The Hunt

[Jay Carpenter]

Daryen Daimon, King of Arad Doman

The Accepted did not have to search far. Daryen had felt the sharp, punctuated pops of saidin that felled the birds- felt Tamal's impending doom building in Jai as lava prepares to burst through a mountain. Daryen had seen the shadows of death in Jai's eyes before, but only fleetingly. Ghosts, they danced in the dark depths of his eyes whenever a certain song or word or smell stirred memories of the horrors to which every Asha'man worth his pins bore witness. Daryen understood, having rent enough human flesh from the bodies of strangers to clothe the bones of every one of his citizens. But Daryen's monster lay quiet, sleeping, sated by the heavy hand of discipline and the soothing beat of a heart that loved well.

When Daryen turned in the saddle to view the commotion unfolding, he faced Jai's monster for the first time. He almost wished he had not drawn on the Power out of instinct when Jai first lashed out; with his enhanced sight, he may as well have been staring into that monster's eyes. Without thought he wove the shield, and the lack of hesitation may well have spared Tamal his life. And Daryen had every reason to hesitate. He knew Jai Asad Kojima well. Not his past - out of a strange sort of mutual respect they had never traded more than trivial details about their all-too-long and brutal histories - but the man. For all the rumors and all his obsessive tendencies, Kojima was a soldier. He fought hard, drank deeply, and above all else followed orders without fail. Even in his most questionable moments, Jai's occasional mania had never compromised his discipline.

But Daryen had seen men fall into the darkness before- darkness that had nothing to do with the taint. Hesitation had killed far too many good soldiers. Besides, if Daryen was worried about insulting Jai, he would not be preparing to entertain the enemy.

His horse was a thick-muscled creature, bred for hurdling obstacles at a dead sprint and a coat that gleamed white as the walls of Tar Valon at midday. Daryen's boots dug into the animal's sleek sides as he pulled the beast's head around sharply, though the easy lope at which they arrived on the scene was hardly so dramatic. Those that had gathered for the spectacle moved aside at his approach, unsure what to make of his expression.

Daryen was the sort of king bards dream about. His white-gold hair glittered in the sun, flowing around a chiseled face that denied the half century of wisdom with which he had earned his throne. His eyes, sparkling sapphires above a flashing white smile that charmed the coldest of hearts. He was Arad Doman's darling- the dashing golden prince who saved them in their darkest hour. The epics written in his honor described a very romantic story indeed.

Just as they would describe this event- the King bursting onto the scene, leaping his fallen friend to defend his honor from the cruelties that had driven him to madness. But the reality of it was not so, just as it had not been so the night Arad Doman was freed from the Seanchan. The facade of a gallant prince suited him, flashy and light-hearted as he was. But freeing Arad Doman, becoming her King... The reality of it was gore and hatred and discipline. An order from the Dragon Reborn to tear the Seanchan free and chase them back into the sea with such brutality that they dare not return. When Daryen reached the palace he had killed the governing Blood himself, in front of the man's adolescent son. The child at least he had sent back to what remained of their fleeing ships, the messenger of his father's cruel death.

The violence of saidin did not lend itself to honor. There were no valiant heroes chasing villains through the streets with swords of fire.The truth of it was that on a moonless night an elite group of Asha'man stepped through a gateway and turned the sleeping city of Bandar Eban into a dying ground. And heady with their returned freedom, the people of Arad Doman rejoiced in the handsome noble who stepped from the palace to proclaim victory, never mind the blood flowing in the streets. But Daryen had bathed in it, and he remembered long after they forgot.

Perhaps it was time he remind them.

There was no rage in him. His horse stopped behind where Jai lay pinned to the ground without any obvious cues from its master, who watched curiously as the Accepted confronted the obnoxious merchant. There were very few people whom Daryen truly hated, and somehow Imaad was not one of them. But the man was like an open wound on the face of his court, festering and bitter. How he held so much power Daryen would never fully understand, but hopefully that was about to change.

The Accepted would find his eyes dancing merrily when she sought them out. Imaad found him as well, and the King recognized the smug look of victory that began crawling across the merchant's face. At Nisele's remark the King laughed and Imaad laughed with him. For a moment, at least. Then the merchant realized the laughter was warped, tainted by a cruelty one could only understand after having taken pleasure in the death of another. Imaad was a cheating, caniving politician, but he was not a killer.

For Asha'man, it was a profession.

"Tell me Imaad,"
Daryen's laughter trailed as he dismounted, striding casually onto the seen like a performer taking center stage, "what has been the worst moment of your life so far?"


The merchant's face had fallen slightly at his King's odd laughter but he recovered quickly. The death of a cousin in a childhood fall was on his lips immediately, in a tone meant to incur sympathy while simultaneously pointing out how personal and inappropriate a question it was. Daryen was not unmoved, his expressive face taking on a moment of understanding. "That is a terrible experience friend, endured at so tender an age."


Abruptly, a smile bloomed across his features. "Now!"
He spread his hands dramatically, pivoting away from the merchant as if to take the whole of the gathered crowd within his arms. "Let me tell you mine."


The story was not long, but Daryen was a gifted speaker. He had an infectious sort of energy, a way of drawing people in so that his emotions reflected in them. He could make people want what he wanted, and it was what made him so effective as a leader.

He was a Dedicated at the time, on an extended mission to the borderlands to earn his pins. A few of the horses shifted their weight, tossed their heads at a sudden tightening of the reigns. Seems they truly had begun to forget, if the reminder that he was in fact Asha'man made his subjects so uneasy.

"I was to be a father,"
shock rippled beneath the surface of the crowd at the unexpected admission. Nisele's deep, dark eyes narrowed, more from concentration than jealousy. Given Daryen's charisma and kingship, rumors of illegitimate children were a favorite. But no matter how hard they searched, none had ever been uncovered. Many of his subjects wanted nothing more than for him to marry and have children; the nobles because it gave them a whole new set of players for their game, and the people because perhaps the only thing more romantic than a darling bachelor King was a darling royal family.

But Daryen had never shown any interest- until now. His gorgeous eyes sparkled with pride, and it was clear that he loved the child. Whoever it was.

"Quite by accident, I may add. But you all know how that goes,"
his wolfish smile settled on Tamal, who tried desperately not to look suspicious. He failed quite miserably, off balance as he was from the attack, but he was lucky. For the moment, caught up as they were in the story they cared little for where Tamal's seed had taken root. But there were times that they would care, and Tamal clearly got the hint.

The story continued, and it became clear why the child had never been found out. Whether girl or boy, it had not made it to birth, stolen with the mother's soul to the kiss of a winged shadowspawn in the lull after battle. Daryen had nearly burnt himself out defending the fortress from the raid, and been wounded besides. He watched it happen, and there was nothing he could do.

"I earned the right to wear the Dragon pin a year later. And I can tell you I have met other Asha'man with far more terrible moments than that. Men who have lost whole families before their eyes and watched cities burn. Men who have seen their own entrails laid out before them by an enemies blade."
Daryen took Jai by the shoulders and Liridia released his bonds. The King pulled Jai to his feet, but kept a hard grip on one of his friend's shoulders. Just in case. Pinned in the dirt as he'd been, Jai's shirt stuck to his chest for a moment before falling back into place. Just long enough for a glance at the huge, pale scar bisecting his abdomen.

"You would do well to remember that we as Asha'man are all just as human as you, but we bear the burdens of monsters. And from now on you will show respect to my Brothers and our Sisters."
There was no trace of the usual playfulness in Daryen now, his face hard as polished stone, barring more of his past from surfacing in his eyes. Far from the jovial prince, here was the man who lead his brothers into battle knowing well he may never see them again.

Barely veiled scorn surfaced on the faces of the other members of the court who were privileged to attend, select members of both lowborn and high alike, directed at the merchant and his cohorts. As if Daryen naming Jai his Brother had actually adopted the man, and they had drunkenly teased the brother of the King to a murderous rage. Even those who had participated on the edges of their little group frowned at them sideways, trying to distance themselves from the building disgrace.

Daryen did not know if Imaad would fold in the face of dishonor or try to regain control of the situation, but Tamal and Nisele at least seemed subdued. Yui appeared then, leading Jai's recovered mount past Liridia and Nythadri. Daryen turned towards her and upon seeing the proud War Cry threw out his arms in joyful relief.

"War Cry!"
Just like that he was smiling again, energetic and beautiful as the sun breaking through a storm cloud. "Thank the Light you're unharmed. The awful things my sister would have done to me if you'd been hurt. Really Tamal, you must be more careful. I'd have had to string you up by your toes if you'd injured Fate's horse,"
a few of the surrounding nobles chuckled, but the lordling's coppery skin paled at the seemingly innocent threat.

Daryen gave the showy razor a final solid pat before striding for his own mount. He passed Nythadri as he did and smiled down at her one of those radiantly charming smiles. Tall as he was his hair shielded his eyes momentarily from the dispersing crowd, but she would be able to see the quick, conspiratorial wink. Then he was passed, enthusiastically praising his own glowing mount for its patience.