It was all Demandred could do not to launch himself at Moridin. Knowing that he was Nae'blis, knowing that the Great Lord's fist would descend...still it was all Demandred could do. "You promised me!" he bellowed. "You promised me Al'Thor was mine!"
Moridin shrugged. "I promised not to let the other Chosen kill him. I could hardly extract an oath from the Borderland monarchs."
"What does it matter?" Rand gritted his teeth. "I am the Dragon Reborn. Either you will come at my call to Tarmon Gai'don, or the world will die."
"It matters more than you know, Rand al'Thor. I will ask once more. How did Tellindal Tirraso die?" The aging king eased his sword in its scabbard...
...and Rand struck. Balefire leapt from his hands, reducing King Nachiman to motes of light. A ball of fire burned Tenobia, shrieking, into ash.
Then three arrows erupted from his chest, and the Dragon Reborn fell.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
"You will be at Tarmon Gai'don," Moridin ordered.
Demandred's face contorted...and relaxed. "Yes," he said at last. "Yes, I will."
The Last Battle could not be going more poorly. The Borderland armies, such as they were, were in disarray. The southerners, for the most part, seemed in a daze. The Aiel, the Ogier, and the Whitecloaks fought grimly on, but there were too few of all three.
For her part, Egwene felt as if she had taken one too many blows to the head. The Dragon Reborn, dead before the Last Battle could be fought. Many from every army had deserted to hide with their families until the end. "The Light has abandoned us," one of the Tower Guard had said to her. "Why should we not return the favor?" Perhaps they were right. Perhaps there was no hope. Egwene's Aiel heart demanded that she lead her forces to fight on, but she did so almost mechanically, leaving the decisions to Gareth Bryne.
Romanda looked at her suddenly. "Mother, what is-?"
Something split the air on the other side of Egwene's war camp, opposite the battlefield. A line of light, longer than any Gateway Egwene had seen. It was nearly as wide as her camp itself.
Yet Egwene could see only the heat haze that told her the Gateway was facing away from her. The haze shimmered, and an army boiled out of the other side, weapons held high in defense. A second, smaller Gateway appeared. This one faced her for a brief moment as a single dark-skinned woman emerged.
"He comes," the woman said. "Your savior comes." A tall man stepped through the Gateway behind her, a man with dark hair and a nose like a hawk's beak.
Egwene faced the man defiantly. Light, there was nothing left but defiance, now, was there? But he observed her calmly. "You are not the Dragon Reborn," she said softly. "But if you are here to give aid, I welcome you. For whatever your help may be worth, I offer the thanks of the White Tower."
The man's mouth wrinkled. "No, I am not him. You knew me once as Demandred." He must have seen her shudder. "Know me now as Bao, the Wyld. He Who is Owned Only By the Land. Your last hope."
