named Nae'blis. Even that fool Demandred knew it. "Who are?"

"Aran'gar and Osan'gar." Graendal took the time to adjust her dress while she was speaking; she was never too panicked for that. "They seem to think you have something to do with what happened to Asmodean, and when I told them I couldn't bring them to you, they attacked me. They are coming here."

So it was worse than he had thought. He had expected Demandred to come himself, or maybe one of the two lackeys he kept on him, but those two had always been two of the strongest, and Sammael was not so arrogant as to think that he could easily defeat them both by himself. If Graendal was here, though… "Asmodean? Nothing happened to Asmodean. I have no reason not to believe that he isn't still training al'Thor, waiting for the chance to destroy us."

Graendal's eyes widened and she stared at him. "Burn you, Sammael, now isn't the time for lies!" she screamed. She looked like she would burst into tears. Sammael stared back, in wonderment. "He is dead, dead and gone, and he won't be coming back! Are you so blind that you won't see? I'm trying to help you!"

"I don't understand. Truly I don't." What game was she playing? Still, he had to trust her. "Just calm down and tell me what's going –"

Another Gateway opened without warning across the room from them. He would have thought Graendal was leaving, had he not felt the saidin being woven, impossible to miss with his senses in the heightened state granted by the True Source. Graendal left anyway, though, choosing the more direct route of smashing through the door with a flow of Air. The Gateway opened to allow through Osan'gar, or so Sammael assumed; he'd never met the man in person, but he couldn't think of anyone else it could be, from what Graendal had told him. And he had no choice but to trust Graendal, for now. She would repay the favour later, but for now, he followed her, ignoring the woman coming through the Gateway.

Osan'gar shouted something, but Sammael ignored him. He didn't care what those two wanted; they were insane, to be fooled by Asmodean, of all people. Asmodean wasn't dead. He knew it was the only explanation for the whole stupid mess. Unless…

"Come on!" Graendal called from the end of the corridor, and at the same time, a male voice behind him shouted, "No!" Then the ceiling behind Sammael was blasted with a huge fireball, and started to collapse on him. He instinctively threw himself towards Graendal and rolled with the impact, remembering his days as an athlete. It also put him in mind of a few close calls he'd had in the past. Graendal was right, apparently; someone was trying to kill him, but he somehow doubted she'd warn him of that out of the kindness of her own heart. What was she up to?

She hurriedly beckoned him to follow her around the corner, and he wondered why she was leading him around his own palace as if he did not know the way. Still, he followed, after darting a wary glance behind him. The walls had caved in and blocked the corridor, but he didn't think that would pose much of an obstacle to a determined attack. That thought spurred him on to run, and he would have called for guards had he thought they would have helped. But he knew he could only rely on himself.

Graendal had disappeared. When he went round the corner she was nowhere to be found, although there was a severed arm lying on the ground, with its owner whimpering nearby. Graendal was never a careful Traveller when she panicked. He sighed and headed on, still wondering just what was going on.

He eventually caught up with her in the hall where the Council of Nine met, a rather resplendent hall where she would normally have felt right at home. At least she had managed to compose herself again; he'd seen her go into hysterics before, although admittedly she'd generally been pretending, but if that was anything to go by, he didn't want her to do it here. Loud bangs and crashes from various directions along with the occasional scream showed that Aran'gar and Osan'gar were not doing well in their search. Sammael found himself idly considering how the rest of the Council were going to explain all this tomorrow morning when people started to ask why the palace had collapsed.

"Graendal!" She didn't respond to his call. "What's going on?"

"I'm trying to save your life, you idiot. They're trying to kill you, but I don't want them to." She turned to him and suddenly kissed him, pressing herself against him, and Sammael almost reeled back in shock. This he wouldn't believe! But then she pulled away and looked into his eyes, and he knew. He wondered if she was trying to use Compulsion on him before realising that the mere act of having that thought probably meant that she wasn't. "Graendal, what is this –"

The door opened, and a stunningly beautiful woman came through, followed by the man he had seen earlier; Aran'gar and Osan'gar had finally got here. Osan'gar was saying, "- can't keep blowing up everything that gets in your way, my dear –" before he took in the room and fell silent, and Aran'gar's petulant expression turned to one of surprise and then anger. Sammael felt her channelling, and seized the Source himself, weaving an Air flow that caught her off guard and sent her flying into a wall. Osan'gar was prepared, though, and with an angry look he channelled flows of fire at Sammael, which he only just managed to avoid. Looking around, he saw that Graendal had disappeared again; for someone who was trying to save his life, she didn't seem to be around when he actually needed help. A door was closing, and Aran'gar had crawled through it. Realising what she was doing, Sammael went to stop her, but ran up against a wall of Air, hard.

Sammael staggered back, clutching his forehead, and turned to Osan'gar with a snarl. He could barely think as it was, he didn't need a headache too! The man looked nervous, as always, but he was the stronger in the Power… but he wasn't stronger physically. Sammael charged, cutting his way through the shields Osan'gar erected with the Power, trying to force a path to him. Now his foe started to look frantic, throwing everything he had into keeping Sammael away, but he wouldn't give up; he couldn't give up; he'd come too far to have his plans ruined now. He'd done nothing to anger the Great Lord, had he? Were they working for al'Thor, that they wanted to kill him? It didn't matter. Osan'gar might have gained a new body, but his reaction when Sammael finally laid a hand on him would have told him who it was really even had he not known. Osan'gar immediately lost his concentration and collapsed backwards with all of Sammael's weight on him, and Sammael pressed his forearm against his throat, until he started to choke. "Came here to try and kill me, did you? You'll wish you had never came when I'm through with you, you little –"

There was a sudden flash of light in his eyes, and he rolled off Osan'gar, groggily blinking and trying to work out what had happened. Looking up, he made out the shape of Aran'gar, standing over him and holding what looked suspiciously like a floorboard. She sneered. "You stupid fool. Do you honestly think we came here for you? We came here for the one we've been searching for all this time… and we found that person, just as planned."

Graendal struggled against the flows of Air that held her bound, just in range of Sammael's vision now he focused. "No!" she screamed. "You have to –"

"Shut up." The sound of Aran'gar's slap rang in Sammael's ears. "There's nowhere left to run, Graendal."

Osan'gar slowly got back to his feet and looked Graendal in the eye. "Give it up," he gasped. "We know it was you, Graendal. We know you killed Asmodean. All we want to know now is why."