There Might be Blood

[Gareth Trakand]

Hot flames licked the rooftops of countless homes as they devoured the city within a deadly glow. Ash and smoke hung upon the air as if determined to smother anyone lucky enough to have escaped the fire. Cries of terror and anguish rang throughout the streets along with sobbing pleads that fell on deaf ears. Yet amidst all the chaos, destruction, and death stood a pair unaffected by the horrors which transpired around them. A man clad in black with the bottom half of his face covered by a mask and the top covered by a hood. And a beautiful woman of dark skin with raven hair. A deep smile spread across her lips as she pushed back his hood and pulled down his mask to reveal that the man underneath was him.

“You'll be mine soon.” 

With a sharp intake of breath, Gareth's eyes flew wide open as he shot straight up in his bed. Sweat beaded up on his brow while the man disheveled his room searching high and low in every nook and cranny in a crazed, paranoid manner. Whose voice could that have been? And why did it seem as if whoever it was now stood in the room watching him... The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up as a shiver ran down his spine at the mere thought of not being alone. Was someone standing right behind him?! His breath caught for a moment as his heart raced. It had to be one of the Black Tower members in an attempt to frighten him. Hesitant and slow, he shifted around only to discover nobody was there. He was alone. Gareth slouched back down onto his bed. Anguished, he buried his face into his hands and let out an exasperated sigh. His dreams had lately grown darker in frequency, all of which included a disembodied voice calling out to him. These nightmares filled him with an uneasy sickening in his stomach. Could he be going mad?! Or... No. His ancestor Rand may have experienced something similar but the man was the Dragon Reborn and Gareth... Well, he wasn't special. Still, he possessed a yearning to keep these latest episodes to himself. After all, he had no desire to worry anyone unnecessarily. They were just dreams after all, were they not?!

“Dedicated Trakand,” beckoned a voice from the other side of his door, “M'Hael al'Vyron requests your presence in his study immediately.”

Gareth scanned the length of his bedroom once more, he was still unsettled from the nightmare that woke him. Those eyes... Were they upon him even now?! But he had no time to indulge his fantastical fears... No matter how troubling. 

“Of course, please inform M'Hael al'Vyron that I shall dress then report directly to him.”

Ingrained discipline to perform his duties forced Gareth to funnel the nightmares into the back of his mind. They were tomorrow's problem as far as he was concerned. He dressed as quickly as possible before ascending the stairwell up to Jadin's study. Young and old men alike, all dressed in black, marched upwards and downwards to get to wherever they were heading. Their postures were far stiffer to any he'd ever seen of the Aes Sedai at the White Tower. Despite both Towers serving as buildings of education, housing channelers, enforcing the Dragon's Peace, fighting for the Light, and their occupants working like cogs in a clock: That was about all they had in common. The Delegation had brought them closer together in cooperative friendship but they'd always be as different as night and day.

The muscles in his legs started to strain a little as he climbed the stairs up to the second-highest floor where the M'Hael's study could be found. Constructed to stand against anything, the Black Tower was a structural building that was both tall and wide. It was in equal to the White Tower in height but not near as pleasing upon the eyes. Gareth fused a little with his black trench coat to ensure he looked presentable before he knocked on the doors. A resonant voice responded with, “Enter.” 

He ushered himself into the room and marveled at how grand it was. They were nowhere near as grand as those at the palace but still impressive for a man from the Two Rivers. 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. 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. 

“Ah yes, Dedicated Trakand, I have a mission for you. I have received several reports that within the capital of Cairhein there is a blacksmith forging power wrought weapons for darkfriends. I need you to accompany Tsorovan'm'hael Damodred to Cairhein and investigate the matter. If indeed these rumors are true, I want the two of you to destroy the forge. After that, you will arrest the blacksmith then bring him and the weapons back here. Tsorovan'm'hael Damodred has already received his orders and is awaiting you in the Spirit Legion stables. You're dismissed Dedicated Trakand.”

“Yes sir,” responded Gareth with a respectful nod before exiting the man's study.

How odd that Jadin would choose him, a newly appointed Dedicated, to accompany the Tsorovan'm'hael to investigate power wrought weapons being made in Cairhein... Wouldn't an Asha'man or a Captain be a far more logical choice?! Then again, it was an adventure outside of the Black Tower and he hardly intended to complain about that. Perhaps it was exactly what he needed to purge himself of the nightmares.

He rushed back down the stairs to exit through the South door before he maneuvered his way across a few of the training fields to reach the Spirit Legion stables. There he found a tall, thin, yet muscled man with brown hair and gray eyes holding the reins of their horses which had already been saddled. Gareth gave the man a quick nod before gathering Alabak's reins into his right hand.

“Tsorovan'm'hael Damodred, good day to you. I'm ready when you are sir.”

[Julian Damodred]

“It is a good day isn’t it?”

Julian handed the other man the reins to a horse and swung himself into his own saddle. He always rode Zialin, he had raised him from a foal, and couldn’t remember anyone else riding the animal. He felt more connected to this horse than to any person. He wondered if that was going to change with Dena here now. She had only been staying with him for a week, and already she had wormed her way into every nook and cranny of his home. She had even changed his soaps because apparently the smell bothered her. He catered to her wishes for now, but this trip could potentially change that.

Julian had requested this assignment, in his home city, to learn more about her, and his own family. He wanted to make sure her intentions were pure. Though he could sense her constantly as a bundle of emotions tucked away in the back of his head, and she was almost overly forthcoming verbally, he still wondered if he really knew her. He had never bonded anyone before and it wasn’t at all like he had read about. Things were much more difficult to untangle in real life. For him at least, maybe others who were more in touch with their own emotions found things easier to decipher.

There was just so much to discover with Dena, sometimes he could feel something animalistic inside her, and knew it must be the wolf. That excited him more than anything else…his own pet wolf…but it was his job to keep her human. He had left her a stack of books to read that had information on her condition, so hopefully she wouldn’t get into too much trouble while he was away.

He shook himself, realizing they had arrived at the traveling grounds already. As they rode their horses through the gateway he grinned at the other man.

“We are going to stay at an inn rather than my estate…or any of yours that you might have…and none of that T'sorovan M'hael stuff out here, just stick with Julian.”

The gateway closed behind them, and they could see Cairhien in the not too distant distance.

“In fact, I want to see you in action so you should take the lead. How about you pick the inn?”

Julian didn't know Gareth as well as some of the other Dedicated, and that was becoming less and less acceptable the further the other man progressed. Gareth becoming an Earth Legion Asha'man was a forgone conclusion in Julian's eyes, so he had been letting the Earth Legion Captains take up most of Gareth's time, but in his position, it was important for him know everyone, even those who probably wouldn't be joining his legion. 

[Gareth Trakand]

“It is a good day isn’t it?”

Usually, Gareth would have politely responded to such a statement but the hairs on the back of his neck were still standing up from the nightmare he had this morning. Instead, the 1st Prince managed a rather weak smile that, most likely, wasn't very convincing. It would be a far more pleasant day if he weren't so bloody worried about what was happening to him. What if Rand passed down the taint?! True, Saidin had been cleansed but could his blood ties be stronger?!... After all, there wasn't any definitive proof that he didn't possess the taint! His great uncle Gawain died long before he'd been born nor did he have any uncles, so there weren't any other male heirs to ask. He sighed. Clearly, he was mad if he believed such a foolish notion even held any reasoning at all. No doubt they were merely nightmares and nothing more... Yet why did they trouble him so?! Still, he had his duties to perform so Gareth took a deep breath before he climbed into his saddle.

The stallion he rode was his gray steed Alabak, a well-bred beast that his father gifted to him before he left for Tar Valon. At first he was surprised but then he realized that being T'sovoran M'Hael, Julian would know which horse was his. It was a quiet ride, with neither man making conversation with the other. Julian was no doubt focused solely on their mission while the 1st Prince wrestled with whether or not he should tell someone about his nightmares. Then again, what was there to be done about bad dreams? Instead, Gareth pretended to watch the foliage as the hooves of their horses' striking pavement rang through his ears. It was the only sound to exist around them until Julian finally spoke up while they rode through the gateway.

He wanted them to stay at an Inn?! Either of them could have provided estates, as Julian had pointed out, yet the man insisted they find an Inn. Gareth hardly had the right to complain or protest the suggestion. Even more surprising though was the T'sorovan M'Hael insisting that Gareth call him by his first name. Such a request went against everything he'd learned not only growing up in the Palace of Caemlyn but at both of the Towers. It was clear that Julian was unlike many of the others in higher ranks at the Black Tower. Or it could all be a part of his playing 'the Game', after all, he was Cairhienin and would be familiar with how it was played. Gareth, on the other hand, always was taught to be honest and true as opposed to deceitful or manipulative... He'd have to do his best to learn from Julian if he wanted the mission to go smoothly.

“Of course T'soro... Sir... I mean Julian.” awkwardly responded Gareth as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“In fact, I want to see you in action so you should take the lead. How about you pick the inn?”

“As you wish.”

Clicking his tongue whilst giving a slight flick of the reins, Gareth rode his stead out in front of Julian. He followed the road which led to Carhien's capital city of the same name pondering what type of Inn Julian was aiming for. If they were meant to be inconspicuous, why were they wearing their black coats? It was almost in sync with carrying a sign saying they were from the Black Tower. But could that also be part of the test? To see how clever Gareth was?! The 1st Prince pulled the gray stallion to a stop before turning towards Julian.

“If we don't want this blacksmith to know we're onto him, it would be wise to change clothes first.”

Gareth jumped down off Alabak to riffle through his pack before settling on one of his plain, casual outfits to wear. He made quick work unbuttoning his black Asha'man coat then sat on the ground to get off his boots and pants. It felt a tad odd undressing in the middle of a street but it was better to ride into Carhien as inconspicuously as possible. He dressed into a pair of tan britches, a white button-down shirt, a dark blue waistcoat, a light blue trench coat and back into his black boots. Gareth rolled up his Asha'man attire next before packing that away and climbing back onto the horse.

“There is an Inn called the Flame-haired Maiden close to most of the market shops. It is decent sized, clean, and always bustling with people. Many travelers frequent it according to one of my tutors. We should be able to find fair lodgings there.”

With their destination clarified, the 1st Prince rode once more towards Carhien. He wasn't sure if anyone would recognize him, or Julian for that matter, but in these clothes and slightly altered appearances, they at least wouldn't stand out as much. Once at the Inn, Gareth secured them two rooms before he sat at one of the tables within the main area. By this point, he could only hope he'd finished taking the lead as he had no idea what they should do next.

His gaze fell on Julian, “So Julian,” the man's name came off his tongue with a tad bit of awkward unease, “Do you have contacts that we'll be meeting up with? Or do we have a different course of action?”

[Julian Damodred]

Julian grinned when the lad stopped and pointed out what they were wearing could draw unwanted attention. To a lot of Dedicated, their uniforms became a second skin. At least this one had a brain on his shoulders. He watched the younger man jump down and change from atop his mount, not budging as he watched unabashedly, his smile widening as Gareth hurried through the process to get it over with.

Once the Dedicated was back on his own horse, Julian seized the power and channeled a small amount, his back coat becoming dark blue and slashed with far less colors than his rank called for. His face changed subtly, a slightly flatter nose and somewhat chubbier cheeks. He tied off the weave and then turned his attention to the face of the first prince of the sword, giving him a much broader forehead and darkening his golden locks to a dull brown.

“Everything you can do with the power should be done. We are far enough that no one from the city would feel such a small amount.” He chided mildly. “Or have you not yet mastered the mask of mirrors?”

It was Julian’ job to oversee the instruction of the trainees to use the one power, but Julian’s preferred method of motivation was to make them feel as stupid as possible for not doing what he wanted before he asked for it. It worked surprisingly well, since most who came to the tower, came with something to prove.

Gareth redeemed himself with his choice in inn though, and Julian believed in praise as much as criticism.

“That is a most suitable choice, I approve.”

The inn was bustling as promised, and very bright and clean. As Gareth secured their rooms for the night Julian beckoned over a pretty barmaid showing a modest amount of cleavage.

“Two mugs please. Also, I need one of your boys to make a delivery for me. Can you send someone ‘round to the Academy of the Rising Sun with this please?” He asked, pressing a sealed envelope, a copper, and a silver piece in her hands.

The Spirit Legion had few operatives, most of their contacts were to be found in the libraries. Julian’s man there would receive the coded note and send word to Ezrah on his part of this mission. Julain was very fond of Ezrah, they were both Cairhien and had a certain understanding of each other because of that. Sometimes he missed the old Ezrah, but he believed the man was still in there, under that constant cloud of tobac smoke.

The girl was gone and returned seconds after Gareth did, placing the mugs in front of them.

“So serious boy! Let’s have a drink and get to know each other a little better. Tell me Gareth, are you a dice man, a dancer, an all-night drinker? How do you unwind when you are free to do so?”

[Gareth Trakand]

Seizing Saidin, Julian altered both of their appearances; though Gareth could not see the changes made to his face, he could feel them. He scolded himself for not utilizing the source to change his appearance. Ever since he’d joined the Black Tower, his superiors drilled it into Gareth to channel Saidin for every task. Perhaps it was nerves that caused his training to slip his mind. This mission was his first one with one of the seconds in command. But regardless, he should have known better; he shouldn’t have let Julian ruffle his feathers. How could he ever hope to become raised to Ash’aman if he was so easy to distract?! Gareth needed to focus as well as fulfill this mission successfully. After all, power wrought weapons weren’t items they wanted in the wrong hands.

“Of course, Si... Julian,” replied Gareth.

After his first bumble, Gareth eased up a little hearing Julian approve of the choice of inn. At least he’d managed to turn things around for himself. Still, it was important not to allow one success to override his confidence.

People bustling about, a refreshing smell of stew, and the cleanliness of the space brought a smile to his face. At least his tutor hadn’t misinformed him as far as this inn was concerned. He was even more impressed with how reasonable the prices of their rooms were. As Gareth joined Julian at the table where the man sat, he quirked a brow at the mug the barmaid slid in front of him. Julian was most certainly an interesting fellow. Instead of divulging their next steps or throwing orders at him, he seemed far more interested in learning more about Gareth. He had to admit that it was refreshing Julian didn’t treat him as just another Dedicated. Perhaps it was this unique quality that propelled Gareth to sketch him in the first place. But his final choice of words was like a knife.

“Free to do so.”

Had Julian forgotten with whom he was speaking?! Gareth was hardly free to do anything he wanted. Either the young royal was fulfilling his duties within the Black Tower or participating in necessary family functions that, as the First Prince of Andor, he was obligated to attend. But the young Dedicated supposed he did find rare moments in which he could do as he pleased. Should Gareth share the escapades that he and Taivin shared while he was at the White Tower, or the trouble he’d found himself in whenever he’d gone along with one of Ishara’s schemes?! It was best to start with the small stuff.

“Very well.”

Gareth took a quick swig from his mug before sharing. “Well, first, I am more of a poker man myself. I’ve never turned down an excellent well-aged whiskey, and the only dancing I know how to display correctly is the waltz. As for what I tend to engage myself with during my free time... I enjoy riding Alabak, spending time with my family, having drinks with my friend Taivin, and filling my sketchbook.”

Was it hopeful thinking believing Julian wouldn’t linger on the drinking part of what he shared if Gareth distracted him?! It was hard to know for sure but regardless, he reached into his satchel, fetching out his sketchbook, and placing it upon the table in front of Julian.

“I’ve always been fascinated by depicting those I’ve known throughout my life within its pages. There’s even a sketch of your likeness in there if you are interested in seeing it.”

Throwing back another swig of the liquor in his mug, Gareth wondered if Julian would appreciate a depiction of his likeness rendered without his knowledge or approval. Then again, from what he’d heard of the man, he should be flattered. Still, Gareth waited for Julian’s reaction. And as he enjoyed another sip from his mug, he realized this was also his opportunity to learn more about the Tsorovan M’hael.

“What about you, Julian? How do you unwind in your free time?”

(Gareth's Sketchbook - Everything except the last two submissions would be in there for Julian to see. I also forgot a picture of Cirus so pretend there is one of those in there.))

[Julian Damodred]

Julian’s eyes lit up as the younger man responded to each suggestion with what seemed to be an honest answer. It was good that the lad seemed to have friends and a sense of humor about himself. The man seemed very well grounded for someone in his position.

He waved off the other’s question and mumbled something about history and books but was more interested in listening than talking. He leaned forward, eagerly reaching for the sketchbook when it was presented. He immediately flipped to the picture of himself.

My forehead isn’t that big, surely.

“Very nice.”

He nodded in approval.

Was Gareth staring? No, of course not, his forehead was fine.

Julian continued to flip through the next few pages, but there was only one other sketch after his. It was the soldier Julian had assigned to keep an eye on Dena while he was away on this trip, Cirus. He flipped back to the first few drawings which were of family, then quite a good one of Jadin. He let out a low whistle.

“This is amazing.”

Then, right before he came back to his own face there was a repeat of a girl, this time with some fanciful note about her beauty.

“Oh you must tell me about her!”

He grinned in a conspiratorial manner and cocked his head to one side. He wasn't going to let Gareth get out of this one. He kept his eyes on the young Dedicated's as he drank from his mug, clearly waiting to be amused.

[Gareth Trakand]

The comforting fragrance of venison stew, mincemeat pie, and wood burning in the fireplace filled the inn. The smells reminded him of a trip his family took when he was a young boy. It was one of the few trips with no diplomatic agenda but instead served as a family vacation. At that moment, Gareth almost swore he could hear Ishara laughing. A glimmer of two children racing through the flower fields near the manor in which their family stayed. A smile formed at the corner of his mouth, recalling such a simpler time. Back then, his sister was a small twig of both fiery hair and spirit, clinging to his chest in the rare times in which she was frightened. Now she was an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah, still with the same flaming hair but with a steadier spirit. He had no doubts that one day she’d be the finest Queen Andor has ever known. But with the frequent nightmares of late, Gareth feared he might never see those days. He could only pray to the Creator that his fears were misplaced.

Reality snapped back into place as Julian eagerly took his sketchbook from his hands. That’s right; they were discussing their interests.

‘I enjoy riding Alabak, spending time with my family, having drinks with my friend Taivin, and filling my sketchbook. I’ve always been fascinated by depicting those I’ve known throughout my life within its pages.’

It was all true, of course, but as far as the sketchbook went, well, Gareth garnered a passion for art since he was a child. He’d created many pieces throughout his life, but the depictions of those in his life were his favorites. There was something oddly reassuring yet also nerve-wracking about sharing these likenesses with Julian. After all, the youth shared them with so few. Perhaps he’d done so now in hopes of gaining Julian’s praise or respect. Or maybe Gareth did so in the prospect of acquiring yet another friend. The only friend he possessed within the Black Tower was Cirus, and since Gareth’s rise to Dedicated, their paths rarely crossed. And although he and Julian were different in many regards, Gareth felt an unexplained sense of trust in his presence. He only yearned that it wasn’t misplaced.

“This is amazing.”

An appreciative smile flashed across Gareth’s face as Julian complimented his works.

“Thank you.”

Gareth raised his mug to his lips, taking in another slow drink of the ale inside as he inconspicuously took in the measure of the other patrons within the dining area. After all, despite their attempts to know one another better, this was still a mission they were on. An important one that he hardly believed Julian would want him to ignore over a few drinks. But just as he swallowed down a swig of ale, the man across from him caught him with a surprising request.

“Oh, you must tell me about her!”

Ale spit out from his mouth as he choked a few coughs out in petrified horror as his eyes fell over the image of Elaira in which he’d labeled ‘Elaira is so Beautiful.’ ‘Blood and bloody ashes! Gareth, you flaming wool-headed fool! How could you forget that picture was in there?!’ The man’s cheeks flushed as Julian’s amused expression stared back at him. He suddenly felt as if he were sitting naked and exposed before the man. How was he meant to explain the complicated relationship he had with Elaira when he wasn’t entirely confident of where his feelings stood on the matter?! Gareth tossed back the remainder of the ale within his mug before flagging down the barmaid for a refill. His palms were sweating, and his stomach felt tied in knots. He really didn’t desire to discuss Elaira with Julian. But Gareth also knew nothing short of a fight breaking out, the inn burning down, or Trollocks bursting through the door would save him from having to do so. Perhaps he could cooly play the whole thing off, but he highly doubted it after his initial reaction.

“Oh her?” he started in the calmest tone he could muster, “That’s Elaira Taravin. She tutored alongside my sister and me when we were growing up. Ishara and her are the closest friends; therefore, I’ve spent a lot of time in her company.” Gareth unconsciously tugged nervously at his collar, “We’re close friends, nothing more.”

‘Nothing more! What a piss of a lie that is, Trakand.’ he chided to himself. But how could he explain that whenever Elaira was around, the world seemed brighter, that his heart skipped beats when she laughed... How could Gareth tell Julian that he can’t decern if he’s in love with her, in love with Adele, with both of them, or neither! His brow furrowed in frustration and agony, simply thinking about it. He desperately needed to change the subject to anything but his complicated, nonexistent love life. Perhaps he could wiggle himself out of this awkward conversation by bringing up the mission again. It was a desperate grasp at a distraction, but nothing else came to his mind. He was careful with his following words. One could never be too careful about who might be listening in on even the most inauspicious conversation; therefore, he kept his tone quiet but nonchalant.

“So I’ve been thinking about our cover story during this endeavor; perhaps we could pose as an interested party in the items we seek. Success might be more attainable if our target believes we are here to make him or her richer. Unless you had something else in mind.”

Gareth swallowed back a swig of his refilled mug. His idea wasn’t half bad, but it wasn’t all that spectacularly articulated either. He was digging himself deeper into a hole with no escape. Even the thought of seizing saidin to cave the roof in so his discomfort might end crossed his mind. But all there was to do now was wait to see how the man across from him would react. And waiting on that was almost worse than worrying about his nightmares.

[Julian Damodred]

Julian's eyes widened in delighted surprise when Gareth actually choked and spit out of some of his drink. Luckily nothing got onto the sketch book.This was even more amusing than he had hoped. He wordlessly took out a cloth handkerchief and pushed it across the table for the young man to clean himself up as he flagged down the barmaid.

As the Dedicated attempted a nonchalant affect and obvious deflection Julian couldn't stop from chuckling openly. With a merry twinkle in his eyes he nodded.

"Yes, that sounds like a solid plan. I do worry about your ability to deceive anyone convincingly after that demonstration though. I already said no serious talk for tonight. I want to have fun and get to know you on a personal level. All you have shown me so far is that you are a terrible liar and that the two of you are certainly more than close friends. So you've known her for a long time, but it doesn't seem that you have known how you feel about her for very long. Do you know how you feel about her? Do you know how she feels about you? What sort of girl is she? What do you like about her, besides her beauty?"

He quarried, tapping the page with his index finger. He was asking almost as many questions as Dena seemed to like to do.

The Asha'man took another sip from his mug. He didn't get many chances to pry into the students' personal lives and wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste. The noise and bustle from the busy inn made sure their conversation didn't carry far, but prying ears weren't the only reason he didn't want to discuss business. He hadn't been out of the Tower in far too long and very much wanted to enjoy it. Besides, talking about the boy's troubles helped him keep his mind off his own. That was saying something since his troubles were a tight little bundle of foreign thoughts continuously occupying space in his head.