Thanks to Ba'alzamon and Psyco Faerie for the reviews..hope you like this chapter and please continue to review:))
Ba'alzamon: it isn't too clear when Sammael went over, yep but he used to fight for the forces of the Light, and only went over when he was certain the Dark One will win. And during the beginning of the war it wasn't so clear. So yeah. But thanks for the reminder of timing, anyway. Might come in useful later ;))
Part V – Sealing of the Bore
Chapter 11: Friends and Cousins
More than eight years had passed since the retaking of Adanza from Asmodean's forces. Kiara, once energetic and optimistic, was a shattered ruin. She was tired, sick and more alone than ever. The three men she had regarded and loved as brothers had gone over to the Shadow. Tel Janin Aellinsar, Duram Laddel Cham and Barid Bel Medar. Sammael, Be'lal and Demandred.
She sat alone in her study, reading the papers on her desk without any of the information registering. She had ceased taking a part in the direct bloodshed a couple of years ago, when a child's head had been blown apart an inch from her face during one of the retaking battles. She was now the Overseer of Weaponry. In other words, the head Refiner. She took a role in Restoring when the manpower in that department was stretched tight.
Kiara saw her own reflection in the silver-framed mirror her three "brothers" had left her. A hundred and fourteen years ago, she had been young and pretty. Nine years ago she had been elegant and beautiful. At present she simply looked tired, ill, abused and dishevelled. There was not a single line marring her features, but one look at the cold detachment in her deep, dark eyes told of pain and weariness.
Her eyelid twitched, and she saw her eyes dampen. Angrily she shut them, swiping wildly to dry the tears oozing out. When she opened them, a vaguely familiar woman stood in her doorway.
"I don't need anything," she said. "Go away."
Her head snapped up as the woman channelled suddenly, shielding her from the Power and binding her with Air. A gateway opened behind her. The smiling impostor kicked her through, chair and all.
Kiara fell on her back upon the broken remains of her chair in a dark room. She felt her own blood soak the back of her dress. There was a bad gash in the middle of her back. She felt weaves of Air suspend her in mid-air.
"I will have fun with you, old friend," the Forsaken who had once been Nemene, her good friend, crooned softly.
Instantly, Kiara felt pain lance through her in steady, raking stabs. The pain intensified slowly to become agony. After that, no word had ever been created to describe the feeling. She bore it in silence, though her lip began to bleed from her biting it so hard, and blood trickled from where her nails had dug into the flesh of her palm. She could feel herself losing control.
Her heart seemed to explode in her chest. Her reserve cracked, and she threw her head back, letting out a soul-shattering scream. She wanted to black out, for her body to fail, but Semirhage would not let her.
Sammael, Lanfear and Asmodean were discussing their section of the assault on Paaran Disen when a scream reached their ears. They all knew that only one person could make someone scream like this. Semirhage.
The voice, tight with agony, echoed into their room again. "Why don't you just let me die, you—" It was squelched by apparently another wave of agony, as the recognisable words faded into a shriek.
"I think I …" both Sammael and Lanfear said simultaneously, then glared at each other and shut up.
"I think I know that voice," Asmodean murmured, taking it a step further. "I almost recognise it. Almost."
"I cannot believe I ever trusted you!" the voice of the one being tortured returned. The woman had a strong will. But Semirhage was an expert at breaking down wills. Another scream pierced the walls of the fortress on the slopes of Shayol Ghul. Sammael and Lanfear frowned.
Asmodean recognised the voice immediately. He had heard nearly the same words from the same lips once. He swore so obscenely that even Lanfear's usual cool, queenly composure was jarred.
"That's Kiara down there!" he told the other two tightly.
His eyes widened when Lanfear swore nearly as badly as he had. "Link," she said shortly. Her eyes blazed. A woman wove best against a woman, so he and Sammael allowed her to take control of their circle of three. In this, they could not waste time bickering.
Semirhage started when the door behind her was blown to bits, but hid it perfectly as she turned slowly. Lanfear's weave of Air landed a solid blow on her face, knocking her backwards. She staggered further as the weaves she had attached to Kiara Lisette Eronaile were severed with much force.
"Get her," Lanfear snapped at Asmodean, who was on her right. Sammael stood on her other side, glaring at Semirhage with open animosity. When Semirhage would have stopped him, another weave lashed out and swept her off her feet.
Asmodean returned to Lanfear's side with Kiara in his arms. "Touch my cousin again, you sadist vermin," the white-garbed female Chosen snarled, "and you will die a horrible death, whatever the Great Lord thinks."
"I have every right—"
Semirhage's protest was cut short by Sammael, "Be silent! You have no right. Take your misplaced anger out on another, or face the combined fury of us three, and probably Be'lal and Demandred as well."
She was silent. Facing five other Chosen was well beyond her ability. Lanfear slammed a shield between her and saidar, and she submitted. She would strike another time, when there was a chance. "That will dissipate in a few hours," her greatest rival snapped. "But do not try anything, or you will pay for it."
Kiara was awoken by a splitting headache. She did not open her eyes. They felt glued shut, anyway. She was lying on something delightfully soft and fragrant. A heather-stuffed mattress, probably.
"She's not waking," a voice she had hoped never to hear again said worriedly. The sound of Asmodean's voice made her want to weep. "It isn't natural."
"Has Semirhage done more damage than we thought?" another male voice asked, with almost the same amount of worry in his tone. She thought it was Tel Janin. Sammael. He had said "Semirhage" like one would say "manure".
"If she has, I will throttle her with my bare hands," Duram Laddel's—Be'lal's—voice growled aggressively.
"She is not worth using the Power on," agreed Barid Bel. No, Demandred. "I meant Semirhage." He made the name sound like "pond scum" without the pond.
"We'll see how calm that woman is in nightmares tonight," a melodious voice added in a menacing whisper.
Kiara could not help herself. "Mierin?" she asked weakly. Her throat was terribly sore from the screaming.
Instantly all five rushed to her side. She felt Mierin—Lanfear—grab her hand anxiously. "Open your eyes, cousin," she urged. "Open them and tell us you aren't badly hurt. You could save Semirhage's life."
Kiara forced her eyelids apart. "Why would I want to?" she told Lanfear.
Her beautiful cousin smiled. "Back to your sarcastic, normal self again, I see," she said as she helped Kiara sit up and handed her a goblet of water.
She was further surprised when Be'lal hugged her. "Are you truly well, adoren?" he asked. The nickname meant "little sister" in Lireyya, with a strong implication of deep fondness.
"Never better," Kiara responded. She answered to Sammael and Demandred. For those few glorious moments she forgot how tired she was, how alone she always felt. Uncharacteristically, Asmodean hung back. She did not know why that hurt her. It was not supposed to.
"Joar—Addam—Nessosin," she forced the words out as he inched towards the door, "are you going to wait till I drop dead before you say a word to me? I had just been surprised, shielded, dragged from my study and tortured. Surely it merits some of your scant pity."
"I think I'll go and talk to Semirhage properly now," Lanfear announced. She got up. "Sammael, Demandred, Be'lal, come with me. Asmodean, stay in case she comes after Kiara before we find her." Without another word she hustled the other three men from the room.
"Well?" Kiara demanded.
"Well what?" Asmodean shot back.
"Are you just going to stare out of the window?"
"Yes."
"Isn't it boring?"
"No."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Helping to rescue me."
"You're welcome."
"Is that all you have to say to me?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure that is all you have to say to me?"
"What do you want me to say to you?"
"An apology might do nicely. In fact, it'd work wonders, with the state I am in right now."
"Really? I've seen enough wonders to last a lifetime."
"Why did you even bother helping rescue me from Semirhage?"
"What was I to do, let them tear me apart? It was survival."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Completely."
"You're lying."
No reply. Kiara gave up trying to make conversation. His replies were either short or blunt, or both.
"I don't know why I bother. Inform the others. I'm out of here. Go and die in whichever way pleases you. I won't bother you again," she announced after a long silence. She stood up and made a gateway.
"Is that it?" it was Asmodean's turn to ask.
"Is what it?"
"You're just going to walk away."
"Yes, that's the gist of it."
"Why are we having this conversation?"
"You started it this time, not me!"
"What I meant was, why is this conversation so hostile?"
"How would I know? You're the one being hostile."
"What do you call how you're acting now?"
"Defensive," Kiara responded truthfully.
"What do you have to defend against?"
"You."
"If I break even a strand of hair on your head, I'll have four already-angry Chosen after me. No, thank you, much as I am tempted."
Kiara laughed in his face. "You hurt me more than Semirhage ever will."
"I don't hear you screaming."
"That's because I'm so used to it I've stopped screaming."
"Then hightail it out of here. See if I care."
"No."
Asmodean looked taken aback by her answer. He tried very hard to hide his surprise when she let the gateway behind her slide closed. He hid another expression behind a grimace—she dared not hope it was a smile. "Now I have to watch you like a sick child until they get back."
"I have a feeling they won't be back for a while," Kiara informed him curtly.
"Why is that?" he asked her, though she knew he knew.
"Don't turn this into another argument, Asmodean. I'm too tired to squabble with you," she sighed. Then she realised his eyes were riveted on a particular spot on her cheek. She realised that there was a tear trailing down her face when his gaze moved down slowly.
"I'm not crying. I must have yawned earlier. I—"
"Stop making excuses, Kiara," Asmodean cut her off. There was a most peculiar expression on his face, like he wanted to kill her and kiss her at the same time. "You are no good at it, either." A most peculiar expression.
"All right, so I'm crying. So what? I could be missing my parents for all you know," she retorted.
The expression on Asmodean's face changed. More kill, now. He let out a sound of extreme frustration and brushed past her as he headed for the exit. Her mind was decided the moment his arm touched hers. Her heart, of course, had made the decision a century ago.
Kiara curled her fingers around his wrist and held on, though there was not much physical strength left in her. Asmodean turned his head and looked at her hand like it was some mild irritant. He jerked lightly, trying to dislodge her grip. "Let go," he demanded when she clung on.
"Not unless you cut off my hand."
Asmodean attempted to shield her and hold her with Air, but she was ready, and slashed his weaves as quickly as he tried. The tension he put on his arm slackened as he reeled slightly from the backlash. She took the opportunity to pull him closer. With one twisting movement of his arm he wrenched his wrist from her grip.
"Suns," she gasped as she looked at her miraculously whole hand. "Who taught you that?" She shut up when an apparently furious Asmodean grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her away roughly. She stumbled and fell on her back. Even the soft mattress could not stop the twinge of pain from the gash between her shoulder blades. "Ouch."
He came down on top of her, pinning her down with his body weight. She felt the freshly formed scab crack. Warm blood began to run down her back. But he was kissing her, if a little roughly. If very roughly. She barely felt it.
A few seconds into the kiss, Asmodean was suddenly gone. Kiara sat up and abruptly became aware of the pain in her back. "You're bleeding," was all Asmodean could seem to say.
Kiara ignored the spreading blotch of red on the back of her dress. "It doesn't matter," she murmured. Her back stung as if to falsify this, and she winced. She took a step forward. Her vision swam.
She must have swayed, because Asmodean was in front of her in half a second, supporting her. She tipped her head back and he responded by kissing her. She smiled against his mouth and bit down on his lip, not hard enough to leave a lasting mark.
In two seconds she found herself back on the bed, being kissed down the sides of her neck. She lay still and let him do it. Blood was seeping into the clean sheets, but she did not care. The bleeding was stopping already, anyway.
Kiara twisted a hand into Asmodean's hair and halted his progress. Firmly but gently she pulled his head back so his dark eyes met hers. "I don't know how I can love you after all this, but I do."
"You know, if you leave that dress on too long, the blood will congeal and stick the fabric to your wound."
She stared, then smiled. "Well, then I'd better save myself some pain by getting it off."
He got up, crossed his arms and eyed her expectantly. Kiara smiled sweetly, reaching back for the buttons. She undid the first one.
"Get out, by the way," she ordered cheerfully.
Asmodean almost raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and left the room, softly shutting the door behind him. Kiara stared at the door. It was for the best, she supposed. How many times had she told herself that?
"Goodbye, then," Kiara murmured under her breath. She wove saidar, reversing the weave so it could not be detected even as she did so. A vertical slash appeared and widened into a gateway. She stepped through and let it close behind her. So she had friends. And a cousin. And a lover.