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Epilogue: Beneath the Surface
Imprisoned in the dungeons beneath the Tower, Khenna Cellone sat with her back to the wall, rocking back and fourth with her arms around her legs. Up to this unfortunate day, she had been a Drin'far'ji and looked ahead of a prosperous life. As a secret believer in the Great Lord of the Dark, she had hoped that her hidden allegiance would, in the end, grant her some sort of advantage over her rivals... that she would have gained power in the hierarchy that was the cornerstones of the Warder Yards. Now, she had been captured along with Tyngen en'Ghall by a Novice and a Soldier. Tyngen had been imprisoned in the cell next to her own, and he kept weeping noisily. They had both been completely powerless... like dolls in the unseen hands of the True Source. The Tower Guard had finally placed them down there in wait for the party that had gone to the Claw Stone for battle. The forces that had won the Battle of the Claw Stone returned after the sun had vanished behind the horizon, and they were met by cheers all the way from the mountain road, through the Main Gate and all the way to the large double gates that lead into the main building itself. Servants in livery had come out to light their way with torches, and they formed a path through the crows. The horses were led to the stables, the wounded was carried or escorted to the Infirmary, yet both the unscathed and the wounded were celebrated as heroes in the Grand Hall. Channelers and Trainees alike raised their fists in the air and cheered for the victory. Most of them had not been aware of what exactly was happening until the word spread that the Shadow had been defeated before its forces had reached the Tower itself. Messengers from the Claw Stone had ridden home as soon as the outcome had been determined, and the whole Tower had turned into a kettle with gossip and whispers. When the forces returned, the brew had been on the stove for far too long. Servants had gathered under orders to throw flowers from the walkways that circled the hall and hand out refreshments to the home comers. When the large group of people arrived, a gathering of combatants descended the great stairs from the upper floors of the Tower. The M'Hael came down together with the Keeper of Chronicles. They were followed by Amora Sedai and Elisabet Sedai, Behind them strode an unknown Tower Guard and Antar Drin'far'ji. The came Durent Asha'man, Firredal Gaidin, Aynaiss Gaidar and Dedicated Jolartin. Not all knew, but they were all returning from their own battles, and they met the returning forces in the middle of the vast floor. Even higher cheers broke out, and the crowd wanted confirmation of the victory... wanted to know what had been truth in the wildfire of rumours that had spread through the corridors. Glaring out into the masses surrounding them all, Caden's freshly burned face gave some of those he locked eyes with pause. The ride back had granted him some rest and time to think, yet his conclusions had not granted him any respite. After he had arrived at the Claw Stone with Leanna, Beatrise Sedai and the Trainees, they had searched for the remains of the Dawn of Blood in the debris around the high cliff-formation. They had found the body of a young man wearing a Dedicated's uniform, but it had been impossible to certify the identity further than that. Beatrise Sedai carried a portrait which she claimed Amora Sedai had drawn from some sort of prophetic dream. The Gaidin Captain could have cared no less and had not even bothered to look at the portrait, for he had seen the Dawn of Blood up close himself... for the shadowsworn had branded him beyond recognition. The corpse they had found had been of the right height and weight, and patches of dark brown hair had been discerned on the back of the head. He believed that it was over, even though there had been some debate. But he did not like the spectacle he was suffering. How could they be celebrating? He wanted to climb up the stairs and begin to roar at the top of his lungs; to ask them all how they could be celebrating. Have you already forgotten all those who have died? What about those who had to die by our own hands, the Drin'far'ji who had been frightened into following the orders of the three Sa'ji'alantin? What about those innocent that has died because of our incompetence? Let us cheer for Luantar cen Thaal! Let us cheer for the dead, because we are alive! Disgusted by the faces around him, Caden limped his way to the Mistress of Arms, Ellisande Alenar. She stood with Sigmund Gaidin and Saphire Sedai. He focused his single functioning eye upon her face. "Ellisande," he rasped, then corrected himself to match his purpose, "Mistress of Arms, I hereby tender my resignation. You will have to find someone who can keep the Shadow out of the Yards, someone who does not accept evil into our midst. I have failed, and this is the very least I can do for amendment. My honour will never be restored after this day." With those words, Caden turned and staggered away from the hall, leaving the cheering behind. He made his way towards his study, where he would immediately remove his personal belongings. Leanna was safe in the company she was in, and he really did not feel like talking to anyone. As soon as his things were gone from the Gaidin Captain's study, he would find help for his condition in the Infirmary, and rest. The day had been a wearing one. Since so many had gathered in the Grand Hall, the hallways he passed through were mostly empty. His footsteps echoed down deserted corridors while he rested his hand against the burned side of his head. The pain was searing through his mind... making it impossible to think. The slick skin with cracks and craters felt too small for his skull, and the hole where his right ear had been was the epicentre of the agony, but the waves of pain stung the most when it passed over his white and blind eye. Beatrise had only managed to heal him halfway, and the flesh underneath the corrupt skin remained very affected. It was through this haze of pain that Caden saw someone stand tall in the middle of the corridor. It took him a moment to realise who it was. "Edon Santagar," he rasped to his squire as he continued to stagger in his general direction, "where have you been when I needed you?" His question was not truly meant as a reprimand, but the dark-haired young man seemed to take it as one. "Master Caden!" he exclaimed and ran to meet his liege, his white robe with two swords worked in black upon the chest billowing in his wake, "What has happened to you? Forgive me I... I... I left to follow your orders. You told me to find Aedomon al'Cor'vron but I failed. And when I returned to your quarters, neither you nor the two Warders were there..." Edon was staring wide-eyed at his master's face, and he trailed off with his words. Caden made his way past the young man, "It does not matter, Aedomon found his way there without you. We did not remain long in my chambers before we had to act. I'm sure you have heard all the rumours by now. This has been a dreadful day in Tower history." By the sound of a second pair of boots behind him, Caden heard that Edon followed. "Yes, master. I am most aware," said the squire slowly in reply. The Gaidin Captain was in no mood to recite all the events that had taken place that day, so he fell silent in dark thoughts. Edon knew when he should not speak, and in a comfortable silence, they made for the Warder Hall. Neither of them was aware of the person that shadowed them along their path.
Epilogue: Beneath the Surface
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