Title: Small memories
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them, not making money, so don't sue please, you wouldn't get anything anyway because all I own is a computer.

Reworked for better reading and clarity.

Maz...Maz... Ginal, the fever is getting worse...

"Steady Lijam, hold the flow, control it, flow with it. Now, ease gently into it, let it flow over you..."
Sweat trickled down his back as he felt the gentle flows of air constrict around him, lifting him a few feet off the ground. "Lews?"
A small smile was all that he received, "Better."

Mazrim? It's papa. Come on, open your eyes, I know you're tired, but please, light, just open your eyes...

It was so cold, but he had to concentrate. An Aes Sedai had to concentrate, to keep himself focused, even in the harshest of weather. The nothingness around him shivered, and he felt his power snapping back along its strands, heading for his heart...

Blast it, Maiz breathe! Please, just one breath, light, just give him one breath...

"Lijam, its alright, breathe. That's it."
He was so hot, it felt like his nerves were on fire. He opened his eyes and looked at the tent he was lying in, taking in the ornate dragon embroidered on the ceiling. He remembered the day when Lews showed it to him, beaming that his wife and daughter had made it for this expedition.
"Will he recover, sister?"
A cool hand was placed on his forehead, and he could feel the Aes Sedai probing. "He very nearly died, brother. Were it not for Zaladin he would already have passed into the light."
Then the cool hand was gone, replaced by something warm, soothing...

Papa, will Maiz be alright?
He could almost place the voice, could feel it, a blast of warmth against his cold skin. Fragments came back to him; the snow, Bani falling through the ice, the freezing water that burned his skin...
"If his fever breaks he will recover", this voice older, dry like dead leaves. "The herbs should help with the fever. Next time he stops breathing, turn him on his side to clear the congestion."
Odd, deep black eyes looking into his own, measuring him, talking to him, though he couldn't understand the language... better to sleep...

He carried the scars of his trials proudly, as a warrior should, thin pink raised crisscrosses that scaled his right arm. The fire that would have killed another had left him scared, but alive, and stronger than ever it seemed. The flows were so much easier to work, so simple. Lews Therin commented on his growing ability with each passing day...
A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, " The day of your testing is soon at hand, Lijam."

"I have to stay one step ahead, always ahead..."
Mazrim watched the young man before him as he hunched over the table, clutching his head. He could feel the madness spiraling through him, even though he tried to keep it to himself, tried to stay sane. He'd felt it himself before, the knawing sense that he was someone else when he looked at a ruin or read some old book, but it was nothing compared to the battle he saw raging before him. Too large hands gripped the red hair, metallic dragons slithering along their backs... twice and twice...

"Twice and twice shall he be marked, twice to live and twice to die..."
Lijam watched his son as he played with the water in his bath. Barely ten, yet able to work with water, molding it into shapes that seemed to defy imagination. Already recalling prophecies from snippets of the conversations he'd heard. He knew that soon he would have to give him to the tower for training, but before then he would enjoy these small moments in time.

Once the heron to set his path...
"Maz, did you say something?" soft voice, hand on his forehead, "Your heron?"
Small shuffling, brush of silk against his hand where her hair fell, smell of elderberries...
"Here you are, Maz." Cool hand resting on his forehead, brushing lank hair away, "I think the fever's breaking Ginal..."

Twice the heron to name him true...
"Another stunt like that and we wont have to worry about using practice swords."
Lajim looked up from his wounded hand to where Lews stood, Illyena looking anxiously between both men. Absently, he scratched at the heron branded on his hand that marked him as apprentice...

Once the dragon for remembrance lost...
Mazrim watched as Rand left, trying to shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach. For the barest of moments he had been someone else, heard a booming laugh. Shaking his head, he scratched at his collar, running a finger over the dragon in...

Twice the dragon for the price he must pay...
That's it Maiz, keep looking at my eyes...
Mazrim opened his eyes wider, taking in the anxious looks of his mother and father, Bani squeezed between them.
"Light, but you had us scared,"
Father? Two images collided in his mind, swirling between light and dark, then settled.
"Da?"
Bright smile as a tender hand caressed his aching head, " Da. Now get some sleep, Maiz, you'll feel better when you wake up."
Mazrim closed his eyes, squinting at the swirling dragons and herons in his mind.

Okay, that's it. I reworked this story (finally) because when I read it I saw how much it needed it. This was written back before certain facts were known about Mazraim Taim, so please keep that in mind. Remember people, feedback is needed. Feed the author! It makes me squirm with unholy glee to read what you send, honest!

Love and stuff
Writegirl