Ripple Three: Where are you, Luantar?
written by Antar al'Kadar, Janis Tearsin and Firredal Osiellin

Antar walked sorely toward his friends room. The bruises on his back were unnatural, but better to have them, than an unwanted end. Besides the three ji'alantin werent all that demanding. Yet. When he got there he politley knocked twice. No answer. Opening the door, he spoke, "Luantar its time t.." no one here. Sensing something not right, he hurried out. "Today is always our sparring day..."

Reaching the bottom step, a shadow casts itself on him, in the wrong place. Looking up, he sees his true friend, now dead.

Shock fills Antar, and he hears the last words Luantar had spoken, "We need to stand up to them, Antar. They are going overboard." He had argued, saying it wasnt worth the trouble. He should have helped his friend. Turning, he draws his sword, "Ill kill them!" He then runs into someone.

Jan whistled merrily as he strolled through the Warder halls. It was early morning, but most of the trainees were up and about. Some preparing for their morning classes, a few trying to sneak off and meet with some novice, but for some reason, many of them were milling around in front of the halls. He chuckled as he neared the exit, someone probably pulled a prank and hung the Gaidin Captain's underbreeches from the roof. Light, but he wouldn't want to be in the prankster's shoes when...

Jan exited the halls and stopped dead as he caught the expressions on the WiT's faces. Those were'nt expressions of jocularity or even humor. What...?

He glanced up, following the WiTs' gaze until...

Jan was an experienced soldier, he had seen death in most of it's infinite forms. But looking on the dead WiT swaying gently in the morning breeze, the Aielman felt his stomach twist.

even as he was fighting to keep his breakfast down, his mind was already spinning madly. Who did this? Not trollocs, they would have put the body in a stewpot rather than... Ugh. Myrdraal? No, the wounds aren't right for a tainted blade. They'd be much uglier. Same goes for Dragkhar and those hound things. Grey Man? Possibly, but why waste the attack on a Drin, why not Captain Ives or even a Channeler? Well then, what's left?

The answer hit him like a kick in the gut. There was a murderer in the Tower.

Jan turned to go back inside the halls, to find Captain Ives, or any Gaidar. Maybe Aviane or Sela Sedai could help as well. He had to find SOMEBODY...

Then Jan's shapr ears caught a rather out-of-place phrase considering the surroundings.

"I'll kill them!"

Jan also caught that familiar sound of metal on leather, the sound of a blade being drawn from it's sheath. The Aielman turned around, felt someone slam into his chest, and narrowly avoided getting skewered on the WiT's blade.

"Light, son," Jan yelped. "Put that pigsticker away before you hurt someone!" Jan stopped and stared at the WiT. He had seen him around the practice yards before, but he didn't really know him all that much. What he did know was the look in the boy's eyes. There was hate in those eyes, hate and death.

Jan's mind put the pieces together quite fast. he nodded up at the body and said; "you knew him." It wasn't a question. His voice was controlled, but laced with quiet authority. It was the same authority that had gotten him command of a small unit in the Andoran Lancers. "Why don't you put the blade away and tell me who, exactly, you want to kill. The 'why' part I can probably figure out on my own."

Rearing up to his full height, Antar felt a rage pass through him, he felt as if on fire. "Its my fault," he screams before shouldering heavily into Janis to remove him from his path. "Those ji will pay!!" passing a rack of Aiel spears, he grabs one and speeds up the stairs, but before he gets very far, he slips on the floor. He deftly moves the blades so as not to stab himself before standing again, fury taking his anger to heights never reached before.

Jan stumbled back as the Drin pushed past him, he realy hadn't been expecting such anger and violence from the boy. With a sigh, Jan picked himself up and dashed after the retreating figure. His eyes widened when he saw him grab the spear, and his pace quickened just a bit.

By the time he reached Antar, the other had already picked himself up off the floor and was starting to continue on. Jan sighed again and realized that there was probably only one way to get through the boy's anger.

Just before the boy got out of arm-reach, Jan grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled hard. At the same time, the big Aielman kicked the back of Antar's knees and brought his other hand around to grab the spear.

Antar hit the floor with a thud, but before he could get up, Jan's booted feet slammed into his sword, sending it spinning through the air. At the same time, Jan's fist whacked hard into the arm that was holding the spear, and when Antar loosened his grip, Jan yanked the spear away from him. The he twirled and caught the sword before it hit the ground and ended up kneeling beside the boy, holding the sword in one hand and the spear in the other.

"Now," he said, not even breathing hard. "Let me see if I can figure out what just happened here. You and the dead Drin were friends, and you know who killed him. That was the reason for your little tirade just now. You also, I believe, planned on going out and killing the murderers."

"Let me," he continued in a calm tone, "point out one little flaw in your plan. You just got the goosefeathers knocked out of you by a single Drin'Far'Ji, who was also unarmed. You planned to go out and kill at least two Ji'alantin, if what I heard was correct, who are skilled in battle and probably armed. Here's how that confrontation would have come out. You would have found the Ji, either challenged them to a duel or just attacked them outright, and you would have finished by swinging by the neck right beside your friend."

"Now, I just gave you a drubbing, and those bruises will hurt for a while. But I also saved your life. Otherwise, you'd be dead right now. That's not a very good way to avenge your friend, no matter what your intentions. Instead of killing someone, I want you to tell me everything you know about this murder. I want names, ranks, descriptions, and their room numbers, if you have them. Once you've told me that, we'll go from there."

Jan stood up and extended a hand to help Antar to his feet, waiting for a reply and making no move to hand the drin back his weapons.

Seeming to go from up to down again, he feels the weapons removed from his hands and is suddenly staring the man in the face, unarmed as the man demands answers. "I will tell you this, Janis I believe it is, The THREE, sa'ji'alantin's names are Ranno al'Din, Clavil Fon'har, and Jhedan Storm-foot. lately they have taken to threatining all of us younger ones, and lastly all i have to say is i am sorry for this..." Whipping his legs up, he wraps his legs around the mans neck and pulls hard,which pulls the man off and slams his head in the ground.

Jumping up he lands on his feet, and stomps on the sword wrist as hard as possible with the ball of his foot, and can feel the bone break. grasping the spear he twists it out of the mans grip. Looking down, he says, "And so it goes, never, never let your guard down. I am sorry, but i must go now... I pray you send help..."

Jan was once again caught off guard by the Drin's violence, and he enarly swooned from pain when the boy broke his wrist. He fell back as the spear was pried from his fingers and he dimly heard Antar's words as the drin dashed off.

For two seconds, Jan just lay there as waves of pain shot up his arm. Then something snapped inside of him. The pain was all but extinguished in a wall of pure, all-encompassing rage washed over him. With a snarl, the big Aielman pushed himself to his feet and took off after the retreating Drin. For Janis Tearsin, Drin'far'ji and all around nice guy, such a feat would have been impossible.

But Janis Tearsin wasn't Janis Tearsin anymore, Antar's rash actions had brought out a part of the Aielman that had been buried for nearly three years. Janis Tearsin was gone, and in his place was the Black Walker, the side of Jan that was cold, calculating, and merciless.

Jan's hot rage turned into cold fury as he got to his feet. Every muscle in his body was tense and ready, every sense he had was tuned up so highlty he could smell the dust on the walls. The Walker snarled and took off after Antar, his intent clear from the look o his face.

Jan caught up to the retreating Drin in just a few long strides. This time, he didn't waste time with pleasantries, he lashed out with one booted foot and caught the man right on the back of the knees. Jan was on him like white on rice as the boy went down again, and his one good hand slammed hard against the side of Antar's head.

He felt Antar start to roll over, and Jan hit him again. Waves of pain started shooting up Jan's arm, but he ignored them, concentrating on the task at hand. His good hand darted towards his sleeve; and suddenly, as if by magic, a neddle-pointed stilleto appeared in his grasp. Jan leaened forward, putting more wait on Antar's shoulderblades, and pressed the point of the stilleto right up against the back of his neck.

"You have two choices, kid," Jan's voice was harsh. "You can either come with me willingly, or I can send you home in a box. I really don't care either way, because I really really don't like you right now."

Firredal had been drawn by the commotion, arriving just in time to see one of the Trainees leaving with weapons drawn - definitely not suitable conduct - and another pursuing him. Both were larger than Firredal - one tall and clearly Aiel, the other shorter but solidly built. The Aielman intercepted the Andoran with a skillful disarm, but the Andoran struggled free.

Burn me, Firredal thought, and this was shaping up to be such a pleasant day, too.

Motioning for a pair of Ji'alantin to follow him, Firredal approached the two drin'far'ji. They'd moved a little further, and now the Aielman was kneeling on the Andoran's back with a knife out. There was something odd about his posture, and a moment later Firredal realized that he had an injured arm. This just gets better and better.

He moved past them, stationing himself in the direction that the Andorman had been headed, and regarded the two men for a long moment.

"Explain," he said at last.

On his back, a dagger blade tickeling his back, Antar let his fury go. What was the use of dying here, if he never got a chance to avenge Luantar? Knowing he had put Janis into this rage was even worse. He hated doing it, but at the time had only seemed like the logical thing to do. Next, a Gaiden showed. His old teacher in the sword, Firredel. 'Great,' he thinks. 'Now im probably going to get thrown out of the tower...'

Clearing his throat, as well as one possibly can with a face pressed into stone, Antar proceeds with his explanation. "Firredal Gaiden, I dont know how to explain what happened. As you can very well see," he tries to point at the body of his best friend Luantar, but that is extremely hard to do with a dagger poking you and the person holding not caring if they push it a little farther than needed. "Luantar, my, "stoping a moment in thought, then moving on, "friend there was hanged. I was going to kill those that had done it..." he says it matter of factly. " I bow now, to your better understanding of what needs to be done." He says this with clear effort, wanting to take out the ji himself. But better to not anger anyone more than he already had. "And sorry about the wrist." he said.

For a second, considering what Antar had done to Jan's arm and his now calm tone and expression, the Walker considered very seriously slamming his stiletto into the boy's skull.

Then the Walker was gone, and Janis Tearsin returned. The Aielman replaced his blade in it's forearm sheath and stood up slowly and painfully. His anger had cooled off somewhat, and he could no longer ignore the very real agony in his left arm. He leaned heavily against the wall and added his own explanation to what Antar had already told the Gaidin. His words came out in a cracked tone, as the pain was steadily increasing as he spoke.

"As for me," he said. "I figured out what was bothering this young idiot and tried to save him from himself. I thought, Ahh!" Jan hissed as a particularily nasty spasm traveled up his arm.

"I thought," he continued with a glare at the prostrate Drin, "that once I had taken away his weapons and shown him how easily he could be defeated, he might listen to reason."

Jan glanced at his left arm, which was starting to turn an ugly color and hurting even more. "I was a bit surprised when he not only didn't see the error of his ways, he compounded on them by breaking my arm and continuing on his suicidal charge."

Jan managed a bitter smile, "I imagine it was lucky for both of us that you came along, Gaidin, because I freely admit I was not in control of myself when I brought him down again. If you hadn't come by, there might have been two dead WiTs in the tower, instead of one."

Jan stopped talking and nearly swooned as another wave of pain hit him, but he forced himself to stay upright. "I feel it my duty to warn you, Gaidin," he continued with an effort, "that there has been a murder in the Tower. A murder which, according to the idiot, has been comitted by three Ji'Alantin. Antar can tell you the whole story, although I imagine you may have to beat him a little to get him to tell it to you."

Jan turned to Antar, cold fire burning in his eyes. "Understand, Antar," he said coldly. "I am angry right now. In all probability, I will cool off and come to forgive you for your rash and potentially deadly actions today. But until that time comes, I would suggest you avoid me like the plague."

Jan turned painfully to the Gaidin and mmade an attempt at a bow, "will there be anything further, Gaidin? Or may I go and seek medical attention?"

Firredal nodded slowly, his face utterly expressionless. Life in Cairhien had taught him that when he was much younger, and - much as he had detested the lesson - it had served him in good stead since then. "Both of you lost control," he said quietly. "That is unacceptable. Janis, you will report to the infirmary and have your arm mended. You will take the rest of the day off to recover... and by that I mean, recover your balance. I want your mind clear when you meet me by the sparring arena at Early tomorrow. Do you understand? Then off with you."

He studied Antar for a moment longer. "You will put your blade in its sheath, and the spear wherever you found it, and then you will accompany me to the office of the Gaidin Captain, where we will discuss your information and what needs to be done about it. Tonight you will consider how your loss of control could play into an enemy's plans, and tomorrow you will meet me at the sparring arena two hours after High to discuss it."

Chapter One: Dawn to Murder
~Ripple One: The Sunrise
~Ripple Two: A Written Order
~Ripple Three: Where are you, Luantar?
~Ripple Four: Uncertainty
~Ripple Five: One Fine Morning
~Ripple Six: Taking Action, at Whatever the Cost

Return to the Ripples Intro