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Lost and Found in Caemlyn
Tue Oct 17, 2006 12:33
63.238.223.66 (XFF: 192.168.1.3)

The fireball roared toward her but Ronan erected a shield of Spirit and Fire and watched as the flames licked around the half-dome of the shield before dissipating quickly. “What are you doing, you lunatic?!” She shouted to Lurie.

“You witch!” the woman snarled. “Filthy witch! I knew who you were after the instant you showed up in your black coat and those fancy pins. I won’t let you hinder the work of the Light!” Lurie’s gaze was hot, angry, and she still blazed with the nimbus of the Power around her. Ronan was strong enough in Fire to kill Lurie if she needed to, but not nearly strong enough in Spirit to cut the woman off from the Source while she held it.

I can’t kill her. She thinks she’s doing right, she’s not a pawn of the Dark One.

Whatever occupation she had for the Black Tower, she didn’t just kill people needlessly. As an assassin she had a responsibility to preserve life as much as she did to take it away, and if there was a passive way to get Lurie to stop attacking her, she’d use it. Besides, she didn’t know which direction her mark went, only that she had passed through both wards. North, south, she didn’t know. It was most likely that she went south, back toward Amadicia, but there was no way to tell. Light, but her mark had run north to begin with! Maybe there were others like Lurie who were available to help and hide them.

“Lurie, are you even listening to yourself?” Ronan shot back incredulously. “You’re channeling! You’re condemning me and everyone I know for exactly what you can do yourself!”

The woman bore a patient look on her face, but the glow around her didn’t dim even by a shade. “Sometimes you have to fight against your enemy with their weapons, Asha’man. The Children could never hope to fight against someone such as yourself so they use someone like me. And that won’t change the fact that you can’t follow Dahla. She needs to continue our work, purifying the world from the Dark One’s minions such as yourself.”

Quicker than Lurie could have reacted, Ronan whipped a jet of fire at the woman, clipping her in the shoulder and sending her spinning backwards, but the glow of saidar didn’t fade. She had been trained by the White Tower, after all, to channel under extreme pressure. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lurie. I don’t want to kill you. Stop this right now and let me go after her!”

Ronan saw the weaves of lightning form and she expanded her shield upward, weaving Air into it just in time to keep the bolt from touching her. The impact sent a wave of hot air down on her, ruffling her auburn tresses. “Lurie, stop this! I don’t want to hurt you! I’m not after you, I’m only after my mark.” She glanced around to see that the town had either retreated into their homes, away from the thunder of lightning, of fire flying through the air, away from the things they couldn’t possibly defend against.

“No!” Lurie screamed. “You can’t have my sister!”

From what Ronan knew of channeling, some things came with great emotion and instinct. There was no possible way that she could have known the weaves except out of desperation and instinct. But when the threads pulled together, coalescing into a bar of liquid fire that streamed out at Ronan in the blink of an eye, the Asha’man didn’t waste time telling the woman that she shouldn’t know how. It was only great reflexes that saved her too. As she dropped to the ground, back slapping against the ground hard, the bar passed above her; it was hotter than anything she had ever created with just fire, the air shimmered around her as it passed by and then beyond to slam into a tree.

Lurie screamed again and formed the weaves, aiming toward Ronan. There would be no getting out of the way for this one, she wasn’t that fast. Instead she fought fire with fire. No, balefire with balefire. The threads formed as she knew they could, as she’d been shown. There had been warnings, of course, strict disclaimers from her teacher to never use it except in the last possible defense, but this was it. This was the last possible defense.

The woman’s stream of balefire hadn’t been wider than one or two fingers, but if it touched Ronan, it wouldn’t matter. She’d cease to exist. The second weave formed and shot from the woman’s hands just as Ronan’s came together, flying forward, an arm’s width bar of white light shot toward Lurie and—

They collided. White hot pain lanced through Ronan and she cried out, doubling up on the ground, clutching at her head. She could have sworn that the balefire touched her, and could feel it eating at her entire being, piece by piece, and then it was gone, but there was still pain. Inordinate pain that she felt in her head, in her entire body. Her amber eyes lifted to see that although she’s stopped Lurie’s beam of balefire with one of her own, preventing herself from harm, the larger beam of balefire had touched Lurie, just a breath of it, but it was all that had been needed to decimate Lurie. The woman’s outline faded into nothing and all that Ronan had left was a bar of purple across her vision and pain that racked her entire body.



She wandered, confused, hurt, and tired. The town was empty and she leaned forward to sip at some water from a nearby pump, letting the cold water trickle down her throat. So hot. Light, but she felt like she was burning up. Her hands looked red and swollen, her body ached from the tip of her hair down to her toenails. She had to go—south. Her instincts said south. Without really realizing what she was doing, she started walking, even though every step was painful, but she had to go south. That’s where she knew that she needed to go.


It was getting dark and cold and although the plains had begun to roll, there wasn’t much in the way of shelter. A lone tree here and there, nothing more. Finding a place where the ground rose sharply, she stumbled against the rise, and lay down, her eyes lifting to the heavens. Only a star showed here and there in the darkening sky, but as she lay there, eyes wide, body aching, so tired that she couldn’t even think about sleeping, more continued to appear above her. Each star twinkling at her, reminding her that the night would be there soon to envelope her in its embrace.


The next morning she was ravenous, starving for something to eat and not sure if she could catch a rabbit or anything here. They would be fattened from storing up food for the winter, but they’d also be wary. Predators would also be looking to get fat for the winter. And she was cold. Her fingers were nearly numb with it and her body still ached. Her head still hurt. She needed food and warmth and she needed them now!

There was a soft hissing sound, almost a metallic rasp in the air behind her and a portal stood before her, inky blackness beyond but a platform was also there, almost like a stony courtyard. Stepping through, she saw the portal close behind her and there was movement, though without reference to know it, she could only rely on instinct. After about five minutes of nothing but silence and blackness, the portal opened again and as she stepped through into a room that was decorated with rich furniture, she knew that she’d find food and warmth here. She knew this place, it was home.






A woman screamed and there was a billowing rain of white linens immediately following. As the sheets fell to the ground, the servant looked at her with surprise. “Oh, Light, you did give me a scare, my Lady! No one wrote to tell us that you’d be coming otherwise I would have had the place ready for you. As it is, the study’s just been cleaned yesterday and I can open up and air out the parlor if you’d like.”

Drawing in a surprised breath, she responded with a smile, “No, it’s okay. I decided to come at a whim, really. Don’t worry yourself Mistress Alworth.” She paused. “Is something wrong?”

“No, my Lady. But you look tired. And like you’ve been sleeping in the grass, not in some posh inn like you should be.” Mistress Alworth responded hesitantly. Lifting a hand to her brow, fingers shaking, the housekeeper shook her head. “And here I am jabbering about how you look! I’ll have some breakfast whipped up for you in a few minutes. We still have a few day gowns left in your wardrobe, a bit out of season but you never seemed to care much for that. Now go freshen up, and come down in quarter of an hour and the eggs will be just how you like, the bacon crisp, and the toast browned to perfection.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Mistress Alworth. You have always been an outstanding housekeeper.”

“Ach, you’ve been kind to us in return. Letting us stay here while you took the rest of your staff. This place is more than enough room for us, and letting us stay rent free! You’ve always been kind.” The woman replied warmly. Patting her hand, the housekeeper motioned her back to her bedroom. “Fifteen minutes, Lady Elena. And I hope to see you in that rose gown, that was always my favorite.”

She moved back into the bedroom and regarded her disheveled appearance. Circles marred the skin beneath her hazel eyes an long auburn tresses had been pulled away from a severe knot. There were smudges of dirt around her cheek, though the dark wool hid any grass stains she might have incurred toward the fabric. Yes, the rose would do nicely with her complexion, even if it was an out of season style. She had plenty of money in a bank, stashed away so that no one could claim it. It would last her a while, but she’d need to figure out something to earn a living, what with no stipend from her late husband’s estate.

Maybe some smart investments, she thought, removing the pins from her hair and brushing out the tangles. Get in contact with some of my old friends, catch up, and enjoy life in Caemlyn again. I did enjoy it immensely.

Pulling the rose linen dress from her wardrobe and she smiled at the plans she was making, feeling good to be back in Andor, even for a short time. She figured that she’d have to go back to Altara someday, but she enjoyed the cool winters in Andor.

Maybe Cairhien, Lady Elena thought, a smile on her face. Or Illian. I do love the styles in Illian, after all.

Lady Elena Morgayne pulled back her auburn hair simply and gave her reflection one last look before descending for a much needed breakfast.




OOC: Here ends Ronan's saga at the Black Tower for a while. Be sure to read up on Lady Elena Morgayne on the Patterns Society! It should be a fun read! =D

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