Summary: Lews Therin Telamon wasn't the only connection Rand had to the Dragon, but something...
Counting Dragons (Wheel of Time/Malazan)
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Chapter 1
Summary: Lews Therin Telamon wasn't the only connection Rand had to the Dragon, but something darker, older.
Here it is.
Chapter 1
It was a moment in time when epiphany hits you like a brick over the head, almost staggering in its implication. His son was different. He knew that, ever since he picked him up on that mountain so long ago. At the time, what he didn't know was just how truly special the boy really was.
As the babe started to age, Rand showed signs of intelligence that was so rare in children. It felt a waste to not nurture that brain of his, so he and his wife taught the child as much as he could. The letters and numbers, of tales of myths and legends, eventually going into the historical events of their recent paths and all the way back to the Breaking of the World. Tam felt that he and his wife's ability to teach was limited. He was no rich merchant with the coin to give his son such an incredible opportunity, but he did have influence in Emond's Field.
Besides, the people of Emond's Field loved the boy, always doting on the polite lad. Bran al'Vere, the mayor of their tiny village, lent whatever books the boy asked for. Bran would say, "Aye, but the boy is bright enough to question old Cenn Buie. He would make a fine addition to the Village Council, may the Light be willing."
For some odd reason, Tam caught the look of a tiny smile on his son, as if he was hiding some sort of mischief.
After his mother's passing, Rand grew a little more distant. It was as if the lad was seeing the world for the very first time. That could do that to any children that lost their mothers, Tam figured. It was a time when young children learn what death meant in this harsh and unfair world.
That crevice grew wider, and he found that there was a certain cold calculation on the child. It was as if the child was weighing the weight of the people on a scale to be a judge. These villagers, enamored by his charm could not see what he could see.
The thought terrified him, he knew. Patience was the answer, so he kept silent.
As the years passed, the boy learned much from him, and they drew closer as a result. The changes were gradual but important enough that Tam felt it was the time he taught him something that had been useful to Tam. He taught the boy the void and the flame.
"An interesting philosophy," Rand responded, his chubby face of ten summers concentrated into something fierce. It would have been cute, if not for the amusement dancing in those eyes. "I would like that,"
Tam smiled, but nodded as he continued to eat his food.
Rand had a mental discipline that most children lacked, a willful strength that felt all too intimidating. Some noticed the oddity surrounding the boy, that feeling of strangeness and abnormality. The children especially, but they loved him for it. Rand gave good advice, and looked after them as much as his time allowed.
The only children Rand calls his best of friends was that Perrin boy, a gentle giant learning the forges with master Luhhan, and that troublesome child Matrim. Matrim brings trouble wherever he goes, and drags Rand alongside him, inadvertently dragging along the poor boy Perrin.
Rand didn't seem to mind, he even enjoyed some of the pranks Matrim came up with.
It was during Rand's marrying age came that things started to get interesting.
---
Rand dreamt of dragons and darkness. It was a dream, he knew. Silanah, a dreaded winged beast roared indignantly, despairing. Eventually, she slept for a long time. Now, she awakens, seeking him. In his heart, he knew her, but not how, or why. He wasn't scared of the dragon, for the Eleint was as much a part of him as he was a part of it. Rand wished to find her, but how?
The dreams came and went, as the years passed. How did this knowledge come to him? He wondered. The lands were different then, of continents and landmasses he did not recognize today. Even the stars were different, and that dismayed him, but he did not know why.
There was power here, pure and bright as varying as the people that inhabited this world. No more, as dust that fell to the tides of time; his people no longer existed. Magic was gone, as well. A little of him died that moment when that cursed knowledge came to him. Rand did not know why, but he could not deny the resulting inevitability, for what would he do but weep for a people long dead?
All that mattered was that Silanah was still here, and he would find her.
Then, there was a voice, sometimes, of a madman. He mutters and screams, of his wife and family lost. Rand seared his very presence away from his mind, burning away the remnants that dared leech into his very soul. A corruption, that led to further corruption that lived and sung in his veins.
The power, shining and pure, dulled and drudged with an oily slickness that seeped into his very soul. The irony of ironies, Rand thought, though he could not fathom the reason. He comes to possess the very power of the Light, the antithesis of the Darkness that he so very much loved.
Is that you, Father Light? Vatha Urusander?
Come what may, he shall not turn away, for the power was the fuel that helped shape his supreme will, and burn away the taint that dared infiltrated his mind and soul.
Rand roared, not unlike a dragon, the Light pressing into the taint that encroached upon his realm. He pressed into the taint, smothering it, suffocating the strength of the Dark One. Oh, the Eldest did not like that. As if in response, the power of the taint reacted, reaching into his mind, twisting and muddying it in a relentless storm of malevolence.
There was a link between the taint and somewhere far north. He could follow it if he wished, and destroy it. Rand was not ready, or powerful enough, to contest the strength of the Dark One. That tiding shift that connected the taint to the True Power, also connected to him and his soul.
Rand would not have any of it, for whatever power and strength he knew, he felt he was owed a debt. A debt the Dark One will fulfill.
"Come, Dark One, come and play with me. My will is my own, and your debt is still owed," His mind, the sheer strength of his will shattered his connection to the taint. "Your power, Dark One, will help me save my own."
Rand may have severed the connection he had with the taint, but he did not let it go. He would not, for his Light shined through, urging, corraling the taint into a new direction. A Warren in his flesh, a creation of his own making not seen since the most ancient lands shifted and continents sunk. A warren not unlike the Eldering One. What pull and push he could feel from the taint, was a test against a titan as towering as the world itself.
The place of power sung in his arteries and veins, his heart and lungs. He could feel the tainted rush of power pushing for its influence in this new source, but he would not let it. What fuel he gained, he used, and the taint that occupying it was withered away by the will of his mind and the Light of his power, purifying it.
The new source was a Warren, filled with his power, untainted and pure. The One Power he drew his power from will always be tainted, no matter how many times he seared it away, so he created a new one. A challenge to all that may deny him. The Dark One thought to infiltrate this new source, even now, and the Eldest let Rand do with it as he wished. Now, he was denied, used up as if he were a whore.
Rand conveyed that particular thought to the Dark One, even as he burnt away whatever remnants that remained to leach from him.
"Your dept is finished, Dark One, now fall!" Rand could feel the anger of the Dark One rippling, a wave of rage, a force of a tsunami that would have shattered a lesser man. Rand was once an Ascendant, a Knight of High House Dark and the son of Mother Dark herself. He once challenged Chaos, and won. What could the Dark One bring, against the likes of him?
"Your play has yet to end, Eldest," It was not Rand that spoke this time, but something ancient, old as the mountains that rose and fell. "You will come to rue the day you tainted Burn. You challenged me, in a place you have no power over. A thing of Chaos you are, and I shall teach you to regret."
A warren was a temporary place to draw his power from, but also an everlasting one should the taint be never removed from the One Power.
--
Five years later
Rand awoke to the sun shining through his window. The windows were open, but not quite closed, letting in all the cool air into his room. Grumbling, Rand rose from his bed and closed the window properly, and covered the window with the curtains.
"Lad, you ready to leave for the village?" His father said, sliding the door open to stick his face in. There was a worried look in his eyes, but Rand smiled.
"Of course, let's not waste any more time, then," Rand watched him give a fatherly smile, and was gone the next.
It wasn't long before father was nudging Bela along the road. The mare pulled along the cart, filled to the brim with casks of his father's apple brandy and barrels of apple cider. Even the mighty wind had no pull against the steady Bela, a reliable horse if he ever saw one.
It has been weeks since they left for the village, and today was the day of Bel Tine, a celebration of the coming of spring. Rand couldn't wait to see Perrin and Mat, and it felt like forever since they had eaten together at the Inn, or made any sort of trouble.
Rand held his bow steady, his arrow on the other. There was no need to be wary, the danger that presented on these roads were little to none. The wolves that have been recently sighted were rare, but only looked for sheep. They knew the danger of coming near men.
Snow clung to the ground, refusing to be melted away despite the coming of spring. Winter had been bad for everyone, killing off animals and crops in its unceasing winds. His father was wary enough to carry his spear, but what good that would do against a desperate pack of wolves or starving bear was anyone's guess.
Rand sighed. He held his weapon steady, feeding all his uneasiness into the flame. The flame was a beacon in his mind. He touched Bela on the flank, feeling the steady rhythmic steps of her feet. The mare was the very incarnation of stability, comforting his dubious thoughts and bringing serenity in his heart.
The void helped steady his nerves when times made him vulnerable.
Rand smiled. It has been a long few weeks since he has made into the village and tasted some of the goodwife's cooking from the Winespring Inn.
He could almost smell the taste lingering in the back of his nostril. His father wasn't the best of cooks, leaving Rand to do all the cooking. It was a boon, in a way, allowing him to experiment a little when he had the time and the ingredients.
Rand glanced back over his shoulder. He almost froze, but kept walking backward. The horseman following them from behind twenty paces away, gleamed in the misty shadows of the background, glaring at them with such hate and anger it felt almost tangible. Rand could only find the outline a pale face hidden beneath the hood. The hood was low enough that the eyes were hidden.
It followed them, slowly, warly almost. If he were right, it was wary of him. Rand smiled ruefully.
Rand could feel the power stirring inside him, within in his Warren. He didn't pull it out. The... thing had no cause for attack, despite the hesitation that came from it. The attack might happen soon. He didn't know how, or when, but he felt it.
He turned his back on the creature and continued walked alongside Bela. Rand didn't mention any of it to his father. It would only cause him to worry unnecessarily. Ignoring it, for now, will be for the best. Seeking it out now will only make it worse, and his father was here beside him. Should anything happen to him, Rand will not forgive the creature. Besides, he had no weapon, and Rand wished he could have taken his father's blade still lying hidden within the house.
His father still didn't know Rand had found his blade so many years ago, and he had not sought out any sort of confrontation as to the meaning behind it. He might have been a soldier once, if the rumors were to be correct on the heron marked blades, so Rand will wait.
Rand couldn't wait to visit the inn. Plenty of stories to be had and troublemaking to be found.
Here it is.
Chapter 1
It was a moment in time when epiphany hits you like a brick over the head, almost staggering in its implication. His son was different. He knew that, ever since he picked him up on that mountain so long ago. At the time, what he didn't know was just how truly special the boy really was.
As the babe started to age, Rand showed signs of intelligence that was so rare in children. It felt a waste to not nurture that brain of his, so he and his wife taught the child as much as he could. The letters and numbers, of tales of myths and legends, eventually going into the historical events of their recent paths and all the way back to the Breaking of the World. Tam felt that he and his wife's ability to teach was limited. He was no rich merchant with the coin to give his son such an incredible opportunity, but he did have influence in Emond's Field.
Besides, the people of Emond's Field loved the boy, always doting on the polite lad. Bran al'Vere, the mayor of their tiny village, lent whatever books the boy asked for. Bran would say, "Aye, but the boy is bright enough to question old Cenn Buie. He would make a fine addition to the Village Council, may the Light be willing."
For some odd reason, Tam caught the look of a tiny smile on his son, as if he was hiding some sort of mischief.
After his mother's passing, Rand grew a little more distant. It was as if the lad was seeing the world for the very first time. That could do that to any children that lost their mothers, Tam figured. It was a time when young children learn what death meant in this harsh and unfair world.
That crevice grew wider, and he found that there was a certain cold calculation on the child. It was as if the child was weighing the weight of the people on a scale to be a judge. These villagers, enamored by his charm could not see what he could see.
The thought terrified him, he knew. Patience was the answer, so he kept silent.
As the years passed, the boy learned much from him, and they drew closer as a result. The changes were gradual but important enough that Tam felt it was the time he taught him something that had been useful to Tam. He taught the boy the void and the flame.
"An interesting philosophy," Rand responded, his chubby face of ten summers concentrated into something fierce. It would have been cute, if not for the amusement dancing in those eyes. "I would like that,"
Tam smiled, but nodded as he continued to eat his food.
Rand had a mental discipline that most children lacked, a willful strength that felt all too intimidating. Some noticed the oddity surrounding the boy, that feeling of strangeness and abnormality. The children especially, but they loved him for it. Rand gave good advice, and looked after them as much as his time allowed.
The only children Rand calls his best of friends was that Perrin boy, a gentle giant learning the forges with master Luhhan, and that troublesome child Matrim. Matrim brings trouble wherever he goes, and drags Rand alongside him, inadvertently dragging along the poor boy Perrin.
Rand didn't seem to mind, he even enjoyed some of the pranks Matrim came up with.
It was during Rand's marrying age came that things started to get interesting.
---
Rand dreamt of dragons and darkness. It was a dream, he knew. Silanah, a dreaded winged beast roared indignantly, despairing. Eventually, she slept for a long time. Now, she awakens, seeking him. In his heart, he knew her, but not how, or why. He wasn't scared of the dragon, for the Eleint was as much a part of him as he was a part of it. Rand wished to find her, but how?
The dreams came and went, as the years passed. How did this knowledge come to him? He wondered. The lands were different then, of continents and landmasses he did not recognize today. Even the stars were different, and that dismayed him, but he did not know why.
There was power here, pure and bright as varying as the people that inhabited this world. No more, as dust that fell to the tides of time; his people no longer existed. Magic was gone, as well. A little of him died that moment when that cursed knowledge came to him. Rand did not know why, but he could not deny the resulting inevitability, for what would he do but weep for a people long dead?
All that mattered was that Silanah was still here, and he would find her.
Then, there was a voice, sometimes, of a madman. He mutters and screams, of his wife and family lost. Rand seared his very presence away from his mind, burning away the remnants that dared leech into his very soul. A corruption, that led to further corruption that lived and sung in his veins.
The power, shining and pure, dulled and drudged with an oily slickness that seeped into his very soul. The irony of ironies, Rand thought, though he could not fathom the reason. He comes to possess the very power of the Light, the antithesis of the Darkness that he so very much loved.
Is that you, Father Light? Vatha Urusander?
Come what may, he shall not turn away, for the power was the fuel that helped shape his supreme will, and burn away the taint that dared infiltrated his mind and soul.
Rand roared, not unlike a dragon, the Light pressing into the taint that encroached upon his realm. He pressed into the taint, smothering it, suffocating the strength of the Dark One. Oh, the Eldest did not like that. As if in response, the power of the taint reacted, reaching into his mind, twisting and muddying it in a relentless storm of malevolence.
There was a link between the taint and somewhere far north. He could follow it if he wished, and destroy it. Rand was not ready, or powerful enough, to contest the strength of the Dark One. That tiding shift that connected the taint to the True Power, also connected to him and his soul.
Rand would not have any of it, for whatever power and strength he knew, he felt he was owed a debt. A debt the Dark One will fulfill.
"Come, Dark One, come and play with me. My will is my own, and your debt is still owed," His mind, the sheer strength of his will shattered his connection to the taint. "Your power, Dark One, will help me save my own."
Rand may have severed the connection he had with the taint, but he did not let it go. He would not, for his Light shined through, urging, corraling the taint into a new direction. A Warren in his flesh, a creation of his own making not seen since the most ancient lands shifted and continents sunk. A warren not unlike the Eldering One. What pull and push he could feel from the taint, was a test against a titan as towering as the world itself.
The place of power sung in his arteries and veins, his heart and lungs. He could feel the tainted rush of power pushing for its influence in this new source, but he would not let it. What fuel he gained, he used, and the taint that occupying it was withered away by the will of his mind and the Light of his power, purifying it.
The new source was a Warren, filled with his power, untainted and pure. The One Power he drew his power from will always be tainted, no matter how many times he seared it away, so he created a new one. A challenge to all that may deny him. The Dark One thought to infiltrate this new source, even now, and the Eldest let Rand do with it as he wished. Now, he was denied, used up as if he were a whore.
Rand conveyed that particular thought to the Dark One, even as he burnt away whatever remnants that remained to leach from him.
"Your dept is finished, Dark One, now fall!" Rand could feel the anger of the Dark One rippling, a wave of rage, a force of a tsunami that would have shattered a lesser man. Rand was once an Ascendant, a Knight of High House Dark and the son of Mother Dark herself. He once challenged Chaos, and won. What could the Dark One bring, against the likes of him?
"Your play has yet to end, Eldest," It was not Rand that spoke this time, but something ancient, old as the mountains that rose and fell. "You will come to rue the day you tainted Burn. You challenged me, in a place you have no power over. A thing of Chaos you are, and I shall teach you to regret."
A warren was a temporary place to draw his power from, but also an everlasting one should the taint be never removed from the One Power.
--
Five years later
Rand awoke to the sun shining through his window. The windows were open, but not quite closed, letting in all the cool air into his room. Grumbling, Rand rose from his bed and closed the window properly, and covered the window with the curtains.
"Lad, you ready to leave for the village?" His father said, sliding the door open to stick his face in. There was a worried look in his eyes, but Rand smiled.
"Of course, let's not waste any more time, then," Rand watched him give a fatherly smile, and was gone the next.
It wasn't long before father was nudging Bela along the road. The mare pulled along the cart, filled to the brim with casks of his father's apple brandy and barrels of apple cider. Even the mighty wind had no pull against the steady Bela, a reliable horse if he ever saw one.
It has been weeks since they left for the village, and today was the day of Bel Tine, a celebration of the coming of spring. Rand couldn't wait to see Perrin and Mat, and it felt like forever since they had eaten together at the Inn, or made any sort of trouble.
Rand held his bow steady, his arrow on the other. There was no need to be wary, the danger that presented on these roads were little to none. The wolves that have been recently sighted were rare, but only looked for sheep. They knew the danger of coming near men.
Snow clung to the ground, refusing to be melted away despite the coming of spring. Winter had been bad for everyone, killing off animals and crops in its unceasing winds. His father was wary enough to carry his spear, but what good that would do against a desperate pack of wolves or starving bear was anyone's guess.
Rand sighed. He held his weapon steady, feeding all his uneasiness into the flame. The flame was a beacon in his mind. He touched Bela on the flank, feeling the steady rhythmic steps of her feet. The mare was the very incarnation of stability, comforting his dubious thoughts and bringing serenity in his heart.
The void helped steady his nerves when times made him vulnerable.
Rand smiled. It has been a long few weeks since he has made into the village and tasted some of the goodwife's cooking from the Winespring Inn.
He could almost smell the taste lingering in the back of his nostril. His father wasn't the best of cooks, leaving Rand to do all the cooking. It was a boon, in a way, allowing him to experiment a little when he had the time and the ingredients.
Rand glanced back over his shoulder. He almost froze, but kept walking backward. The horseman following them from behind twenty paces away, gleamed in the misty shadows of the background, glaring at them with such hate and anger it felt almost tangible. Rand could only find the outline a pale face hidden beneath the hood. The hood was low enough that the eyes were hidden.
It followed them, slowly, warly almost. If he were right, it was wary of him. Rand smiled ruefully.
Rand could feel the power stirring inside him, within in his Warren. He didn't pull it out. The... thing had no cause for attack, despite the hesitation that came from it. The attack might happen soon. He didn't know how, or when, but he felt it.
He turned his back on the creature and continued walked alongside Bela. Rand didn't mention any of it to his father. It would only cause him to worry unnecessarily. Ignoring it, for now, will be for the best. Seeking it out now will only make it worse, and his father was here beside him. Should anything happen to him, Rand will not forgive the creature. Besides, he had no weapon, and Rand wished he could have taken his father's blade still lying hidden within the house.
His father still didn't know Rand had found his blade so many years ago, and he had not sought out any sort of confrontation as to the meaning behind it. He might have been a soldier once, if the rumors were to be correct on the heron marked blades, so Rand will wait.
Rand couldn't wait to visit the inn. Plenty of stories to be had and troublemaking to be found.
Last edited:
Chapter 2
If there are any mistakes, please inform me.
Chapter 2
As they drew into the village, the children came rushing about, playing with hoops or chasing dogs. The Goodwives they passed nodded to them, though some more than others were eying up his father like a piece of meat. An uncomfortable thought, that. The women have been quite relentless in trying to introduce his father to the widows of Emond's Field. Even Rand was targeted, as they bribed him with meat pies and a whisper to the ears of his father.
The men they passed shown none of that. They passed respective nods and welcoming exchanges or a short talk here and there as they made their way to the Winespring Inn. The people of this village respected his father, of that Rand was sure of. He was part of the Village Council, which comes with great responsibility and overseeing much of the fanfare that comes into the village, which wasn't much.
Now that it was the year of Bel Tine, there was great work to be done. As for Rand? Well, he figured he could find some trouble Mat and Perrin would get up to.
It wasn't long before they arrived at a patch of green earth in the middle of the village, which people of the village called it the Green. It was where the Winespring Inn rested, right next to the Wagon Bridge, and the home to the mayor himself. It was the only building in all the village made of stone, and the roof made of red tile.
On a patch of dirt rested a large stack of large logs, where the Bel Tine fires will begin at the start of the celebration. The women sang as they erected the Spring Pole in the center of the Green, where the too-younger girls of unmarrying age stood by, where their hairs unbraided remained.
The look of envy was obvious on their faces, but Rand pretended none of this existed, as all men had to. The Spring Pole will be raised in the morning, and all the girls of marrying age will dance around the pole, entwining the pole with colored ribbons as the men sang.
It was a time of feasting, gifting, and celebrating a time of the coming new year when winter had finally disappeared. A changed year, a welcoming year, despite the unceasing frost and the invisible patches of green barely yet to come.
"Ah, Tam! Finally! I thought you would still be stuck in your farm and miss out on the celebrations!" Bran al'Vere appeared, his girth as wide as his smile. Around his neck hung a medallion of the office of his mayorship, dangling on his chest. Bran only wore it when merchants and traders, feast days and celebrations. "And Rand! You boy, how are you eh?"
Other times, the necklace was removed from his neck as if the responsibility has a weight of its own. Rand thought that would be the case, in his opinion.
"Ah, as well as ever, sir," Rand replied politely.
"Good, good!" Bran turned to Tam, a look of worry in his eyes, "I thought you would have come sooner, Tam, but it seems like you have no intention leaving your farm with those damned wolves out and about.
"Aye, and the weather has been a harsh mistress these days," Tam replied.
With the two men deep into the conversation, especially with old Cenn getting himself involved, they did not notice the hand that slipped behind the cart and pulled at Rand's sleeve to get his attention.
"Rand! Come on! While they're arguing!" Rand grinned at the hiding form of Mat, then glanced at the three arguing men next to him.
He slipped away, away from their eyes and ears, with Mat laughing along next to him. "Hah! The look on their faces when they find you missing!"
Rand chuckled. "Where's Perrin?"
"No idea, probably stumbling over a conversation with a girl that tries to make talk with him," Mat waved a hand, as if it wasn't important. Important! Perrin trying to talk to a girl was like watching a house collapsing as if time itself slowed down. It was very important indeed! "But more's the matter, strangers are here, Rand! Strangers!"
"Oh? Strangers?" Rand laughed, then grinned, "I don't suppose you saw any strangers with a dark cloak and a black horse, did you?"
He asked in jest, but knew the second he asked, it had been a mistake. Mat stiffened, fear clawing at his eyes. "You saw it, too? I thought I was the only one, but burn me to ashes, Rand, it scared me!"
Rand was quiet for a moment, thinking. They were looking for someone, obviously. Why? A question of the day, but for now, it wasn't so important.
"I don't know what he wanted, Rand, but all he did was stare at me, as if I was a flea to be stepped on," Mat shivered, clinging to his coat with a tight white grip. "I've never been scared of my life. Not on my life, Rand! Then he was gone! Just, gone! As if the shadows took him away!"
Mat shuddered, and Rand could feel his teeth shivering at the mere memory.
As they continued talking about the recent events, and other news around the village, Mat and Rand came back to the Inn, where the barrels and casks had been emptied out from the cart, and Bela to the stables by Hu or Tad. Rand figured he might have had the stable boys to help with emptying the casks.
When they entered the Inn, they almost bumped into Mistress al'Vere, delicious aromatic freshly baked bread, honey cakes, and more.
"I know boys your age are always hungry," She said, smiling kindly at them. "There's a plate of honey cakes in the kitchen, have some will you?"
Then she was gone, serving her most delicious food. The mistress was famous around the village, for her wonderful cooking and hospitality. She was the cook of the Inn, and without her, the Inn would fail rather spectacularly, Rand figured.
Having their fill of honey cakes and leftover warm and crusty bread, and soon the younger Ewin Finngar took a share of his own.
"There are strangers in the village!" Ewin exclaimed loudly.
Mat looked up sharply, "A midnight black horse, wearing a dark cloak?"
The boy gave Mat a look, as if trying to figure out if it were a prank. "I don't know anything about a man in a dark hood, but there are strangers here in the village," Building up to his previous excitement, he continued. "She looked like a Lady, Rand! And the man, Lan was his name, looked like one of his glares could leave old Congar into a shriveled up old grape!
Mat smacked his head with his hand in exasperation. "That was what I meant to tell you,"
"Anyway, the man who's in service to the Lady, looked like he was in service to her personally," Ewin scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "Her name is Moiraine, I heard it myself."
"Yeah, this Moiraine does look like a high-born lady," Mat finished at last, before dragging Rand, with Ewin following along behind with the last of the honey cakes.
"I wonder who they are?" Rand looked up to the ceiling, looking thoughtful. "Seems a mighty coincidence that strangers in dark hoods and high-borns appearing in a village in the ass end of nowhere."
Ewin's mouth hung open, while Mat cackled loudly.
When they stepped outside, the wind whipped harshly against them. They clung to their cloaks, to ward away the cold that assaulted them so relentlessly.
He could feel Mat stiffen, his head shooting up in the air.
Rand followed his eyesight, and his brow raised. On the roof of the Inn, a raven stood against the wind, watching them.
He could feel its beady eyes, burrowing a hole into the back of his mind. There should be a connection, of sorts, but there were none. Rand was saddened by this lost knowledge, but wouldn't let it get to him.
Rand snapped out of his thoughts when Mat threw a rock at the raven, which it dodged easily by hopping to the side. "Agh! Did you see that? Why didn't it fly away?"
Before he could answer, someone else did it for him.
"A carrion bird," Rand turned to face the woman, and he was struck by her beauty. "Untrustworthy at the best of times,"
The woman was beautiful, more beautiful than any woman in the village. It wasn't just her appearance that lends credence to her authority, but the way she held herself. There was a serene look of strength lurking behind her dark eyes, of power, and unbridled confidence. The clothes and the jewelry she wore were rich in color and expenses, and they looked expensive indeed. He could easily imagine the gold chain fastened in and around her forehead, would be rich enough to buy half the village, let alone the jewel that hung in the middle of her forehead.
The clothes she wore only enhanced the hidden allure that could make a man's mind run wild with imagination.
Rand could not quite put the right age to the lady. If anything, the harder he looked, the harder it was for him to pinpoint her right age at all. She looked young enough for a marrying age, but at a closer look, the lady appeared mature.
From a quick glance at his side, Rand could see why Mat and Ewin were captivated by the lady.
As for that man standing a little behind and to the right of her, had that hard look of a soldier. All hard lines and edges. He stood with a lightness of warriors, ready to spring into action at a split second's time. His clothes were of varying colors of green and grey, which would easily be able to hide him in forests. The cloak was the more important matter. It had a type of enchantment, easily allowing himself to blend into the environment around him, shifting in colors as if he were a chameleon.
What was a chameleon? Rand mentally shifted that thought away, cursing his ignorance and the lack of books in the village.
"Good morning... ah, Mistress Moiraine," Mat said, reddening. He awkwardly bowed, and his blush only seemed to make his face redder.
Ewin repeated his words, Rand following them with amusement.
When she smiled, it only seemed to entrance her beauty. Rand had never seen a grown woman with unbraided hair before, and it was enticing with the way her dark hair fell around her shoulders in ringlets. Mat grinned, all teeth and hidden awareness in his eyes.
"You know my name!" The lady clapped her hands in excitement, her eyes dancing with laughter and joy. "Please, no need to call me lady, call me Moiraine. More importantly, I must know your names."
Ewin leaped forward as if the Wisdom gave him a switch. "My name is Ewin Finngar, my lady. I told them my name, but no one has high born come into Emond's Field before, and tonight is Winterspring! Will you come to ma's house? She makes the best apple cakes."
Moiraine laughed, laying a hand on Ewin's shoulders. "We shall see, yes?"
"My name is Mat... err, Matrim Cauthon, mistress Moiraine," He replied, sounding stiff and awkward. Rand would have laughed at his friend, but he was enticed by the enchantments on their persons. There was one such powerful item hidden within the folds of her cloak. Rand didn't wish to appear so pervasive if he kept looking at her waist too closely.
"Ah, perhaps I have come to the right men?" Moiraine dug into her coin purse, and fished out coins hidden in her closed fists. "I need capable men to attend to some tasks I can't currently perform while I'm here. Will you all be willing to assist me?"
Even as Mat and Ewin stumbled over themselves, Moiraine placed a coin on the palm of their hands. Rand was surprised, more so from the enchantment coming from the coin than that the fact that it was a silver coin. Mat and Ewin's protests died in their throats, gobsmacked at the rich shiny coin in their hand.
"Later, we will talk, but for now, I have much to be done," Moiraine moved on from them, the old soldier following her from behind.
"A whole penny! Imagine what I can buy!" Ewin gasped aloud, his eyes shining in wonderment.
Mat was no different.
"I can buy a whole horse with this thing." Mat looked at Rand, a stunned expression on his face. "I don't know what kind of chores she will have, but I'm keeping it."
Rand looked closely at the coin. There was an enchantment here, and it was not easy to see just what kind. It could be anything benevolent, or something to protect. Still, he easily recognized the slight compulsion to keep the coin.
Rand gave a bitter smile, easily crushing the compulsive magic. The magic wasn't the problem, but the woman that gave the coins. Why give a coin to each one of them? What was her goal? The dark cloaked riders, and now a mysterious woman and her hard-edged soldier.
Ah, the day has become a lot more interesting.
The crowd suddenly erupted into noises, and Rand looked up to watch a towering wagon being pulled by four pairs of horses. The peddler has come, with news of the world outside the Two Rivers, he hoped.
Chapter 2
As they drew into the village, the children came rushing about, playing with hoops or chasing dogs. The Goodwives they passed nodded to them, though some more than others were eying up his father like a piece of meat. An uncomfortable thought, that. The women have been quite relentless in trying to introduce his father to the widows of Emond's Field. Even Rand was targeted, as they bribed him with meat pies and a whisper to the ears of his father.
The men they passed shown none of that. They passed respective nods and welcoming exchanges or a short talk here and there as they made their way to the Winespring Inn. The people of this village respected his father, of that Rand was sure of. He was part of the Village Council, which comes with great responsibility and overseeing much of the fanfare that comes into the village, which wasn't much.
Now that it was the year of Bel Tine, there was great work to be done. As for Rand? Well, he figured he could find some trouble Mat and Perrin would get up to.
It wasn't long before they arrived at a patch of green earth in the middle of the village, which people of the village called it the Green. It was where the Winespring Inn rested, right next to the Wagon Bridge, and the home to the mayor himself. It was the only building in all the village made of stone, and the roof made of red tile.
On a patch of dirt rested a large stack of large logs, where the Bel Tine fires will begin at the start of the celebration. The women sang as they erected the Spring Pole in the center of the Green, where the too-younger girls of unmarrying age stood by, where their hairs unbraided remained.
The look of envy was obvious on their faces, but Rand pretended none of this existed, as all men had to. The Spring Pole will be raised in the morning, and all the girls of marrying age will dance around the pole, entwining the pole with colored ribbons as the men sang.
It was a time of feasting, gifting, and celebrating a time of the coming new year when winter had finally disappeared. A changed year, a welcoming year, despite the unceasing frost and the invisible patches of green barely yet to come.
"Ah, Tam! Finally! I thought you would still be stuck in your farm and miss out on the celebrations!" Bran al'Vere appeared, his girth as wide as his smile. Around his neck hung a medallion of the office of his mayorship, dangling on his chest. Bran only wore it when merchants and traders, feast days and celebrations. "And Rand! You boy, how are you eh?"
Other times, the necklace was removed from his neck as if the responsibility has a weight of its own. Rand thought that would be the case, in his opinion.
"Ah, as well as ever, sir," Rand replied politely.
"Good, good!" Bran turned to Tam, a look of worry in his eyes, "I thought you would have come sooner, Tam, but it seems like you have no intention leaving your farm with those damned wolves out and about.
"Aye, and the weather has been a harsh mistress these days," Tam replied.
With the two men deep into the conversation, especially with old Cenn getting himself involved, they did not notice the hand that slipped behind the cart and pulled at Rand's sleeve to get his attention.
"Rand! Come on! While they're arguing!" Rand grinned at the hiding form of Mat, then glanced at the three arguing men next to him.
He slipped away, away from their eyes and ears, with Mat laughing along next to him. "Hah! The look on their faces when they find you missing!"
Rand chuckled. "Where's Perrin?"
"No idea, probably stumbling over a conversation with a girl that tries to make talk with him," Mat waved a hand, as if it wasn't important. Important! Perrin trying to talk to a girl was like watching a house collapsing as if time itself slowed down. It was very important indeed! "But more's the matter, strangers are here, Rand! Strangers!"
"Oh? Strangers?" Rand laughed, then grinned, "I don't suppose you saw any strangers with a dark cloak and a black horse, did you?"
He asked in jest, but knew the second he asked, it had been a mistake. Mat stiffened, fear clawing at his eyes. "You saw it, too? I thought I was the only one, but burn me to ashes, Rand, it scared me!"
Rand was quiet for a moment, thinking. They were looking for someone, obviously. Why? A question of the day, but for now, it wasn't so important.
"I don't know what he wanted, Rand, but all he did was stare at me, as if I was a flea to be stepped on," Mat shivered, clinging to his coat with a tight white grip. "I've never been scared of my life. Not on my life, Rand! Then he was gone! Just, gone! As if the shadows took him away!"
Mat shuddered, and Rand could feel his teeth shivering at the mere memory.
As they continued talking about the recent events, and other news around the village, Mat and Rand came back to the Inn, where the barrels and casks had been emptied out from the cart, and Bela to the stables by Hu or Tad. Rand figured he might have had the stable boys to help with emptying the casks.
When they entered the Inn, they almost bumped into Mistress al'Vere, delicious aromatic freshly baked bread, honey cakes, and more.
"I know boys your age are always hungry," She said, smiling kindly at them. "There's a plate of honey cakes in the kitchen, have some will you?"
Then she was gone, serving her most delicious food. The mistress was famous around the village, for her wonderful cooking and hospitality. She was the cook of the Inn, and without her, the Inn would fail rather spectacularly, Rand figured.
Having their fill of honey cakes and leftover warm and crusty bread, and soon the younger Ewin Finngar took a share of his own.
"There are strangers in the village!" Ewin exclaimed loudly.
Mat looked up sharply, "A midnight black horse, wearing a dark cloak?"
The boy gave Mat a look, as if trying to figure out if it were a prank. "I don't know anything about a man in a dark hood, but there are strangers here in the village," Building up to his previous excitement, he continued. "She looked like a Lady, Rand! And the man, Lan was his name, looked like one of his glares could leave old Congar into a shriveled up old grape!
Mat smacked his head with his hand in exasperation. "That was what I meant to tell you,"
"Anyway, the man who's in service to the Lady, looked like he was in service to her personally," Ewin scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "Her name is Moiraine, I heard it myself."
"Yeah, this Moiraine does look like a high-born lady," Mat finished at last, before dragging Rand, with Ewin following along behind with the last of the honey cakes.
"I wonder who they are?" Rand looked up to the ceiling, looking thoughtful. "Seems a mighty coincidence that strangers in dark hoods and high-borns appearing in a village in the ass end of nowhere."
Ewin's mouth hung open, while Mat cackled loudly.
When they stepped outside, the wind whipped harshly against them. They clung to their cloaks, to ward away the cold that assaulted them so relentlessly.
He could feel Mat stiffen, his head shooting up in the air.
Rand followed his eyesight, and his brow raised. On the roof of the Inn, a raven stood against the wind, watching them.
He could feel its beady eyes, burrowing a hole into the back of his mind. There should be a connection, of sorts, but there were none. Rand was saddened by this lost knowledge, but wouldn't let it get to him.
Rand snapped out of his thoughts when Mat threw a rock at the raven, which it dodged easily by hopping to the side. "Agh! Did you see that? Why didn't it fly away?"
Before he could answer, someone else did it for him.
"A carrion bird," Rand turned to face the woman, and he was struck by her beauty. "Untrustworthy at the best of times,"
The woman was beautiful, more beautiful than any woman in the village. It wasn't just her appearance that lends credence to her authority, but the way she held herself. There was a serene look of strength lurking behind her dark eyes, of power, and unbridled confidence. The clothes and the jewelry she wore were rich in color and expenses, and they looked expensive indeed. He could easily imagine the gold chain fastened in and around her forehead, would be rich enough to buy half the village, let alone the jewel that hung in the middle of her forehead.
The clothes she wore only enhanced the hidden allure that could make a man's mind run wild with imagination.
Rand could not quite put the right age to the lady. If anything, the harder he looked, the harder it was for him to pinpoint her right age at all. She looked young enough for a marrying age, but at a closer look, the lady appeared mature.
From a quick glance at his side, Rand could see why Mat and Ewin were captivated by the lady.
As for that man standing a little behind and to the right of her, had that hard look of a soldier. All hard lines and edges. He stood with a lightness of warriors, ready to spring into action at a split second's time. His clothes were of varying colors of green and grey, which would easily be able to hide him in forests. The cloak was the more important matter. It had a type of enchantment, easily allowing himself to blend into the environment around him, shifting in colors as if he were a chameleon.
What was a chameleon? Rand mentally shifted that thought away, cursing his ignorance and the lack of books in the village.
"Good morning... ah, Mistress Moiraine," Mat said, reddening. He awkwardly bowed, and his blush only seemed to make his face redder.
Ewin repeated his words, Rand following them with amusement.
When she smiled, it only seemed to entrance her beauty. Rand had never seen a grown woman with unbraided hair before, and it was enticing with the way her dark hair fell around her shoulders in ringlets. Mat grinned, all teeth and hidden awareness in his eyes.
"You know my name!" The lady clapped her hands in excitement, her eyes dancing with laughter and joy. "Please, no need to call me lady, call me Moiraine. More importantly, I must know your names."
Ewin leaped forward as if the Wisdom gave him a switch. "My name is Ewin Finngar, my lady. I told them my name, but no one has high born come into Emond's Field before, and tonight is Winterspring! Will you come to ma's house? She makes the best apple cakes."
Moiraine laughed, laying a hand on Ewin's shoulders. "We shall see, yes?"
"My name is Mat... err, Matrim Cauthon, mistress Moiraine," He replied, sounding stiff and awkward. Rand would have laughed at his friend, but he was enticed by the enchantments on their persons. There was one such powerful item hidden within the folds of her cloak. Rand didn't wish to appear so pervasive if he kept looking at her waist too closely.
"Ah, perhaps I have come to the right men?" Moiraine dug into her coin purse, and fished out coins hidden in her closed fists. "I need capable men to attend to some tasks I can't currently perform while I'm here. Will you all be willing to assist me?"
Even as Mat and Ewin stumbled over themselves, Moiraine placed a coin on the palm of their hands. Rand was surprised, more so from the enchantment coming from the coin than that the fact that it was a silver coin. Mat and Ewin's protests died in their throats, gobsmacked at the rich shiny coin in their hand.
"Later, we will talk, but for now, I have much to be done," Moiraine moved on from them, the old soldier following her from behind.
"A whole penny! Imagine what I can buy!" Ewin gasped aloud, his eyes shining in wonderment.
Mat was no different.
"I can buy a whole horse with this thing." Mat looked at Rand, a stunned expression on his face. "I don't know what kind of chores she will have, but I'm keeping it."
Rand looked closely at the coin. There was an enchantment here, and it was not easy to see just what kind. It could be anything benevolent, or something to protect. Still, he easily recognized the slight compulsion to keep the coin.
Rand gave a bitter smile, easily crushing the compulsive magic. The magic wasn't the problem, but the woman that gave the coins. Why give a coin to each one of them? What was her goal? The dark cloaked riders, and now a mysterious woman and her hard-edged soldier.
Ah, the day has become a lot more interesting.
The crowd suddenly erupted into noises, and Rand looked up to watch a towering wagon being pulled by four pairs of horses. The peddler has come, with news of the world outside the Two Rivers, he hoped.
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Chapter 3
Chapter 3
The peddler, Fain, has been coming to Emond's Field was as long as Rand could remember. People streamed toward the clatters and clutters of the slowly meandering wagon, toward the peddler that would be bringing news that people so wished to know.
Rand did not quite like Fain, but he could deal with the likes of him. Fain may be a dishonest man, but at least he knew what kind of man he was dealing with. The fool wished to be a gleeman when he told his news, with theatrics and antics and a wish for a free mulled wine and some of Mistress' honey cakes. Actually, Rand could not blame him on the latter. Everyone loved her honey cakes.
Soon enough, the Village Council came to stand before the wagon, even as Fain dragged out the tense atmosphere. Fain was a fool because he craved attention. There was a particular narcissism with his kind, but Rand felt he had his uses.
While Fain was settling his things about, Perrin finally showed himself to Rand. The boy was not as tall as him, but given that Rand was taller than even the tallest person in the village, Perrin was quite tall. His corded muscles, the slight burns, and the deeply tanned skin was a dead give away to his profession. Perrin more like a bear engulfing a girl. Rand figured he was giving her a hug.
The girls love him, though, through that thick skull of his, Perrin would take years to figure out that particular tidbit. He was slow to anger, which would have considered him since he was best friends with Mat. And Mad? Mat was as far from being a saint as Rand was from figuring out multi-complexity that was Egwene.
Ah, now that was a topic he did not dare get close to.
"I heard you were also given a coin?" Perrin asked, giving him a short glance before peering at the wagon.
"Yes, it's true," Rand replied, then gave Perrin a look of knowing. "I'm guessing we weren't the only one."
Perrin hummed, but eventually, their attention was brought together by the antics of the peddler. The shouts from the crowd dimmed, their attention fixed solely on Fain.
"So, you wish to hear the news?" Fain announced, his arms spread wide. "What news do you want to hear, when you are safe and comforted by the mountains? You complain about the winter's time, of wolves and the biting wind? What news, aye? Failing crops? Trouble dealing with wolves and bears? Far to the north, in the Blight of the world, the people of the Borderlands will call your spring a summer! The Children of the Light encroach all the cities and towns, playing on their fears and hurts, driving them asunder with their oaths and cruelty. And worse..."
Fain paused, and the mummers grew louder, the fear intangible.
"What could be worse?"
"Aye, speak up, man! Speak! What would be worse than wolves and failing crops and a harsh winter?"
"A false Dragon!" Fain exclaimed loudly, shivering.
There were gasps, moans and even yells of excitement. Mat grinned, excited even at the prospect. While the gentle giant next to him looked worried, almost terrified.
"What is the meaning of this!" One of the Village Council questioned, loudly, and angrily. That was Cenn, Rand thought.
"The meaning? Why, the banner has been raised, and the Dragon walks to Ghealdan for war! The lands are covered in blood, and the crows pick their bodies for food.
Their dismay were getting louder.
"A false Dragon! Why, why now!" Someone despaired.
"It's the Dark One I tell you, the Dark One!"
"Oh be quiet fool! There's no such thing as the Dark One!" That was obviously old Bili Congar.
"You know the prophecies, the world will shatter the day he walks!
The mayor quieted the people around him, loudly, and forcefully. People listened to him, and some didn't The arguments continued, and a headache was all the mayor gained.
Eventually, the antics of the villagers died down, and Fain continued the story. "False Dragon, or true, the Aes Sedai have challenged the fool. But oh, was he a fool? The false Dragon can channel, opening up the very earth underneath the soldiers, and swallowing them whole. Their blood runs freely, easily, against the power of the false Dragon. It will only be a matter of time before the party of Aes Sedai captures him."
Rand smiled, but turned away, dragging along Perrin and Mat away from the wagon. It wasn't long before the mayor dragged Fain into the Inn for a longer conversation about the news outside of Two Rivers.
"Aes Sedai, wars and false Dragon?" Mat couldn't keep a grin off his face. "Wonder if we get to meet the false Dragon."
Perrin looked putout, "The last thing we want is to meet him. No doubt we'd be dragged into the war long before we meet him."
Eventually, the villagers pittered out. Though there were some still standing around the wagon, wanting to buy pins and laces and books, or what may be. There was a lot to trade, to buy and sell, and the few times the peddler comes is an important moment for the village of Emond's Field.
"You know, I heard a story once, that the Dragon Reborn will be the hero that saves the world, and break it." Mat slowly sounded out the words, as if he was unsure of his own mouth.
"A foolish tale, if I ever heard one," Perrin replied, crossing his massive arms across his chest.
Mat only rolled his eyes.
"Well, the Aes Sedai started the whole mess, to begin with," Mat countered, crossing his own arms in protest. "The whole breaking of the world was their fault, anyway. Besides, aren't the Aes Seda Darkfriends?"
"What foolish talk is this, Matrim Cauthon?" The harsh words of the pretty Wisdom came into existence, scaring the two boys beside him into straining their spines rigid. The Wisdom snapped her head toward Perrin, her hair straight and bristling with anger. "I thought you had some common sense atop that shoulders of yours, Perrin."
Mat studdered, while Perrin looks abashed, eying the tips of his toes. Rand smiled at his friends, but his eyes were drawn to the hooded girl standing behind the Wisdom.
Egwene was the prettiest girl in the village, and many thought the two would get together. Though his awkwardness around the girl was apparent for all to see, it was obvious, at least for him and Egwene, that they shared little attraction other than purely physical. Egwene understood, but it wasn't long before he found out that she was apprenticed under the Wisdom. It won't be long before the pretty girl moved to another village that needed a Wisdom. A saddening thought, but Rand would miss the girl.
"And you, Rand al'Thor! If you stop staring around like a gobsmacked fish, I thought you with the most sense to not talk of foolishness."
Rand only responded with a smile, knowing that any arguing with the Wisdom would only result in being pushed aside by the sheer stubbornness that was Nynaeve al'Meara. Rand came to appreciate that side of her personality, even loved it, but the woman was like raging bull with the sharpest horns that cowed even some of the Village Council.
Well, the Wisdom wasn't having any of it, because there was a knowing smile on her. Rand inwardly grimaced but smiled nonetheless.
Before he could give a response, Mat saved him from any.
"It was only natural to talk about it, Wisdom," Perrin replied, pressing a little closer. "Even the mayor dragged in Master Fain to have talk of news outside. Wars, Aes Sedai, and a false Dragon?"
The Wisdom scowled a fierce one, all teeth and no humor behind those eyes. "No doubt the Council will ask all the wrong questions. Though I did wonder why the wagon was abandoned once I finished with mistress Ayellin."
Soon enough, the Wisdom stomped off to deal with the Women's Council and find the news that was being shared with the mayor.
Egwene was still here, and she closed the gap between them. Mat chuckled, and Perrin dragged him off to stand and watch.
"You shouldn't let Mat get your or Perrin mixed up in his troubles, Rand," Egwene said, eying him dead in the eye. "You are the smartest boy in the village, and you have enough sense most folks don't."
Rand grimaced. He hated it when people questioned his friendship with Mat. It was one of their arguments they had over the years, but Rand was just as stubborn as any other Two River folk.
He remained silent, but Egwene spoke again.
"Will you dance with me?" Egwene asked, and for the first time, Rand saw the braided hair tied with a red ribbon dangling from her left delicate shoulder.
Rand stared, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Marriage was a worrying prospect he didn't wish to talk about. He felt he was far too young to be marrying anyone, let alone Egwene. As pretty as she was, even she thought they were incompatible.
Besides, he was too young! This was not fair. Just the thought of marriage had him sweating, and Egwene wasn't helping the matter any with her braided hair.
Rand nodded, and said, "Tomorrow,"
Before Egwene could respond, the doors of the Inn blasted open. A man, covered in patches of every color imagined arrived, indignant and scowling.
It didn't take him long to sputter indignities of the treatment he was given, the injustice of it all. Least of all from a quarter of his age and as pretty as a princess, to order the gleeman about as if he were a fool with a mule for a head. Questions were answered, and the people drew closer toward the fantastical gleeman.
Thomdril Merrilin was his name. He was a spry old man, with a kind of strength that belied his age. He spoke of stories of myths from ages long past, and of heroes that cemented their legends into the recorded histories. And people were drawn in by his colorful passion and charisma, and even Rand was no exception.
Then, the lady Moiraine appeared, along with her pet wolf. A moment of excitement, of introductions and courtesies, occurred before the lady moved away. Then the door of the Inn slammed open, leading out the grumbling Village Councilors and the Wisdom with a put-upon expression, scaring the gleeman half way to Hood's gates.
Hubbub and excitement petered out until Rand was told by his father that it was time to leave. A little protest from him and his friends, but fruitless against the eyes of his father. His father then told them of the riders being sent out to the villages of Deven Ride, Watch Hill, and Ferry for any trouble that might occur. Mat volunteers, and Rand as well. Perrin would as well, should his master have no need of him at the forge. Still, the worry of the black-cloaked rider had all three boys worried.
"What can we do? Even if we find more witnesses, what can the mayor even do?" Perrin asked, dejected. "The Village Council has more important matters with the riders being sent, and overseeing the Bel Tine tomorrow, and I suspect no time for talk of suspicious black-cloaked riders from the tree of us."
Rand was worried, because he knew that an attack might occur. He saw that creature up close, and whatever it was, it had no interest in sparing any lives but their own.
It wasn't long before Rand said his goodbyes, and walked with his father back to their farm with Bela and their cart.
It wasn't long before his father told him of other boys Rand's age, and younger, who had seen a strange creature. Only the young can see, apparently, and no one older than twenty had seen it. Tam questioned him of it, whether he had seen it.
"I did, saw him that is," Rand answered, and he could see the question in his father's eyes. "As we were walking to the village. I didn't mention it because we weren't in danger. Now? I think we are."
Tam stopped, and the cart shuddered to a halt.
"What makes you think that, lad?"
Rand quirked a smile, "For what reason would a stranger, cloaked in black and menacing, watch for young men of similar age? Because they're looking for someone. There's going to be an attack, and going back to the farm is a mistake. The stranger, whoever it may be, was no thief in the night, or a refugee looking for an escape, but a murderer."
Tam held his eyes, then sighed. "I wished you could have mentioned this a little earlier," Tam led Bela around, with the cart prodding along behind them. "We're staying at the Inn,"
Rand was a little surprised by his father's decision, but didn't question his good fortune. "I thought you would be afraid someone would break into our home? Shouldn't we be there?"
"No, lad, but I trust your judgment," He replied, grumbling a little. "But I must go back home and grab something important that might help in case anything... happens,"
Rand chuckled, and helped lead Bela towards the stables. Master Bran was surprised to see him again, and his father quickly conveyed his suspensions of his son's conclusion. Whatever protests Bran may have had, Tam demanded just as fiercely.
Bran sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "I will do as you say, and set up watches around the village. That's the best I can do, Tam. We're no warrior folk, but maybe we can scare them off, whoever they may be. If your son says there may be an attack, then we'll deal with it should the time come. The Light shine upon us, we'll survive whatever prophecy your son claims, Tam. If the Light not willing, then we'll still survive."
Mat and Perrin were just as surprised when they saw him. Rand waved at his father as he rode out of the village atop a powerful stallion, looking for a possession what Rand suspected to be a heron marked blade.
The peddler, Fain, has been coming to Emond's Field was as long as Rand could remember. People streamed toward the clatters and clutters of the slowly meandering wagon, toward the peddler that would be bringing news that people so wished to know.
Rand did not quite like Fain, but he could deal with the likes of him. Fain may be a dishonest man, but at least he knew what kind of man he was dealing with. The fool wished to be a gleeman when he told his news, with theatrics and antics and a wish for a free mulled wine and some of Mistress' honey cakes. Actually, Rand could not blame him on the latter. Everyone loved her honey cakes.
Soon enough, the Village Council came to stand before the wagon, even as Fain dragged out the tense atmosphere. Fain was a fool because he craved attention. There was a particular narcissism with his kind, but Rand felt he had his uses.
While Fain was settling his things about, Perrin finally showed himself to Rand. The boy was not as tall as him, but given that Rand was taller than even the tallest person in the village, Perrin was quite tall. His corded muscles, the slight burns, and the deeply tanned skin was a dead give away to his profession. Perrin more like a bear engulfing a girl. Rand figured he was giving her a hug.
The girls love him, though, through that thick skull of his, Perrin would take years to figure out that particular tidbit. He was slow to anger, which would have considered him since he was best friends with Mat. And Mad? Mat was as far from being a saint as Rand was from figuring out multi-complexity that was Egwene.
Ah, now that was a topic he did not dare get close to.
"I heard you were also given a coin?" Perrin asked, giving him a short glance before peering at the wagon.
"Yes, it's true," Rand replied, then gave Perrin a look of knowing. "I'm guessing we weren't the only one."
Perrin hummed, but eventually, their attention was brought together by the antics of the peddler. The shouts from the crowd dimmed, their attention fixed solely on Fain.
"So, you wish to hear the news?" Fain announced, his arms spread wide. "What news do you want to hear, when you are safe and comforted by the mountains? You complain about the winter's time, of wolves and the biting wind? What news, aye? Failing crops? Trouble dealing with wolves and bears? Far to the north, in the Blight of the world, the people of the Borderlands will call your spring a summer! The Children of the Light encroach all the cities and towns, playing on their fears and hurts, driving them asunder with their oaths and cruelty. And worse..."
Fain paused, and the mummers grew louder, the fear intangible.
"What could be worse?"
"Aye, speak up, man! Speak! What would be worse than wolves and failing crops and a harsh winter?"
"A false Dragon!" Fain exclaimed loudly, shivering.
There were gasps, moans and even yells of excitement. Mat grinned, excited even at the prospect. While the gentle giant next to him looked worried, almost terrified.
"What is the meaning of this!" One of the Village Council questioned, loudly, and angrily. That was Cenn, Rand thought.
"The meaning? Why, the banner has been raised, and the Dragon walks to Ghealdan for war! The lands are covered in blood, and the crows pick their bodies for food.
Their dismay were getting louder.
"A false Dragon! Why, why now!" Someone despaired.
"It's the Dark One I tell you, the Dark One!"
"Oh be quiet fool! There's no such thing as the Dark One!" That was obviously old Bili Congar.
"You know the prophecies, the world will shatter the day he walks!
The mayor quieted the people around him, loudly, and forcefully. People listened to him, and some didn't The arguments continued, and a headache was all the mayor gained.
Eventually, the antics of the villagers died down, and Fain continued the story. "False Dragon, or true, the Aes Sedai have challenged the fool. But oh, was he a fool? The false Dragon can channel, opening up the very earth underneath the soldiers, and swallowing them whole. Their blood runs freely, easily, against the power of the false Dragon. It will only be a matter of time before the party of Aes Sedai captures him."
Rand smiled, but turned away, dragging along Perrin and Mat away from the wagon. It wasn't long before the mayor dragged Fain into the Inn for a longer conversation about the news outside of Two Rivers.
"Aes Sedai, wars and false Dragon?" Mat couldn't keep a grin off his face. "Wonder if we get to meet the false Dragon."
Perrin looked putout, "The last thing we want is to meet him. No doubt we'd be dragged into the war long before we meet him."
Eventually, the villagers pittered out. Though there were some still standing around the wagon, wanting to buy pins and laces and books, or what may be. There was a lot to trade, to buy and sell, and the few times the peddler comes is an important moment for the village of Emond's Field.
"You know, I heard a story once, that the Dragon Reborn will be the hero that saves the world, and break it." Mat slowly sounded out the words, as if he was unsure of his own mouth.
"A foolish tale, if I ever heard one," Perrin replied, crossing his massive arms across his chest.
Mat only rolled his eyes.
"Well, the Aes Sedai started the whole mess, to begin with," Mat countered, crossing his own arms in protest. "The whole breaking of the world was their fault, anyway. Besides, aren't the Aes Seda Darkfriends?"
"What foolish talk is this, Matrim Cauthon?" The harsh words of the pretty Wisdom came into existence, scaring the two boys beside him into straining their spines rigid. The Wisdom snapped her head toward Perrin, her hair straight and bristling with anger. "I thought you had some common sense atop that shoulders of yours, Perrin."
Mat studdered, while Perrin looks abashed, eying the tips of his toes. Rand smiled at his friends, but his eyes were drawn to the hooded girl standing behind the Wisdom.
Egwene was the prettiest girl in the village, and many thought the two would get together. Though his awkwardness around the girl was apparent for all to see, it was obvious, at least for him and Egwene, that they shared little attraction other than purely physical. Egwene understood, but it wasn't long before he found out that she was apprenticed under the Wisdom. It won't be long before the pretty girl moved to another village that needed a Wisdom. A saddening thought, but Rand would miss the girl.
"And you, Rand al'Thor! If you stop staring around like a gobsmacked fish, I thought you with the most sense to not talk of foolishness."
Rand only responded with a smile, knowing that any arguing with the Wisdom would only result in being pushed aside by the sheer stubbornness that was Nynaeve al'Meara. Rand came to appreciate that side of her personality, even loved it, but the woman was like raging bull with the sharpest horns that cowed even some of the Village Council.
Well, the Wisdom wasn't having any of it, because there was a knowing smile on her. Rand inwardly grimaced but smiled nonetheless.
Before he could give a response, Mat saved him from any.
"It was only natural to talk about it, Wisdom," Perrin replied, pressing a little closer. "Even the mayor dragged in Master Fain to have talk of news outside. Wars, Aes Sedai, and a false Dragon?"
The Wisdom scowled a fierce one, all teeth and no humor behind those eyes. "No doubt the Council will ask all the wrong questions. Though I did wonder why the wagon was abandoned once I finished with mistress Ayellin."
Soon enough, the Wisdom stomped off to deal with the Women's Council and find the news that was being shared with the mayor.
Egwene was still here, and she closed the gap between them. Mat chuckled, and Perrin dragged him off to stand and watch.
"You shouldn't let Mat get your or Perrin mixed up in his troubles, Rand," Egwene said, eying him dead in the eye. "You are the smartest boy in the village, and you have enough sense most folks don't."
Rand grimaced. He hated it when people questioned his friendship with Mat. It was one of their arguments they had over the years, but Rand was just as stubborn as any other Two River folk.
He remained silent, but Egwene spoke again.
"Will you dance with me?" Egwene asked, and for the first time, Rand saw the braided hair tied with a red ribbon dangling from her left delicate shoulder.
Rand stared, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Marriage was a worrying prospect he didn't wish to talk about. He felt he was far too young to be marrying anyone, let alone Egwene. As pretty as she was, even she thought they were incompatible.
Besides, he was too young! This was not fair. Just the thought of marriage had him sweating, and Egwene wasn't helping the matter any with her braided hair.
Rand nodded, and said, "Tomorrow,"
Before Egwene could respond, the doors of the Inn blasted open. A man, covered in patches of every color imagined arrived, indignant and scowling.
It didn't take him long to sputter indignities of the treatment he was given, the injustice of it all. Least of all from a quarter of his age and as pretty as a princess, to order the gleeman about as if he were a fool with a mule for a head. Questions were answered, and the people drew closer toward the fantastical gleeman.
Thomdril Merrilin was his name. He was a spry old man, with a kind of strength that belied his age. He spoke of stories of myths from ages long past, and of heroes that cemented their legends into the recorded histories. And people were drawn in by his colorful passion and charisma, and even Rand was no exception.
Then, the lady Moiraine appeared, along with her pet wolf. A moment of excitement, of introductions and courtesies, occurred before the lady moved away. Then the door of the Inn slammed open, leading out the grumbling Village Councilors and the Wisdom with a put-upon expression, scaring the gleeman half way to Hood's gates.
Hubbub and excitement petered out until Rand was told by his father that it was time to leave. A little protest from him and his friends, but fruitless against the eyes of his father. His father then told them of the riders being sent out to the villages of Deven Ride, Watch Hill, and Ferry for any trouble that might occur. Mat volunteers, and Rand as well. Perrin would as well, should his master have no need of him at the forge. Still, the worry of the black-cloaked rider had all three boys worried.
"What can we do? Even if we find more witnesses, what can the mayor even do?" Perrin asked, dejected. "The Village Council has more important matters with the riders being sent, and overseeing the Bel Tine tomorrow, and I suspect no time for talk of suspicious black-cloaked riders from the tree of us."
Rand was worried, because he knew that an attack might occur. He saw that creature up close, and whatever it was, it had no interest in sparing any lives but their own.
It wasn't long before Rand said his goodbyes, and walked with his father back to their farm with Bela and their cart.
It wasn't long before his father told him of other boys Rand's age, and younger, who had seen a strange creature. Only the young can see, apparently, and no one older than twenty had seen it. Tam questioned him of it, whether he had seen it.
"I did, saw him that is," Rand answered, and he could see the question in his father's eyes. "As we were walking to the village. I didn't mention it because we weren't in danger. Now? I think we are."
Tam stopped, and the cart shuddered to a halt.
"What makes you think that, lad?"
Rand quirked a smile, "For what reason would a stranger, cloaked in black and menacing, watch for young men of similar age? Because they're looking for someone. There's going to be an attack, and going back to the farm is a mistake. The stranger, whoever it may be, was no thief in the night, or a refugee looking for an escape, but a murderer."
Tam held his eyes, then sighed. "I wished you could have mentioned this a little earlier," Tam led Bela around, with the cart prodding along behind them. "We're staying at the Inn,"
Rand was a little surprised by his father's decision, but didn't question his good fortune. "I thought you would be afraid someone would break into our home? Shouldn't we be there?"
"No, lad, but I trust your judgment," He replied, grumbling a little. "But I must go back home and grab something important that might help in case anything... happens,"
Rand chuckled, and helped lead Bela towards the stables. Master Bran was surprised to see him again, and his father quickly conveyed his suspensions of his son's conclusion. Whatever protests Bran may have had, Tam demanded just as fiercely.
Bran sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "I will do as you say, and set up watches around the village. That's the best I can do, Tam. We're no warrior folk, but maybe we can scare them off, whoever they may be. If your son says there may be an attack, then we'll deal with it should the time come. The Light shine upon us, we'll survive whatever prophecy your son claims, Tam. If the Light not willing, then we'll still survive."
Mat and Perrin were just as surprised when they saw him. Rand waved at his father as he rode out of the village atop a powerful stallion, looking for a possession what Rand suspected to be a heron marked blade.
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I'm guessing that this Warren stuff is from the crossover and is something that they explain? Because it really doesn't make much sense. It sounds like he grabbed and purified some One Power, then stored it in his body to draw from later. Enough to produce a small but steady supply from the everlasting bit, even though I don't know that that is a thing with the One Power? I remember that they made some liquid power sometime in the past from the first book, but it seemed like a set amount that didn't self-replenish since it wasn't overflowing after all this time, and that was a pool vastly larger then what would fit in a human body...
I really don't get that whole 'debt' bit at all though.
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A Warren is at once, a source of power that a mage can draw from, a world sometimes with inhabitants of its own, and the veins of an Elder God named Krull.
The cosmology of the Malazan Book of the Fallen is really weird and convoluted.
The cosmology of the Malazan Book of the Fallen is really weird and convoluted.
- Location
- PR
Convoluted is a nice word to use for the huge cluster fuck of fucks that Malazan is.
Just when you finally figure some stuff out the author sucker punches you with more convoluted to the ten power plot stuff.
And you remember that oldest race? Yup there is an older one but surprise there was an older one older than that last one and they were scary bastards.
And you know those dudes you keep thing are dark skinned, as in regular earth "black"? Nop those bastards are actually black skinned, as in black BLACK. And they have a Grey skinned cousin race and a lighter brother-ish race too.
And you found that character you have been reading about with the regular name has about seven more names that are being used in the other plots so you feel like an idiot when you suddenly find out about it.
If you want to take in Malzan one thing to keep in mind that is that its a story filled with unreliable narrators. There are very little information that isn't shaped by the people who learn it, and the stories that people tell each other about how situations turned out is very likely to be a creative reinterpretation of the truth. (For example, the creation myth that was passed around only bares slight similarities to what actually went down.)
Its not a series for everybody but the 'AHA!" moments when you work things out can be amazing.
As mentioned, Warrens are the source of magic in the Malazan world. They are worlds in themselves, but also the places mages draw power from...and they also are the blood running through the veins of the Elder God K'rul. (Its possible to well step into your warren and use it for transportation. Think of it as a combination of The Ways and Skimming. You create a portal, step in and then walk for a distance and open another portal and you have covered hundreds of kilometres.)
Each of the Warrens are divided into aspects , for example you have the Warren of Shadow, the Warren of the Mind, Warren of Fire, The Warren of Earth.
There are also Racial Warrens for some of the Elder Races. For example, the Jagurt have the Warren of Ice, the Tiste Andii have the Warren of Darkness. Dragons draw from the First Warren, only one stepped removed from pure Chaos, Starvald Demelain. (There are also well...lesser version of the Racial Warrens, Humanities use of the warren of Fire is a diluted form of the Racial Warren of Fire that the T'lan Imass used. (well diluted ins't the right word, but the Elder Warrens are much harder to block/impede).
Its not a series for everybody but the 'AHA!" moments when you work things out can be amazing.
As mentioned, Warrens are the source of magic in the Malazan world. They are worlds in themselves, but also the places mages draw power from...and they also are the blood running through the veins of the Elder God K'rul. (Its possible to well step into your warren and use it for transportation. Think of it as a combination of The Ways and Skimming. You create a portal, step in and then walk for a distance and open another portal and you have covered hundreds of kilometres.)
Each of the Warrens are divided into aspects , for example you have the Warren of Shadow, the Warren of the Mind, Warren of Fire, The Warren of Earth.
There are also Racial Warrens for some of the Elder Races. For example, the Jagurt have the Warren of Ice, the Tiste Andii have the Warren of Darkness. Dragons draw from the First Warren, only one stepped removed from pure Chaos, Starvald Demelain. (There are also well...lesser version of the Racial Warrens, Humanities use of the warren of Fire is a diluted form of the Racial Warren of Fire that the T'lan Imass used. (well diluted ins't the right word, but the Elder Warrens are much harder to block/impede).
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
"Blood and ashes, Rand, you really think we might get attacked," Perrin asked. The furrow on his brow displayed the significant stress and worry that Rand was not used to seeing.
"It makes sense," Mat replied as he fiddled with the spear on his lap. The spear was as tall as Mat was, with a sharp edge to the pointed blade. "We'd be at our most vulnerable when we celebrate Bel Tine."
Perrin gripped his over the haft of the half-moon axe he held, the blade shone underneath Inn's fireplace. "This is Emond's Field. What do we have that is so valuable we'd be attacked for it? We're just sheepherders and craftsmen."
"I don't know, but what I do know is we're Two River folk," Rand replied, lifting his own bow from his lap. "We'll deal with it when the time comes."
The laughter, tinged with nervousness, came from Mat. "Strangers, a gleeman, Bel Tine and a raid?" Despite the strained grin, Mat did not look at all excited. "Never thought we'd be living a gleeman's story, eh?"
Perrin shot a look of exasperation at Mat, but Rand only smirked.
The weapons were given to them after master Luhhan had heard the news, and started giving out weapons to the watches the mayor sent out to the outskirts of the village. There were people watching the Quarry road, the bridges, the rivers and the forests for anything suspicious.
It wasn't long before the council was informed by the mayor. And despite their protests and complaints, they acquiesced to his father's warning. His influence went a long way in getting them to cooperate, and Rand was no fool that a prank such as this would be without consequences, and they relayed as such when they demanded him for an explanation.
He gave his reasoning as concisely and logically without exaggeration, and the council relented, though reluctantly. They knew Rand tends to get into trouble with Mat from time to time, but even they can't fault his reasoning and deductions. They knew he wasn't a fool, and they weren't foolish enough to dismiss a possible danger.
Emond's Field was a peaceful village, and any sort of danger only came from nature. For raids and wars are as foreign as the people from the south of Borderlands, and existed only in a gleeman's tale. Indeed, to even think of picking up an actual weapon seemed foreign to all of them. But they were Two River folk, and so they'll bunch up their sleeves and wade against the tide when it came. They were a stubborn people, after all.
Rand shot a weak grin back at Mat and Perrin, then shrugged. "Maybe that lady's soldier can help. He looks like he knows how to use a sword. The black-cloaked stranger won't see that coming."
"A black-cloaked stranger, you say?" The lyrical voice of the most beautiful woman in the village arrived, startling the three boys. Mat and Perrin quickly jumped to their feet, offering explanations and reasonings on top of one another, while Rand watched the tranquil woman, and in particular, her pet wolf by her side.
Lan, the warder, was surely no other. Rand could sense the power coming from them, and he automatically concluded that they were Aes Sedai, and the man with the sword was surely a Warder. Rand had heard stories of the Aes Sedai, and their partners, and the power they wielded. Warders have heightened senses, enhanced strength, and reflexes beyond that of a normal man. They were an inevitability a force unto their own.
So what does that make an Aes Sedai? What does that make Moiraine? A question of the Age, and one he might soon be finding out once the attack starts.
"I immediately noticed the rider rushing toward the Quarry road, as if his house on fire," She said, looking directly at Rand. She must be talking about his father, then. Then she turned to the Mat and Perrin, stilling them with a raised brow. "And then, I find to my surprise, watches were being set at the very limits of the village. Men and weapons, something I was quite surprised to find in Emond's Field.
Is there something I should know?" Asked the Aes Sedai. The Warder stood behind her, menacing and towering, with a grip on his sword by his side.
"My lady, mistress... you see, ah..," The mayor came bustling in, sweating at the brow as he addressed the important looking lady. "You see, we have cause to believe that there are dark strangers about looking for trouble. I'm sure it's just nothing, but needs must be met for safety..."
Those eyes of hers bore in the mayor until he broke down and told her everything: about the boys of a certain age only they can see, and anyone else older or younger were blind. He spoke of Rand's father riding out to his farm to gather his weapon and the weapons the master forger had been handing out for the watches.
"Tell me, what does the cloaked stranger look like, exactly?" Moiraine asked once she turned to them. If Rand didn't know any better, he could detect a tinge of worry in the tightening of her eyes. And the Warder, his grip only tightened.
"A dark cloaked man, on a black horse," Mat explained, shuddering. "He was menacing, as if he wanted to kill me like I'm nothing."
Perrin nodded, giving his own voice, "Yes, I saw him staring at me as well. But the second I turned away, he was gone as if the shadow ate him. Master Luhhan gave me his axe in case anything did come up, just to be sure."
Moiraine closed her eyes, then opened them again. She turned to face Rand, and asked softly, "And have you, Rand? I suppose you have seen it as well?"
Rand nodded his assent, and replied, "We were traveling to the village. I saw him on the Quarry road behind us."
Moiraine sighed deeply.
"Ah, mistress, please don't be alarmed. I'm sure there is nothing to be worried about," The mayor cautiously explained, grimacing. "But, I don't have any doubt that Tam isn't without reason. And Rand here, he's the brightest lad in the whole village. If he says an attack is coming, then I'll believe him, mistress Moiraine."
Moiraine snapped her eyes at him so fast, he was worried she might have caught whiplash. "An attack, you say? What makes you so sure there would be an attack? Surely you all think this... cloaked stranger is nothing more than a thief in the night?"
Rand shrugged. "The same reason only men my age could see the apparition of this cloaked stranger, and no one else," The boy got to his feet, and hefted his bow and quiver of arrows. "Bel Tine is a time of celebration. If there's ever a time to attack, it would be then."
Lan nodded, a slight tilt of the head that no one would hae noticed but Rand. He watched both carefully, looking for any signs and tells that might give something away. Moiraine did notice, even though she was standing in front of them, with their attention focused solely on Rand. The bond, surely... thought Rand.
"A good observation," She noted, then looked at the mayor. "You must prepare your people, Bran al'Vere. An attack is coming, and many will die if we do not take precautions."
Bran sputtered, backfooted by the intensity of her gaze. "I... surely..."
Mat and Perrin looked just as star-struck.
"A Myrddraal," Moiraine whispered to them.
The mayor quivered, his fist clutching his chest and eyes wide with fear.
Mat and Perrin were no different.
"Blood and ashes!" Mat cursed.
"Oh, Light!" Perrin groaned in fear.
Legends spoke of these creatures, servants of the Dark One. Terrors in battlefields, such that even the trollocs fear them.
"Fade, Lurk, Halfman, Shadowman; what name you give it, Fades have a certain kind of power that instills fears into the heart of the bravest man or woman," The Warder glared at the three boys, sheepherders and smith alike, "If you, all of you, witnessed a Fade, then Trollocs are involved. Half of a fist, or a full fist will be seen in the village before the night is done,"
Lan fixed his hard stare at the mayor. "Rouse your people, gather every weapon you can find..."
The Warder moved off to one side, grabbing the shaking mayor by the elbow with him. Mat and Perrin looked stunned, and even Rand was surprised by the fierceness of the Warder. His commands were direct, and the Mayor, while shaken, looked ready to do his part.
Lady Moiraine turned to them at last, her eyes not unkind. "We must prepare, and when the time is right, we must also leave Two Rivers,"
"What!? What are you talking about?" Perrin demanded, eyes wide with shock.
Moiraine smiled sadly at Perrin, "If the Fade is looking for you, we must know why. And they will not stop until they get what they want," She shook her head, sadly, and even looked remorseful. "Emond's Field cannot protect you, should we win the coming battle. And if they fail, they will only chance another. Are you willing to bet all the lives of Emond's Field?"
Even Mat looked startled, though Rand could not help but find that spark of excitement hidden beneath those dark orbs. The twitch of his lips only concluded his assessment
While Mat was ready, though nervous, Perrin was not. Though it didn't take him long to nod his head in grief. "No, I can't take that chance, lady."
Moiraine then turned to face Mat and Rand, "And what of you two? Are you willing?"
Mat gulped, nodding. Rand shrugged, smiling.
Moiraine's gaze lingered on Rand for a moment, as if puzzled by a mystery but turned to face the occupied mayor. The mayor was soon gone, rushing out of his Inn as if his the entire building had caught fire. The Warder soon came to stand by Moiraine, looking if not pleased, then at least the hard edges of his lined face looked a little softer, relieved.
"It is done, the mayor will soon have the people roused with weapons and defenses ready before the attack can happen," Lan soon turned to the three boys; accessing, studying. "The trolls will attack only at night. It gives them better sight and advantage over us. I hope you can use those weapons you carry. We will need every one of it."
When the lady and her soldier left, there was a moment of indecision and silence between the three boys.
"Mat, your father taught you how to use a staff," Rand commented, giving him a nod, "As far as I tell, you're the best in the village than anyone I've ever seen. The Trollocs won't even touch you."
The troublemaking boy looked relieved, that nearly evaporated confidence returning with full force. That grin was back as well. He said, "Yeah, and I'll be poking a lot of holes tonight."
"Perrin, you're the strongest one of us, and even master Luhhan will have trouble contesting your strength," Perrin's eyes darted toward him, a small smile appearing into existence. Then Mat had to open his mouth, "Yeah, except his wife's still broad enough to break you in half,"
Perrin sighed tiredly, leaving Rand and Mat to snigger. Indeed, the master forger's wife was as tall and broad as her husband, and far more fearsome. Mat clutched his stomach, his grin wide and showing nothing but teeth, "If anything, we should leave the fighting to mistress Luhhan, the Trollocs will run in fear of her kettle and pan of death."
Even Perrin chuckled.
Soon, the clouds darkened, and the day grew colder. Rand could hear the howls in the distance. The people have been in an uproar ever since the mayor had taken command of the village. Hastily built palisades and spiked fences were sharpened to a point and blockaded every street and corner. Bear traps were scattered, and moats were dug around the river. And the people of Emond's Fields even as far as loosening the support structures of two of the three bridges. Should a number of heavy, ugly Trollocs came across it, they will be swept away by the heavy currents of the river. The only bridge left was the Wagon Bridge, where his father will arrive.
The people, normally a cheerful lot, were armed with every type of weapon imaginable; hoe, pitchfork, even cooking utensils and the rarely seen sword or spears.
Master Luhhan had only so very few weapons in his forge. Thankfully, the people here were very accustomed to the use of bow and arrow. For every four men or women, two carried a bow. Should the Trollocs have their victory, it would be a costly one. Even The Congars and the Coplins, the gossipmongers and troublemakers they are, were contributing to the defenses.
Rand could feel the Power stirring within his Warren, patient and waiting. He held the arrow in his hand, and focused. The void and the flame, like his father taught him. Focus all that emotion, fears and irrational thoughts and feed it to the flame.
The howls grew louder, and his chest thudded like a hundred drums.
Perrin stood by him to the left, hefting his axe, while Mat rested his spear on his shoulders with a little smirk. The Warder stood with his sword drawn out, and footsteps light. As for the Aes Sedai? Moiraine looked as tranquil as ever, but Rand could feel the power growing within her, the weavings coming into existence and ready to be unleashed.
Let them come, thought Rand. They will die like all the same.
"Blood and ashes, Rand, you really think we might get attacked," Perrin asked. The furrow on his brow displayed the significant stress and worry that Rand was not used to seeing.
"It makes sense," Mat replied as he fiddled with the spear on his lap. The spear was as tall as Mat was, with a sharp edge to the pointed blade. "We'd be at our most vulnerable when we celebrate Bel Tine."
Perrin gripped his over the haft of the half-moon axe he held, the blade shone underneath Inn's fireplace. "This is Emond's Field. What do we have that is so valuable we'd be attacked for it? We're just sheepherders and craftsmen."
"I don't know, but what I do know is we're Two River folk," Rand replied, lifting his own bow from his lap. "We'll deal with it when the time comes."
The laughter, tinged with nervousness, came from Mat. "Strangers, a gleeman, Bel Tine and a raid?" Despite the strained grin, Mat did not look at all excited. "Never thought we'd be living a gleeman's story, eh?"
Perrin shot a look of exasperation at Mat, but Rand only smirked.
The weapons were given to them after master Luhhan had heard the news, and started giving out weapons to the watches the mayor sent out to the outskirts of the village. There were people watching the Quarry road, the bridges, the rivers and the forests for anything suspicious.
It wasn't long before the council was informed by the mayor. And despite their protests and complaints, they acquiesced to his father's warning. His influence went a long way in getting them to cooperate, and Rand was no fool that a prank such as this would be without consequences, and they relayed as such when they demanded him for an explanation.
He gave his reasoning as concisely and logically without exaggeration, and the council relented, though reluctantly. They knew Rand tends to get into trouble with Mat from time to time, but even they can't fault his reasoning and deductions. They knew he wasn't a fool, and they weren't foolish enough to dismiss a possible danger.
Emond's Field was a peaceful village, and any sort of danger only came from nature. For raids and wars are as foreign as the people from the south of Borderlands, and existed only in a gleeman's tale. Indeed, to even think of picking up an actual weapon seemed foreign to all of them. But they were Two River folk, and so they'll bunch up their sleeves and wade against the tide when it came. They were a stubborn people, after all.
Rand shot a weak grin back at Mat and Perrin, then shrugged. "Maybe that lady's soldier can help. He looks like he knows how to use a sword. The black-cloaked stranger won't see that coming."
"A black-cloaked stranger, you say?" The lyrical voice of the most beautiful woman in the village arrived, startling the three boys. Mat and Perrin quickly jumped to their feet, offering explanations and reasonings on top of one another, while Rand watched the tranquil woman, and in particular, her pet wolf by her side.
Lan, the warder, was surely no other. Rand could sense the power coming from them, and he automatically concluded that they were Aes Sedai, and the man with the sword was surely a Warder. Rand had heard stories of the Aes Sedai, and their partners, and the power they wielded. Warders have heightened senses, enhanced strength, and reflexes beyond that of a normal man. They were an inevitability a force unto their own.
So what does that make an Aes Sedai? What does that make Moiraine? A question of the Age, and one he might soon be finding out once the attack starts.
"I immediately noticed the rider rushing toward the Quarry road, as if his house on fire," She said, looking directly at Rand. She must be talking about his father, then. Then she turned to the Mat and Perrin, stilling them with a raised brow. "And then, I find to my surprise, watches were being set at the very limits of the village. Men and weapons, something I was quite surprised to find in Emond's Field.
Is there something I should know?" Asked the Aes Sedai. The Warder stood behind her, menacing and towering, with a grip on his sword by his side.
"My lady, mistress... you see, ah..," The mayor came bustling in, sweating at the brow as he addressed the important looking lady. "You see, we have cause to believe that there are dark strangers about looking for trouble. I'm sure it's just nothing, but needs must be met for safety..."
Those eyes of hers bore in the mayor until he broke down and told her everything: about the boys of a certain age only they can see, and anyone else older or younger were blind. He spoke of Rand's father riding out to his farm to gather his weapon and the weapons the master forger had been handing out for the watches.
"Tell me, what does the cloaked stranger look like, exactly?" Moiraine asked once she turned to them. If Rand didn't know any better, he could detect a tinge of worry in the tightening of her eyes. And the Warder, his grip only tightened.
"A dark cloaked man, on a black horse," Mat explained, shuddering. "He was menacing, as if he wanted to kill me like I'm nothing."
Perrin nodded, giving his own voice, "Yes, I saw him staring at me as well. But the second I turned away, he was gone as if the shadow ate him. Master Luhhan gave me his axe in case anything did come up, just to be sure."
Moiraine closed her eyes, then opened them again. She turned to face Rand, and asked softly, "And have you, Rand? I suppose you have seen it as well?"
Rand nodded his assent, and replied, "We were traveling to the village. I saw him on the Quarry road behind us."
Moiraine sighed deeply.
"Ah, mistress, please don't be alarmed. I'm sure there is nothing to be worried about," The mayor cautiously explained, grimacing. "But, I don't have any doubt that Tam isn't without reason. And Rand here, he's the brightest lad in the whole village. If he says an attack is coming, then I'll believe him, mistress Moiraine."
Moiraine snapped her eyes at him so fast, he was worried she might have caught whiplash. "An attack, you say? What makes you so sure there would be an attack? Surely you all think this... cloaked stranger is nothing more than a thief in the night?"
Rand shrugged. "The same reason only men my age could see the apparition of this cloaked stranger, and no one else," The boy got to his feet, and hefted his bow and quiver of arrows. "Bel Tine is a time of celebration. If there's ever a time to attack, it would be then."
Lan nodded, a slight tilt of the head that no one would hae noticed but Rand. He watched both carefully, looking for any signs and tells that might give something away. Moiraine did notice, even though she was standing in front of them, with their attention focused solely on Rand. The bond, surely... thought Rand.
"A good observation," She noted, then looked at the mayor. "You must prepare your people, Bran al'Vere. An attack is coming, and many will die if we do not take precautions."
Bran sputtered, backfooted by the intensity of her gaze. "I... surely..."
Mat and Perrin looked just as star-struck.
"A Myrddraal," Moiraine whispered to them.
The mayor quivered, his fist clutching his chest and eyes wide with fear.
Mat and Perrin were no different.
"Blood and ashes!" Mat cursed.
"Oh, Light!" Perrin groaned in fear.
Legends spoke of these creatures, servants of the Dark One. Terrors in battlefields, such that even the trollocs fear them.
"Fade, Lurk, Halfman, Shadowman; what name you give it, Fades have a certain kind of power that instills fears into the heart of the bravest man or woman," The Warder glared at the three boys, sheepherders and smith alike, "If you, all of you, witnessed a Fade, then Trollocs are involved. Half of a fist, or a full fist will be seen in the village before the night is done,"
Lan fixed his hard stare at the mayor. "Rouse your people, gather every weapon you can find..."
The Warder moved off to one side, grabbing the shaking mayor by the elbow with him. Mat and Perrin looked stunned, and even Rand was surprised by the fierceness of the Warder. His commands were direct, and the Mayor, while shaken, looked ready to do his part.
Lady Moiraine turned to them at last, her eyes not unkind. "We must prepare, and when the time is right, we must also leave Two Rivers,"
"What!? What are you talking about?" Perrin demanded, eyes wide with shock.
Moiraine smiled sadly at Perrin, "If the Fade is looking for you, we must know why. And they will not stop until they get what they want," She shook her head, sadly, and even looked remorseful. "Emond's Field cannot protect you, should we win the coming battle. And if they fail, they will only chance another. Are you willing to bet all the lives of Emond's Field?"
Even Mat looked startled, though Rand could not help but find that spark of excitement hidden beneath those dark orbs. The twitch of his lips only concluded his assessment
While Mat was ready, though nervous, Perrin was not. Though it didn't take him long to nod his head in grief. "No, I can't take that chance, lady."
Moiraine then turned to face Mat and Rand, "And what of you two? Are you willing?"
Mat gulped, nodding. Rand shrugged, smiling.
Moiraine's gaze lingered on Rand for a moment, as if puzzled by a mystery but turned to face the occupied mayor. The mayor was soon gone, rushing out of his Inn as if his the entire building had caught fire. The Warder soon came to stand by Moiraine, looking if not pleased, then at least the hard edges of his lined face looked a little softer, relieved.
"It is done, the mayor will soon have the people roused with weapons and defenses ready before the attack can happen," Lan soon turned to the three boys; accessing, studying. "The trolls will attack only at night. It gives them better sight and advantage over us. I hope you can use those weapons you carry. We will need every one of it."
When the lady and her soldier left, there was a moment of indecision and silence between the three boys.
"Mat, your father taught you how to use a staff," Rand commented, giving him a nod, "As far as I tell, you're the best in the village than anyone I've ever seen. The Trollocs won't even touch you."
The troublemaking boy looked relieved, that nearly evaporated confidence returning with full force. That grin was back as well. He said, "Yeah, and I'll be poking a lot of holes tonight."
"Perrin, you're the strongest one of us, and even master Luhhan will have trouble contesting your strength," Perrin's eyes darted toward him, a small smile appearing into existence. Then Mat had to open his mouth, "Yeah, except his wife's still broad enough to break you in half,"
Perrin sighed tiredly, leaving Rand and Mat to snigger. Indeed, the master forger's wife was as tall and broad as her husband, and far more fearsome. Mat clutched his stomach, his grin wide and showing nothing but teeth, "If anything, we should leave the fighting to mistress Luhhan, the Trollocs will run in fear of her kettle and pan of death."
Even Perrin chuckled.
Soon, the clouds darkened, and the day grew colder. Rand could hear the howls in the distance. The people have been in an uproar ever since the mayor had taken command of the village. Hastily built palisades and spiked fences were sharpened to a point and blockaded every street and corner. Bear traps were scattered, and moats were dug around the river. And the people of Emond's Fields even as far as loosening the support structures of two of the three bridges. Should a number of heavy, ugly Trollocs came across it, they will be swept away by the heavy currents of the river. The only bridge left was the Wagon Bridge, where his father will arrive.
The people, normally a cheerful lot, were armed with every type of weapon imaginable; hoe, pitchfork, even cooking utensils and the rarely seen sword or spears.
Master Luhhan had only so very few weapons in his forge. Thankfully, the people here were very accustomed to the use of bow and arrow. For every four men or women, two carried a bow. Should the Trollocs have their victory, it would be a costly one. Even The Congars and the Coplins, the gossipmongers and troublemakers they are, were contributing to the defenses.
Rand could feel the Power stirring within his Warren, patient and waiting. He held the arrow in his hand, and focused. The void and the flame, like his father taught him. Focus all that emotion, fears and irrational thoughts and feed it to the flame.
The howls grew louder, and his chest thudded like a hundred drums.
Perrin stood by him to the left, hefting his axe, while Mat rested his spear on his shoulders with a little smirk. The Warder stood with his sword drawn out, and footsteps light. As for the Aes Sedai? Moiraine looked as tranquil as ever, but Rand could feel the power growing within her, the weavings coming into existence and ready to be unleashed.
Let them come, thought Rand. They will die like all the same.
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Should probably be 'victory'. Or change it to 'should the trollocs be the victor' or 'be victorious'.
Who is 'the rest' that he is referring to?
Keep in mind that creatures they thought didn't exist just attacked, killeed a few people, were driven off by a sorceress that they thought were nigh-mythical....and that probability itself was driving them (Ta'veran)(Plus the possibility of the weak ass compulsion that modern Aes Sedai can use). Probably not the best idea but I can see why it was a better alternative because as you said people would be reluctant to let them go, which means that they would be stationary when reinforcements turned up.
Chapter 5
EDIT: Any critisms and mistakes are welcome.
Chapter 5
"In the fields, you stand, Two Rivers once hosted the greatest army in the world," Moiraine's bell-like voice rang across the Green. No one spoke, but listened, their spears clutching tightly to their chests, "Hark, and wonder! For the proud blood of Aemon runs through your veins. You are the people of Manetheren! Your king was Aemon al Caar al Thorin, Aemon son of Caar son of Thorin, and Eldrene ay Ellan ay Carlan was your Queen! Aemon, fearless, and brave, that his men followed him to the ends of the earth to fight the Dark One. And Eldrene, so beautiful that wherever may she walk, the lands themselves bloom upon her wake."
People gasped, shaking their heads in wonder. They did not know of this story. The people of Emond's Field had always known themselves as Two River folks, nothing more, nothing less. To hear of something unknown to them, to Rand and his friends, awed them.
"For two centuries your people have fought in the Trolloc Wars, their blood covering the soil of every corner of every land," Moiraine shouted, her voice given power by the air, carrying to the length and breadth to every villager with an ear to spare. "The Red Eagle banner, they called themselves. They were the Red Eagle banner of Manetheren. The Trollocs had come to fear their might, and fear of their blades unbroken. Sing! Sing, for your people, for they have fought to deny the Dark One his due!"
Yells, and shouts, proud and shaking fists into the air.
"They were in the Field of Blood, when news came of a terrifying army of the Dark One descending upon their homeland of Manetheren. What can they do, but march to their home, day and night? What can they do, when their loved ones and children threatened by the forces of the Dark One? So they marched, tired from their previous battle, day and night, with little food and water to stay their feet and light in their hearts.
The Red Eagle banner reached their land, and barred the path of the Trolloc army of the Dark One. Hundreds of thousands of Trollocs, and as many Darkfriends darkened the footsteps of their lands. Hundreds of Fades, their black blades from the forges on the slopes of Shayol Ghul, and the skies blotted out by the ravens, carrion eaters and vermins all. And Dreadlords, battle commanders of their forces, with the power to channel, held their banners of the Ba'alzamon, the Heart of the Dark One himself, the Father of Lies and Death."
Moiraine swept her staff alight with fire and lightning, igniting the Green with light enough for all to see the Aes Sedai in her glory.
"The people of Manetheren, your people of the Red Eagle banner, were surrounded, tired and hungry. They faced a number so vast, they could not do aught else but lay their weapons and die. They did not, for their hearts were alight with bravery and the Light in their eyes.
Aid was promised them, should they hold for but three days. Aemon felt despair. How could they stop a force unnumbered, unconquerable? So they held their weapons aloft, standing on the rivers of Tarendrelle, and fought. For every man that fell, Trollocs in droves died to their blades. Day, and night, they fought, pushed back to the fields you stand now. Three days had passed and no help had come. They fought still, and for all the living in this world. Aemon knew no help would come, for such a betrayal would cost them dearly.
A mountain of corpses littered the fields, their blood seeping into their lands. How dare they come in their lands? To their homes and loved ones, without fearing for their consequences? A great price was paid for the invading banner of Ba'alzamon. A great price, indeed.
For the people of the mountain, the people of Manetheren, would not yield. The people hiding within in the city, rather than fleeing to the forests and mountain, held their hoes and pitchforks, pans and knives; shepherd and their bows, farmers and their dogs, young maidens in skirts and knives and boys with sticks; rich merchants and noblemen, to the poorest dredges of the alleys, they came to stand with Aemon, their king, your king! And the banner of the Red Eagle on this very fields of Emond's Field. Where you stand, the last stand, the backs of the Trolloc army was broken utterly.
And Aemon dead.
His queen, Eldrene, felt her despair when the death of her beloved husband. So she drew upon the One Power, the True Source, and unleashed her vengeance upon the generals of the Dark One. The Dreadlords and generals burst aflame. Darkfriends and Trollocs felt her vengeance, and thousands knew death had descended upon them by the hands of vengeance itself.
They fled, the Trollocs and Darkfriends alike. Thousands of Trollocs fled to every land and away from the land that was death, but they did not find freedom. They died, like all the rest, by all the people that called for vengeance for the fall of Menetheren.
Eldrene, drawn too deep with the One Power, died. Her power, consumed by her grief, melted the very stones of the city down to ashes.
So come, stand, be proud to have the blood of Aemons in your veins. The people of Menetheren, do us proud and stand before the coming horde of the Trollocs. Stand, and fight!
The villagers yelled, standing upright with proud confidence in their eyes and shoulders taut with tension.
It was the sudden barking that foretold the coming of the enemy. And just in time.
Lan explained that dogs and wolves hated Trollocs, and considered them to be natural enemies. People didn't really contest Lan, not with the menacing stare and the way he held himself with that sword by his side. And so, the dogs were gathered all over the village and stood with the watches around the perimeter for any warning signs.
The second the barking began, the watchers came running back, along with their designated dogs, and hid behind the palisade with the others. Their fear was almost palpable.
Rand could make out Jon Thane and the two dozen men with him. All of them wore old chainmail, helmets and sewn jerkins, more than likely dug out from the attics and storages that haven't seen the light of day for generations. Jon himself carried a spear, looking grim as the Fade Rand had seen.
They may not be warriors or soldiers, but they had the desperation of cornered animals and the courage of Menetheren. Rand would count on that, and he would have bet his favorite bow that Lan and lady Moiraine would have as well.
The howls grew closer, and the villagers saw the first Trolloc. Some screamed and few moaned in fear, but they held. The Trolloc was a man looking beast, with the head of a ram, and hooves for feet. It was covered in patches of armor and cloth that did little to give any sort of protection.
As abruptly as it came, the beast found an arrow to the eye from one of the villagers. Rand nocked his own arrow, even as he held an extra by his ring finger and the pinky finger.
The second Trolloc appeared from the dark forest, then a third one. Soon, dozens had arrived, clambering around one another and rushing toward the villagers' makeshift defenses.
Rand quickly lets go of his first arrow, and in a flash, he shot his second arrow. Both projectiles found their targets, one in the forehead, and one to the chest. Rand didn't even bother to look whether they were down before he picked up three more arrows stabbed to the ground next to him.
Lan was the first to meet the Trollocs with his blade, a Jon and his men fighting alongside him. Lan's swordwork was an art, viciously and surgically removing the Trollocs before him that left many in awe. His movements were sharp, precise, greeting any blade match for match. Lan's sword always met flesh through whatever defenses and patchy armor the Trollocs wore.
They stood no chance against the Warder.
The villagers were no less in their defenses. Trollocs died in droves of arrow fire, and no doubt many Emond's Fielders had been taught to be exceptional hunters when the food was scarce and crops failed. Their spears, and what weapon they could make do, fell many muzzled beasts.
What surprised Rand was Perrin. The once gentle giant had reached a crescendo of rage that drove every swing of his great axe into the guts of every Trolloc that came upon him. Whatever nervousness that may have clung to his best friend, were all but washed away by his desperation. It was obvious Perrin had never picked up a weapon with the intention of doing harm, and it showed by his inexperience and recklessness. His defenses were weak, and the fear palpable; the urge to protect his family drove home the point the serious consequences of just what may happen should they lose.
His application of simply raising his axe and separating limbs was effective.
While Perrin didn't have the technical knowledge of how to use a weapon, Mat was an altogether a different kind of beast entirely. Rand understood that Mat had been taught the use of quarterstaff as a child by his father, but he hadn't realized just what kind of a prodigy they had in their village.
Mat was eerily similar to how the Warder performed, technical and uncompromising. The prankster waded through every Trolloc, his spear twirling and swinging, and viciously responded with the tip of his spear. There was no vital part of the body that was safe from his eyes, and no Trolloc was given mercy. Whatever patchwork of armor they had, were little defenses against Mat, and he took every opportunity to cause as much pain and death as he could.
If the Warder was a machine, and Perrin was a crumbling mountain, then Mat was the violent storm.
The villagers' response to aggression by near-mythical creatures straight from the tales would have had any of them weak-kneed and trembling.
The thunderous collapse followed another, no doubt the Trollocs had triggered the bridges to collapse and fell into the raging river below.
Arrow fire and prepared defenses slowed the Trollocs, but that didn't stop their frenzied assault. In fact, their aggression only seemed to have increased.
That's when Rand, and possibly the entire village, saw when Moiraine acted. Bolts of fire and lightning ignited, seething red and orange setting alight to Trollocs to charring flesh. Lightning danced like a storm in the center of the Trolloc formation, and none escaped its grasp.
Her concentration unwavering, Moiraine was the serenity made flesh. Pillars of fire doused dozens of the man-beasts, flash-frying Trollocs and killing them instantly. The unlucky ones were not dead, but ran screaming in pain and fear as they were caught on fire.
"Concentrate! Do not waver!" Lan's commands were met with fearful eyes, but his confidence was infective, surging like wildfire in the villagers' spirits, bringing strength and purpose. "Should they win, none of you will survive! Fight for your family, your friends, and loved ones! For the Seven Towers! For the Seven Towers!"
The cries of villagers surged, confidence surging.
"For Manetheren! For Manetheren!" Perrin shouted, and many picked it up. The villagers chanted, and even Mat shouted, "Carai an Caldazar! Carai an Ellisande! Al Ellisande!"
That's when he saw his father, atop Jon's horse, his heron-marked blade flashing. The horse screamed, kicking and trampling one Trolloc or another, and his father's blade swung with a precision that could have rivaled the Warder.
The villagers shouted their greetings at him, confidence like a wave and unbroken. Even the Warder paused to see Rand's father, his eyes wide-eyed for a moment, before his blade bisected one beast from groin to neck.
But the roar shattered whatever built-up confidence like glass. That's when Rand saw it, something that flew across the sky.
The sickle moon hidden in the clouds outlined the creature. It's bat-like wings, too large to be any bat Rand had ever seen. Its cries echoed, like a claw against his brain. Then across the field, on the other side of the Trolloc invasion, Rand recognized the Fade, the halfman atop his horse.
"Draghkar!" Lan's warning erupted, his sword flashing even as he beheaded a Trolloc and dissected another.
More Trollocs surged forward, hundreds of them. There were too many, and Rand saw to his side, that Moiraine also recognized their futility of their efforts. There was simply too many to fight off, and they were but simple village folk.
A man was plucked from the ground, the draghkar's immense strength carrying the man far into the sky. The terrified scream was like a plunge into the cold waters of the lake, leaving many villagers trembling. Some even ran.
The body dropped to the ground, broken and lifeless. Rand could make out the lifeless husk of a Congar, a second cousin of old Bili.
Rand then watched the Fade raise its black blade, and more Trollocs by the hundreds came from within the shadows of the forest. The Trollocs only became more aggressive. Their fear palpable, but their butchery and the need for violence was more so.
With the number before, they would have had a chance of winning. Now- now it was too late. He knew they were going to lose, unless he did something about it. He could, but such a thing would mean revealing his ability. It was too early.
Rand rose his fist, his One Power surging from within his Warren, and brought it to the ground.
A cry rents the air. A beat of a flap.
Time stopped.
Rand's heart stopped, his fist inches from striking the grassy patch.
Moiraine's head whipped into the sky, her eyes wide. There was fear there, yes. Her calm was broken by a primal fear.
Even the Trollocs stopped, their heads snapping into the sky, their eyes rolling about in fear. Their instincts screamed at their black hearts, completely halting their rush.
Everything stopped.
"What... is this creature?" Lan was already by Moiraine's side, bloodied and unbroken. His eyes searched the clouds, weary. "We must go. This place is lost, Moiraine."
Moiraine shook her head, then glanced at the still forces of Trollocs. Even the Fade had stopped, searching the sky with a look of caution.
"No.... I don't...," Then Moiraine's eyes found him, and she stiffened. Rand smiled even as he dropped his bow. She faltered. "What..."
A massive shadow parted the clouds, its immense roar thundering across lands for miles around, freezing the villagers in their place. The Trollocs shook in fear, and even the Fade stood astonished, its eyeless gaze fearful. Can the Fade feel fear, Rand wondered?
The draghkar fled, its wings flapping with a hasty beat that only fear could bring, propelling it far away.
Rand raised his voice, eyes following the form above the sky. It was too dark to see, but Rand could make out the form of the Eleint outlined by the moon. A surge of his voice ignited with the Power and all heard him speak, "Silanah! Dragnipurake t'na Draconiaes! Eleint, eleint! You have come, at last, my friend! My companion!"
He didn't know how he knew the language, didn't even care. It just felt like the right thing to say. He could feel her, Silanah, and it felt like meeting a companion that he hadn't seen for a long, long time. Rand could not truly comprehend the time they had missed, and he did not recognize her before this, but in dreams. He knew in his heart, in his soul, that Silanah had been waiting for him. And he, her.
Sorcerous power bled from her wings like a dense cloud of volcanic ash, heavy with a weighted feeling of a mountain. Even Moiraine could sense it, the grand cavernous power filling the air with the utter power of a god descending upon them. Something that was beyond her, beyond them all.
Silanah's response to Rand's greeting was a mighty roar; the earth literally shook, and buildings crumbled. Rand could feel even his bones grinding against one another. The villagers screamed, dropping their weapons and sobbing in fright.
The Trollocs were fleeing, and even the Fade retreated into the forest.
Moiraine and Lan were the only ones calm enough to assess the situation, and even they were shaken. Lan's sword pointed in his direction, his mouth thin and eyes like jagged ice. Moiraine's hand held onto a small ivory statue of a woman, faded with aged brown.
Mat gulped, moving his head from Rand and to the Eleint. Perrin was gasping, his eyes a tinge of gold even as he gripped the axe with white knuckles. His eyes bored into Silanah, fearful and in awe.
Rand ignored them all, his eyes only for his long lost friend.
Silanah crashed landed before him, and many were wise enough to run before they were crushed underneath her great size. Her enormous wings outstretched into the sky, enough to cover nearly the entire village under her shadow. And her neck and head were large enough to rival the towers of Caemlyn itself. Silanah's forelimbs and legs ended in claw-like swords, and her eyes were prismatic and color-shifting, as large as he was tall.
Rand didn't run. He had no need to. His eyes searched hers with a small smile. He stretched out his hand on her snout and felt her scales. Red and incandescent, they shined brilliantly underneath the light of the moon. He could feel her, and the warrens of Starvald Demelain and Kurald Galain swimming underneath her body. Respectively the warren of Dragons and Chaos and the warren of Darkness, but none of the villagers, let alone Moiraine Sedia needs to know that, but maybe in time.
Moiraine, though, did not run. Surprisingly, Rand was not surprised. She chose a far more risky course, and strode to stand a few feet behind Rand, watching them. Lan followed her, though he looked about to protest vehemently. His sword was still out, if not pointed at him, then at the ground.
Moiraine said, her voice soft and without fear. "Its name... is Silanah?"
"Her. Her name is Silanah," He said, turning to glance at her over his shoulder. Then he turned to face Silanah, grinning. "She... was someone I've been meaning to meet for a long time, but I didn't know where to start. Besides, I knew she would find me."
The lack of any attacks by the Trollocs or the... creature had the cautious people of Emond's Field come out of their homes and every nook and cranny of the village. The shock of the events hadn't set in, but they still understood that there was a connection between the creature and Rand.
"Blood and ashes, Rand, what did you do?" Mat breathed out, and as soon as he appeared, the Eleint's red-horned snout swung to gaze upon him, growling.
Mat squeaked, hiding behind Perrin.
"What are you doing?" Moiraine's sharp question nearly stopped Rand from climbing the neck, but not quite. He climbed up and swung himself to rest upon the back of the Eleint. Then another question came, something that would have frightened anyone in the village. And indeed, it did. "Are you... are you the Dragon Reborn?"
Rand gazed at Moiraine Sedai, his fingers clutching one of her spike studded back. "I don't know. Frankly, I could give a damn. I just want what is mine. I have to leave."
"You're leaving?" The mayor's voice cuts in. He appeared, along with the rest of the Village Council, as wide-eyed and fearful as the rest of the village. They were, however, were too stubborn to their fear. "Tam! Tam, where are you! Fool, come and talk sense to your boy!"
"A false Dragon?" Cenn Buie remarked, though not as confident as he felt. "Are you the Dragon that will break the world, lad? And what is that!"
Whatever other demands became silent when his father came, trotting atop his horse. "Lad, I hope you know what you're doing."
Rand was surprised, and it seemed many of the villagers were as well. Some protested, but was waved away by his father. "You're not going to stop me?"
His father smiled. "Me and your mother knew you were special, lad. We just didn't know how. You were so... different, than the other children.
Silanah swung her head towards them, her colossal jaws all sharp teeth. A few whimpered, though Bran and Luhhan only stood straighter. His father only trotted closer to the dragon, his hands reaching out to pat the red-scaled snout of the Eleint.
"You take care of my son, you hear me?" He demanded, his eyes boring holes into those terrifying eyes, unafraid and just as bullheaded.
Silanah only growled, perhaps in indignation, or in affirmation, showed her teeth to his father.
Bran gaped at his friend, as did the rest of the village. Whether it was for his bravery for staring down a massive beast, or for letting his son go off to... do whatever it is he was going to do.
"What are you trying to find, Rand? I can help. Tar Valon can help you," There was desperation in her eyes, now, though it was hard to notice in the dark. There was also fear, the trembling fingers, and the widening of her eyes.
"Come find me at the Eye of The World, if you can," Rand replied, then nodded his head to his father, then his friends and then to the rest of his villagers. "I have to go."
The dragon erupted from the ground, shooting into the sky like a fire rock from the sky.
The shafts of wind nearly blew everyone away, but they held and covered their eyes from any dust dancing upon the fields.
Moiraine stood, eyes hard and mind shifting to a million different directions. "Lan, we must go." Her cloak billowed in her wake, her wolf following her steps.
Chapter 5
"In the fields, you stand, Two Rivers once hosted the greatest army in the world," Moiraine's bell-like voice rang across the Green. No one spoke, but listened, their spears clutching tightly to their chests, "Hark, and wonder! For the proud blood of Aemon runs through your veins. You are the people of Manetheren! Your king was Aemon al Caar al Thorin, Aemon son of Caar son of Thorin, and Eldrene ay Ellan ay Carlan was your Queen! Aemon, fearless, and brave, that his men followed him to the ends of the earth to fight the Dark One. And Eldrene, so beautiful that wherever may she walk, the lands themselves bloom upon her wake."
People gasped, shaking their heads in wonder. They did not know of this story. The people of Emond's Field had always known themselves as Two River folks, nothing more, nothing less. To hear of something unknown to them, to Rand and his friends, awed them.
"For two centuries your people have fought in the Trolloc Wars, their blood covering the soil of every corner of every land," Moiraine shouted, her voice given power by the air, carrying to the length and breadth to every villager with an ear to spare. "The Red Eagle banner, they called themselves. They were the Red Eagle banner of Manetheren. The Trollocs had come to fear their might, and fear of their blades unbroken. Sing! Sing, for your people, for they have fought to deny the Dark One his due!"
Yells, and shouts, proud and shaking fists into the air.
"They were in the Field of Blood, when news came of a terrifying army of the Dark One descending upon their homeland of Manetheren. What can they do, but march to their home, day and night? What can they do, when their loved ones and children threatened by the forces of the Dark One? So they marched, tired from their previous battle, day and night, with little food and water to stay their feet and light in their hearts.
The Red Eagle banner reached their land, and barred the path of the Trolloc army of the Dark One. Hundreds of thousands of Trollocs, and as many Darkfriends darkened the footsteps of their lands. Hundreds of Fades, their black blades from the forges on the slopes of Shayol Ghul, and the skies blotted out by the ravens, carrion eaters and vermins all. And Dreadlords, battle commanders of their forces, with the power to channel, held their banners of the Ba'alzamon, the Heart of the Dark One himself, the Father of Lies and Death."
Moiraine swept her staff alight with fire and lightning, igniting the Green with light enough for all to see the Aes Sedai in her glory.
"The people of Manetheren, your people of the Red Eagle banner, were surrounded, tired and hungry. They faced a number so vast, they could not do aught else but lay their weapons and die. They did not, for their hearts were alight with bravery and the Light in their eyes.
Aid was promised them, should they hold for but three days. Aemon felt despair. How could they stop a force unnumbered, unconquerable? So they held their weapons aloft, standing on the rivers of Tarendrelle, and fought. For every man that fell, Trollocs in droves died to their blades. Day, and night, they fought, pushed back to the fields you stand now. Three days had passed and no help had come. They fought still, and for all the living in this world. Aemon knew no help would come, for such a betrayal would cost them dearly.
A mountain of corpses littered the fields, their blood seeping into their lands. How dare they come in their lands? To their homes and loved ones, without fearing for their consequences? A great price was paid for the invading banner of Ba'alzamon. A great price, indeed.
For the people of the mountain, the people of Manetheren, would not yield. The people hiding within in the city, rather than fleeing to the forests and mountain, held their hoes and pitchforks, pans and knives; shepherd and their bows, farmers and their dogs, young maidens in skirts and knives and boys with sticks; rich merchants and noblemen, to the poorest dredges of the alleys, they came to stand with Aemon, their king, your king! And the banner of the Red Eagle on this very fields of Emond's Field. Where you stand, the last stand, the backs of the Trolloc army was broken utterly.
And Aemon dead.
His queen, Eldrene, felt her despair when the death of her beloved husband. So she drew upon the One Power, the True Source, and unleashed her vengeance upon the generals of the Dark One. The Dreadlords and generals burst aflame. Darkfriends and Trollocs felt her vengeance, and thousands knew death had descended upon them by the hands of vengeance itself.
They fled, the Trollocs and Darkfriends alike. Thousands of Trollocs fled to every land and away from the land that was death, but they did not find freedom. They died, like all the rest, by all the people that called for vengeance for the fall of Menetheren.
Eldrene, drawn too deep with the One Power, died. Her power, consumed by her grief, melted the very stones of the city down to ashes.
So come, stand, be proud to have the blood of Aemons in your veins. The people of Menetheren, do us proud and stand before the coming horde of the Trollocs. Stand, and fight!
The villagers yelled, standing upright with proud confidence in their eyes and shoulders taut with tension.
It was the sudden barking that foretold the coming of the enemy. And just in time.
Lan explained that dogs and wolves hated Trollocs, and considered them to be natural enemies. People didn't really contest Lan, not with the menacing stare and the way he held himself with that sword by his side. And so, the dogs were gathered all over the village and stood with the watches around the perimeter for any warning signs.
The second the barking began, the watchers came running back, along with their designated dogs, and hid behind the palisade with the others. Their fear was almost palpable.
Rand could make out Jon Thane and the two dozen men with him. All of them wore old chainmail, helmets and sewn jerkins, more than likely dug out from the attics and storages that haven't seen the light of day for generations. Jon himself carried a spear, looking grim as the Fade Rand had seen.
They may not be warriors or soldiers, but they had the desperation of cornered animals and the courage of Menetheren. Rand would count on that, and he would have bet his favorite bow that Lan and lady Moiraine would have as well.
The howls grew closer, and the villagers saw the first Trolloc. Some screamed and few moaned in fear, but they held. The Trolloc was a man looking beast, with the head of a ram, and hooves for feet. It was covered in patches of armor and cloth that did little to give any sort of protection.
As abruptly as it came, the beast found an arrow to the eye from one of the villagers. Rand nocked his own arrow, even as he held an extra by his ring finger and the pinky finger.
The second Trolloc appeared from the dark forest, then a third one. Soon, dozens had arrived, clambering around one another and rushing toward the villagers' makeshift defenses.
Rand quickly lets go of his first arrow, and in a flash, he shot his second arrow. Both projectiles found their targets, one in the forehead, and one to the chest. Rand didn't even bother to look whether they were down before he picked up three more arrows stabbed to the ground next to him.
Lan was the first to meet the Trollocs with his blade, a Jon and his men fighting alongside him. Lan's swordwork was an art, viciously and surgically removing the Trollocs before him that left many in awe. His movements were sharp, precise, greeting any blade match for match. Lan's sword always met flesh through whatever defenses and patchy armor the Trollocs wore.
They stood no chance against the Warder.
The villagers were no less in their defenses. Trollocs died in droves of arrow fire, and no doubt many Emond's Fielders had been taught to be exceptional hunters when the food was scarce and crops failed. Their spears, and what weapon they could make do, fell many muzzled beasts.
What surprised Rand was Perrin. The once gentle giant had reached a crescendo of rage that drove every swing of his great axe into the guts of every Trolloc that came upon him. Whatever nervousness that may have clung to his best friend, were all but washed away by his desperation. It was obvious Perrin had never picked up a weapon with the intention of doing harm, and it showed by his inexperience and recklessness. His defenses were weak, and the fear palpable; the urge to protect his family drove home the point the serious consequences of just what may happen should they lose.
His application of simply raising his axe and separating limbs was effective.
While Perrin didn't have the technical knowledge of how to use a weapon, Mat was an altogether a different kind of beast entirely. Rand understood that Mat had been taught the use of quarterstaff as a child by his father, but he hadn't realized just what kind of a prodigy they had in their village.
Mat was eerily similar to how the Warder performed, technical and uncompromising. The prankster waded through every Trolloc, his spear twirling and swinging, and viciously responded with the tip of his spear. There was no vital part of the body that was safe from his eyes, and no Trolloc was given mercy. Whatever patchwork of armor they had, were little defenses against Mat, and he took every opportunity to cause as much pain and death as he could.
If the Warder was a machine, and Perrin was a crumbling mountain, then Mat was the violent storm.
The villagers' response to aggression by near-mythical creatures straight from the tales would have had any of them weak-kneed and trembling.
The thunderous collapse followed another, no doubt the Trollocs had triggered the bridges to collapse and fell into the raging river below.
Arrow fire and prepared defenses slowed the Trollocs, but that didn't stop their frenzied assault. In fact, their aggression only seemed to have increased.
That's when Rand, and possibly the entire village, saw when Moiraine acted. Bolts of fire and lightning ignited, seething red and orange setting alight to Trollocs to charring flesh. Lightning danced like a storm in the center of the Trolloc formation, and none escaped its grasp.
Her concentration unwavering, Moiraine was the serenity made flesh. Pillars of fire doused dozens of the man-beasts, flash-frying Trollocs and killing them instantly. The unlucky ones were not dead, but ran screaming in pain and fear as they were caught on fire.
"Concentrate! Do not waver!" Lan's commands were met with fearful eyes, but his confidence was infective, surging like wildfire in the villagers' spirits, bringing strength and purpose. "Should they win, none of you will survive! Fight for your family, your friends, and loved ones! For the Seven Towers! For the Seven Towers!"
The cries of villagers surged, confidence surging.
"For Manetheren! For Manetheren!" Perrin shouted, and many picked it up. The villagers chanted, and even Mat shouted, "Carai an Caldazar! Carai an Ellisande! Al Ellisande!"
That's when he saw his father, atop Jon's horse, his heron-marked blade flashing. The horse screamed, kicking and trampling one Trolloc or another, and his father's blade swung with a precision that could have rivaled the Warder.
The villagers shouted their greetings at him, confidence like a wave and unbroken. Even the Warder paused to see Rand's father, his eyes wide-eyed for a moment, before his blade bisected one beast from groin to neck.
But the roar shattered whatever built-up confidence like glass. That's when Rand saw it, something that flew across the sky.
The sickle moon hidden in the clouds outlined the creature. It's bat-like wings, too large to be any bat Rand had ever seen. Its cries echoed, like a claw against his brain. Then across the field, on the other side of the Trolloc invasion, Rand recognized the Fade, the halfman atop his horse.
"Draghkar!" Lan's warning erupted, his sword flashing even as he beheaded a Trolloc and dissected another.
More Trollocs surged forward, hundreds of them. There were too many, and Rand saw to his side, that Moiraine also recognized their futility of their efforts. There was simply too many to fight off, and they were but simple village folk.
A man was plucked from the ground, the draghkar's immense strength carrying the man far into the sky. The terrified scream was like a plunge into the cold waters of the lake, leaving many villagers trembling. Some even ran.
The body dropped to the ground, broken and lifeless. Rand could make out the lifeless husk of a Congar, a second cousin of old Bili.
Rand then watched the Fade raise its black blade, and more Trollocs by the hundreds came from within the shadows of the forest. The Trollocs only became more aggressive. Their fear palpable, but their butchery and the need for violence was more so.
With the number before, they would have had a chance of winning. Now- now it was too late. He knew they were going to lose, unless he did something about it. He could, but such a thing would mean revealing his ability. It was too early.
Rand rose his fist, his One Power surging from within his Warren, and brought it to the ground.
A cry rents the air. A beat of a flap.
Time stopped.
Rand's heart stopped, his fist inches from striking the grassy patch.
Moiraine's head whipped into the sky, her eyes wide. There was fear there, yes. Her calm was broken by a primal fear.
Even the Trollocs stopped, their heads snapping into the sky, their eyes rolling about in fear. Their instincts screamed at their black hearts, completely halting their rush.
Everything stopped.
"What... is this creature?" Lan was already by Moiraine's side, bloodied and unbroken. His eyes searched the clouds, weary. "We must go. This place is lost, Moiraine."
Moiraine shook her head, then glanced at the still forces of Trollocs. Even the Fade had stopped, searching the sky with a look of caution.
"No.... I don't...," Then Moiraine's eyes found him, and she stiffened. Rand smiled even as he dropped his bow. She faltered. "What..."
A massive shadow parted the clouds, its immense roar thundering across lands for miles around, freezing the villagers in their place. The Trollocs shook in fear, and even the Fade stood astonished, its eyeless gaze fearful. Can the Fade feel fear, Rand wondered?
The draghkar fled, its wings flapping with a hasty beat that only fear could bring, propelling it far away.
Rand raised his voice, eyes following the form above the sky. It was too dark to see, but Rand could make out the form of the Eleint outlined by the moon. A surge of his voice ignited with the Power and all heard him speak, "Silanah! Dragnipurake t'na Draconiaes! Eleint, eleint! You have come, at last, my friend! My companion!"
He didn't know how he knew the language, didn't even care. It just felt like the right thing to say. He could feel her, Silanah, and it felt like meeting a companion that he hadn't seen for a long, long time. Rand could not truly comprehend the time they had missed, and he did not recognize her before this, but in dreams. He knew in his heart, in his soul, that Silanah had been waiting for him. And he, her.
Sorcerous power bled from her wings like a dense cloud of volcanic ash, heavy with a weighted feeling of a mountain. Even Moiraine could sense it, the grand cavernous power filling the air with the utter power of a god descending upon them. Something that was beyond her, beyond them all.
Silanah's response to Rand's greeting was a mighty roar; the earth literally shook, and buildings crumbled. Rand could feel even his bones grinding against one another. The villagers screamed, dropping their weapons and sobbing in fright.
The Trollocs were fleeing, and even the Fade retreated into the forest.
Moiraine and Lan were the only ones calm enough to assess the situation, and even they were shaken. Lan's sword pointed in his direction, his mouth thin and eyes like jagged ice. Moiraine's hand held onto a small ivory statue of a woman, faded with aged brown.
Mat gulped, moving his head from Rand and to the Eleint. Perrin was gasping, his eyes a tinge of gold even as he gripped the axe with white knuckles. His eyes bored into Silanah, fearful and in awe.
Rand ignored them all, his eyes only for his long lost friend.
Silanah crashed landed before him, and many were wise enough to run before they were crushed underneath her great size. Her enormous wings outstretched into the sky, enough to cover nearly the entire village under her shadow. And her neck and head were large enough to rival the towers of Caemlyn itself. Silanah's forelimbs and legs ended in claw-like swords, and her eyes were prismatic and color-shifting, as large as he was tall.
Rand didn't run. He had no need to. His eyes searched hers with a small smile. He stretched out his hand on her snout and felt her scales. Red and incandescent, they shined brilliantly underneath the light of the moon. He could feel her, and the warrens of Starvald Demelain and Kurald Galain swimming underneath her body. Respectively the warren of Dragons and Chaos and the warren of Darkness, but none of the villagers, let alone Moiraine Sedia needs to know that, but maybe in time.
Moiraine, though, did not run. Surprisingly, Rand was not surprised. She chose a far more risky course, and strode to stand a few feet behind Rand, watching them. Lan followed her, though he looked about to protest vehemently. His sword was still out, if not pointed at him, then at the ground.
Moiraine said, her voice soft and without fear. "Its name... is Silanah?"
"Her. Her name is Silanah," He said, turning to glance at her over his shoulder. Then he turned to face Silanah, grinning. "She... was someone I've been meaning to meet for a long time, but I didn't know where to start. Besides, I knew she would find me."
The lack of any attacks by the Trollocs or the... creature had the cautious people of Emond's Field come out of their homes and every nook and cranny of the village. The shock of the events hadn't set in, but they still understood that there was a connection between the creature and Rand.
"Blood and ashes, Rand, what did you do?" Mat breathed out, and as soon as he appeared, the Eleint's red-horned snout swung to gaze upon him, growling.
Mat squeaked, hiding behind Perrin.
"What are you doing?" Moiraine's sharp question nearly stopped Rand from climbing the neck, but not quite. He climbed up and swung himself to rest upon the back of the Eleint. Then another question came, something that would have frightened anyone in the village. And indeed, it did. "Are you... are you the Dragon Reborn?"
Rand gazed at Moiraine Sedai, his fingers clutching one of her spike studded back. "I don't know. Frankly, I could give a damn. I just want what is mine. I have to leave."
"You're leaving?" The mayor's voice cuts in. He appeared, along with the rest of the Village Council, as wide-eyed and fearful as the rest of the village. They were, however, were too stubborn to their fear. "Tam! Tam, where are you! Fool, come and talk sense to your boy!"
"A false Dragon?" Cenn Buie remarked, though not as confident as he felt. "Are you the Dragon that will break the world, lad? And what is that!"
Whatever other demands became silent when his father came, trotting atop his horse. "Lad, I hope you know what you're doing."
Rand was surprised, and it seemed many of the villagers were as well. Some protested, but was waved away by his father. "You're not going to stop me?"
His father smiled. "Me and your mother knew you were special, lad. We just didn't know how. You were so... different, than the other children.
Silanah swung her head towards them, her colossal jaws all sharp teeth. A few whimpered, though Bran and Luhhan only stood straighter. His father only trotted closer to the dragon, his hands reaching out to pat the red-scaled snout of the Eleint.
"You take care of my son, you hear me?" He demanded, his eyes boring holes into those terrifying eyes, unafraid and just as bullheaded.
Silanah only growled, perhaps in indignation, or in affirmation, showed her teeth to his father.
Bran gaped at his friend, as did the rest of the village. Whether it was for his bravery for staring down a massive beast, or for letting his son go off to... do whatever it is he was going to do.
"What are you trying to find, Rand? I can help. Tar Valon can help you," There was desperation in her eyes, now, though it was hard to notice in the dark. There was also fear, the trembling fingers, and the widening of her eyes.
"Come find me at the Eye of The World, if you can," Rand replied, then nodded his head to his father, then his friends and then to the rest of his villagers. "I have to go."
The dragon erupted from the ground, shooting into the sky like a fire rock from the sky.
The shafts of wind nearly blew everyone away, but they held and covered their eyes from any dust dancing upon the fields.
Moiraine stood, eyes hard and mind shifting to a million different directions. "Lan, we must go." Her cloak billowed in her wake, her wolf following her steps.
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- Location
- PR
Dont know what ypu could do to fix it or if it needs fixing.
It had the pre battle speech thrown in with a little history, it had a nice battle that turned hopeless, it had magic witches, and it had tremendous battle entrances by the Fade and the dragon later.
The end was perfect since it was neither a cliffhanger or felt like you cut things just to end them. It felt like a natural end chapter material.
It had the pre battle speech thrown in with a little history, it had a nice battle that turned hopeless, it had magic witches, and it had tremendous battle entrances by the Fade and the dragon later.
The end was perfect since it was neither a cliffhanger or felt like you cut things just to end them. It felt like a natural end chapter material.
- Location
- Poland
Hah! Of course Anomander Rake wouldn't just meekly follow the course set out for him by the visiting Aes Sedai. Or fate in general, really.
(Not that I'd know. This fic inspired me to give reading Malazan another try, I failed the last attempt.)
Some corrections:
Still really enjoying the story. Thanks for posting it! <3
(Not that I'd know. This fic inspired me to give reading Malazan another try, I failed the last attempt.)
Some corrections:
At least, I've never heard the term "pillars of fires" before, and google seems not to have, either.
I would also use "infectious" here. "Infective confidence" sounds strange, for some reason, even if "infective" in general is correct. In fact, google seems to agree.
Alternatively "they were not going to win, not unless...".
Removing the "and" makes it sound better to me.
Alternatively, "Mat's voice breathed out".
Still really enjoying the story. Thanks for posting it! <3
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Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Perrin could still feel the shakes in his bones, the terrifying feeling of terror clogging up his lungs and choking him up. Those eyes- those eyes as cold as the deepest frost in the heart of winter, weighing him and found him wanting.
A powerful moment for Perrin to realize that he was nothing, an insignificant speck before a creature that defies Light and logic. It was all he could do not to wet his pants and get on his knees in supplication.
"Are you alright, Perrin?" Moiraine spoke out, and he could discern a little worry in her voice. At Perrin's reluctant nod, she continued, addressing all of them, "I understand your frustration. I understand all your frustrations, but we must leave at once. Those Trollocs will not be idle- and your friend is in danger, just as you all are. He needs our help."
You mean your help, thought Perrin.
Mat snorted, and Perrin answered, "I don't think the beast was afraid of the Trollocs. I don't think the beast- Silanah, I mean, is afraid of anything."
"Blood and bloody ashes!" Mat cursed, clutching his bow as he mounted his horse. "Since when did Rand make a friend out of something like that? And why didn't he tell us! I wanted to ride it" Mat finished it with a grin.
"The horses are ready," The Warder said, patting his horse. "We've plenty enough to get where we need, and we should leave now."
"Not without me, you won't!" Egwene's voice rang like a gong within the stableyard, and the Warder's sword flashed like a snake. Egwene lifted her hood and pushed it back behind her head, her eyes scanning everyone in it, not giving the naked blade any mind. "I won't let you leave me behind, not when there's an entire world for me to see, and not before giving that wool-headed sheepherder a good walloping to the head. You're all going to search for him, aren't you? Then I'm coming."
Mat and Perrin protested, arguing with Egwene's stubborn stance. Lan slipped his sword back into his scabbard with a dark look on his face, whispering to Moiraine. Moiraine, however, only shook her head. A subtle glance, and spoke a few words. Lan's lips thinned in displeasure and said no more.
"Has anyone seen you?" Moiraine asked her. "And how is it you found out we were leaving?"
Egwene shook her head, "No- no one saw me. And Perrin here is about as subtle as a hungry fox in a chicken coop, trying to be sneaky," Egwene smiled, shaking her head in wonder. Perrin blushed, but didn't say anything. "Besides that, I have enough food and blankets until we reach Baerlon."
At Lan's look, Moiraine shook her head once more, muttering, "All part of the Pattern, now."
"Very well, is there any other surprises we have to see to before we go?"
A cough echoed from the hayloft, and once more Lan's sword flashed. "I'd like to go with you," The Gleeman flipped over to land on the floor, his colorful patches of cloak billowing behind him. "Before coming to this tiny village, I don't think I've ever seen a creature as truly majestic as that beast. And the Trollocs, rushing about tripping over themselves in trying to run away. Hah! And the Fade, even, running away in fear. Besides, if you're looking for that lad in the Eye of The World, it is a story worth living."
"So, boy, I thought you checked everything," Lan's sharp voice cut deep, but Perrin's blush only made him mumble out an inaudible answer.
Moiraine took only a moment to consider and nodded. Soon enough, they had everything packed and saddled. Luckily, they had an extra horse to spare for Egwene.
"Do you think Rand is really the Dragon Reborn?" Mat's voice spoke softly, but for all to hear. Everyone froze, unsure and worry ceasing their foreheads. Only Moiraine looked calm and collected, while Land ignored everything around them. "I mean, will he really break the world to save us all?"
Perrin shivered.
"Don't be a wool-head, Mat," Egwene said. "Rand is just... Rand! Besides, we didn't see him channel..."
"Light, we've known Rand all our lives, Egwene," Perrin replied, checking his horse. "We grew up with him. He was always different than the rest of us."
"Different how?" Moiraine asked, with a tinge of curiosity.
"Well, I heard from Nynaeve that Rand never cried as a babe," Egwene said, frowning. "She had to take care of him when his da brought him in for being sickly. She helped the old Wisdom treat him and Rand never cried once. When the old Wisdom asked his da about it, he said he never cries. Ever."
"He was afraid of nothing," Perrin responded, as soon as Egwene finished. He could feel those sharp eyes of the Aes Sedai on him, now. "One time we went all the way to the mountains, and we found a small lake. A waterfall, too. We took a dip, but Rand had other ideas. Remember, Mat?"
Mat grunted, grimacing. "Rand climbed all the way to the top of the cliff. Forty feet up, and a slip would likely to kill you as easily as anything else. But Rand didn't, just kept up climbing. Thought he was mad. Then he just jumped into the lake. We were ten back then, but that was terrifying to watch."
"A boy so fearless isn't so unusual," Moiraine asked, tilting her head toward all of them. "Surely there was something else strange about him?
Egwene hesitated, then spoke. "It was ten years ago. Rand was helping me clean my room. We were eight, then. Too little to really see or know anything. But Rand picked up my favorite flower, the Loversknot from my window stand. It was dead, you see. But I loved it and kept it even after. He... he made it bloom, made it come alive."
The stunned looks she received was understandable. After all, Rand could channel. Any male who could channel eventually goes insane and cause untold damages. If Rand was the Dragon Reborn, would he really break the world?Even Lan showed a little frown in those hard planes. She continued, "I thought he was playing a trick on me, found another flower just like it from the forest or something, so I didn't say anything."
"An impossibility, perhaps, but not so when it concerns Rand. An exception must be made, I suppose," At the others' confused looks, she further explained, "Male channelers usually manifest their trait in their late early to mid-twenties. If Rand had been channeling since he was ten... it's a miracle he hasn't gone mad and killed everyone here."
Mat swallowed in fear, and Egwene gasped aloud.
"Rand would never do that," Perrin gulped, "He would never endanger our lives even if he had been practising the O-one Power."
Moiraine nodded to Perrin, "I can only hope to agree before all is lost."
"It's time to leave, now, before the Trollocs have time to gather their courage and follow," Lan warned, packing away the last of the provisions.
It wasn't long before everyone mounted, riding off into the cloud-covered night and with worry weighing heavy in their hearts.
--
"Hm. A dream?"
It has been so long since he entered one of his more lucid dreams. Mostly, his dreams were but hints of a past he once lived. People and places, as exotic as the flower he once gave Egwene. It was... frustrating, to never know or understand his past as he once did. They were there, enticing, alluring. Hidden. His dogged pursuit to piece out the puzzle of a fragmented history long forgotten, and sometimes lost, was a frustrating endeavour.
He had to let it go, should it consume him with obsession. But he was patient. He still had Silanah, and that was more than enough. Even should his memories never recovered, Rand was fine with it.
Rand walked through the grey stone hallway, empty and dank. Lightless, save for the ambient dimmed light Rand could not identify the source of. Perhaps the walls themselves gave off the light. He could hear the dripping sound of water in the distant, at the end of the hallway, and suddenly, he was thirsty. Memories were harder to gather, but he steeled his will, pushing away the foreign invasion attempting to influence his thoughts.
He was angry. Rand won't allow showing his weakness to whomever it was that meddled with his dream. The attempt, whatever it was, was disappointing. It only gave birth to anger, fueling his displeasure. Though he did not show it.
As he walked, he noticed the doors on either side of the hall. Wood, splintered and broken, but whole. These... doors stretched endlessly as far as the eye can reach. Rand wondered the significance of this, but didn't allow him to stray from his path.
Something was trying to influence his path, and Rand was not going to disappoint his host. Still, the urge to open the was there...
Rand shook his head and continued on.
Until he opened a door.
The room was not what he expected. It was as if the mayor's office was parodied into existence, with haphazardly designed curves and arches columns that grew out of place.
The hearth reminded him of home, but the fire not so much. It looked angry, the fire that is. It didn't seem peaceful, almost angry at him. The stones of the fireplace only exacerbated the negative feeling. Screams of people, tortured and in agony, was carved into the stone. They seemed almost real, that.
Hm, it reminded him of home, but why?
Rand ignored it in favor of the table in the middle of the room. It was high quality, that much he could gather. The chairs were high-backed and gilded gold. The cup sitting on the table was the only item that he could pick up. It was filled to the brim with red wine.
"I have been waiting a long time to finally meet you," Rand's eyes found the man standing by the fireplace. "Or are you not the one?"
Those eyes were home to fires as violent as any storm he's come across. Furnaces. It reminded him of a furnace.
Rand frowned.
"Oh? Are you not afraid?" He smiled, then chuckled. "Interesting. I had not met anyone that had not trembled before me in fear."
Rand continued to examine him.
The stranger was tall, as tall as he was. The clothes he wore were of fine make, as fine as any he could think of. He stood with his hands behind his back, non-threatening and posing as little threat as possible.
"Perhaps we can change that," The stranger took a step forward, resting his hands on the high-backed chair. He smiled, "Some call me Ba'alzamon. Perchance you may have heard of me?"
Rand chuckled. It must have surprised him, and the stranger, Ba'alzamon, must have been taken aback. His features slid into a frown, almost puzzling.
The Emond's Fielder didn't care. He just chuckled, shaking his head.
"Have you gone mad already, Son of the Dragon?" Ba'alzamon asked, the fires behind his eyes roaring into a heat so intense the stones melted around him. "Are you truly the one, the Dragon Reborn? Has madness already overtaken you?"
"I always thought the Dragon Reborn was a myth. Stories, really, told to children to make sure they be good unless they are taken away for being too naughty." Rand replied, resting his arms on the chair, mirroring the man before him. "Until that is... I killed him five years ago."
"So it was you!" He whispered, his eyes widening. "You...,"
"The Dragon Reborn was nothing more than a deathly echo of his former life, leaching his madness onto me," Rand stilled, staring into the fires of his eyes. "You must not have felt it, probably. But you felt my anger, didn't you? As did your master, I suppose,"
The still form of Ba'alzamon would have been terrifying to behold for any lesser man. The silence- the tension was thick enough to cut. Violence was but a moment from erupting, held at bay only by the civility of civilized men.
"Yes, I felt it." Ba'alzamon's anger was palpable, the wood of the chair chipped and cracked by the tightening of his fingers. A startling realization must have occurred to him. "Challenging me? It was a mistake. I stood on the shoulders of the Dragon himself as he killed his wife and children. I watched it all, and by my words did he do his deed. Family and friends, loved ones all, he killed by my words. And it was I who brought back his sanity, and watched him go mad with grief. It was beautiful.
I sent unconquerable armies to ravage the lands, and for three centuries of fighting did I break the Second Covenant. It was I who whispered into the ears of Artur Hawkwing, and by his hands did the Aes Sedai die. As he lay dying on his deathbed, across the Aryth Ocean, sealing the doom of his people and the unity of his dream, did I-..."
"Oh, shut. Up." Rand's harsh words rang across the room. Ba'alzamon stopped, his eyes wide.
Rand could feel the man's anger bubble, contained only by the sheer will of the man and the surprise he must have felt. Anyone who could have spoken to him in such a way was all dead, but Rand didn't care. He was irritated. Irritated at the man's boasting, and dialogue. It hurt his brain more than any mental intrusion.
"You talk too much," Rand said, letting go of the chair and stepping back. The room distorted, dispersing. "Tell your master, I'm coming for him. And Ba'alzamon? I hope you are prepared."
Ba'alzamon whispered,"You will die."
A promise, then.
The last image he saw was the frustrated scream of Ba'alzamon, screaming as the dreaming world distorted around him, and the pain and agony of the souls etched on the fireplaces echoing in a symphony.
Rand woke up on the back of Silanah, feeling the cool breeze as they flew up high in the air above the clouds. The sun was high and beautiful, illuminating the scales of Silanah as if she were a jewel.
"Good morning, Silanah," He said, smiling softly. The roar welcomed him back to the world of the living, as they rode off into the sunset.
--
Notes: So there we go. A confrontation with Ba'alzamon.
Perrin could still feel the shakes in his bones, the terrifying feeling of terror clogging up his lungs and choking him up. Those eyes- those eyes as cold as the deepest frost in the heart of winter, weighing him and found him wanting.
A powerful moment for Perrin to realize that he was nothing, an insignificant speck before a creature that defies Light and logic. It was all he could do not to wet his pants and get on his knees in supplication.
"Are you alright, Perrin?" Moiraine spoke out, and he could discern a little worry in her voice. At Perrin's reluctant nod, she continued, addressing all of them, "I understand your frustration. I understand all your frustrations, but we must leave at once. Those Trollocs will not be idle- and your friend is in danger, just as you all are. He needs our help."
You mean your help, thought Perrin.
Mat snorted, and Perrin answered, "I don't think the beast was afraid of the Trollocs. I don't think the beast- Silanah, I mean, is afraid of anything."
"Blood and bloody ashes!" Mat cursed, clutching his bow as he mounted his horse. "Since when did Rand make a friend out of something like that? And why didn't he tell us! I wanted to ride it" Mat finished it with a grin.
"The horses are ready," The Warder said, patting his horse. "We've plenty enough to get where we need, and we should leave now."
"Not without me, you won't!" Egwene's voice rang like a gong within the stableyard, and the Warder's sword flashed like a snake. Egwene lifted her hood and pushed it back behind her head, her eyes scanning everyone in it, not giving the naked blade any mind. "I won't let you leave me behind, not when there's an entire world for me to see, and not before giving that wool-headed sheepherder a good walloping to the head. You're all going to search for him, aren't you? Then I'm coming."
Mat and Perrin protested, arguing with Egwene's stubborn stance. Lan slipped his sword back into his scabbard with a dark look on his face, whispering to Moiraine. Moiraine, however, only shook her head. A subtle glance, and spoke a few words. Lan's lips thinned in displeasure and said no more.
"Has anyone seen you?" Moiraine asked her. "And how is it you found out we were leaving?"
Egwene shook her head, "No- no one saw me. And Perrin here is about as subtle as a hungry fox in a chicken coop, trying to be sneaky," Egwene smiled, shaking her head in wonder. Perrin blushed, but didn't say anything. "Besides that, I have enough food and blankets until we reach Baerlon."
At Lan's look, Moiraine shook her head once more, muttering, "All part of the Pattern, now."
"Very well, is there any other surprises we have to see to before we go?"
A cough echoed from the hayloft, and once more Lan's sword flashed. "I'd like to go with you," The Gleeman flipped over to land on the floor, his colorful patches of cloak billowing behind him. "Before coming to this tiny village, I don't think I've ever seen a creature as truly majestic as that beast. And the Trollocs, rushing about tripping over themselves in trying to run away. Hah! And the Fade, even, running away in fear. Besides, if you're looking for that lad in the Eye of The World, it is a story worth living."
"So, boy, I thought you checked everything," Lan's sharp voice cut deep, but Perrin's blush only made him mumble out an inaudible answer.
Moiraine took only a moment to consider and nodded. Soon enough, they had everything packed and saddled. Luckily, they had an extra horse to spare for Egwene.
"Do you think Rand is really the Dragon Reborn?" Mat's voice spoke softly, but for all to hear. Everyone froze, unsure and worry ceasing their foreheads. Only Moiraine looked calm and collected, while Land ignored everything around them. "I mean, will he really break the world to save us all?"
Perrin shivered.
"Don't be a wool-head, Mat," Egwene said. "Rand is just... Rand! Besides, we didn't see him channel..."
"Light, we've known Rand all our lives, Egwene," Perrin replied, checking his horse. "We grew up with him. He was always different than the rest of us."
"Different how?" Moiraine asked, with a tinge of curiosity.
"Well, I heard from Nynaeve that Rand never cried as a babe," Egwene said, frowning. "She had to take care of him when his da brought him in for being sickly. She helped the old Wisdom treat him and Rand never cried once. When the old Wisdom asked his da about it, he said he never cries. Ever."
"He was afraid of nothing," Perrin responded, as soon as Egwene finished. He could feel those sharp eyes of the Aes Sedai on him, now. "One time we went all the way to the mountains, and we found a small lake. A waterfall, too. We took a dip, but Rand had other ideas. Remember, Mat?"
Mat grunted, grimacing. "Rand climbed all the way to the top of the cliff. Forty feet up, and a slip would likely to kill you as easily as anything else. But Rand didn't, just kept up climbing. Thought he was mad. Then he just jumped into the lake. We were ten back then, but that was terrifying to watch."
"A boy so fearless isn't so unusual," Moiraine asked, tilting her head toward all of them. "Surely there was something else strange about him?
Egwene hesitated, then spoke. "It was ten years ago. Rand was helping me clean my room. We were eight, then. Too little to really see or know anything. But Rand picked up my favorite flower, the Loversknot from my window stand. It was dead, you see. But I loved it and kept it even after. He... he made it bloom, made it come alive."
The stunned looks she received was understandable. After all, Rand could channel. Any male who could channel eventually goes insane and cause untold damages. If Rand was the Dragon Reborn, would he really break the world?Even Lan showed a little frown in those hard planes. She continued, "I thought he was playing a trick on me, found another flower just like it from the forest or something, so I didn't say anything."
"An impossibility, perhaps, but not so when it concerns Rand. An exception must be made, I suppose," At the others' confused looks, she further explained, "Male channelers usually manifest their trait in their late early to mid-twenties. If Rand had been channeling since he was ten... it's a miracle he hasn't gone mad and killed everyone here."
Mat swallowed in fear, and Egwene gasped aloud.
"Rand would never do that," Perrin gulped, "He would never endanger our lives even if he had been practising the O-one Power."
Moiraine nodded to Perrin, "I can only hope to agree before all is lost."
"It's time to leave, now, before the Trollocs have time to gather their courage and follow," Lan warned, packing away the last of the provisions.
It wasn't long before everyone mounted, riding off into the cloud-covered night and with worry weighing heavy in their hearts.
--
"Hm. A dream?"
It has been so long since he entered one of his more lucid dreams. Mostly, his dreams were but hints of a past he once lived. People and places, as exotic as the flower he once gave Egwene. It was... frustrating, to never know or understand his past as he once did. They were there, enticing, alluring. Hidden. His dogged pursuit to piece out the puzzle of a fragmented history long forgotten, and sometimes lost, was a frustrating endeavour.
He had to let it go, should it consume him with obsession. But he was patient. He still had Silanah, and that was more than enough. Even should his memories never recovered, Rand was fine with it.
Rand walked through the grey stone hallway, empty and dank. Lightless, save for the ambient dimmed light Rand could not identify the source of. Perhaps the walls themselves gave off the light. He could hear the dripping sound of water in the distant, at the end of the hallway, and suddenly, he was thirsty. Memories were harder to gather, but he steeled his will, pushing away the foreign invasion attempting to influence his thoughts.
He was angry. Rand won't allow showing his weakness to whomever it was that meddled with his dream. The attempt, whatever it was, was disappointing. It only gave birth to anger, fueling his displeasure. Though he did not show it.
As he walked, he noticed the doors on either side of the hall. Wood, splintered and broken, but whole. These... doors stretched endlessly as far as the eye can reach. Rand wondered the significance of this, but didn't allow him to stray from his path.
Something was trying to influence his path, and Rand was not going to disappoint his host. Still, the urge to open the was there...
Rand shook his head and continued on.
Until he opened a door.
The room was not what he expected. It was as if the mayor's office was parodied into existence, with haphazardly designed curves and arches columns that grew out of place.
The hearth reminded him of home, but the fire not so much. It looked angry, the fire that is. It didn't seem peaceful, almost angry at him. The stones of the fireplace only exacerbated the negative feeling. Screams of people, tortured and in agony, was carved into the stone. They seemed almost real, that.
Hm, it reminded him of home, but why?
Rand ignored it in favor of the table in the middle of the room. It was high quality, that much he could gather. The chairs were high-backed and gilded gold. The cup sitting on the table was the only item that he could pick up. It was filled to the brim with red wine.
"I have been waiting a long time to finally meet you," Rand's eyes found the man standing by the fireplace. "Or are you not the one?"
Those eyes were home to fires as violent as any storm he's come across. Furnaces. It reminded him of a furnace.
Rand frowned.
"Oh? Are you not afraid?" He smiled, then chuckled. "Interesting. I had not met anyone that had not trembled before me in fear."
Rand continued to examine him.
The stranger was tall, as tall as he was. The clothes he wore were of fine make, as fine as any he could think of. He stood with his hands behind his back, non-threatening and posing as little threat as possible.
"Perhaps we can change that," The stranger took a step forward, resting his hands on the high-backed chair. He smiled, "Some call me Ba'alzamon. Perchance you may have heard of me?"
Rand chuckled. It must have surprised him, and the stranger, Ba'alzamon, must have been taken aback. His features slid into a frown, almost puzzling.
The Emond's Fielder didn't care. He just chuckled, shaking his head.
"Have you gone mad already, Son of the Dragon?" Ba'alzamon asked, the fires behind his eyes roaring into a heat so intense the stones melted around him. "Are you truly the one, the Dragon Reborn? Has madness already overtaken you?"
"I always thought the Dragon Reborn was a myth. Stories, really, told to children to make sure they be good unless they are taken away for being too naughty." Rand replied, resting his arms on the chair, mirroring the man before him. "Until that is... I killed him five years ago."
"So it was you!" He whispered, his eyes widening. "You...,"
"The Dragon Reborn was nothing more than a deathly echo of his former life, leaching his madness onto me," Rand stilled, staring into the fires of his eyes. "You must not have felt it, probably. But you felt my anger, didn't you? As did your master, I suppose,"
The still form of Ba'alzamon would have been terrifying to behold for any lesser man. The silence- the tension was thick enough to cut. Violence was but a moment from erupting, held at bay only by the civility of civilized men.
"Yes, I felt it." Ba'alzamon's anger was palpable, the wood of the chair chipped and cracked by the tightening of his fingers. A startling realization must have occurred to him. "Challenging me? It was a mistake. I stood on the shoulders of the Dragon himself as he killed his wife and children. I watched it all, and by my words did he do his deed. Family and friends, loved ones all, he killed by my words. And it was I who brought back his sanity, and watched him go mad with grief. It was beautiful.
I sent unconquerable armies to ravage the lands, and for three centuries of fighting did I break the Second Covenant. It was I who whispered into the ears of Artur Hawkwing, and by his hands did the Aes Sedai die. As he lay dying on his deathbed, across the Aryth Ocean, sealing the doom of his people and the unity of his dream, did I-..."
"Oh, shut. Up." Rand's harsh words rang across the room. Ba'alzamon stopped, his eyes wide.
Rand could feel the man's anger bubble, contained only by the sheer will of the man and the surprise he must have felt. Anyone who could have spoken to him in such a way was all dead, but Rand didn't care. He was irritated. Irritated at the man's boasting, and dialogue. It hurt his brain more than any mental intrusion.
"You talk too much," Rand said, letting go of the chair and stepping back. The room distorted, dispersing. "Tell your master, I'm coming for him. And Ba'alzamon? I hope you are prepared."
Ba'alzamon whispered,"You will die."
A promise, then.
The last image he saw was the frustrated scream of Ba'alzamon, screaming as the dreaming world distorted around him, and the pain and agony of the souls etched on the fireplaces echoing in a symphony.
Rand woke up on the back of Silanah, feeling the cool breeze as they flew up high in the air above the clouds. The sun was high and beautiful, illuminating the scales of Silanah as if she were a jewel.
"Good morning, Silanah," He said, smiling softly. The roar welcomed him back to the world of the living, as they rode off into the sunset.
--
Notes: So there we go. A confrontation with Ba'alzamon.
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- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
Well he sort of takes everyone prisoner with his sword,