Stranger in a familiar land

[Adrian Kane]

Arikan

The tea’s warmth flushed bright pain across his tongue. Of every single hot inch of his body, the self-inflicted injury inside his mouth was the most exquisite, but by the time the Aes Sedai retracted the drink, numbness swelled. When Arikan fell back once more, some of the fight leaked out as well. Did he really think the Aes Sedai was poisoning him? He knew enough of their order to not rely on altruism, but neither did he really suspect her motives to be more nuanced than the obvious. As much that that burned him, it was doubtful that stupid Tairen sheep farmers were high-ranking darkfriends closeknit with the Black Ajah.  Although it was possible.

Soon, stillness descended like the inevitability of nightfall. The cold wasn’t chased away, but the shivers subsided in this fresh new state. Apparently the foolishness of this mortal body had succumbed to the hellfires licking all around. Not even his mighty will could resist the failings of flesh, but he was loathe to admit that the rest that followed was a kind of comfort. At least the suffering was subsided to something tolerable if not completely gone. He’d been witness to similar effects plenty of times. When the mind lost control of limb and sinew. The bowels might come next, though Arikan doubted there was enough inside of him for such an effect to follow. A victim was usually aware what was happening by then. The flash of terror for the inevitable was an interesting moment. When they realized their life was leaking away as sure as an open vein. Everyone reacted differently to their fates. He was usually quite interested in the variety of responses. If he had the reason, could he himself really rally a final offense in similar circumstances? Perhaps, he mused, and about then, the question was tested.

He was all too aware of the thing that she sliced away. Its skin was stretched so taut it was nearly bursting. His bloodied jaw clenched. Then a nervous swallow.  Breathing quickened. Nostrils flared, gasping air faster and faster. His head swarmed dizzy then, feeling the pulsating bodies creeping slowly inside his ears, his nose. Traveling inward. Upward… Unable to throw them off. Unable to twist away. Slick, sticky. Burrowing. Slipping. Nibbling. No one part all that vicious but for the prospect of being trapped as a meal devoured from the inside out.  Even as her fires cindered the creature to ash, he tried to flee the memories of buckets and slithering invaders. But the body was mostly frozen. Move! he willed. Run... ...No! Not there! But nothing behaved, no more than a wiggle of fingers or blinking of the eyes.

There was motion around him, but Arikan was obsessively focused on the woman hovering above. Her channeling prickled, disturbing the previously settled waters of the feverish heat, but if he was powerless to thwart her tea, he could do nothing but submit to the exercise of a channeler. At least it was a distraction from all that he remembered.

What followed was warmth. Not the licking firesands of torment, but something almost pleasant. Like that first brush with sunlight after months denied its presence. But also cold. Fire and ice together. He’d never experienced its like before.

Soon after, his breathing slowed to something steady and filling. The jaw worked itself loose. The lids slid low. He was glad for it.

When next he woke, it was somewhere entirely different.

He slowly tested his limbs. To his relief, the crimsonthorn was flushed by then if not the fatigue. His one good arm reached around the arc of his ribs, carefully exploring. The other was useless under the weight of a snapped collarbone. To his surprise, the wound was smooth where once it gaped wide. The bone beneath not even tender. Though it was about the only place on his body free of torment.