In Shai'tan's Embrace

In Shai'tan's Embrace

Razor-sharp teeth ripping, tearing, slashing. Her skin flies off in shreds and chunks. Monstrous, hideous dog mouths like cleaver blades slicing soft tissue, crushing delicate muscle, shattering slender bone. Rivulets of blood burst forth like never-ending fountains, as she heaved the gory contents of her lungs, like an obscene birth from the wrong orifice. Her screams gurgled grotesquely in her drowning throat. Claws raked her face, puncturing an eyeball. Savagely, her arm was snapped from its socket. Her last lucid thought, Shai'tan take me!

A quiver, a tremble, the earth, the air, everything merged into a sensuous whole, all Creation quavered in terrified, soundless anticipation. An all-consuming triumphant ecstatic roar erupted from beneath her, above her, all around - engulfing her mutilated, dying body like volcanic lava. Pure energy, the True Power surged through her a thousand times more electrifying than lightning. Her weak mind wanted to flee screaming into death but He was the omnipotent, all powerful personification of Death. And in his asphyxiating fist, He held her in a frozen thrall of awed, helpless wonder.

Hatred-love. Pleasure-pain. Fleeing-returning. Ecstasy-torture. Ugliness-beauty. Life-death.

*****

Ma's glazed eyes staring imploringly up at me. Her head, a bloodied pulp. My father raises a cudgel, stained with her blood. Blood dripping, dripping.
No! Not my fault! Couldn't help her, it was her fault, her fault! Shouldn't have tried to protect me. I hate her! I hate you! Mother? Please come back.

A girl, curled in a foetal position. Whimpers. No, Pa, please don't. I'll do anything you want, anything at all! The blows descended - a belt, a whip, fists. Mustn't scream, he likes it when I scream. Her body trembled, shook… with pain… and a quiver of gratification? She deserved it. Of pleasure?

Jilan Moranez, stop being such a scaredy cat, such a useless mouse! Her lips curled. Kill him now, like with that fox. Slowly, carefully, kill him!
She was seized with violent fear. Whimpers. Can't, I can't. I daren't. Go away, Jilandi.
A mocking laugh.
She tried to reason with her desperately. Anyway, if I kill him, who's to punish me? You like it too. You do. Away, Jilandi Taseldere!
Blackness threatens to overwhelm, the usual violence of her leaving. Then she was alone again, memory of Jilandi already rapidly fading.

These strange times of blackness that suddenly take me, like a kidnapper in the night. I wake, this bloodied mess of fur and slippery flesh in my reddened hands. I had killed a hare although I can never recall how. I want so much to lick it. To run my tongue through its cloying warmth, its metallic sweetness. I am repulsed. I want to run away. I want to go home.

Now that Pa's dead, don't think you can get away with your lazy ways, wench! Actually, you can satisfy me like you satisfied Pa!
He lunges, like an ogre. I try to get away. He grabs my hair and pulls me to the ground. Stars fly in my eyes, another strike, blood pours down my nose. I feel the familiar blackness coming to engulf me. I welcome it, embrace it. I try to push it away.
Jilandi! Help me. No, keep away, you can't kill, no! Jilandi!

Laughter racked her body. Weilan stiffens, surprised, then raises his hand to shut his sister up. With one hand, I reach up and grab his wrist with superhuman strength. The way his eyes widened with a warring mixture of tenuous bewilderment and rising rage at being thwarted was indeed priceless.
It's my turn to be in control now.
With a roar of anger, he tries to retaliate.
Bright light courses through me, I bathe in its dazzling, scorching brilliance.

Blink. A huge force has propelled him ten feet to the opposite side of the room. He is lying over some overturned chairs, one of his legs pinned under him at an awkward angle.
I laugh again. And it felt so good. I deserve this. I have the power!
There was absolute terror painted across his disgusting face, horror as if he saw mirrored in mine his hideous fate.
I lick my lips as I advance slowly on him, helpless before me, like countless other beasts.
I squeeze. I will make his death so heart-rendingly beautiful, the most beautiful of all.
And see his eyes pop out of their sockets, his hands clutching feebly at his chest. I dwelve deeper, squeeze harder. Overwhelming gratification.
The chambers of the heart violently spasm, burst, catalysing multiple explosions in the connecting arteries and veins.
I take his lungs and slice them to ribbons within him. The twisted convulsions of his pain became mine of intoxicating pleasure.
With peaking excitement, I try to flay him inside out using the power.
The intense satiation was shaking my slight body so much, I could not stand or breathe. And she leaves.

I fall.

***

I kneel before Ameina and Belantho and stated formally.
Beneath the Light and with the hope of my salvation and rebirth, I hereby swear that so long as I shall live, I will never kill or in any way maim another living thing unless it is for the protection of life and limb. So hear these words for by them, I do hereby stand by this oath until the end of my days.
And the Yellow Sister smiles at me and helps me up. I feel like I am on top of the world. I feel so buoyant, I can fly. I am in control. But for good now, always and forever.

With Ameina guiding me, I take the dying man's hand and dwelved. Before my very eyes, I searched out every damaged cell and made it regrow, made it reunite into the wondrous whole, made broken flesh knit together, dispelled the bad humours from diseased skin - watched the glow of life return like a fresh breath of cool air into his body. It was beautiful. His eyes glistened with tears of immense gratitude. This sense of kinship between us, this feeling of an unbreakable bond, as if I had done this before, countless times, this instantaneous glimpse of pasts and destinies shared. I have given him life, like the Creator. I have Healed him. I could do this forever.

***

A young woman in a white dress, hemmed with seven colours, glances surreptitiously over her shoulder as she sneaks into a vault in the Tower Library, where even most Browns have been forbidden to enter. The vault contained dangerous, heretical works. So much like Aes Sedai - unwilling to share the illicit knowledge, yet unable to destroy it either. The works devour her, makes her feel light-headed. Even time she sits down to read a dusty scroll, she has this odd sensation as if another person was reading with her. The feeling sometimes is very strong.
I whip my head around and demand softy, "Who is it?"
No-one answers.
My eyes slowly rove up and down the dark shelves.
"Is anyone there?"
The question echoes in my head. Almost, I think I hear something but soon it is gone.

What fascinated me was that what some Aes Sedai branded as heretical, I saw as enlightening or as raising many other questions. Like injustice, suffering, pain, death. Disturbingly, memories of my past seep back into my consciousness, even though I thought I have pushed it forever into the darkest recesses of my mind with no possibility of retrieval. And it is then that scales fell from my eyes and I see, as if from a mountain-peak, the endless plains of possibilities, implications, tantalizing half-known truths. The White became my Ajah.

***

Tremours ripple my diminutive frame.
I haven't seen her for such a long time. What if she turns away from me? What if she says I'm bad, like all the other Whites? What if - ?
My lungs stop.
Ameina enters, the golden one, catching every ray of light, a gentle floating haze.
She smiles, her eyes brighten with joy.
I could die this instant.
She catches me in a warm embrace. Kisses my cheeks with the happy enthusiasm of meeting a beloved pupil, a much missed fellow Sister, a best friend.
I wanted to cry.

I cannot stand the suspense any longer.
"Ameina, you should have heard by now… about my writings… what others have said…"
Her hand is instantly on my arm, light as an alighting dove.
I hesitantly look up onto her face and all was illuminated.
"Jil, you should now that from the very beginning, I always have and always will believe and know that whatever you do, you do for good. This is what you are. This work is your pride, just as Healing is mine. I will never judge you because of it. Besides, knowing the White Ajah, most of them should come around eventually. Whites and controversial issues are as bees are to honey."

She was the only one who had ever so unconditionally loved and accepted me. Not like a mother, definitely not, I never really had one to compare. Neither a sister. But she was more than a friend. She was an essential part of me.
She continues the conversation.
"What you need is some relief from the White Tower. Come with me to Manetherene. The Mother will be leading a group of Sisters and Warders there to celebrate the Anniversary of the Compact of the Ten Nations."
I was stricken to disappoint her.
"I cannot, I am caught in the middle of writing my third volume."
The conversation continued from there, both of us bathed in the warm benevolence of the afternoon sun.

***

The ink of the title 'Reasons why the Wheel should be Broken' had barely dried on her last work, when she shifted the pieces of paper for her first two - "Evidence on how the Creator Forsook the World" and "The Good Side of the Remaking of the Pattern." Settling on the latter, she began editing, unaware due to her intense concentration, that the oil lamp was very low on fuel. Amidst the guttering light, soon to be slain by the surrounding eagerly-awaiting gloom, her eyes fell heavier and heavier. Sleep became her embalming caccoon.

I feel myself being lifted, carried and then set down softly on a bed, as if I was a delicate porcelain vase, fragile and precious. I feel his presence, kneeling by the bed, his eyes absorbing me into his being. He shifts his weight to regain his feet.
Moving slightly, I mumble, "Belantho."
It had the effect of a thunderbolt, immobilising him in the middle of his motion.
I open my eyes, seeing in him all I admired, desired, loved.
"Stay", I say, although not a command, was also not a request. A request opened up the risk of rejection and I tremble at the fear of being spurned.

"I am old enough to be your - " he started.
As fast as a viper, I rise and stopped his lips with my fingers. NOT MY FATHER, NEVER SAY FATHER!!!
I trust you, I love you. Don't turn away from me.
Memory of how I had met him flickered at the back of my mind. He was the Warder of Ameina, who had come to save and redeem me. Suspicion and fear made me hate him, I saw him as a man like my father and brother. But he was so unendingly patient, so wondrously sensitive, like a trickle of water, he broke through my walls, creating a pool of affection which until now, we had never realized had matured into something more.

Slowly, he reached over to hold my wrist - I feel a quaver in his touch, Belantho, a man who did not even flinch when nicked with a Myddraal's blade - pulling my hand away from his mouth. Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed him. Unvoluntary quivers passed between us and as he passionately molded his lips into mine, I pulled him deeper down into my embrace.
The only man I had ever loved.

***

I rage. I shriek. I scream.
I am a being possessed. As if all the grief and fury in the world have been bottled up into my small body.
Burn the world! Burn the Light! Creator, BURN!!!
Ameina and Belantho dead in the Battle of Manetherene.
How could You? They gave life. And You took theirs away. DAMN YOU BURN!!!! I HATE YOU I HATE ALL DIE DIE DIE I WANT TO DIE TAKE ME AWAY CURSE ALL SHAITAN TAKE ME!
The world appears in frames and flashes.
A dog rushes out from a nearby farm, barking. I throw a fireball.
A child comes running looking for her pet. I lift her and smash her skull against a rock.
Her family approaches to see what is wrong. I decapitate them all.
I pass a rose garden of exquisite beauty. I raze them to the ground.
I head for Shuyol Ghul to demand Shai'tan to grant me the oblivion of death.

*****

I am slipping.
Total blackness engulf.
An instant.

I suck in my first breath.
I open my eyes. And see a luminous cold-blue and malevolent black miasma swirling in ominous, rhythmic vibrations at the sepulchral dome of the voluminous cavern above me.
The very air throbbed with the lusciously seductive song of the True Power, alluring and dangerous.
As if impelled, I rise from the rock on which I had lain, the skirts of my ivory dress lying about me in heavy folds. I glance down at my whole, remade body as if seeing it for the first time, my senses amazed at the sight. My soul struggled with this sudden reinjection into the Pattern, this forced reincarnation. Only the Great Lord has this much power, the Great Lord of the Grave.

My resurrection has transformed me.
The cowering timid mouse, that is me.
The raging hate-filled avenger, that is me.
The cold composed controller, that is me.
The first time that the three of me had existed together without struggling for domination.
Instead, all were quiescent, enchanted and awed in the Great Lord's presence, basking in His euphoric glory, drenched in His orgiastic pain and pleasure. The monstrously giant Darkhounds that had torn me apart now lay obediently at Ba'alzamon's feet as I listened, spellbound, to his stroking promises of vengeance eternal and blood everlasting.

Jilandi Taseldere
Sister of the Black Ajah