Stranger in a familiar land

[Adrian Kane]

Arikan

“Perhaps it is you who should vow to speak no word of what you’ve done here,” he turned the accusation back on her. If she kept her mouth shut, the Chosen would continue to believe he was long dead and Arikan would retain his element of surprise. His captors knew he yet lived, though like the Aes Sedai, they likely hoped that he was soon to expire. Arikan was no fool himself. He knew his position even if he stubbornly refused to die on sheer will.

The Aes Sedai was clearly of the light to believe that an oath given carried weight. By what would he vow? By hope of salvation? The Lord of the Grave waited once he crossed the barrier unless the light was victorious and the Great Lord was banished outside the Pattern once more. Fat chance of that happening. The Dragon was more concerned with conquering nations than darkness. The Chosen were silently strung everywhere pulling the cords. Then there were the fortresses in the Blight growing on a scale that the Light's heroes would faint to simply imagine. Would he swear by hope of rebirth? Oh, he would be reborn, that was a certainty. Arikan declared as much when he told his torturer that he would be finding him in the next life in order to extract his vengeance.

Just to demonstrate the absurdity of her desires, Arikan’s expression suddenly shifted. His brows curled low. His cheeks sunk. The gray of his eyes begged and pleaded for help. A pitiful wretch who was no more a threat than an injured puppy. His accent devolved into the stupid Tairen drawl that the sheep farmers used. It was painfully close to his true born tongue, but he didn’t have the energy to create another at the moment.

"Aw, Talin Sedai” cough cough, “I’ds be forever in yer debt. Please help’n me. I don’t,” cough cough, “don’t wants to die here. I’ds be yer,” cough cough, “eternal servant…” and so on he went until a fit of coughing forced him to address a fresh swell of blood that oozed from the corners of his mouth. As soon as he did, red smeared the back of his hand, which he glanced at absently and let the arm fall to the bed. Afterward, he was gloating with the demonstration of his claim. After swallowing the now familiar flavor of bloody spit, he cringed through the willpower to speak more simply because explaining the absurdity was worth the suffering.

“I don’t require your vows because they are meaningless. In turn, if you believed I was so dangerous, there is nothing I could offer you that could convince you to accept a vow of my own. You will have to simply trust that I am smart enough to seize an advantage when I see one and use it to my ends. You did this,” his hand moved to the smooth patch on his ribs. If there was a flash of acknowledgement for her restorative skill to cross his expression, it was then.

He cringed again, refocusing a third time simply to endure speaking. She must know the significant cost of using his words, “More than my intelligence, you can trust that I will not die now. Not after enduring this…” his attention split momentarily downward. “If you Heal me, you’ll prove useful. I won’t squander you and your talent so long as you don’t give me reason, but if you require an oath as much you will be disappointed. I will never swear another so long as I live, which I intend to be a long time hence.”

His teeth was red by the time he stopped speaking, mouth flecked with the half-congealed specks that did not seem to want to stop crusting his lips.

The speech was worth it though.