Back in Black

[Ezrah Annallin]

The cool morning had shifted to a chilly afternoon. Wind whipped about fiercely, tugging at clothes and freeing laundry from lines. Servants may have hidden but the weather was no excuse for Asha’man to stay inside! Soldiers and Dedicated alike practiced their weaves and concentration as the wind whipped about them. They practiced in the fields around the tower and in small groups in the courtyard. They moved through their weapon forms. They wrapped themselves in saidin to do menial tasks. You could tell who had mastered the concentration technique by the way some shuddered in their coats while others seemed immune to the chill. Not that it kept them safe from the wind. Or the coming rain. Above the sky had steadily darkened. A storm was coming.

Ezrah Annallin strolled through the courtyard of the black tower with a relaxed arrogance. He was unbothered by the wind as much as the occasional look from those who knew him-and those who were merely curious. The self confident stranger with no marks of Asha’man rank but an obvious ease within the tower, no wonder he earned a few glances. Ezrah didn't flatter himself to imagine many of the younger men knew who he was. Even those that might recall the story-maybe even the man-would have trouble reconciling the differences.. By Ezrahs estimations there were three. An earnest young soldier, eager to prove himself. Gone. A disgraced Captain, broken by the weight of his failure. Gone. And what moved through the tower, a tall man with a feline grace and a smug half sneer on his lips. One hand rested in a pocket while the other held a flask.

Shayol Ghul would be preferable to this place. Despite the confident image he projected old ghosts haunted the corners of Ezrahs mind. Memories of a time he’d rather forget. Did it matter though? For twenty glorious years the Asha’man had been free. He’d never once looked back. In fact, until very recently the dark haired man had worked not to be found. Easy enough when it was fools and inexperienced young men sent to fetch you like some parcel. When the tower had seen fit to send one of the old coots it usually kept in reserve Ezrah had known his days were numbered. Sharply.

So he’d returned to the black tower. Not because it inspired something within him. Not because he missed anyone or anything he’d left behind. Certainly it was not because he felt some duty. Years ago he’d come to the black tower a broken thing. Hardly a man at all. Frayed beyond mending Ezrah had bent his knee to Androl and begged for freedom. Or death. By that point that title of Asha’man had become nothing but a noose around his neck. A slow torturous death. It had been unbearable. Despite what anyone might think Ezrah didn't have a death wish. He’d been relieved when his M’hael and his Captain General had let him go. It had taken a few years but….eventually the dark eyed man had cut off those frayed edges. He’d remade himself. The man who stood before Rahlin in service had died. The man who begged at Androls feet had died. The one who would meet with Jadin Al’Vyron this day had killed them both. Gladly.

“Excuse me darling” the words were a purr as he reached out to catch the arm of a pretty little blond thing passing by. “You wouldn't happen to know where the M’hael is, would you?”

A few minutes later Ezrah stood before the man's office, dark eyes boring into the doors as if they possessed some secret. What had changed to cause his summons? The Jadin he had known was not a man to act foolishly. Surely there were more important things to trouble the M'ael. Life in the black tower had to be dull indeed if they were going about chasing old drunken ghosts like himself. He wasn't angry. Not yet. This entire fiasco was annoying sure….but it would be righted soon enough. Screw what old man hammer had said! Screw what he’d said too. Just because Ezrah was here...he was no longer a soldier. Nothing would change that. It was in everyone's best interest to remember that and let him be forgotten. Jadin would see reason. Unless of course time and title had turned his reasonable side to dust. Only one way to find out.

Time to poke the hound. Seizing saidin a wave of air was sent at the doors. They burst open and on the heels of their opening Ezrah strolled inside. He looked pleased as a feline who had found the canary. The canary in this case being a tall bearded M’hael. 

“Honey I’m home!”

The cheerful loud announcement accompanied by a flourish. One that was only slightly ruined by Ezrah taking a sip from his flask at the end. "Miss me?"

[Jadin al'Vyron]

What once began as a cool, yet mild morning grew into a bitterly cold afternoon with an unforgivable whipping wind... Was this meant as a sign predicting the harsh reception he'd receive from Ezrah Annallin?! He hoped not but just as he had no control over the weather, neither could he control the former Earth Captain. A time existed in which they'd been close friends that watched out for each other. Ezrah had saved his life and he had saved Ezrah's. Yet nothing stands still or stays the same, everything shifts and alters in the never-ending turning of the wheel. Even similar patterns vary, perhaps only in small details but enough so to ensure change. His friend had endured tragedy in which he could only sympathize with on a small personal level. A man that once was akin to a healthy, thriving fruit tree now stood withering with decay, bearing only rotten fruit. Jadin despised witnessing anyone fall to ruin, especially if he cared for them. He desired to aid Ezrah, hoping that he could nurse his friend back into a healthier, happier state. Such a feat would not be an easy one but instead required fostering and nurturing Ezrah until he thrived once more.

Earlier that day, well before the sun rose, or anyone else within the Black Tower for that matter, Jadin awoke ready to tackle the day. He was always the last to rest and the first to rise despite warnings from several Water Legion Asha'man that he'd burn himself out that way. But the man enjoyed strolling through the many training yards while they were empty. The deep lonely dark... Without it, one would be unable to see the stars. The silent stillness found in the dark offered his often noisy mind peaceful clarity. Much rested on his shoulders as M'Hael yet here he always seemed able to find the answers he sought. Being a strong, dependable, and good leader meant sometimes the only choices he had were bad ones but he still had to choose which choice to make. All he could do was hope that the choices he made were the best ones and if they were not, he'd learn from them. Having Ezrah sought out so that he'd return to the Black Tower very well could prove to be one of those poor choices. Still, that chain of events had already been set into motion, the clock was spun.

His day went on in its usual manner: Catching and cooking his own breakfast(much to the dismay of the kitchen staff), sparing/training with his men, receiving reports from his Captains, attending meetings, lunch with Julian, 1 lap around the cuendillar wall, and filling out endless paperwork. Every day was different yet with variations of the similar. It had its challenges, difficulties, and hardships but Jadin was contented. This is where he belonged and he knew this was who he was meant to be. He wondered if the same thought waves could apply to Ezrah?! Jadin glanced outside one of his study windows, and as if to once again forebode an ill omen, the sky had darkened. A storm was brewing.

A wave of saidin seized air flung open the doors of his study to allow for Ezrah's grand entrance. An entrance into a space that was grand in size as well as decorations. At the center was a white stone fireplace with a large rectangular silver mirror hanging above it. On the mantle, above the fireplace, sat a small clock carved in black stone. On either side of the mirror were two silver wall mounted candle holders that were currently lit. Next to those sat two large pane windows with sheer floor to ceiling curtains. In front of the fireplace sat two red fabric covered armchairs and between them sat a round end table. Behind them sat Jadin's desk embedded with paperwork and a matching red chair stationed at it. On either side of his desk sat two tall silver candelabras and from the ceiling above it hung a crystal chandelier. Mahogany bookshelves were inlaid into the walls alongside the rest of the room save for the wall with the fireplace. And directly behind his desk in the inlaid open shelf sat several crystal decanters filled with a variety of alcoholic liquids. And sitting in the ruby red chair behind the desk was the M'Hael. He was a tall, well-muscled man that many would define as intimidating until they got to know him.

“Honey I’m home!”

The proclamation was quite cheerful as if boosting pride in his drunken, disheveled appearance and rude entrance into Jadin's study. A wave of his hand, the quick drink from his flask and his sarcastic inquiry if Jadin missed him did not fall on a surprised audience but rather on a clever one. He knew that everything said from this moment on required care.

“Ezrah, you old dog, how good it is to see you again my friend. You must join me in a drink. It's been far too long.”

The M'Hael stood from his chair before he enclosed the space between himself and Ezrah to embrace his old friend in a firm hug. He then led the man over to the two armchairs in front of the fireplace. Jadin stopped there for a brief moment to stoke the fire before fetching one of the decanters and two glasses from behind his desk. He handed one of the glasses to Ezrah before filling it with the liquid.

“I recently acquired a cask of whiskey and as I recall, this brand was your favorite.”

Jadin sat into one of the chairs whilst gesturing for Ezrah to take up the other. He took a small sip from his glass of whiskey as he enjoyed the warm glow from the fireplace. The decanter was set down upon the end table between them as he relished the light yet sweet hint of cinnamon taste the whiskey possessed. His body language was calm and relaxed as a friendly smile spread across his features.

“Do you remember when you were a Dedicated, I was a Soldier, and we raided the booze cellar at the local inn?! We got so hammered that night than in heaps of trouble the next morning. I'm pretty certain you proposed to every girl on the street and I gave Lord whatsit, of where-ever, a black eye, and a swollen lip. We always did know how to enjoy a good time together, didn't we?” There was a brief pause as he took another drink of whiskey, “What was that dandy's name?”

[Ezrah Annallin]

What had Ezrah expected? Lectures. Disapproval. Demands. Disappointment. Pity. That last one would always burn him… the way his former peers and allies had watched him. Pity for the shell of a man he became. Pity for what he’d lost. Ezrah was not the first Asha’man to crumble under the weight. The power alone could break a man. But he’d been rising so high...an accomplished young General….a respected warrior...a loving husband and soon to be father…. In one stroke it was all gone. That rise cut off so suddenly., was it really a wonder he came tumbling down? In some of his darkest moments he’d begged the creator for death. Dreamed of joining Meegan-ah! But how could he ever face her again? And it wasn't as if the Creator were interested in the wishes of men. Light burn him.

It was a relief then to not catch a hint of pity in Jadins gaze….but also a bit surprising to see none of the rest. No orders. No attempts to manipulate by reminding im of the duty he’d forsaken. No demands. It was so very not what the man had been expected that he paused a moment, shifting stance both mentally and physically. He’d been ready for a battle of wills. The M’heal did not summon people from across the continent for shits and giggles. Then Ezrah was back to easy grins, moving further into the room.

“More like not long enough” Despite the grumble under his breath Ezrah embraced the other man freely. Jadin had been a friend once. As a young man fresh to the Black Tower Ezrah haven't used that title with many people. Folks like Jadin and Julian had helped show him that keeping everyone as a distance wasn't necessary. Or effective. Friendship had its merits. The Black Tower had taught him depending on others wasn't a weakness, it was a strength. All lessons he’d turned his back on when he’d left. It felt like a lifetime ago. Another man had walked here. Somethings though had not changed. Looking the other man over as they moved to the sitting area Ezrah clicked his tongue. “Glad to see the promotion hasn't made you fat and gray” Wouldn't that just make all the serving girls weep? Or maybe they wouldn't care. The attentions of a fat graying M’heal were still the attentions of the M’heal! Power had a way of making people overlook all else. Jadin, though he had been a good friend, was one of the most powerful men in the world. It would take more then two or ten drinks to forget that.

Of course it would be rude not to try. Holding the glass Ezrah hesitated only a moment before kicking back the contents in one fast gulp. He wouldn't insult Jadin by worrying that the other man was going to poison him. And he might have needed some extra liquid courage for what was coming. ”Thank you. You have a good memory”even his tone suggested Ezrah wasn't sure if that was entirely a good thing. The drink at least was pleasant. For what he tasted of it. Sometimes money ran low. Sometimes it filled his pouch. Sometimes he drank like a king or the swill even a halfway decent pig farmer would pass on. The chaos of it all held a certain appeal. Maybe he would win big! Maybe he’d lose every coin in a bad hand of cards. Ezrah lived with a deliberate recklessness. He’d be lying though to say he preferred anything less than a top shelf drink.

No doubt drinking his way through the M’heals bar might be worth the trip alone….Those dark eyes flicked to the crystal decanters behind the man’s desk. It was easier to take in the bottles or study the shelves then look at Jadin. Especially as the other man started to talk of old glory days. They’d gotten into trouble but it was the sort young men often did. They were full of piss and vinegar back then. A night of drinking and a fight or two were as good for relieving stress as a dalliance with a pretty thing in town…

Even in his younger days Ezrah had preferred a roll in the sheets to a fight. Good sex could leave just as bruised and exhausted as a fist fight-but infinitely more satisfied! Not that Jadin sounded anything but pleased at the memory of thrashing some snooty lordling. Turning his attention back to the other man Ezrah watched his face. Once upon a time they hadn't been that terribly different. How funny then to see how far their lives had drifted. Smile in place Ezrah leaned on elbow on the arm of his chair. Even years later it was always satisfying to recall making some sniveling aristocrat eat his pride.

“You say that as if there was only one Lord that ever got punched back then. As I remember it was a bit of a service we provided-bringing pompous pricks back to a tolerable level”