3

The wind howled through the boughs of the hideously twisted trees, whipping at Cor Dazar's skin. As he looked about, he realized he was standing in the Blight. A storm was coming. Dark clouds filled the sky blocking out the setting sun. He couldn't remember how he had gotten to that horrid place. Looming up in the south where the Mountains of Dhoom. Further east, Cor knew, was Tarwin's Gap and Fal Dara. The place where he had grown up and learned to fight. But Cor's eyes were turned not to these places but north. There stood one lonely peak. Dark and ominous, the thought of it alone brought a dark cloud over Cor's heart. The sight of it almost made him sick.

Shayol Ghul, it was called. The place of the Dark One's prison. Where the black blades of Myrddraal were forged. Looking on, Cor felt drawn towards the place. Taking a step, the world blurred and suddenly he was standing at the feet of the mountain. Reality smashed down upon him. He had experienced such travel only once before. In Tel'aran'rhiod-- the world of dreams. But, how could he have gotten there? By some strange instinct he spun. Gold flashed into his hands and two Myrddraal fell dead.

"Well done!" said a familiar voice.

Spinning again Cor turned to see Maihgread. She smiled at him much the way she had before she had turned from the Tower.

"You haven't slowed down a bit, Cor. I'm impressed," she said taking a step closer to him.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked not moving. His pale gray eyes hardening.

"Because you need someone to talk to," she said. "Oh, yes. I know how you feel right now Cor. I've been watching you for some time now."

"How could you . . ." he began, but stopped, realizing how stupid such a question was. The Dark Lord had spies every where. No place was safe, it seemed.

"You're exactly right," she said as if reading his thoughts.

"So talk then. Since you say I need it. What counsel have you brought me to this place for?"

"Always blunt and to the point, Cor," she said chuckling and moving closer. "I always liked that about you."

Taking his arm, she led him away from the mountain. Talking as if it were old times through the blasted lands.

Blinking his eyes, Cor Dazar awoke from his dreams. It seemed he had talked for hours with Maihgread. Many things they had discussed. All of it Cor had been open to, keeping his own counsels to himself. She had been right though. He had needed someone to talk to. Getting up, he prepared for yet another day of his routine life. He could feel Jascha stirring already in her room.

Throughout the day, Cor went back over everything Maihgread had said to him, and all the things they had discussed. It all seemed so right. He couldn't find many faults with anything she had said. She had known very well the feelings he had for the Tower. How his mind was troubled about the way it had become. She had felt very much the same way, it appeared, when she had left. Gritting his teeth Cor realized what he was thinking and cleared his mind. Mistaking the gesture, the young WiT he had been training on the use of daggers turned deathly pale, afraid he had set off the giant Aielman. Going on as if he hadn't noticed, Cor continued giving his lesson.

He had gained some small bit of fame for his golden daggers, it seemed. More so because of their make and style, he believed, than how they had been used or how he had acquired them. But it gave him something to do when Jascha was busy, and he was content for the time, but it was getting old. Few seemed to know any of his or any of the older members' deeds that had all been recorded. Few seemed to care much about anything these days, it seemed to Cor. Once again his mind turned back to Maihgread's words.

All day he analyzed them, seeking an argument against them, but there wasn't much. As he entered the local bar where most of the Tower dwellers went to in their spare time, as evening closed that day, he felt a change coming in the air. Looking up on a board where many of the patrons of the bar often liked to place messages of what was supposed to be importance, Cor caught sight of one that interested him. Pulling it down he took a seat in his usual place and began reading.

As the words passed before his eyes his blood began to boil. 'The insolent little…' the thoughts passed through his head. For some time now he had put up with such messages, but never had one included him in such an insulting way. The last straw had snapped. The wineglass he held in his hand shattered in his hand. Many of the people sitting about the room looked up at him, but few dared to gaze long. With a growl he climbed to his feet. He tossed a coin to the bar to pay for the drink and the glass. Then on his way out he placed the message back on the board, slamming one of the daggers he had used training the young warder in training through the board and chipping the stone behind it with a great bang. The whole bar looked up at that, but the door was slammed shut before they had time to make out his broad shouldered back.

Normally under these circumstances Cor would have turned to Maihgread for counsel, but she was gone, driven off by such acts as had just occurred. His heart burned now and there was no one to quench this fire. Walking quickly, Cor headed towards the old Ogier grove.

With a sigh, Grond stopped dead in the middle of the street. His search for his friend Cor Dazar had proved fruitless. The story of his actions in the bar had spread quickly. Grond too had read the message, and although he did not take as great offense, he understood his feelings. Or so he thought anyway.

Jascha had been little help, saying only that he was still on the island and that it was best to let him be. Cadrien Sedai, the Aes Sedai who had bonded Grond recently, seemed very much of the same mind. So Grond had gone out on his own in search of his friend.

Tar Valon was not a place to find a person who didn't want to be found, he finally admitted, especially an Aiel Warder. With a sigh he decided to get himself a drink in the Inn that was near by. Walking into the place, he found it was empty. A lone figure sat on the floor in the back corner of the room. He was dressed in cadin'sor and extremely tall. With a grin Grond realized he had found just who he'd been looking for by sheer luck.

"Cor! I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?" said Grond, walking up to his friend.

"Where you couldn't find me," said Cor Dazar.

"Oh no. Not this," said Grond, pulling up a chair next to him.

"Not what?" said Cor, looking up from the glass of juice he held in his hand.

"You're answering questions in riddles. Don't tell me you're letting Kalin's little message get you this upset."

Cor only grunted and took another drink of his juice.

"Never one for drinking were you?" said Grond.

Cor only shrugged, moved the empty wine bottle from behind him, and placed it in front of Grond.

"My, my. This is bad."

"Nothing I won't live through," said Cor flatly.

"I hope so," said Grond, looking at his friend worriedly.

"I'm going on a trip tomorrow," said Cor, suddenly still, looking down at his drink.

"Where to?" said Grond.

"I haven't decided yet," said Cor, his voice still flat and emotionless.

"Would you like some company?" asked Grond, not happy with the direction the conversation seemed to be going.

"No!" said Cor. "No. I have to go alone."

"Does Jascha know this?" said Grond, staring at his friend.

"I think she does actually," said Cor, looking up at Grond.

Grond wanted to pull back at the stare of those pale gray eyes. They looked like those of a dead man. A cloud of fear passed over Grond's heart then.

"Where have you been all day Cor?" Grond asked again.

"In the grove," he responded looking back down at his drink.

"Is that all?" Grond asked, looking Cor over for any torn pieces of clothing.

"You won't find anything," said Cor without looking up. "I haven't been hunting in a long time Grond."

Grond only nodded, not sure what else to say. Taking another drink, Cor drained his glass and set in on the floor next to him.

"Well I must be off. Jas will be getting upset if I don't show up soon," said Cor, rising to his feet.

Grond only nodded and followed his friend. The two passed through the streets of Tar Valon silently. A small pathway clearing before the tall Aiel warrior in the front. Cor never looked up once as they walked. Buildings of all types passed around them in a blur. Grond looked at his friend in concern, not sure what he should do or say. As they passed into the training yards of the Tower all was silent. No warders practiced their forms.

"Now that's odd," said Cor, breaking the silence. "Where is everyone at?"

"Oh light! I forgot!" said Grond looking around. "The Keeper had called a meeting of some great importance. Everyone who could was supposed to be there. Cadrien is going to kill me," with that he took off. Stopping suddenly he turned back to Cor. "I'll find you later tonight and we can talk if you want," he said, and then turned and was off.

Chuckling, Cor turned and, taking a back way, quickly made his way to his room. The meeting would provide him the perfect cover for his departure. Slipping into his room he made quick work of gathering together what few possessions he would need to take with him. His highly prized golden daggers he placed in a dark wooden box.

"There are others here you will serve much better," he said to them as he closed the lid.

Books he pulled off the shelf and set aside. One, a very old volume, he held for some time in his hands remembering his past. When he was a youth in Shienar he had used that book to learn the basics of the Aiel way of fighting. He knew exactly where that would go. Zhaneel, a young energetic WiT he had recently met, would enjoy such a thing. She was a gal Cor had enjoyed spending his time with and knew for sure would use the knowledge well.

Taking up the piles of selected items he slipped out of his room. Silently he moved about the tower, depositing the different items in their new owners' rooms. Each with a note, quickly scribbled out and attached. To Zhahn, Neel's new husband, he only left a warning about the gift he had given Neel. Finally he came to the last room. The dark wooden box was grasped tightly under his arm. Carefully, he opened Grond's door. Walking in, he set the box down on his friend's bed. He read over the note one last time.

Grond, I know you haven't ever showed much use for knives but these need a new owner. Keep them well my friend. I will miss you dearly and hope you can understand. Sorry for how short this note is. Were there time I would explain to you every detail of why I must leave. Fare you well. And take care of Caddy.

Cor took one last look at the golden daggers he had worked so hard to make.

"Fare well my friends. Guard him well even as you protected me," he said. Then closing the lid he left.

Walking back to his room, Cor ran over his plan one last time. He would have to be quick. Whatever the meeting was, it was over and people were beginning to return to the halls. None approached the tall Aiel was he walked with a stony expression on his face. He passed into his room quickly and locked the door.

"I was wondering when you would be getting back," said Jascha.

Cor knew she was there. He just hoped no one else was with her. Turning, he saw she was sitting on the edge of his bed alone. He smiled slightly and walked over to her.

"I have to go," he said.

"I know. That is why I am here," she said and laying her hands on his head she took hold of Saidar. Cor felt her presence leave his mind. It was an almost soul shattering experience. Once before it had happened to him. He was ready for it this time though. Hardening his heart, he only hoped it wasn't the same for Jascha. She smiled at him slightly but then collapsed.

"I'm sorry Jas," Cor whispered and laid her out on his bed carefully.

Standing back up quickly, he took hold of saidin. Walking over to a corner of his room, he removed the inverted weaves of invisibility and several traps that protected a small niche in the wall. Pulling from the dark crevice a light wooden box, he gave a sigh of relief. No one knew about the niche or the contents within. Opening the lid, he began replacing his previous golden daggers with the new ones. Holding the last one in his hand, he looked it over.

He had spent many long hours working on them, using the last bit of his gold and silver he had delved out of the ground when he had first learned to channel. The gold and silver had mixed together perfectly, making swirls within each other. On the blade was etched the veiled face of an Aiel warrior in amazing detail. Each dagger looked different with a different marking on it. All were also angreal. Not very strong by themselves, but together they would increase his very lacing power by maybe ten percent. He hadn't been sure why he had made the daggers, but it seemed they would be very helpful with his new mission. Placing the last one in its hiding spot he opened a gateway to the blight.

He was concentrating so much on the weave he did not notice a body enter the room. Iliana had felt Jascha embrace saidar and, peeking her head into the room, witnessed something she now regretted she had seen. Cor had never noticed her. As he placed the last of an amazingly wrought blade into its concealment and grabbed up his spears, she had entered the room. His back was turned to her when she hurried over to Jascha lying unconscious on the bed. She saw the gateway open and gave a silent gasp at the sight beyond the small opening in the thin air.

The Blight loomed through the portal beyond. Tall mountains in the distance and past them, she knew, stood Shayol Ghul. Her attention was turned back to Jas as she stirred. Iliana leaned close to hear what it was she was muttering.

"Take care. CD," she said very faintly. "The last embrace of the mother. . . home," she finished. Iliana looked back in surprise. Leaping forward she barely made it through the gateway before it snapped shut.

Written by Cor Dazar

Characters Cor Dazar, Grond, Jascha, Iliana, Maihgread, Zhaneel, Zhahn