"From trophies the Aiel carried, it was obvious they were coming back from the Blight. The Trollocs had followed, but by the tracks only a few lived to return after killing the Aiel. As for the girl, she would not let anyone touch her, even to tend her wounds. But she seized the Seeker of that band by his coat, and this is what she said, word for word. 'Leafblighter means to blind the Eye of the World, Lost One. He means to slay the Great Serpent. Warn the People, Lost One. Sightburner comes. Tell them to stand ready for the end. Tell them ...' And then she died." 

Smoke wafted lazily out of the storyteller's pipe as the common room went quiet. Only the soft thuds of mugs setting down on wooden tabletops could be heard, as if the very world held its breath. Davian stared into his own cup, worry rising in his gullet. Not because he feared for the world at large, but because he knew his mind was changing already. 

After they had announced their intentions to kill the thief-woman, Davian had felt regret rise in his throat. It was an old feeling, and one he quite disliked. Not that he felt he did wrong by bringing a thief to justice, but before they even discovered what she had stolen, they had thought to execute her! He had no love for Aes Sedai, but it was not justice in the way he had imagined. Davian had hunted less reputable men for other men to get petty vengeances, he was not above such things if he could fill his belly. However, the High Lords were a reputable body and people he had assumed were to grant him the chance to make a name for himself in the south. Now, he knew not only were they going to keep their association a secret, but they were going to simply snip the head off the Aes Sedai without even speaking to her. 

He had left the Stone to grab himself a drink, making himself put one foot in front of the other for the money. It was not his business, he told himself. He had performed his duties and had done it well. Now he would wait for his payment... 

But then the light blasted storyteller walked into the common room. Someone without the flair of a true gleeman but with a voice that could captivate a crowd, only this night it was not of rumors in Illain, but portents of doom. Thunder and fire, Aiel, the roof of the world. He listened despite himself, and it only honed in just how poorly he felt of the whole situation. And he felt it in his gut as well. Witches they might be, but Aes Sedai were the largest thorns in the side of the dark one. 

"Blood and bloody ashes." He cursed, downing the last of his ale. 
[hr] 
[i]One Hour later...[/i]

Davian could feel nothing, see nothing. The flows of Saidar were as translucent to him as still air, and yet he saw the men being immobilized and flung back as if they were naught but toys. All save the last man, who gave a heroic effort to thrust his pike forward and end the woman's life. Even now Davian was unsure of what to do. He had convinced himself to save her, but seeing the power now wielded in front of him, it was unnatural, unsettling. He almost understood the Whitecloaks and their ravings about the Tar Valon heresies. For a moment he felt it would be best to stay in the shadows, watch the woman die, and collect his payment. 

And yet he found himself walking forward, saw himself take out his mace, and bludgeoned the pikeman on the back of the head. He saw the woman's eyes widen in surprise, and Davian's gaze met hers, locking for a moment. He then turned and proceeded to do the same to every man caught in her web, knocking them either unconscious or senseless. There was little blood, he was good at hitting someone without causing much damage to their body if need be. Once finished, standing over the last Defender, he glanced at her. 

"I will let you out of there. Just don't fling me around as well, deal?"