Dragon's Library Fiction Contest on November 08, 1998
Category: WoT Age of Legends

A Rambling Viewpoint From The Age Of Legends

Simply one of my traditional rambles ..hope ya like it :)

The gleeman sat atop a hill within a blasted world, a land wounded severly by what had ensued, and what was still continuing. The Age of Legends, he reflected, watching the battles and balefire below, would be remembered as a great Age of splendor. It was that, he knew, but there was also a dark side to it. The Light and the Shadow seemed at a stalemate, neither Lews Therin nor the Dark One itself defeating the other.

A good thing, he knew, but only in certain ways. The gleeman was a spy, and knew that having the two major factions duke it out was the best way to go. He whispered a command to his second in command, who was in control of an elite squad, weaving its way within the war, and leaving by way of a Gateway each.

A few gleemen had been lost, but dexterity always was best when facing streams of balefire powerful enough to take out a city. Attack when your enemy is distracted, he had learned. The hard way, sometimes, in the case of the Forsaken Sammael. He would be remembered well, thought the gleeman. Bloody militants always were.

"Kiriath," a voice in his head said, though quietly, careful not to ruin his superior's thoughtful mood.

"Yes, Mazrin?" asked Kiriath, conversing with the voice.

"You must come see thi---" Mazrin broke off. Kiriath peered carefully below the high hill. Below him the Trollocs were fighting the Light as usual, not even noticing their watcher. So what was up?

"Mazrin?" His second had made no answer. Even for a spy, this was reason for paranoia. Had he been defeated?

Kiriath peered into the fighting and weaved a Gateway, stepping through to where the fighting was least intense, and where his friend would probably be. "Mazrin?"

His cohort was standing right in front of the gleeman, walking out from a group that suddenly disappeared. Balefire was dreadful, knew Kiriath; Mazrin had no scratches whatsoever, although those warriors had nearly done him in.

"What's the news?" asked the gleeman. Mazrin's tilted, Saldaean eyes showed nothing. "News, Mazrin?"

Mazrin stared at his leader absently and dropped to the ground. Another "Mazrin?" but this time with a slightly more crazy, nervous tone. "Not him, Intrigleeman, me."

Before Kiriath stood his lost love, brown hair flowing and blue eyes twinkling. The gleeman held his impulses within himself, and observed her carefully. Her twinkles seemed almost too much. "It isn't you, is it?" he said, his rambling coming out as hyper noises. "You never were quite so ..so... friendly."

The lady did no sudden changes, although time seemed to stop for Kiriath, and indeed, it actually may have. A few quick shifts, and the lady was, in reality, Sammael. "How did you know, Intrigleeman? How did you?"

"I know her, and I know you," he answered simply. "I know how you are."

Sammael frowned. "I guess that this won't affect you quite as strongly, then, will it?" A blast of balefire struck the gleeman, who agilely dodged.

Kiriath shot balefire from his own hands, and Sammael weaved a protective shield, which simply ceased to be after the balefire struck it. "Balefire tactics are truly fun," smiled Sammael, that scar pulsing red with his wary infuriation.

"Truly, they are," said Kiriath, countering the latest throw with a streak of his own. The two white lines banished each other from the air, the two combatants staring each other down.

Both retorted identically, at the same time. Although they never met. The white line about to connect with Kiriath's ..vanished. The gleeman looked at Sammael with a victorious grin, but dropped to the ground, just as his foe had done.

Or, as Kiriath had thought he had done. He rose and looked around. The battle was over. The Light had conquered the Shadow, it seemed, for the battlefield was lit with burning flames. Sammael was nowhere to be seen. Instead of a Forsaken, the Dragon was able to be seen in the sky. All good and fine, but Kiriath figured he knew what the man across from Lews Therin was all about.

The gleeman ran for his friends' tower, a place known as Ghenjei. As Lews Therin appeared to grow more and more mad in the sky, Kiriath drew closer and closer to the Tower, hoping against hope that he would stand a chance.

Just as Lews shot his final blast of the One Power, Kiriath raced within the open door to the Tower. Strange; it had never been open willingly before. No matter, that. For right now, the Dragon was going into his final stages of insanity, time slowing.

Kiriath knew, but how he did not know, that this foreshadowed ill tidings. The Dragon was nowhere to be seen, and the Tower itself was beginning to crumble. Even Ghenjei could not protect against that much Power! The spy panicked and did the last possible thing. He Traveled to a vacuole.

The entering of the vacuole had used all of his possible strength, so the gleeman knew he had worn himself out. Too much so. He panted, exhausted, and knew sleep was calling.

As sleep claimed him, only two thoughts came to his mind. One, that the vacuole was out of the Pattern, and would be a perfect place to begin his espionage in the next Age, and two, a fact he would remember forever. A commander on the battlefield himself, yet not understanding the events upon it, is one of the worst blunders possible for any army.


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